#didn't feel happiness when i graduated or when seeing my parents after a year or after moving back to seoul

[chocolaytte]

밤 (night) - i

[dovveri]

upskill from student to parent

synopsis: one of your students has the most obvious crush on you, but you have the most obvious crush on his mother.

warnings: swearing? maybe idek AHAHA

w/c: 6.9k

a/n: kind of an homage to my fav person on this app @miinatozakiii ‘s first published work the kindergarten teacher sana 🙂‍↕️ happy late one year anniversary babe 🥰

⋆✐ೀ⋆

“alright kids, don't forget i'm seeing most of your parents tonight so if you want to make a good impression, you better start doing your homework because i know most of you don't!"

there are collective groans across the classroom as they pack up their things and leave, thanking you as they head out the door to their next period.

you giggle, recalling the days you were a student in their position, you rarely did your math homework as well.

"ms. l/n?"

you look up from your desk with a smile.

"i- um- i just wanted to s-say- thank you for this lesson. i was really- um- struggling with derivatives when you introduced them last time but you made it really clear this class."

you beam, appreciating the feedback, "that's great to hear hideki! if you have any more trouble in the future please be sure to let me know, i'll be happy to set up bonus small group classes or even individual sessions if you guys need the help."

"t-thanks ms. l/n. that's really nice of you."

"it's my job hideki." you smile, "did you need any help with anything else?"

he shakes his head shyly, hand at the back of his neck, "that was all! thanks again miss!"

"no worries, i'll see you tonight?"

he agrees happily, darting out the door with his cheeks flushed.

it wasn't the first time a student had had a crush on you. it was normally harmless. some of them had tried to confess to you over the years, usually waiting until after they graduated because they thought it’d be okay if you no longer had a student-teacher relationship. some of them would confess while you were still their teacher regardless, those were a little tougher because you had to continue teaching them and watch them pout and lose motivation to do their schoolwork and act awkward around you, no longer wanting to participate in class or ask questions if they didn’t understand something. you’d try to let them down gently, and if you noticed they were struggling with coursework, you’d pull them aside or ask another one of the teachers to check in on them.

most of the time though, they were just simple little crushes that would pass with time or after they moved out of your class. you didn't entertain them but it was cute seeing your students in their awkward teen years discovering feelings for the first time.

you stretch, yawning, but yelp when someone's finger jabs into your exposed armpit.

there's a burst of laughter and you frown, staring at the intruder.

"really nayeon?"

the english teacher rolls her eyes with a cheeky grin, "saw hideki on the way out. did he give you that confession note?"

"what confession note?"

nayeon hops a little, a hand covering her mouth, "oh shit."

you narrow your eyes. "tell me."

she grins, not really apologetic for having accidentally spilt her student’s secret, "saw him decorating a card and everything in english class today. his grammar was a little off so i just helped him correct it a little. oh ms. l/n. how i wish to be able to call you by your first name. how i wish to be able to hold you and-" she puts on an exaggerated romeo-like voice and pose, back of her hand coming up to her forehead.

you stand up, slapping her lightly with a blush, "why did you encourage him?!"

she shrugs with a laugh, "i'm an english teacher. gotta make sure the kids are using the language right even if it's for illicit love notes."

you huff, packing up your desk and getting ready to go to lunch, "can't he find a nice girl his age to be in love with? i'm sure he has so many options since he's the star player of the school basketball team and everything."

"something about you attracts the kiddies y/n."

you scrunch your nose, "ew. that sounds gross. i don't even like younger men."

"women?"

"no preference. just someone in the same life stage y'know?"

"wait should i be offended? how come no student has ever confessed to me? aren't english teachers supposed to be like a gay girl's awakening?"

you laugh, ignoring the woman's question, dragging her out of your classroom and to lunch together before you both have to attend to your kids again.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

you enjoyed your job, but parent-teacher interviews were probably your least favourite part of it. if you wanted to deal with parents all day you'd have become a primary school teacher.

there were all kinds of them, some who didn't show up, some who didn't care, some who cared too much, some who were clueless, and some who thought they could do your job better than you.

you rub your temples, grateful for the little 5 minute break you're afforded in between quick 10 minute interviews that would normally go on for longer than that. you blink around the room, the other mathematics teachers gathered in the same classroom, nayeon was down the hall with the other english teachers. you were the youngest of them all, there was a pretty big shortage of secondary mathematics teachers across the country, so it meant maths teachers were putting off retirement for longer so they can continue to support kids, but it still left a lot of gaps that could be filled to give your students the best education they deserved.

you've dazed off enough that you barely register hideki almost bounding in, still in his basketball uniform from after-school practice.

he grins, sliding into the seat opposite yours, "hi ms. l/n!"

you return the smile, "hey hideki." even though you knew about his obvious crush on you, he was still one of your favourite students, maybe it was because he had the crush on you that he was more eager to follow instructions and to prove himself and ask questions whenever he was confused that made him one of the easiest to teach.

and then a woman in a sleek beige coat next to hideki catches your attention. your gaze flicks over to hers. and it can't seem to break away.

she's the most beautiful human being you've ever laid your eyes on. her hair is dyed an autumn brown, wavy locks tucked behind ears, expensive gold jewelry adorning her neck, ears, hands. her eyes match the colour of her hair, a deep fawn brown you could stare into for hours. she's got the most perfect nose you've ever seen, you almost itched to measure it, find the angle of it, the way it led to her pretty lips, full and parted, inviting, pulling you in. and then you realise they're curling up slightly, and you snap your eyes back up to hers to see a mirthful glint in them.

you cough, blushing brightly, "h-hello mrs. hayashi."

"just sana is fine. minatozaki sana. i never married hideki’s father." her voice is silky smooth, there's a certain drawl to it too, it makes you want to listen to her voice on repeat, teasing out every inflection in tone.

you can feel your blush reaching the tips of your ears, "o-oh sorry! i didn't know i apologise!"

sana laughs, it's bright and airy, you don't think you've heard anything purer. "nothing to be sorry about. we broke up a long time ago. when hideki was still very young."

you nod, deciding you can't continue staring at her or you may just faint, so you look down at your files, shuffling them around with no purpose, just to give your hands something to do.

"so how's hideki doing in class?" you can hear the smirk in her voice, her attentive eyes watching as you fumble around.

"he's um- very good- he always makes sure to ask questions whenever he's stuck on anything, and he's probably one of my only students who keeps up with his homework."

"well that's good isn't it deki? what were you so nervous for?" sana teases her son as he blushes, mumbling something under his breath.

you speak up again, "nothing to be nervous about. hideki is one of my best students, he keeps up very well despite his extra curriculars."

sana snorts, "i wish we could say the same about his other subjects. it seems maths is the only thing he tries in."

"mom!"

"what? you heard what your english teacher said. you need to spend some more time editing your own work than you do shooting hoops."

you laugh, "i'm sure his english is alright. nayeon can be a pretty harsh teacher."

sana looks at you again with an eyebrow raised, you quickly look away. "just wait until you read some of his work ms. l/n. you'll be surprised."

hideki blushes again, deciding he won't be giving you that love confession note he has in his bag after all.

"is there anything else i can do for him then? any particular areas he may be struggling in or any recommendations of what we can implement at home to make sure his maths marks stay consistent?"

"homework really. maths is a very practical subject so the more practice he gets the better grasp he'll have. especially with strange or out-of-the-box questions exams may throw at him; it helps a lot if he's practiced with as many question varieties as possible, most people are going to get those 1 or 2 markers, but the bigger questions that really need you to apply the concepts you learn are where you'll start to see distinctions between the students that just study and the students that really have the aptitude and patience for mathematics."

"never was me." sana jokes.

you smile, still avoiding her gaze, your cheeks pink, "i'm sure you would have been a prize student ms. minatozaki."

"just sana." she has a teasing smile on her face.

"r-right. sana."

it's quiet for a few seconds, hideki looks between his mother and you, squinting a little in confusion.

sana coughs, beginning to stand and holding out a hand, "well it was nice meeting you ms. l/n. i can finally understand why hideki goes on and on about his gorgeous maths teacher."

"mom!"

you blush again, taking her hand, almost melting at how soft it felt against yours, forcing yourself to meet her eyes again to be polite. you have to bring your other hand to hold your wrist when you shake it, to support your jelly-like arm in her presence. "it was nice meeting you too sana."

she tightens her grip, smirking a little, "i hope this won't be the last i'll be seeing you. have a good night."

and with that she's off, hideki whining and complaining next to her about how she's embarassed him. it was a little funny considering their height difference, hideki was a basketball player so he had to be tall for his sport, and sana was just a few centimetres shorter than you, though her aura commanded attention, her posture was perfect, you're caught staring at the slight sway in her hips as she walks away, but you quickly reprimand yourself, blushing even brighter at having realised you were just checking out your student's parent.

god she had your mind a mess, and you had a feeling it wouldn't be the last time for this to happen.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

you were so out of your comfort zone. you barely knew anything about basketball. but nayeon just had to drag you to be co-supervisors for your school's basketball team since you didn’t have the funds for a real P.E. teacher. even worse, the parent volunteer just happened to be minatozaki sana, the parent you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since your first meeting with her weeks ago.

nayeon noticed your odd behaviour immediately of course. so being the annoyingly loveable best friend she was, she made herself scarce, herding the kids away with every opportunity and trying to get you and sana alone as much as possible.

that’s how you were now stuck with the woman of your dreams, sharing a hotel room in the place you were staying for the duration of the games.

“are you sure you don’t want me to get another room? the individual room was originally supposed to be meant for you- i can’t believe nayeon let herself get sick and stole it from you.”

sana giggles, plopping down her weekend bag. “it’s alright ms. l/n. i don’t mind sharing rooms with a pretty woman like you.”

you blushed brightly. that was the other problem with sana. she was a flirt. every chance she got she’d make some sort of teasing remark on the way here, or brush a little too close than what was acceptable for friends, and you were barely even friends.

“j-just y/n is fine. i feel weird if someone my age is calling me by my last name like that.”

“how do you know i’m your age?” she smirks.

“o-oh! i just- i mean- i- i’m in my early 30s and you look quite young and but hideki is already 16 so i just assumed um-“

she laughs again, “thank you for the compliment. you’re right. i had hideki when i was 19. his dad promised to take care of him, provide for us, y’know… all the works. he couldn’t take it and left not even a year into hideki’s life. i ended up having to drop out of university and learn to balance work and a baby. my parents weren't any good either, said it was my fault for getting knocked up so early in my life and that i should've been prepared for the consequences."

you perch on the end of your bed, listening attentively while she unpacks her things, "i'm sorry you had to go through that."

she shrugs, "made me who i am today. and plus i have hideki now. and he'll always have me. what about you? any kids? partner?"

you blush as she turns back to you, copying your stance and sitting on her bed facing you. "no. i’ve always been around kids so there’s not exactly a ton of romantic prospects.” you joke.

sana laughs, “what about nayeon?”

you cringe immediately, “ew gross no. we’re just friends. there aren’t that many young teachers that aren’t already married and who aren’t spread all over the country so nayeon and i easily clicked because we’re similar in age and single. not that it’s difficult to get along with the older teachers there’s just some things that we’ll be able to do that they might not necessarily want to anymore… like drink or whatever.”

“are you looking for anyone then?” there’s a smirk on sana’s face that you know can only mean she’s up to no good.

“u-um- well- i mean- uh- like if it comes it comes i’m not actively looking for it. i’m happy with the kids even if i die old and alone because there’s always going to be more kids to teach so i’m never really going to be alone unless i quit or get fired.”

“i really admire teachers y’know. you can take care of a classroom of kids and offer them knowledge when someone like my ex boyfriend couldn’t even handle one child.”

while you were talking, you didn’t even notice that sana had moved onto your bed, sitting next to you, shoulders touching, eyes peering into yours.

you chuckle awkwardly, “w-well i’m actually not that great with younger kids.”

sana frowns, “don’t do that. bringing yourself down to defend a shitty man are both things i don’t want to hear. from what i’ve seen, you love your job and you really care about your kids. you should be proud of that. teachers don’t get enough of the appreciation they should.”

“t-thank you sana.”

“of course.”

it’s quiet after that, and more than awkward. you have no idea where to look, suddenly conscious of her body pressed against yours, fiddling with your hands, feeling sweat build up.

sana just watches you with a glint in her eye, observing all of your actions.

she breaks the tension that seemingly came out of nowhere first, “how do you feel about me?”

your eyes widen, not expecting such a straightforward question, “s-sorry?”

“you’re nervous. do i make you nervous y/n?”

your blush was pretty much permanently fixed on your face now.

“u-um-“

“it’s okay if i do. i just hope it's for the right reasons." she pouts. it's criminal. "you'd tell me if there was something else right?"

"r-right! yes of course yes-"

"good. so you're nervous because you find me attractive?" her pout morphs into a smirk within nanoseconds.

"um- i-"

"you said you'd tell me if it was something else remember?" and then she's straight back into a pout. it was giving you whiplash, the change in expressions, dizzying you.

"um- i- yes- you are- yes you are very pretty and-"

"so you want to kiss me?"

"um-!"

sana finally lets you go, laughing brightly and moving away to give you some space before you burst or melted.

"just joking y/n. i'm sorry you're just too easy to tease and your reactions are adorable!"

you can breathe again, the oxygen finally reaching your brain now that sana wasn't so close to you, and your lips turn downward, imitating her pout from earlier, "sana!"

she continues laughing, going back to unpacking her things while you collect yourself and think just how you were going to survive the two days away sharing a room with the potential love of your life who also happened to be a massive tease.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

thankfully, the rest of the night was pretty uneventful. you checked in on all the boys, made sure they had all had dinner and weren't planning anything irresponsible like a party behind your backs or anything. you also checked in on nayeon who in your professional opinion, looked absolutely fine, having ordered room service and was in one of the hotel robes with her feet kicked up enjoying a face mask and a bottle of wine all to herself.

sana also didn't try anything else when you retired to your own hotel room after doing the rounds on the boys' rooms again to make sure they were all in bed and getting the rest they needed before their game tomorrow. you're not sure if you were grateful or disappointed she didn't, but you quickly pushed her out of your mind, needing to rest as well before having to wake up early to take all the kids to the stadium.

you're knocking loudly on the last room you were meant to check on, annoyed the boys were taking so long, you were all meant to meet in the lobby 10 minutes ago for your bus to the stadium.

when you sigh, prepared to rap your knuckles against the door again, it falls away, revealing a distressed hideki and his roommate for the trip.

"ms. l/n! i'm so sorry we're late eric had some trouble um-" he looks behind him, "we're pretty much ready now! just got to grab some last minute stuff and-" he leaves the door open, continuing his ramble while you cross your arms, tapping your foot impatiently, watching the boys run around the room collecting last minute things and throwing them into gym bags.

by the time they're almost done, sana's snuck up behind you, peeking over your shoulder.

"deki! what are you doing? are you the one holding everyone up? what kind of example are you setting for your team if the team captain's late?"

you jump at her voice, not having noticed her standing right behind you. you turn, admiring her side profile, she's got her hair up today, but still looks as expensive as the first time you saw her.

hideki blushes at his mom yelling at him, picking up his pace a little and jabbing eric, telling him to hurry up.

sana notices you staring at her and turns with a smile, "hi y/n. missed you this morning."

you fluster immediately, snapping your eyes away, "u-um sorry! i uh- got up early and didn't want to wake you and decided to get breakfast early on my own before making sure all the kids were awake."

she pouts, "you should've woken me. we could've had breakfast together."

"s-sorry i'll remember for next time."

"next time? you planning on waking up next to me again y/n?"

you can hear the teasing tone in her voice without needing to look at her, "i meant tomorrow! tomorrow morning."

sana giggles next to your ear, relenting when hideki and eric finally finish up, slightly out of breath when they come up to you, hideki apologising to you profusely, almost bowing down in the hotel hallway while holding all his heavy gym bags before you stop him, embarrassed enough by his mother watching the interaction closely with a curious glint in her eyes.

by the time you get downstairs nayeon already has most of the kids on the bus, reprimanding the two late boys again before letting them go and telling them to get on the bus as well. she had claimed her sickness was miraculously cured overnight, and that all she needed was a good night's sleep in a hotel room by herself.

she had teased both you and sana, asking sana innocently if she'd want to change rooms again now that she wasn't sick, but sana had said it'd be too much work and she didn't mind sharing a room with you anyway. nayeon elbowed you making an exaggerated show of her eyebrows wriggling around when sana wasn't looking, winking and looking all too satisfied with herself. you ignored her, strutting ahead and onto the bus, crossing your arms and pouting.

sana comes up next, giggling at you and plopping down on the seat next to yours. thankfully, the bus ride to the stadium wouldn't take long this time, the ride here was almost 5 hours long, and sana had taken a liking to sleeping on your shoulder almost the entire way there. you were stiff and couldn't wait to fall into bed when nayeon pulled her sick move and ruined your plans of being able to relax, not possible in the presence of the other woman.

the kids are rowdy and energetic, hyping each other up on the bus. you have to tell them to quieten down a few times but you let them get away with most of what they do, smiling at the sight of them so eager for their game.

when you arrive, nayeon's the first to stand, using her loud voice and commanding attention, her voice that should've been at least a little hoarse from her apparent sickness yesterday.

"alright! remember you're representing your school district now! and you're sharing this space with other people so i don't want to hear you guys as loud as you were on this bus okay? i won't hesitate to bench anyone who fools around too much and that means you won't get to play and you'd have come all this way for nothing understand?"

nayeon really was strict as a teacher, but you knew she loved her job as much as you did.

the kids nod, determined to be good, adrenaline running from the excitement of almost getting to the court.

you step off the bus first, talking to the bus driver and letting them know when they can come back and pick you guys up to go back to the hotel. then the kids are hopping off the bus one by one, and you're making sure they don't run off or do anything stupid while waiting for everyone to assemble.

by the time the team is actually on the court and warming up, you're almost as excited as them, the atmosphere of the stadium hyping you up, sitting on the sidelines with towels and water bottles ready for their breaks. you had tried to study up a little on what exactly went on in basketball, the rules and the basics, the kids may not have a coach but you still wanted to be as supportive as you could even though your job only required you to supervise them safely between the venues and the hotel.

"have you come to a lot of these games?" you ask sana mindlessly, watching as the boys start doing practice shots and drills.

"yeah. i try to go to as many of deki's things as i can."

"that's very sweet. it's really good for the kids, when the parents show up to things they work hard for."

sana hums. "i try."

"he's lucky to have you."

"i think he may appreciate you a little more though." she teases, bumping shoulders with you.

you laugh, "he'll get over it. they all do."

"this has happened before?"

you shrug, "i swear i don't do anything out of the ordinary. maybe i'm just nicer than nayeon."

"so your type obviously isn't kids. what is it?" sana teases.

you blush, "i don't know. i don't really have one i think."

"oh come on. everyone says that. tell me the truth. i won't judge i promise."

you roll your eyes, smiling, "well... i think at this point in my life i just want someone who wants to settle down. i'm not that young anymore and i've already achieved what i wanted in my career so all i really want now is someone to share the rest of my life with."

"boring! c'mon gimme the juicy stuff. like personality, physical attributes." she pokes you with a grin on her face as well.

"fine fine. i guess when it comes to women i tend to like slightly older women, extroverted, good with kids obviously, i don't reaaaally care for all the physical stuff but probably someone around my height i guess."

"stand up for me."

you do as she asks, confused, then she stands up as well, stepping in almost eye-to-eye. you flush immediately. she brings her hand to measure the top of her head, knocking it against your forehead.

then she smirks, "so i'm pretty much your type then?"

you stutter, falling backwards and back into your seat, mumbling incoherently. sana giggles, sitting back down as well.

"if it's any consolation, my type in women tends to be slightly taller, good with kids, a little awkward, gets flustered easily, but loves her job."

you blink at her, still processing her words when the buzzer sounds signaling the start of the game.

sana winks, then turns her attention to the game, cheering on your school's team as they get in starting position. nayeon jogs over to join you both on the sideline bench, cheering as well. you put your muddled thoughts aside to focus on being there for the kids, but sana's confession? was it even a confession? never left the back of your mind.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

your school won. the boys are ecstatic, clapping each other on the back, streamers are thrown, the crowd is wild, loving the game they witnessed.

eventually, the stadium clears out while the boys cooldown. the janitors come and kick everyone off the floor soon enough, the kids still whooping and parading around their championship trophy, taking pictures with smiles all around.

you smile fondly as well, watching them leave the stadium, so proud of themselves. but then there's a cough behind you, and you turn, surprised to see hideki still there, not leading his team off on their victory lap.

"you okay hideki?"

the boy blushes, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, still in his team uniform, sweat running down his body.

"i um- i was actually wondering if we could talk?"

you frown, immediately concerned, "yeah of course. what's up?"

his eyes flit around, making sure the stadium is pretty much empty except for the janitors cleaning up after the game. and then he looks back at you, you're struck then how much he looks like sana, he has her nose, her eyes, you never noticed before but after spending more time with sana, you can start to see parts of her in her son.

he clears his throat again, obviously nervous, wringing his hands out, "u-um- so i promised myself that if we won this game, i'd finally be truthful to both myself and you. so um- ms. l/n... i think i'm in love with you!" he bows deeply with his confession.

you stand there, slightly in shock despite knowing about his feelings for a long time now. and then you feel terrible, having to reject him on what was supposed to be one of the highlights of his high school experience.

you tap his shoulder lightly, non-verbally asking him to straighten up, he flinches at the touch, eyes fierce when they meet yours.

"hideki... i'm sorry. i don't feel the same way about you. you're my student, i care about all of you equally, but never as more than a student."

his face breaks your heart, you see sana in him, it's almost like you made sana cry.

"is it my age? what if i graduated? would you be interested in me after i graduated?" he's desperate, reaching for any possibility where you could return his feelings.

you shake your head, offering a gentle smile, "i'm sorry hideki. i know you'll find the right person for you one day though. that person just isn't going to be me."

his head droops down, hair coming to cover his eyes as he stares down at his shoes, trying to hide his tears. "i understand. thank you for taking the time to listen to me ms. l/n. i'll get out of your hair now." and then he's jogging off behind you towards the exit.

you sigh, turning around, surprised to see sana there, frowning when she sees hideki in tears approaching her.

she looks between him and you in confusion, but hideki reaches her first. she cups his face, asking him what happened, but he refuses to speak, and sana brings him down into her hugging him and patting his back.

she glances at you then, still frowning. your heart sinks, not sure what sorts of conclusions she could be drawing, but knowing right now, it looked like you had said or done something that made her son cry.

she leads him away, you ache to tell her what really happened, but you know you should keep your distance for the sake of your student right now, you just pray sana doesn't think of you any differently.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

the rest of the day goes by in a blur. the boys go out for celebratory dinner. they notice their captain is a lot more down than usual, and they try cheering him up, playing games at dinner, laughing and teasing each other, but nothing seems to be working.

you couldn't help but feel a little guilty, and sana hadn't spoken to you since the game. you're not sure if it's on purpose or if she's just busy keeping the kids entertained and checking on hideki every once in a while, but not wanting to smother him with all his friends around. he doesn't seem to mind though, in fact he only responds to sana, even when his friends try and include him he stays quiet, picking at his food aimlessly.

when you get back to the hotel, you give a speech about how they shouldn't sleep too late even though you could understand their excitement still remaining from winning the championships, they still had to get up early tomorrow so you could take the bus back home. nayeon would normally give the speech since she was a little more threatening than you, but she was also currently wasted, having gone a little too hard on the celebrations with the boys. she was currently leaning on you, almost dozing off as you rattled off instructions and rules before sending them all off to their rooms.

sana's gone with them before you can speak to her, so you sigh, wrapping an arm around nayeon's waist and helping your friend back to her own room, setting her in bed and pulling the covers up, turning off the lights and leaving a cup of water next to her bedside for when she wakes up later.

you feel nervous going back to your own room, unsure of what sana thinks of you now.

you open the door, almost grateful to hear the shower on, indicating the other woman was cleaning herself up.

you anxiously start packing your things up, cleaning around the room a little and grabbing clothes for your shower.

the shower turns off and your heart rate increases tenfold. you still have some time before she comes out though, so you continue to busy yourself, cleaning anything and everything.

"y/n?"

you turn quickly at her voice, almost fainting at the sight of her wrapped only in a towel. you yelp, turning back around just as quickly, "s-sorry!"

sana giggles, padding up to her bed, "it's okay. i left my clothes out here."

you can hear the rustle of her towel being dropped and her starting to dress yourself. your face is burning up, trying desperately to clear your mind of thoughts of a very naked sana standing right behind you, probably watching you make a fool out of yourself.

"i'm dressed." she teases, plopping down onto her bed.

you turn with a sigh, but tense up when you realise her definition of dressed was a very thin camisole and shorts that really shouldn't be considered shorts.

sana smirks at your gaze, crossing her legs and watching the way your eyes follow the movement, drinking in the skin.

"so what happened with you and deki?"

your eyes snap back up to hers at the reminder, the guilt of it all coming back.

"i'm sorry- i didn't- i hope you know i didn't mean to-"

sana giggles, grabbing the towel to start drying her hair, "relax y/n. i figured as much. he wouldn't tell me what happened but i assume it had something to do with his feelings for you?"

you gulp, nodding, not trusting your voice.

"like you said at the game, he'll get over it."

"you're not mad at me?"

she frowns, "why would i be mad at you?"

"well i- i thought you were avoiding me at dinner and- i mean i did just reject your son-"

sana lets out a loud laugh, "i think i'd be more mad if you didn't reject him. and i wasn't avoiding you. were you looking for my attention y/n?" she teases, wringing out her hair.

"oh. i'm glad then. that you weren't avoiding me. i was worried." you mumble, ignoring her question, knowing she was just trying to get a reaction out of you.

she stands up, brushing her hair behind her shoulders, walking up to you slowly. "why were you worried?"

you focus on a spot on the hotel carpet, avoiding her gaze, "i didn't want you to think i was- i don't know- i just didn't want you to think of me differently i guess."

"why do you care what i think of you?"

you blush, "well- i mean- i- you're- you're a parent of my student."

sana hums, still moving closer at a painfully slow pace, "is that all i am to you?"

"uh- well- no... you're um- you're sana."

she giggles, now toe-to-toe with you. "i am."

you almost let out a gasp when her cool fingers touch your chin, tilting your head up slightly to look her in the eyes. her eyes search yours, then they move over your face, tracing your features. you lick your lips unconsciously, the tension between the two of you unable to be explained by a simple parent-teacher relationship, or even a friendship anymore.

"it's funny." her voice is lower now, spoken right onto your lips, there was no need for volume, you were only inches apart. "i almost wonder if my ex would've fallen for you too."

you're dizzy from being so close to her, mind playing catch up. "t-too?"

"yeah. hideki fell for you. i wonder if you could just have my whole family wrapped around your finger."

you gulp, not really following, just letting her do whatever she wanted to you.

she leans in even closer, eyes dropping to your lips.

"what about me?"

"w-what about you?"

"you rejected deki. how about me?"

you inhale shakily, "are you confessing?"

she smiles then, "was it not obvious?"

"no." you breathe out.

"why not?"

"you're too- you're unbelievable."

"what does that mean?"

"i literally can't believe you're real. that someone as perfect as you could exist."

sana giggles lowly at that, "there it is. do you know how long i've been waiting for you to just say how you feel about me?"

"w-what?"

"all that teasing, all the flirting, i paid nayeon to fake sick y'know?"

"you what?!"

she throws her head back, laughing fully now. your eyes follow the lines of her throat.

"deki talked about you all the time at home. i was curious to meet the maths teacher he was so obsessed with. and then i did. and you were just so adorable. i could tell you really loved what you were doing, and you really cared for all the kids. but i didn't want to ask you out in front of my son who has the biggest most obvious crush on you. so i resigned myself to thinking i probably wouldn't be able to see you again. and then you happened to be on this trip. so i tried everything i could to get closer to you, get to know you better, and you didn't disappoint. i can safely say i'm just as obsessed with you as hideki is, dare i say even more."

"y-you are?"

"mhm. and i knew you liked me too. you're almost as obvious as deki is." she giggles, "i was just waiting for you to do something about it. but you're too nice aren't you? didn't want anything that could be between us to affect your job and your relationship with the kids."

you hadn't even noticed sana had paid so much attention to you. she had picked you apart completely, you felt so exposed in front of her now, but it wasn't unwelcome, you were just embarrassed at the way you've acted around her, thinking how many times you've replied dumbly or said something stupid while she knew you had a crush on her. you cringe at the memories.

sana laughs again, poking at the scrunch in your nose, "so can you say it officially now?"

"say what?"

"don't play dumb with me. you know."

you whine, blushing still, but close your eyes, taking a breath again, "i like you sana. i think you're the most beautiful person i've ever seen and your personality and actions are just as consistent with your looks."

sana giggles again, and then all of a sudden, her lips are pressed against yours.

it's soft, sweet, she's curling a hand around your waist and the other around your neck. you weren't the greatest with words, that's why nayeon was the english teacher, but you try make up for it with your actions, pulling her into you deeper and wrapping your arms around her, smiling into the kiss.

sana returns the smile, reattaching your lips, kissing you easily, your lips slotting together with no rush, taking as much time as you wanted to explore each other.

that night, when you come out of your shower, you find sana curled up in your bed, patting the empty space next to her for you to squeeze into, making sure she had enough space so that she wouldn't fall off the edge. you find that she's a big cuddler, not that it should've surprised you, she was always a very physically affectionate person, and you were still getting used to being on the receiving end of all of it, but you adored it.

the next morning, you'll keep to your promise and wake sana up with a gentle kiss on her lips, brushing her hair out of her face and studying her sleeping features carefully, committing everything to memory, still in slight disbelief that such a woman felt the same way you did.

you talk over breakfast, finding yourself much more at ease now that you knew she knew how you felt about her. she still takes every opportunity to tease you though, loving the way you blushed and stuttered around her.

what's hard is deciding what to do after you get home. you still wanted to keep your distance from hideki so that he could get over you, and sana agreed, saying it would be best if the both of you kept your relationship a secret for now. she was almost excited, talking about how it would be exciting and fun to sneak around like kids again, having to hide your relationship.

she's right of course, but being with her specifically probably makes it ten times harder than it normally would. she'd come to your school with bunches of flowers and lunch, acting innocent and surprised when you have to hide her and find an empty classroom for you to spend the lunch date she springs on you. she'll never stop loving to tease you.

you finally tell hideki about 2 months into your relationship. he seems to take it okay, but when you're curled up in sana's bed later, she tells you he complained to her about how she 'stole his woman', and you both end up in a giggling fit, laughing at the turn of events. regardless, you're still grateful, grateful you were able to meet her, and somehow bewitch her into falling for you. you were the luckiest person alive, and only sana would disagree, saying that was only true for herself.

[vonne-inc]

product: yandere husband.

gender neutral reader. mainly fluff. yandere-ish (a little).

yandere husband, who met you a few months after your high-school graduation. being a barista at his parent's cafe and seeing you walk up to the counter. oh, how he immediately fell in love with you. he found you beautiful— no, more than beautiful; glorious, angelic, heavenly.. there were too many words to describe you. he knew you were perfect.

yandere husband, leaving his number on the receipt taped to your to-go drink. he watched as you glanced at the writing while walking out the door. your eyes met his, smiling as you held your phone in your palm. his heart raced with nervousness. his phone buzzed as it showed a text message from an unknown number. when he lifted his head, you were gone. he was happy, elated even.

yandere husband, at work or at home texted you any moment he could. he really liked you— you were just so fun and interesting! he couldn't get enough of you, and you could get enough of him.

yandere husband, after a few dates and flirty conversations, you started dating him. his obsessive and possessiveness didn't start until your first i love you's. only then did he realize that he needed your touch, your voice, your presence, all of you. he needed you, only you.

yandere husband, after two years of dating him, fully comfortable and accustomed to each other, he's asking if you'd ever want to get married. after months of talking and questions, hinting at the idea, he finally proposes. on one knee as you're in bed while the early sun shines through the curtains. it was a beautiful scene for your eyes.

yandere husband, who is smiling from ear to ear once you say yes, pulling you into a long, loving kiss. now he can plan his next moves to have you all for himself, forever.

yandere husband, smiling brightly as he watches you walking down the aisle. your attire fitting you perfectly, it was divine on you. he could feel himself falling in love with you all over again.

yandere husband, who said his vows, holding your hands as he repeated the rehearsed words he spent months on writing. there were too many things for him to say, words couldn't describe how you made him feel. the love you brought him were beyond description— you were ineffable, intangible, unutterable. he'd do anything for you; go through any suffering or pain for you. he'd even kill for you, if it came down to it. once he'd end his speech, kissing your knuckles, he'd listen to your vows with a loving smile.

yandere husband, as soon as he was able to, he pulled you in close as he cupped your cheek and kissed your lips. a short yet eternal kiss that made him feel like the luckiest man on earth. parting, he held his lips near your ear, whispering, "'til death do us part."

yandere husband, once the wedding was over, he carried you to your shared hotel suite. immediately climbing into bed with you, smiling widely as he peppers you in kisses. you stay in his arms during the night, comfortably sleeping in his embrace after the long and overdrawn day. he adores your sleeping figure, keeping himself as still as possible as to not wake you. oh, how he can't wait to spend the rest of forever with you. "you're mine and i'm yours, my love. forever and always."

[thistlecatfics]

Talking about Incest in Public

(both the painful traumatic kind and the hot fictional kind)

As it turns out, lots of the people who read and write taboo fiction have survived some deeply fucked up shit. After talking about incest with other survivors on the Moon, Sun & Stars discord and answering questions, I decided to share more about my experiences and the things that helped me survive and the things that helped me heal, because there are a lot of us, and a lot of us feel very alone, and maybe there are other people who aren’t incest survivors but who might want to know more to better support the survivors in their life.  

–

Incest is not just a sexual act between two family members -- it's a larger system of absence of boundaries within a family, and it's almost always part of multiple incestuous dynamics, even if only one might be the obvious or explicit dynamic. 

If you’re an incest survivor, you’re almost certainly not the only one in your family. 

-

“The true characteristics and dimensions of incestuous abuse have been masked by the taboo and silence that have surrounded its occurrence. Recent research demonstrates that incest occurs regularly in our society, perpetrated by individuals who, for the most part, would otherwise be regarded as fairly normal. The taboo on incestuous relations is a deterrent to some would-be perpetrators but not to others. The taboo contradicts the reality of incest prevalence, a fact which led Armstrong (1978) to comment that th taboo has been on the open discussion of incest and not on its perpetration.”

-Christine Courtois, “Healing the Incest Wound: Adult Survivors in Therapy” 

–

To use my family as an example - 

My (similarly aged) brother did sexual things to me as a kid, and I had a range of reactions to it including pleasure and enjoyment. And confusion. And fear. I do not think he is bad or even what he did was bad. I think we were both two kids who existed in a family with incestuous dynamics, and we were both shaped by those dynamics and trying our best to survive. 

From a young age, I existed as a physical comfort object to my mom (when she was sad she'd get into my bed to hold me until she felt better while I dissociated), and I took on the idea that my role in the family was for my body to be used to make other people feel good. The sexual behavior by my brother felt like an extension of how my mom held me. 

My mother was the victim of incest from her uncle, and her parents sided with her uncle over her when she spoke out about it (even after he was facing legal consequences for his behavior with kids outside of the family) (even after he fled the country). She didn't know how to emotionally regulate herself, and I don't think she had (or has) the capacity to understand a child's need for physical autonomy and boundaries because her own were never respected. 

There were other incestuous behaviors and dynamics within my family which I'm continuously discovering and unpacking. I think my mom’s uncle abused my grandmother too but I’ll never know for sure. It’s deeply uncomfortable to look back on a happy family story or a childhood nickname and see something sinister underneath and wonder if you’re being paranoid or if it’s actually that bad.  

–

Things that have helped: 

Long term relational therapy (5+ years). EMDR. Adopting a cat. Adopting more cats. Antidepressants. Reading about incest (realistic, terrifying, academic). Reading about incest (fictional, hot, amateur). Being a competitive athlete. Getting a graduate degree. Going on long walks late at night. Telling my family I had Covid so I could skip a family vacation. 

These books specifically: Healing the Incest Wound by Christine Courtois, The Myth of Normal, Dissociation Made Simple, Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, The Narcissistic Family Unit, Clementine Morrigan’s writing x1000. 

The protector parts: Eating disorder. Self harm. Drinking. Perfectionism. Depression. Suicidal ideation. I’m grateful to these imperfect protectors I’ve leaned on over the years. 

Things that have not helped: 

You will be shocked to hear that people on the internet yelling about how people who find fictional incest hot are disgusting and bad and dangerous did NOT in fact help me unlearn the belief that experiencing incest made me disgusting and bad and dangerous. Luckily, I’m built of spite. But it certainly did not help. 

(If I think about my vulnerable pre-teen/teen self reading those things, I become deeply angry. How dare you hurt her in the name of protection.)

- I don’t cater to all these vipers Dressed in empath’s clothing God save the most judgmental creeps Who say they want what’s best for me Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I’ll never see

-Taylor Swift, But Daddy I Love Him

-

After I discovered fanfiction in middle school, and then after I realized that there was a world beyond OFC/Draco Malfoy fic, I read a lot of Blackcest. I devoured any I could find, hopping through rec lists on LiveJournal. 

Reading Blackcest fics, first Bellatrix/Sirius then Sirius/Regulus mostly, allowed me to see my experiences reflected. Those fics gave me a way to contextualize my family and my role in it. I hate the expectation that kids who experience bad things should go to a safe trusted adult rather than find art that romanticizes their experience. The whole point is that there isn’t a safe trusted adult. The whole point is that I needed the art. I got to hold the romanticized narrative until I got far enough away that I could put it away in a box until I had enough therapy that I could safely open the box and build a new, more honest story. 

Obviously plenty of people love incest smut and fic and art. It’s taboo! It’s angsty! It’s a classic! Probably most of those people don’t have direct personal experience with incest in their families. I’m glad they read and write fics too. 

But for me – have you ever experienced something you believe so strongly you will never be able to say aloud? That any time you see your secret referenced it’s in shock and disgust and revulsion? You can pretend – you’re very good at pretending – but you know it’s real, and you know it’s your secret you’ll hold onto for the rest of your life while the world reminds you how disgusting you are? 

Then you find that people are writing about what you experienced in a thousand variations that all contain some nugget of your truth.

I cannot express in words how important it was that I found those stories at that time. 

I never commented on a single fic. I never made a single account on any of the sites I read fanfiction on. I clicked the “yes I’m 18” box without hesitation every time. I wish I could go back in time and have my adult self articulate the enormity of my gratitude for each and every author who helped save me whose work exists on sites I can only revisit with the Wayback Machine. 

I understand why people might feel horrified at the idea of a 11-12 year old reading smutty incest Harry Potter fanfic. People aren’t wrong for feeling that way. 

That said, I truly don’t care what people who aren’t incest survivors think.

I’m so proud of that child for finding a way to survive. She might have hated herself, might have fantasized about death, but she survived and kept the truth of her experience wrapped up in a fictional world where it could be safe to explore and kept it there until years and years of therapy made it possible to engage with it in reality. 

- I’m a real tough kid I can handle my shit They said, babe, you got to fake it till you make it And I did

-Taylor Swift, I Can Do It With a Broken Heart -

No one is writing about incest the way Clementine Morrigan is right now. I’m so grateful for her. I’m not sure this little tumblr post would exist without her essay series. 

"Incest functions as a spell of unreality. A structure of nothingness. A completely normal and unremarkable family life in which something unnameable is ominously and terrifyingly wrong. You know in the summer when you can see the heat making the air go squiggly? Imagine those squiggles as an indication that in the seeming nothingness, there is something there. Incest is like that. Subtle, pervasive, unthinkable, unnameable. But present, felt.

As a teenager I came up with this metaphor: Imagine you are in a house full of bugs. There are bugs crawling all over all the walls and all the furniture and in your food and even on the fork you are lifting to your mouth. And you feel disgusted, you feel like something is really wrong. But your whole family is acting completely normal, laughing and eating and talking as bugs crawl over their faces and into their mouths. When you tell them you think there are bugs in your food your family says it’s just pepper and not to worry about it.

There is no way to talk about incest without feeling that you are lying. This is because incest lives in the realm of unreality and everything in the realm of unreality cannot be thought or said or named. When you speak of things that happen in the realm of unreality it will always feel like a lie and be treated like a lie. You are breaking the fundamental rule. You are not allowed to talk about what goes on in the realm of unreality because it isn’t real."

Read more and pay for her writing if you can on her substack.

-

Without a doubt, the not-explicitly-sexual incest from my mom fucked me up more than the explicitly sexual incest from my brother, but I only feel confident claiming the incest survivor label because sexual stuff was done to me by a family member, and I still feel like I’m lying sometimes because it wasn't bad enough to count. 

I’m a literal mental health clinician who can map out various incestuous dynamics within my family and who has clear memories of a family member doing sexual stuff to my child body, and I still feel like I’m lying. 

I believe you if you feel like a liar because I bet you do. I believe you if the incest never included anything directly physical. I believe you if you enjoyed it. I believe you if you don’t remember but feel like it’s true. 

I love us. 

If we’re monsters, I love our courageous monstrosity.

If we’re liars, I love the way we make up stories to survive when reality is impossible. 

If we’re an uncomfortable truth, good. 

-

It still impacts me. I’m not over it. 

It’s very difficult for me to imagine love that does not include violation. To be loved and to be allowed to maintain a self. 

But I’m open to learning otherwise, and that openness is new. 

-

I was so, so good at living in unreality. I could make myself perfect, such a flawless object until I couldn’t think of anything except killing myself, but even then I still maintained the image of perfection my family expected. 

It’s cool I never actually killed myself. 

I find it hard to be around my family now. There are advantages of living in unreality. I drink a lot more when I’m around my family than I ever did before, but I don’t think about killing myself nearly as much. Reality is worth it. Being able to exist as a person is worth it. 

- I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.

-Sylvia Plath

- I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. (I insist.)

It didn’t kill me then. It’s not going to kill me now. (I remind myself.) 

My life is worth living, and there are fights worth fighting, and it is undeniably true the world is full of horror, but it is good to write and create and be alive, and it is good to try. I’m a little afraid to post this, but the fear and shame isn’t mine to hold, and I never should have been the one holding it. 

Consider this a thank you note sent out to the universe in the hopes the sentiment echoes towards those authors who saved me then and to all the writers who are saving people now. Your art matters. No matter how weird or niche or dismissed or hated it is. It matters. 

Thank you.

[thegnomelord]

me very patiently waiting for that mothussy :3

oh and here’s another wittle thing i thought…i tend to hc price as a bear hybrid or other so i think he would go into hibernations,, since hes still on duty he wouldnt go into a long-term one like other bears, but simply sleep a LOT of the day…i would wanna cuddle big bear price so bad awaawaewfgwh 🥺 hes really hairy but instead of it being coarse hair, its more fluffy cause its the winter!! so his facial hair puffs up a bit…and his chest hair…and the happy trail…you get the idea :3 idk i just like bear price i want him to pound me into the mattress and suck my cock until it falls off hug me!!

-❀

Give me like a couple more days lol, I got ghost and soap more or less done in a rough draft format, just need to write out price and gaz then a quick rewrite to clean up the draft. Cause rn all mini drafts are about 1k and very rough so when I clean it up they're probs gonna be bumped up to like 2k? Just knowing me and how my drafts end up doubling in size lol.

Also duuude you are a treasure trove of ideas lol. I want bear price now and now I'm horny so here's a bunch of bear price

Help a Bear Out

CW:NSFW, MDNI, daddy kink, dom/sub, oral, somno, edging, foodplay, cockwarming. Bear Price x Top Male reader Ao3

Imagine Bear Price who is by no means a small man any time of the year, bear genetics + having to be physically fit to take down terrorists leads to him having a very strong and imposing build befitting a Kodiak bear. The fur only adds to the striking image, making him look larger and his arms appear thicker, letting him scare many young boars from trying to tussle with him lest he crack their skulls.

But he turns massive in winter.

He can't help it; There's no escaping the iron clad control nature has over his body as his dark fur thickens and gains a fluffy golden color. No evading the instinct telling him to eat and rest and grow fat for winter until his hard earned muscles disappear beneath the cloak of fat. No ignoring sweet lull of sleep's song when he's yawning every five minutes and the words on the report swim in his blurry eyes.

Imagine Bear Price who, in his younger days, used to be self conscious about the changes his body went through. Growing up surrounded by humans was tough, dread would start building in his heart the moment the first leaf from the trees would fall. He's lost count how many times the kids would laugh at him when he'd show up to school after winter break with a chubby face and barely able to run a lap with how tired he was.

As he grew and started being curious about sex, it only got worse. He'd snatch the porn mags his sisters would buy behind their parents back, spending hours looking in the mirror and comparing his pudgy belly and fat thighs to the chiseled abs and lean muscles of the models. He'd spend hours exercising and trying to loose the weight he'd gain, but it would be all for naught.

And it didn't stop when he graduated and went into the military. His superiors may have tolerated the extra sleep and rations Price needed because he was a monster on the field, but they by no means were happy about it. He'd end up with thrice the amount of work and run ragged in training until he returned to his pre-winter weight.

Imagine Bear Price who doesn't give a shit about how he looks like now. Why would he, when he sees how you look at him? How you touch him? How you worship him?

Your hands wind around his waist and the groan you let out when you realize the space between your fingertips has gotten bigger is hungry. Your face burrows into his chest, his soft fluffy fur tickling your face as you nuzzle his pecks. The way his pudgy belly and love handles jiggle under your wandering hands makes you wish you had more arms so you could feel every part of him.

A content growl rumbles from the bottom of his chest, eyelids open just enough to watch you. "My boy's forgotten his manners." He chuckles, but there's no way to hide the wagging of his little bear tail. The reverent way you touch him makes him feel like a king.

"Sorry sir." There's absolutely no shame in your voice or your actions, not when your mind is held captive by the soft fluffy fur and the warmth of his skin. Without thinking you slide your hands up to grope his chest and you groan — the squishy fat covering his muscles and makes his pecs so large they don't fit in your hands anymore, fat plumping up between your fingers and his flesh jiggling as you press his pecs against your head and motorboat him.

The surprised laugh you earn is like ambrosia to sweeten the heaven you're drowning in.

Imagine Bear Price who gets so sleepy as the nights get longer and colder. While he still gets the work done, and for the most part doesn't mind the 'old man' jokes his boys make, it's obvious how irritated he gets when he's forced to stay awake longer than he needs to; each extra second spent explaining to a muppet how to do his job makes his eyes darker and voice rougher until he's passively growling like a construction engine.

Luckily you're there to calm down the beast.

Groping his ass or scratching the base of his tail to distract him so you can kiss along his jaw and rub your cheek against his beard. "You're doing it again sir." You mutter, voice smooth and low enough to soothe his prickled mind. Kissing him sweet and slow so you can tug his lazy body back into his room, into his den, where you can give him what his mind and body craves the most — sweet sweet sleep. . . and you.

Imagine Bear Price who's chest rumbles with a purr without stopping the second you settle into his den, his clawed fingers sliding over and groping your naked skin with just as much love and adoration as you show him.

Wrapped in so many layers of blankets and furs, engulfed by his bulk and his own fur, you are so so warm that neither one of you need clothes. Price's favorite position is to hug you like a Teddy bear. Despite the irony, it lets him wrap his body around you so you're safe and protected, practically suffocating in his fur. Not that you mind, especially when Price can nuzzle his nose into your hair or skin, to breathe in your scent to his heart's content and purr low praises into your ear: "Good boy,"

And, if you're especially good, he lets you use his ass as a pillow. He'll growl and grumble about not being able to scent you or hold you, but he'll soon be sleeping peacefully with you slumbering on his large ass.

Imagine Bear Price who, between the long stretches of sleep, get's horny. It's a natural reaction from sleeping next to his naked mate, wanting to feel you and hear your moans, but he doesn't have the energy to actually fuck. His lethargy turns the feeling of languid arousal into Hell.

Both of you try to initiate a couple of times; fumbling beneath the sheets, wandering hands roaming and groping as far as they can reach, his teeth nibbling on your neck and your hungry lips laying hickeys on his thick neck. Not wanting to undo the tangle of limbs you two end up grinding against each other, breathing the same air between kisses as sweet pleasure burns in your belies.

Then you stop just long enough to grab the lube, and Price's mind, still half way in lala land, only needs a couple of seconds of inaction to pull him back into deep sleep. By the time you return to him he's already snoring, limbs reaching out to grip you tightly and pull you close, but all thoughts of sex are forgotten.

And Price is so, so, angry with himself when he wakes up and realizes he left you high and dry again, shame eating away at his stomach because what kind of bear leaves his mate unsatisfied? The unworthy kind.

Imagine Bear Price who's mind is blown when you suggest cockwarming. Hibernation is about sleeping and relaxing, not strenuous sex, so the thought of being able to feel you while still fulfilling his body's need to rest? Oh it gets him hard.

It takes a while to figure out the perfect position, Price is too big and heavy to lay on top of you without crushing you, and his fingers earn to grip and hold you close so spooning him viable either.

Finally you end up with him laying on his back, legs spread with you laying on top of him and oh, it's perfect. You can feel him purr as you slide inside his blistering hot hole, his strong arms wrapping around you and claws scrapping along your spine. "That's my boy, perfect f' daddy." He mumbles through the fog of sleep, throwing one heavy leg over yours to keep you close.

You can't help the shudder that races down your spine, his musky earthy scent curling in your nose and making your cock throb inside him. You only stretching him long enough to be able to take you without tearing something, and Price relishes the slight sting of pain nibbling on his nerves when your cock hardens.

You don't try to fuck him, by the time you're fully settled inside him he's already snoozing. A slow roll of your hips and the resulting tightening of his hole is enough to sate your lust when it arises, enough to keep you half hard and stretching him out. His pecs make such a good pillow, thick fluffy fur and chest hair tickling your skin, the slow and calm beating of his heart lulling you to sleep before you know it.

Imagine Bear Price who gets an insatiable sweet tooth. There’s not a single secret stash in his room that doesn’t have his favorite bottle of honey in it. Hell, there’s more honey hidden in his room than cigars.

And his lazy mind decides to combine his hunger with honey with his hunger for you.

"Hold still for daddy, baby boy." Price mumbles against your abdomen, big hand gripping your hip to keep you still so not a drop of the honey he drizzles on your cock goes to waste. "Good." He purrs, wide tongue lolling out of his mouth to lap at your tip, claws massaging the skin beneath them.

He can spend hours laying between your legs, lazily lavishing your cock with attention while satisfying his craving for sweets. Whine and moan as much as you want, uselessly buck your hips as best you can against his unfair strength, nothing will make him rush — with his energy drained he'll spend meticulous minutes following every vein on your cock with his tongue before he even thinks of gently suckling on your tip. "Relax my boy, just enjoy this." He mutters, lips pressed against the sticky flesh of your shaft.

And when he does take you into his mouth, it's just as slow. His mouth hangs open so you can see your tip resting on his tongue before he laps at your slit, drool and honey running down his chin and sticking the strands of his beard together. When all the honey is in his stomach he just drizzles more, nibbling on your thighs or stomach to keep his mouth and mind occupied with you before starting the torturous process all over again.

The slow torturous pleasure is easy to endure just so you can see his eyes light up when you start leaking precum.

Imagine Bear Price absolutely loves loves loves the salty tang your cum adds to the sweet honey, the delicate combination of flavor dancing on tongue and only fueling his gluttonous mind to demand more.

The distinct taste is the only way to cut through the fog of lazy pleasure in his mind, turning him greedy. Price mumbles and growls incoherent words around your cock as he swallows you down to the root, swallowing around you and holding you down when you try to buck up. "My boy tastes so good." He mumbles as he rises up, nuzzling his cheek against your weeping tip, looking up at you with hungry blue eyes. "Just for daddy, yeah?"

"Ye-yes sir." You whimper through your clenched teeth, your head lolling back against the pillows when he swallows you whole again, your tip bumping against the back of his throat. "Just fo- fuck, fuck,- just for you." You don't know how he doesn't choke on you but you don't have the mental faculties to even think about that when your brains are leaking through your cock.

Price smiles around your cock, the purr rattling his chest and making his throat vibrate around you. "Smart boy," He praises after he pulls off, precum and honey swirling on his tongue as he takes the moment to savor the taste. He knows how close you are, he can feel the cum churning your balls when he rolls them in his rough palm. "You can give daddy a bit more, can't you?"

You honestly don't know how long you will last.

Imagine Bear Price who can get so insatiable he growls like a tractor when you try to weakly push him off your cock, so aroused that you think even the slightest gust of wind will make you pop.

Price bites your thigh enough to hurt and only his hand squeezing down on the base of your cock keeps you from cumming. "And where do you think you're going boy?" He demands, claws digging into your skin to pull your hips closer, little kitten licks of his tongue driving you to the brink of madness.

"S-Sir!" You moan before you can stop yourself, your hips twitching uselessly against his hands, thighs shaking. "'m sorry, I'm fuck, I'm so close." You whimper, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Every nerve in your system is on fire, pleasure so strong it's turned to pain along your body.

Price huffs, but his tight hold lessens. "It's alright sweet boy," He hums, placing a sweet kiss on your cock head. "I know how you can make it up to daddy."

Imagine Bear Price who's only placated when you slide your cock back inside him. Your muscles ache from the strength it takes you to hoist his heavy legs over your shoulders and keep them there, but your rewarded with the tightening of his sweet hole, a pleased rumble leaving his throat.

“G-good boy-.” He growls, long claws scratching down your back as you pound into him. Your thrusts are slow but deep, making his toes curl every time you bottom out, tip scraping his prostate and making his cock spurt a dollop of precum with every thrust. “Fucking daddy so deep. I taught you well, yeah?”

"Yes, yes, yes!" You agree to everything he says without hearing any of his words, your body moving automatically to bully your dick into him. Every thrust is heaven and every second spent pulling out from his tight heat is hell, the sensitive veins of your cock scraping against his walls.

He moans when you manage to clip his prostate with your thrusts, one clawed hand sliding down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise. "Harder boy," He demands, rolling his hips to meet you half way, other hand raising up to scruff you. "You can go har-hm!- harder. . . don't you wan- fuck, want to make daddy feel good?"

Clenching your eyes shut you slam into him as hard as you can, feeling the fat widening his frame jiggle with every hard thrust. Without thinking Price pulls your head down to smother you in his pecs, soft fluffy fur tickling your face as the ample flesh suffocates you. The sweet scent of honey mixed with his musk erases any vestiges of sentient thought in your head, leaving your animal brain to pick up the pieces — Pin him down harder and mate him, rut into him until he's roaring with his full chest, his hard cock slapping against your stomach.

Price reacts to the change in your behavior by pressing your face even harder against his chest, his walls clenching around your cock like a vice so you have to try harder to push into him. Price’s lips brush against your ear, voice low and rumbly. “My boy, come in daddy.” He urges you on, both legs now tightly wound around your waist so you can only hump your aching cock into him. “Co-mh!- cum, cum in me son, you want to be good for daddy right?”

That's all it takes to drive you over the edge, mind going black like a piece of paper as your orgasm rocks through you with the intensity of lighting. The sensation of your hot cum spilling into his hole triggers his own orgasm and he cums with a thunderous roar, sticky seed shooting across your abdomen.

You collapse on top of him, his legs keeping your softening cock inside him, not that you have even a single functioning muscle to try to pull out. His big hand cradles your skull, honey flavored lips placing soothing kisses on your temple. "That's my boy." Price murmurs, his chest rumbling with a soft purr. "Did so well for me." He yawns, eyelids fluttering as that fog of lethargy settles over both of you. "Now rest," The order is spoken in the softest voice he's ever used, and it works like a horse tranquilizer on you.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel his hole clench around your soft cock, the cum inside him squelching as his body unconsciously tries to persuade yours into filling him up just a bit more.

It's gonna be a long winter.

[strangersteddierthings]

Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

"Bad news first, Eddie," Steve sighs as he leans back on his heels, cleaner in one hand and a rag in the other. "They vandalized your headstone again. Good news, I beat Wayne out here so he won't be seeing it."

It's been over a year since they'd had to leave Eddie behind. He'd been cleared of the murders. That had been the easy part, since the Upside Down had exploded out into the Rightside Up. When Vecna started killing people it had been pretty easy for people to realize Eddie was just another victim.

Or so Steve had thought.

Eleven saved them all, the people of Hawkins knew the truth, yet Steve still found graffiti on Eddie's grave.

Eddie's grave is empty, because Eddie's body hadn't been recovered. Too much had happened, no time to mount an expedition to retrieve it, and the gates were closed. Another regret Steve lives with.

Like not taking Eddie's face between his hands and looking him dead in the eye when he told them not to be heroes.

Late at night, Steve sometimes imagines he did just that. Looked him dead in the eyes and said, "there is no shame in running, in living to see another day. Don't be a hero because I need you to be okay tomorrow."

Robin says it's not good for his mental health, these what-if scenarios, but so what?

Steve isn't sure what started it but coming out here to talk to Eddie seems to help him clear his thoughts. He always starts with the bad news, Eddie's voice in the back of his mind. Bad news first, always.

The first time Wayne had caught him out here, Wayne thought he was vandalizing. Had scared Steve half to death being yanked back violently by his upper arm. It didn't take Wayne long for his eyes to process that Steve wasn't holding paint.

"You know my boy?" Wayne always spoke in the present tense about Eddie.

"Not as well as I would have liked, sir," Steve swallowed thickly. It was the start of a friendship, of sorts. Wayne seemed happy to have someone to tell stories about Eddie to, and Steve was happy to learn about Eddie.

Months pass and Steve goes every week.

"Bad news. The new guitarist is mediocre at best. Good news. Corroded Coffin lives on and they finally got a new guitarist."

"Bad news. Robin will not shut up about Vickie. Good news. Robin got that date she wanted."

"Bad news. Wayne had an accident at the plant. Good news, he's okay. I think... this might be weird to you, but I've convinced him to move in, at least until he's healed fully so he's not alone. He's staying in the downstairs guest room. Not that you know where that is. You've never even been to my house... bad news, you've never been to my house. Good news, I really wish you had."

So it goes. Wayne Munson moves in and never moves out. Steve's parents call once, to ask if he wants the house. Steve says yes.

Shortly after, Robin takes a room upstairs. Says she gonna take a year off school before college. The Party moves their dnd games to Steve's giant dining room table. His house is always full but part of Steve feels empty.

"B-bad news," Steve forces the words out around the lump in his throat, "I found out too late. Good news, I'm bisexual. Bad news, good news? I don't know man, the news is I could have loved you. I think I do, but that's the you Wayne and the kids tell me about, so who is to say really."

So it goes.

"Bad news. They're seniors this year, Eds. Seniors! Robin going away to college was bad enough. I don't know if I'll even know how to function when they do. 'Cause they're gonna, you know? They're smart. Too smart to stay in this town," Steve is crying, can feel the tears falling, but doesn't stop them. "I know I should go, too. Somewhere else. Anywhere else. But I can't leave. Wayne's here. You're here. And if I go, who will look after either of you?"

"Bad news. College acceptance letters have come in. They're not even graduated yet. This should be good news, but, heh, friends don't lie."

"Bad news, Eds. I can't remember your voice. I didn't think.... I feel like I remember it but I can't hear it. I want to hear it. I-i need-" Steve doesn't know what he needs, doesn't know how to end that sentence so he just sobs, fingers burying themselves into the dirt of an empty grave.

Wayne gets a phone call one day and says he's gotta go back to Tennessee. Eddie's father -that rocks Steve because while he knows Wayne was Eddie's uncle, he never connected that a father was somewhere out there- Eddie's father, Wayne's younger brother, needs him.

Steve drives Wayne to the airport in Indianapolis. Wayne promises he'll return but Steve won't hold him to that. This is family, and as much as Steve pretends, he isn't Wayne's nephew. Isn't Wayne's family.

As Wayne disappears onto his flight, Steve is left hollow. There's no one left in Hawkins that needs him.

"Bad news, Eds. I think I'm a danger to myself. I keep having these thoughts... like how easy it would be to drive my car into the quarry. Or just slip into the pool and take a deep breath. I don't know who I am, or how to be me, without someone needing me."

Wayne calls and tells him he's coming home. Bringing a guest if that's ok. Steve says okay because he needs to meet the man who taught Eddie how to hot wire a car but not play catch. Also, he hopes to hear Eddie in his voice when they speak.

"Bad news, Eds. I'm too much of a coward to meet your old man. Afraid of what he'll sound like. Because I want him to sound like you so fucking bad it hurts. So instead of being home, I'm hiding here."

And then, a miracle happens.

"Well, I've some bad news for you, too, Stevie. I got my voice from my mom."

[tra1nchi]

I’ve already done this ask to a author before and I’ll do it again because it’s the best trope, but what about dad’s bestfriend instead of bestfriend’s dad😳

A hot man in his 40s who has known reader since birth. He has met reader’s dad maybe in high school and college, and was there for dad when reader was born from a one night stand. A muscly man who used to take reader to the cinema to watch the latest disney movie, who played hide and seek with the lil toddler and changed his diapers. A man who always went to reader’s school events, taught him the simplest science while during homework and was there for him during his first heartbreak as a poor 14 year old… Dad’s bestfriend who helped dad to turn reader into a man.

Dad’s best who, with time, grew infatuated with the handsome young man his grandson was turning into. Dad’s best friend who is a little bit to happy when reader turns 20 and leaves his teen years behind. The man who, during a New Year party between dad’s close ones, takes the opportunity to start this new phase of his life with a cute little younger boyfriend. Dad’s bestfriend who makes sure reader gets drunk, and then lies to dad he’s just taking the boy to his room. Dad’s best friend who takes advantage of godson’s drunkness and fingers him, and shows reader what it is like to be with a real man while he fucks the young man right.

(dubcon?)

This is cute,,MINORS DNI!! Bttm male reader,,Dubcon,,Drunk sex,,Older man,, Manipulation,,

He had known your dad since college,,he had watched him spiral into depression and after a very risky one night stand,,your dad had you!! the most adorable boy he had ever seen!! He was over joyed when your father had asked him to be your godfather!!

Taking care of you when your father couldn't,,babysitting and gently helping you with your homework while your dad was out partying,,stroking your hair and reading to you after you cried out for your random prostitute of a mother!!

He felt more like a dad then your dead beat parents ever did,, he was the one making you laugh when you played games!!! He was the one clapping for you when you won your first award!! He was there to cradle you as you sobbed into his arms about your now ex!!!

Sitting beside your hungover father at your high-school graduation!! Encouraging your own dad to clap for you when he didn't,, He couldn't help but feel giddy when he saw your broad smile of joy!! >□<

When you left for college,, He felt like a hole came into his heart,,dealing with your dad when he couldn't see your cute smile everyday was putting a strain on him!!!

When you came back for your fathers new years party,,you looked so much older now,,so much more matured then when he last saw you!!

Waiting his turn patiently,, watching as you hugged your father before takingbyou immediately into his arms after you finished hugging him!!

"Aw, my boy is home!" He says happily,,pulling away to cup your cheeks as he looks lovingly into your eyes,,his thumb moving to stroke your cheek gently!!!

The party was raging on as he noticed how distracted your father was with some random women that he invited,,making sure to stick at your side at all times!! Pouring your drink whenever you ran out,,you need to stay hydrated!!

Watching as you get more intoxicated,,sticking to his side as you giggle,,allowing him to press a soft kiss to your temple!!! Assuring your father that you would be alright!! He'll bring you right to bed,,

Getting you nice and cozy in your childhood bedroom,,where he read to you so many nights,,but instead of reading his fingers were deep inside of you!!

"Shhh, you're nice and safe here" He coos letting you hide your face in the crook of his arm,, his lubed up fingers going in and out of you!!! Snickering softly as your thighs tremble and squishing his fingers

"Those college boys..maybe I should show you how a real man fucks hm? You'd like that wouldn't you?" His breath was hot against your ear as he flips you over,,your ass high up and rubbing against his crotch!!!

[chimcess]

Nachash || jhs

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ft. Taehyung) Genre: Supernatural AU, Demon!Hoseok, Med Student!Reader, Smut, One night stand, Angst, Horror AU, Incubus! Hoseok, 90s AU, Yandere!AU Rating: 18+ (don’t interact if you’re a minor) Word Count: 21.4k+ Summary: After the loss of both of her parents, Y/N decided to sell their home in Florida and move back to New York City, a place that she has little memories of despite 10 years of living in Harlem. Her world begins to shift, and she starts to lose sight of dreams and reality, and at the center of it all is Hoseok, a sweet man who gives her a strange sense of deja vu, but she can’t help but wonder if he is who he says he is and why a strange bar keeps popping up in her nightmares. Warnings: Strong language, bad medical terminology (I tried), Hoseok has a demon side (like physically different), main character (somewhat) death (graphic), graphic violence, reader slowly losing her mind, heavy religious themes in a large chunk of this, explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, manhandling, hard dom Hoseok, so much blood, low-key a yandere but not really, blood play, blood drinking, begging for life, extreme emotional manipulation, growling, over stimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it up), DARK ENDING, dubious consent (mind control/mood control/literally cannot leave Hoseok's presence), reader is severely mentally ill by the end of this, demonic possession, Stockholm syndrome, this is not a cute demon romance, read at your own risk, stopping here since there’s a lot just let me know if I missed anything A/N: After posting a teaser for this fic two years ago, I finally got around to finishing it! I’m still working on my smut skills, so I apologize in advance, but I hope you can get down with my favorite (and extremely evil) demon man. Happy Halloween (or, to my fellow Pagans, Happy Samhain)!

Prologue || Listen to the Playlist || Cross posted on AO3: here

Nachash (noun) "snake; serpent". Derived from the Hebrew root n-ch-sh.

July 1997

"How are you feeling?"

I sighed, pulling open another box. Unpacking was always the worst part of moving, like some cosmic joke designed to break you down piece by piece. Plates stared back at me from the box, and I clenched my jaw. The one on top was chipped—another thing on my growing list of replacements. I pulled it out and set it aside, determined to deal with it later. The rest of the plates went away in the cabinet. The broken one would be tossed.

"I don't know," I confessed. "Mom died. I'm everywhere."

My brother's hum of acknowledgment was all I heard. Miles had always been a quiet, distant sort, barely speaking to our parents. Their deaths hit him hard, but more so with Dad than Mom. Dad had been the stable one, while Mom was a relentless storm—never satisfied, constantly pushing, always demanding. To her, a doctor and a lawyer weren't enough. Miles had always seen her as aggressive, unyielding, and ever discontented. And Dad? Well, his complacency had its own way of grating.

Miles had moved to Oregon right after graduating from FSU, never looking back. We'd made the trek to see him a few times, but he'd never returned the favor. My stint in New York had mended our relationship somewhat. He visited frequently and spent his summers with me, and after Dad passed, he made a point to see Mom at least once a year. I didn't mind the trips to Portland; my Jacksonville home had become his family's vacation spot.

"So am I," he said, his voice betraying a hint of fatigue.

They'd been at each other's throats, arguing constantly, with his wife loathing Mom. Yet, I knew Miles held some affection for her despite their tumultuous relationship. He'd never truly made her proud, and that haunted him. I understood, but when I moved back home, the dynamics shifted. Mom used me as a weapon against Miles, making me the favored child, the one who came back. Miles was the ungrateful one who'd married the wrong woman.

Mom always blamed Trinity for Miles' "bad attitude." Dad knew better. I knew better.

"So," Miles shifted gears, "when can we come and visit?"

I smiled, "I'll be out there for Thanksgiving and Christmas. So maybe next summer?"

"That's a long wait."

I chuckled, "Well, Rory starts school this year and Trinity's pregnant. You're just as busy as I am."

I'd been the one with the most on my plate for years. Mom, a real estate agent, rarely left home, while Dad ran a plumbing company. When Miles went to college, I was knee-deep in medical school applications. During my residency, Miles was grinding through law school. When I moved back to Florida, I was buried in ICU shifts while he graduated and started his own practice. He met Trinity, and the two became inseparable. Mom despised her, but I saw how they brought out the best in each other. My career-driven life had left me disconnected, and while Mom reveled in it, I resented it.

Kids changed everything for them. Aurora was their miracle baby. Trinity had struggled with fertility for years, and when they finally had a child, it was as if their world had transformed. My brother was spent, and Mom's resentment boiled over. She was always bitter that they hadn't uprooted their lives back to Florida for the grandchild. By then, Miles didn't care. He'd made the trips for Dad but after Mom's cruel comments about Trinity's weight and their daughter being "too pretty" to be her granddaughter, Aurora never set foot in the family home again.

"Aurora is driving me crazy," Miles groaned. "She won't stop talking about the baby."

"As a big sister, I can tell you she's just being a normal kid."

"I know that," I could almost hear his eye roll. "I'm just worried. It's still early, and I don't want her hopes to get too high. Trinity's scared of another miscarriage."

It would be her sixth.

"Try to stay positive, bub," I bit my lip, surveying the cluttered room. I'd never finish today. "If it happens, it happens. But don't go into it expecting the worst."

"Between Mom and this…" He trailed off.

I understood his fear. Trinity was a few years older than me, and her anxiety was palpable. At 38, any pregnancy brought its own set of worries. Last I heard, Trinity was considering getting her tubes tied if this one didn't make it. The heartache was becoming unbearable.

"Hey," I kept my tone gentle, knowing that riling him up wouldn't help. "Keep your head up. Her next appointment is soon. Ensure she's sticking to bedrest, and you'll be fine."

"What if it happens again?"

My heart broke for him. Miles had always been the rock, the one who seemed unshakeable. Seeing him this vulnerable starkly contrasted with the angry kid he'd been in high school. Mom had pushed his buttons mercilessly, and I had vague memories of our squabbles, but they paled compared to the constant battles he faced with her.

I wondered if he ever grasped how I felt. He always thought Mom liked me more, but it was more about her being able to overlook me. While he fought for her attention, nothing I did ever really mattered. It was like a fog followed me, obscuring me from their view. Sometimes, it would lift, and Mom would acknowledge me, but then it would return, and I was forgotten.

"You'll get through it," I assured him.

We chatted a bit more. Aurora was excited about kindergarten and had picked out new uniforms. She was obsessed with Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, and her new backpack reflected that. She'd even given her Prince Wednesday stuffed animal to the baby. It was everyday family life, but the emptiness in my chest grew. I longed for laughter and the innocent joy of children in my home.

"Trinity's calling me," Miles said, his voice muffled by distance.

"I'll talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you too, sissy."

I smiled faintly, "Later."

He hung up before I could say anything else. I glanced around the room, eyes narrowing at the boxes that seemed to taunt me with their mere existence. All of them were my own—mainly books, a few other odds and ends. The sadness that gripped me was relentless. I'd always had the most demanding job, the tightest schedule, and the deepest insecurities. Miles was angry, and I was desperate to be seen, so much so that I followed every command without question. Now, here I was, alone, surrounded by regret.

Dating felt like a cruel joke. My time in New York had alienated me more than anything else. That fog of invisibility from my childhood had returned with a vengeance. Coworkers would barely look at me for over a second; people on the street seemed oblivious to my presence and dates. They always ended badly. They weren't evil men but would forget my name within seconds. It felt like I wasn't real, like I existed on some other plane.

The only person who seemed to remember I existed anymore was my brother and his family. Dad's Alzheimer's had robbed him of any memory of us before he passed. Mom, too incoherent at Hospice, never stayed awake long enough to acknowledge my presence. Sometimes, it felt like Miles would momentarily forget me, only for my name to pop into his mind at predictable intervals—like clockwork, only calling on specific days and times, usually if he was planning a trip. It upset me more than I could recall, but now I wondered why.

"This place won't unpack itself," I muttered aloud.

I'd talked to myself so much it felt almost normal. I knew I needed to make friends, that without connections, I'd end up as lonely as my father, but the idea seemed futile. No one saw me clearly. No one ever had. When I searched my memories for anyone who had seen me, I came up empty. No one had ever really seen me. No one ever would. Instinctively, I knew this despite the facade of normalcy I tried to maintain. I had a job, a family, a house. I wasn't haunted. Or… maybe I was just being childish. I was simply forgettable, unremarkable. This I knew.

"I exist," I whispered, the words reverberating loudly in the stillness of my apartment.

The silence that pervaded my life mocked me with its omnipresence.

"How the hell do you get lost in a bar?"

"It's a lounge, sha," came a voice behind me.

What a peculiar dream. I took a bite of my sandwich, returning to the rude awakening that morning. I rarely remembered my dreams, if I had them at all. But last night had been different. I'd found myself in a dimly lit room with a man I couldn't recall clearly, dressed in white and speaking with an accent I couldn't place. I woke up before anything significant happened. The dream had been woefully uneventful.

The floor was almost eerily quiet tonight. Aside from the constant beeps and monitors scattered around and George Gilmore in room 11 watching football, no one spoke. The nurses here seemed less lively than I was accustomed to, their faces vacant, their words few. I kept to my small office most of the night, avoiding their station.

We'd had one death so far—a patient with a DNR who suffered a stroke shortly after midnight. Another woman had been pronounced brain-dead an hour ago. We'd wait until tomorrow to pull the plug, so her daughter could say goodbye. I didn't count her in my tally. The night crew had a way of seeing me even less than the others, and I didn't like them much.

"Hello, Doctor."

I jumped, startled. At least he had the decency to look sheepish. My irritation took me by surprise. I wasn't typically agitated; my feelings were either muted or overwhelming. He pushed his hair back, revealing messy chocolate brown locks, and held a clipboard stained with dubious marks.

"Sorry," he mumbled, shifting awkwardly under my gaze. I was already weary of his presence. "I was told you were new and thought I should introduce myself before leaving for the night. I'm Damon Glass, one of the anesthesiologists."

"Y/N Y/L/N," I replied, my voice flat and uninviting. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he smiled, showing a gap between his front teeth that reminded me of my father's. It was a rare sight among people my age. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to come to me. Dr. Whitlock is on the floor, and I believe Morgan Fletcher is on call."

I nodded, appreciating the information but ready for him to leave. My distaste had faded, but I preferred brevity in conversations, especially with outsiders. I disliked the feeling of interacting with them. It was why I preferred dealing with the nearly dead; they rarely spoke, and when they did, I knew they'd be too medicated to remember much. The families were more accessible to handle than the ones back in Florida.

It was odd how my thoughts could veer into such morbid territories. Almost as morbid as my enjoyment of overseeing dying patients. It was not as macabre as my unbidden glee at my mother's death alongside my brother, but it ranked high on my list of flaws.

"Have a good night," I said, returning to my computer to refresh my emails.

Dr. Glass seemed to take the hint, leaving with an awkward smile and wave.

August 1997

I stood outside the door, the muffled sounds of grief seeping through the walls like a relentless, jagged current. The family's sorrow was palpable, a heavy fog that followed me down the hallway. I hoped to catch them in a better moment, but the cruel truth of this place was that better moments were rare. With a resigned breath, I raised my hand and knocked. The room fell silent, and a strained voice called out, allowing me to enter.

Elizabeth Fraiser had lived a life filled with grace and elegance. Once a dancer whose feet had carried her across Europe's stages, she met her husband in Paris and married him there. They had settled in New York, where her days of ballet had given way to a quieter role as a ballet instructor in Jersey. She had raised a family, and her pride in her children was as evident as her passion for dance. She spoke of them with a joy that contrasted sharply with the emptiness of my own mother's words.

Now, Elizabeth was in the late stages of lung cancer. Her family had clung to the hope of letting her pass away at home, but the relentless pneumonia and ceaseless pain had pushed them to make the difficult decision to admit her here. Her condition had worsened sharply today, and her family was struggling to cope with the harsh reality.

"Good afternoon," I said softly, a gentle murmur in the oppressive silence.

"Nice to see you," Elizabeth's oldest son, Elijah, managed a weak smile. We both knew he wasn't fond of doctors, but he tolerated me because I didn't overstay my welcome. "Mom's been sleeping for a while."

I stifled a sigh. Her body was crumbling, and delivering bad news was never easy. The small comfort was knowing she would soon feel nothing at all. We planned to increase her morphine dosage and withdraw all other medications. Her family would need to agree, but I wasn't too concerned. Mary, her daughter, had debated extending her mother's life with her brothers.

"We're really at the end, aren't we?" Mary's voice was strained, her husband's arm around her for support. Among them, she was the calmest, but the edges of her composure were frayed. Her eyes were red, testimony to her unrelenting tears. "Will she be in pain?"

I explained our focus on alleviating her suffering. She would be less coherent in the coming days but occasionally rouse enough to interact with them between doses. We aimed to ensure she had the utmost comfort and relief in her final days. The youngest Percy took the news hardest and had to excuse himself. I held Mary's hand, appreciating the warmth of human connection. I prided myself on my bedside manner.

"I know home care wasn't ideal for you," I broached delicately, aware of their crowded lives and young children. "But I'm offering it as an option. Respite care is also available, though I understand it was stressful before. It's worth discussing."

Elijah shook his head firmly. Mary hesitated, but her husband's reminder to care for herself and their baby swayed her. Percy's wife raised concerns about her own health, cementing the decision. Elizabeth would remain with us in her final days. It was probably for the best—she was too frail and in too much agony without constant medication.

"Let me know if you need anything," I said, glancing at the family. The nurses are always available, and I'm on call until six. Is there anything I can get you before I leave?"

"Mom needs a bath," Percy reentered the room. A nurse had come by earlier, asking if we were ready to step out. Let them know they could come in."

The rest of my shift dragged on. Other families were terse and uncommunicative, and their responses were minimal. I understood their grief, but it did little to ease my weary spirit. The nurses seemed as disinterested in me as ever. I had long since given up trying to connect with them.

The air outside was crisp, almost biting. I walked to the subway, the city traffic too maddening to endure. I'd trade bumper-to-bumper frustration for the quirks of the subway any day. Last week, a man in a bunny costume rapped at six in the morning. The week before, a man argued with his reflection in the window. Last night, an elderly woman beside me commented on my disheveled appearance, lamenting that men didn't like that and worrying I'd die alone. I barely remember if I responded. I hated talking on the subway; her parting insult had stung me.

Tonight promised to be different. I left the hospital later than usual, after two code blues and an injury report for a nurse. Overdue paperwork and an insurance squabble later, it was past eight when I left. My walk was short, and the wait at the terminal was OK, but the train didn't arrive until 9:30. When I finally boarded, the car was almost empty.

Then a group of men entered. They were rowdy, pushing each other, their drunkenness a stifling cloud. I almost moved when they sat too close, but I didn't want to draw attention. I could feel their eyes on me. I clutched my bag tightly, fingers brushing the can of pepper spray hooked to its strap. I was almost home. Just three more stops.

"Hey," one of the men called out. I ignored him. "Hey, you."

I hated the subway.

"Leave her alone."

That voice caught my attention. I knew it—or thought I did. When I looked up, I was met with a stranger, yet his presence felt oddly familiar. He was striking, with tanned skin and sharp features that made his brown eyes stand out under the harsh fluorescent lights. He took the seat beside mine, and I didn't stop him. The men were back to their raucous laughter, and I was forgotten. I relaxed slightly, hoping to remain unnoticed.

"Sorry about them," he said, his warm and soothing voice a gentle tenor that evoked a sense of nostalgia. "Are you OK?"

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze. Something about him tugged at the edges of my memory, yet he wasn't a celebrity, and I was sure I'd never met him before. Perhaps we'd crossed paths on the subway? My brain was playing tricks on me.

"Yes," I said softly. "Thank you."

Despite myself, I stole glances at him. I had to remind myself to breathe when I ventured past his neck. He was slender, but there was a subtle strength beneath his clothes. If he noticed my scrutiny, he said nothing. He returned to his book, but I was convinced that his eyes were still on me when I finally looked away.

I jolted awake, my body wracked with shivers despite the suffocating warmth of the blanket. The room was deathly silent, save for the moonlight streaming through the window like a spotlight on a stage set for a performance I never auditioned for. I rolled over, trying to bury myself deeper into the cocoon of my blanket, but then I heard it—a voice, soft and faint, yet carrying an unsettling authority.

“Oh, Y/N,” the voice crooned, dripping with a sinister allure. “It’s time. Come to me.”

Confusion and dread clawed at my insides as I stumbled out of bed. The room was a far cry from my own—stone walls, thick and oppressive, casting shadows that seemed to dance with malevolent glee. The floor beneath my feet was icy, a stark contrast to the comfort of my bed. My nightgown, white and delicate, felt like a mockery in this alien environment.

This wasn’t my room.

The voice came again, seductive and commanding. “Y/N, come out, come out, now. I’m waiting for you.”

Compelled, I moved to the window. Below, in the moonlit expanse of the lawn, stood the man from the subway. His face was eerily illuminated, his head tilted back as if inviting me to join him in the darkness below. His eyes—glowing a brilliant gold—seemed to reach out to me, promising unspeakable things if only I would take the leap.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He raised a hand, crooking a finger in a silent invitation. It was as if an invisible thread was pulling me toward him. Entranced, my feet moved on their own accord. Barefoot, the cold stone beneath me was a cruel contrast to the warmth I’d just left behind. I wandered through hallways and passages that felt simultaneously foreign and intimately known, descending into the shadows where he waited.

As I emerged onto the lawn, his smile made me shiver. He approached, his fingers brushing the side of my face—teasing, tantalizing, yet never quite touching.

“I’ve waited for you for so long,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. “So very long. And now, now you’re mine.”

A fragment of my mind screamed in protest, shouting that I didn’t belong to him, that I didn’t even know who he was or why I was here. But a deeper, more primal force tugged at me, pulling me closer until I was nearly touching him. His presence was unsettlingly soothing, and I took a breath, feeling the heat of his gaze.

“That’s right, my lamb, come closer,” he coaxed.

An overwhelming longing surged through me—irrational, illogical, yet so profound that I couldn’t resist. I needed him to touch me, to make the connection complete. I tilted my head to the side, exposing my neck to the moonlight.

He responded immediately, his fingers trailing along my throat, their cool touch sending shivers through me. I gasped, my body lighting up with each delicate brush.

“More,” I heard myself plead, pressing closer.

“Say it,” he demanded, his arms enveloping me in a possessive embrace. “Who do you belong to?”

“You. I’m yours.”

He cradled my head in his hand, leaning in. His lips were smooth against my skin, but his teeth were sharp as they pierced through flesh. I screamed as he drank deeply.

I awoke with a start, sitting up in bed, my hands clutching at my throat, searching for any sign of injury. The skin was intact, unbroken. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm my racing heart that felt as though it might burst from my chest.

The lamp flickered on with a click, casting a harsh, unwelcome light that made me squint and shield my eyes. Grabbing my robe and a cup, I shuffled out of the room, the chill of the hallway hitting me like a slap. I closed the door quietly behind me, trying not to disturb the oppressive silence that hung heavy in the air. The bathroom, bathed in the sickly fluorescent glow, was as deserted as I’d hoped.

I filled my cup halfway with water from one of the sinks, then leaned against the cold, sterile tiles, watching my reflection in the mirror as I took slow, deliberate sips. The dream—the one that had shaken me awake—felt so unnervingly real.

I traced the line of my neck with trembling fingers, the blue vein just beneath the surface. What kind of twisted message was my mind trying to send me with that nightmare? It had been a full-on gothic horror—a relic of some crumbling English manor, not the kind of place I ever imagined myself visiting, unless I was buried in a pile of classic literature.

And him. The monster. Even now, as I closed my eyes, I could still see his face—a blend of dark allure and cruel beauty. His eyes, oh, those eyes. They’d held me in thrall, made me willing to surrender to any demand he made. I could almost feel his cold touch, see his smile that promised both ecstasy and agony.

Wasn’t the whole vampire-mother-stuff supposed to be a metaphor for sex? Maybe that’s what my subconscious was trying to shove in my face—sex, or the glaring void where it should have been in my life.

I studied my flushed reflection, feeling the heat in my cheeks. I shook my head, trying to shake off the nightmare’s grip.

The man sat next to me again. It had been a week since I last saw him, and my body still reacted to his presence. Today, I admired his chiseled jawline and elongated face. He was an exquisite oval with a strong profile. This time, he caught me looking and smiled shyly.

"I'm Hoseok."

The name sent a shiver, stirring something familiar and unsettling. I quickly brushed off the uneasy feeling. It was probably my own insecurity.

"Y/N," I replied, unable to tear my gaze away from him.

He resumed reading, and I focused on crocheting a stuffed rabbit for my nephew. Miles had called that morning to update me on Trinity's appointment. The toy wasn't perfect—far from it—but I wanted to give it a try.

"How would you feel about dinner?" Hoseok's voice broke through my thoughts.

I paused my knitting. "I enjoy dinner. Who doesn't?"

He chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that made me blush. "Cheeky."

I bit my lip, unsure if it was a compliment. I felt a pang of embarrassment, struggling to maintain my composure. The first date I'd been asked on since undergrad, and I was fumbling. Miles would have a field day.

"Would you like dinner with me?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

Hoseok's laughter resonated deeply within me, and I felt a jolt of warmth as he slid closer, his knee brushing against mine. He was impossibly warm. Instinctively, I shifted away, uncomfortable with his proximity. There was something off about him, an unsettling vibe that I couldn't quite place.

But then he smiled, and that soft, disarming grin evaporated all my doubts. He was dazzling. My eyes fluttered shut as his cologne enveloped me, weakening my knees. I had to remind myself to breathe. He was captivating.

"Do you like Italian?" he asked, his voice deeper now.

I nodded, struggling to steady my breath. Panic and embarrassment churned within me, but I couldn't ignore the physical response. My mind was flooded with inappropriate thoughts of Hoseok, vivid and intrusive. I gasped, feeling a flush of heat I hadn't experienced in a long time. 

"Does two weeks work?"

Snapping out of my daze, I looked at Hoseok and nodded. 

"I'm off on the 27th."

He smiled, and I stared at his teeth longer than necessary. They seemed different—sharper, perhaps, with redder gums. I blinked, reassured that they were just as I remembered. My sleep deprivation must be getting to me.

"Meet you here?"

We agreed to meet at six. I'd catch the 5:30 train to ensure I arrived before him. As the subway pulled into my stop, I waved goodbye and stepped out, only to realize I hadn't asked him where we were going. The thought lingered until the following day.

The voice is louder now, sharper, as if it’s cutting through the fog of my half-sleep. “Y/N? I’m waiting for you. Come to me now.”

I hear it, feel the tug of it dragging me towards him, but fear clamps down on me like a vice. My bare feet are numb on the cold, wet grass as I stumble through the twisting maze of hedges, trying to escape the invisible force that pulls me like iron to a magnet.

My breath hitches, coming fast and uneven, as I sprint around corners, the long white gown tangling around my legs and tripping me up. I’m not sure anymore if I’m searching for a way out or if I’m trying to find him.

I turn another corner, my ankle twists and pain shoots through my leg as I crash into an open space—a small, white fountain sits in the middle, surrounded by benches.

Through the flickering light of the moon dancing on the water, I see him. Not a figment of my imagination, but there he is, standing as he promised, waiting.

Hoseok walks towards me with a slow, deliberate grace. He bends, lifting me effortlessly from the mess of my tangled gown and into his arms. I feel a peculiar sense of completeness as he sits on a bench, cradling me like a precious artifact.

“Were you bringing me your gift? Or were you trying to run from me?” His voice is soft, almost tender, and yet it cuts through me. I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes. I’m lost, adrift in confusion.

I’m mesmerized by his flawless beauty. My fingers move of their own accord, reaching towards his face. That smile returns, and I see the satisfaction in his eyes.

“You may touch me.” His lips part slightly, and I press my fingers against them. His tongue flicks out, wrapping around my fingertip and drawing it into his mouth. Before I can react, I feel a sharp bite.

I gasp as he licks the blood that wells up from the small wound. “A small treat,” he murmurs. “That’s why you came, isn’t it?”

I find myself nodding, helpless under his gaze.

He licks my finger one last time, savoring the taste before swallowing. “They told me you’d be extraordinary, worth every moment of waiting. Yet, your taste is beyond anything I ever dreamed.”

My body reacts to his words and his touch—still innocent but making my skin feel like it’s stretched too tight, like I might explode. I let my head fall back, exposing my neck to him as his tongue traces a path up the sensitive skin.

And then he bites.

I bolt awake, heart pounding as if it might burst from my chest. I fumble in the dark, reaching for the light switch, feeling profoundly alone with Rose away for the weekend.

I throw off the covers and stagger to the mirror, desperately checking my neck. There’s nothing there, no sign of the bite.

A cold shiver runs down my spine. I grab a blanket and a book, and huddle in the hall lounge, surrounded by the harsh light of every lamp and the incessant flicker of the television, trying to drive away the lingering shadows of the nightmare.

September 1997

I eased into my seat, the familiar weight of my bag pressed to my left side and draped an arm over it as if to claim it for my own. It was the first night off from the relentless grind of being on-call since mid-August and the first real night out in years. I’d never been much for the party scene, and medical school had only sharpened that aversion. The last time I went out for drinks was nearly six years ago, a fleeting memory of bar hopping that I’d abandoned early, too exhausted to keep pace with my friends.

Tonight, however, felt different. There was a nagging sense that I was misremembering that long-ago night, like a foggy half-remembered dream where something vital was missing. My life in New York had become a blur of medical texts and sleepless shifts, the grueling 24-hour days erasing the finer details of my existence. My final year had been a carousel of discomfort, but the specifics eluded me, lost in exhaustion. Perhaps a creep of some sort, some misguided doctor with a name I couldn’t quite grasp—maybe that’s what had soured my memory. 

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to find Hoseok’s contact. The old SeaTAC was still a relic of the past, but I clung to it out of stubborn habit. Despite its age, it was a lifeline to the outside world, a way to escape the pager’s relentless beeping. I longed for the day when I could toss the landline, but the cost of cell phone minutes constantly reminded me of its importance. With his endless chatter, Miles made sure I burned through those minutes with alarming frequency.

“Hello?” Hoseok’s voice was silky, a comforting balm after a long stretch of clinical detachment.

“Hey,” I breathed, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just got on.”

“See you soon,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring. I could almost picture the smile on his face, and it made me smile in return. His words seemed more benign over the phone, starkly contrasting the intensity of our recent encounters. “Save my spot.”

The car was beginning to fill up, Friday night revelers claiming their space, making it nearly impossible to save a seat. I promised I’d try, even as I felt the crushing inevitability of the crowd. His chuckle was soft, almost intimate. 

“Thank you, sweet girl.”

I bit my lip, the endearment both flattering and unsettling. A tiny voice in my head cautioned me, even though Hoseok had never used his terms of affection demeaningly. The voice grew louder when he wasn’t around, whispering warnings I couldn’t entirely dismiss. It was strange, this constant inner debate.

“I’m going to hang up,” Hoseok said, his voice a sensual murmur. I moved the phone away from my ear, puzzled by the seductive undertone. Was he implying something more?

Was I expecting more from tonight?

“I’m running up my minutes,” he laughed, breaking the spell of my thoughts.

“Oh,” I blinked, snapping out of my reverie. “Sorry. See you in a bit.”

The recurring dreams of him were becoming a distraction. My nights were plagued with vivid, unsettling fantasies, leaving me restless and frazzled. I wiggled in my seat, pressing my thighs together to quell the unsettling arousal. Reality would surely disappoint, no matter how compelling he seemed in my dreams. I resolved to hold off on sex for now. I didn’t want to tarnish his allure with premature intimacy.

“Why did you want to be a doctor?” Hoseok asked, his fingers entwining with mine.

The wine started hitting, and the night air was crisp against my skin. Hoseok was the perfect gentleman; the evening was a beautiful respite from my routine. I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body, and sighed.

“I wish I could say it was for noble reasons,” I said, my voice tinged with melancholy. “In truth, I just wanted my family to notice me. I thought graduating medical school would make them see me, but it never quite worked out that way.”

Hoseok hummed thoughtfully beside me. I turned my gaze away, feeling a strange mix of comfort and sadness.

“None of us are perfect,” he said after a pause, his voice low and contemplative. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, and my choices haven’t always been noble.”

I leaned closer, savoring his warmth and intoxicating scent. Despite my fatigue, the night felt lighter, almost magical. He was mesmerizing, and I was drawn to him in a way I hadn’t expected. 

“I have a hard time believing that,” I said with a soft grin, snuggling closer.

“Well,” he said, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me into his side. “You haven’t had me all to yourself yet.”

A shiver ran down my spine, a curious blend of fear and delight. The night had been a rollercoaster of emotions—enchantment and apprehension intertwined. Hoseok’s smile was disarming, melting away my unease, but I made a mental note to reflect on my feelings once I was alone. He seemed almost too perfect, and that nagging pit in my stomach grew again before vanishing. 

“I don’t want the night to end,” Hoseok whispered, his breath warm against my ear as we waited for the train. “I’m having such a good time.”

I smiled, “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

“When can I see you again?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine longing.

“Soon,” I promised. “I’m getting the next few weekends off now that the other fellowship student is starting. My supervisor is trying to get me off every Saturday.”

“It’s a good thing my boss is flexible,” Hoseok purred, causing my heart to race. “Otherwise, I’d never get to spend time with you.”

I wanted to be annoyed by his clinginess, to remind him I wasn’t his girlfriend, but instead, I found myself grinning. His words made me feel seen and appreciated. Despite the anxiety he sometimes stirred in me, I was eager to be close to him. He looked at me so intently that I was willing to overlook my reservations. Maybe it was just butterflies?

“Where do you work?” I asked, trying to divert my thoughts.

Hoseok was a bartender at a speakeasy in Manhattan, where he’d worked since it opened. He had hinted at it throughout the evening, teasing me with its obscurity. 

“It’s a smaller place,” he said amusedly. “You’ve probably never heard of it.”

“Try me,” I challenged, my heart pounding strangely.

“Dauphine.”

The name hit me like a jolt. Images of dimly lit corridors and crimson hues flashed in my mind. I was sure I’d never been there, but the name stirred a disquieting sense of déjà vu. The dream from July, the man from my dreams—there was a connection, but it eluded me. 

As we stood in the bustling, well-lit area, I edged away slightly, unsettled. Hoseok was a charming gentleman, but the name “Dauphine” had ignited an inexplicable dread. Despite his humor and warmth, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something—or maybe I was just afraid of what I might find.

I stole a furtive glance at him, and it felt as though I’d known him far longer than the scant time we’d spent together. His face was oddly familiar, like a recurring image in a dream half-remembered. I had met him before, somewhere.

“No, you haven’t,” his voice cut through the night like ice. It was cold, detached, far from the warmth he’d shown me all evening. A shiver snaked down my spine, and I forgot to breathe. His grip on me tightened as though sensing my legs would buckle beneath me. “You’ve never known me before.”

The fierce scowl on his face startled me. His eyes, glowing with an eerie golden light, seemed to burn through me. Everything about him felt otherworldly like he was something less than human. A fragmented memory of a man sitting alone at a bar surged up, only to dissolve into nothingness.

“I am Hoseok,” he whispered, his voice weaving a heavy spell over my senses. “I am your boyfriend. We’ve been together a long time, and we’re in love. You just tripped and hit your head.”

A sudden jolt of pain made me wince and try to pull away from him. 

“Does it hurt?” His voice was deceptively tender, and I sighed through the pain.

“Yes,” I groaned, rubbing my forehead. “Does it look bad?”

Hoseok’s grin was unsettling, a blend of fake sympathy and amusement. 

“You were lucky this time. Just a barely noticeable red mark.”

I chuckled at my own clumsiness. I wasn’t usually this awkward, but my heel caught on a pavement crack. I gingerly rubbed my ankle and was relieved to find it unscathed. Even my heel had survived.

“Jeez,” I said, looping my arm through his. “I completely forgot what we were talking about.”

Hoseok’s smile broadened, clearly enjoying my disoriented state. I rolled my eyes and reached over to gently tap his chest. He responded by sticking out his tongue, which only made me scoff at his childishness.

“We were talking about work,” I said.

I nodded as if on autopilot. “How’s the bar?”

Hoseok worked at a swanky speakeasy in Manhattan, though I was trying to remember its name. Despite being together for what felt like ages, I had never been there. I was never one for bars, while Hoseok reveled in the place’s gothic charm. The name eluded me again as I tried to recall it.

“Tae’s excited,” he chuckled. “With Halloween around the corner, business will pick up.”

I hummed, my thoughts still lingering on the name. I had thought his boss was Tristan, but I must have misremembered. I shrugged off the nagging thought.

“You should stop by the bar,” I heard myself say, sounding oddly mechanical.

“Sounds fun,” he replied, his tone laced with a predatory edge.

Looking back on that night, it’s almost laughable how easily he swayed me. The way he possessed me was undeniable; soon, he would own every inch of me. Those dreams of him were his twisted way of showing love—how much he craved to touch me, to keep me bound to him. It’s sick and vile, and the thought of what we’d become makes me nauseous, yet to him, it’s love. 

“Let’s get you home,” he said, his arm wrapping possessively around my shoulders.

I remember leaning into his side, kissing his cheek as if I was floating. His presence was intoxicating. Even now, I can feel the ghost of his touch and his body's heat. It’s a twisted sort of longing I have for him. This place is cold and dark without him, without his reminders of how much he cares and wants me to scream for him. Here, time stands still, and life continues in a strange loop. I can’t say whether I’m alive or dead, but I know it no longer matters. Once I entered this world, my life ended and began anew. Hoseok made me feel both alive and dead simultaneously.

And as I write this, my heart aches for him. My fingers tremble at the thought of him returning to claim me again. The pain he inflicts makes my heart pound and my stomach clench. I miss him.

It both sickens and excites me.

October 19, 1997

My bones groaned and cracked like ancient floorboards beneath my weight as I fought to catch my breath. Sweat slicked my skin, and I began patting myself down, half-expecting to find something tangible to anchor me to reality. My surroundings slowly came into focus. The harsh fluorescent lights above stung my eyes, but their sterile brightness offered an odd comfort. I was at home, cocooned in thick blankets that had twisted themselves around my legs. The bed beneath me creaked with the effort of supporting my restless form. I sighed, flopping back down, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that still clung to me like a shadow.

The dreams had become relentless, evolving from vague echoes of past terrors into something far more insidious. These weren't fueled by mere fear but by an overwhelming, consuming desire that felt dangerously close to swallowing me whole. The weekends were the worst, and after seeing Hoseok, they had turned almost infernal. He was always there in my dreams, his skin smooth and flawless, his deep brown eyes burning into mine with an intensity that left me gasping for air.

Every time I closed my eyes, his image flickered behind my eyelids like a dark, seductive film. The scenes always ended the same way: I would climax, my body convulsing in a fevered rhythm, while I looked up to see his face contorted in ecstasy. His deep, guttural groans would reverberate through me as his grip tightened on my skin. He would finish inside me, and my spent body would collapse beneath him. He would drape himself over me, showering my chest with tender, lingering kisses. The setting varied—my bed, a chilling, unfamiliar void, or a dimly lit lounge—but the conclusion was always the same.

With a sigh, I fumbled for my phone, my fingers brushing the cool surface. An email from Hoseok awaited me, and a smile crept across my face despite the haze of exhaustion. He was the epitome of a perfect gentleman—never pushing beyond my boundaries, never demanding more than I was willing to give, always accommodating his schedule to mine. Even in matters of intimacy, something many men would aggressively pursue, he always respected my pace. In the hectic blur of the past month, we hadn’t had a moment alone. He hadn’t even broached the topic. As I thought about it, I couldn't recall the last time we'd been intimate outside of these dreams.

From: Hoseok Jung Subject: All Hallows Eve Date: October 19, 1997: 03:05   To: Y/N Y/L/N Good morning, love, I'm sorry for the early message, especially since this is one of your rare mornings off. I hope I didn't wake you. I'm heading home from work and couldn't stop thinking about you. Taehyung is throwing a simple Halloween party this year, and luckily, it falls on a Friday. Would you like to join me? I think it could be a lot of fun. I love you. Hobi

I grinned and began typing my reply.

From: Y/N Y/L/N Subject: RE: All Hallows Eve Date: October 19, 1997: 04:15  To: Hoseok Jung Hobi, Don't worry, you didn't wake me. I was tangled up in strange dreams and was deep asleep when your email arrived. Sadly, I doubt I'll fall back asleep anytime soon, so I plan on catching up on Buffy or Beyond Belief—whichever's on. Hopefully, I won't get stuck with reruns of Seinfeld, not really my thing. Lucky for me, I'm working mornings this week. I'd love to come to your party. Call me when you wake up. Love you, too. Y/N Y/L/N, M.D.   Palliative Care Physician, New York-Presbyterian Hospital

It barely registered that, to my knowledge, I had never said "I love you" to him before. I had never really pondered the oddity of our relationship. My memories of our time together were a disorienting blur, but I never questioned it. It wasn't entirely my fault—he had ensnared me, body and soul, and any unresolved threads might make it harder for him to maintain control. Regardless of our tangled history or how elusive it seemed; I was simply glad he wanted to see me at that moment.

I lay huddled in my bed, my body a coiled spring of anticipation, each nerve ending tingling with the foreboding that had stalked me all day. His voice had been a persistent whisper, a sultry hum that turned my name into a haunting lullaby. It was a melody wrapped in an insatiable longing, a caress of words that promised more than I dared to imagine.

Tonight, I wanted to resist. I tried to muster the strength to ignore the insidious pull, that relentless tug drawing me toward him like a moth to a flame. The very idea of defying him churned my stomach with a nauseous dread. But the threads of his influence were woven so tightly around me, it felt like trying to escape from silken chains.

Then it came, cutting through the murkiness of my thoughts like a scythe. His voice, now sharper, more insistent, shattered the fragile veneer of my resistance.

“Y/N. Come to me now.”

With a sudden jolt, the pretense of defiance evaporated. I threw off the blankets as if they were chains, leaping out of bed and flying through the darkened hallway. My feet barely touched the ground as I hurtled down the stairs, each step propelled by an unrelenting force, dragging me inexorably toward him.

He waited for me in the foyer, bathed in an eerie glow that made him look like an apparition from a fevered dream—or perhaps a nightmare. His smile was both welcoming and chilling, a promise wrapped in malice. When he took my hand, his lips brushed against my fingers with a cool, electric touch that set my entire body aflame.

The intensity of my reaction embarrassed me, but he tilted my face up to meet his gaze, shaking his head with a look of almost pity.

“Your blood knows what it wants, my lamb. You must let your mind follow.”

My face burned with fierce heat, but the compulsion pulling me to him was too overpowering to resist. He guided me through the meticulously manicured gardens to a secluded alcove framed by dense, sculpted hedges. He seated himself on a bench, drawing me onto his lap with a practiced grace that made me feel both cherished and helpless. His eyes, dark and unfathomable, never left mine, promising secrets I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Are you ready, my lamb?”

Without a second thought, I bared my neck to him. The desperate craving for the bliss and torment of his bite had consumed me completely; waiting was no longer an option.

He lingered, his tongue tracing a tantalizing path along the delicate skin of my throat. The sensation was almost unbearable, and I found myself begging with a voice that sounded alien, strained.

“Please.”

And then he bit.

I shot awake, my heart a frantic drum in my chest. I had fallen asleep hunched over my desk at the hospital, my neck stiff from the awkward angle. Rubbing away the ache, I cursed the book that had plagued me with such vivid nightmares. I needed to talk to my brother again; this couldn’t be anything but a cruel trick of the mind.

The glowing digits on my alarm clock mocked me with their late hour. I stood up, stretching and feeling my heartbeat slowly return to normal. I changed into a t-shirt and shuffled toward the bed, determined to banish the lingering unease.

As I passed the window, something froze me in place. I looked down into the parking lot and saw him standing under a flickering lamppost, his gaze locked onto mine with a predatory intensity that made my blood run cold.

It was Hoseok—or at least, it looked like him. But the resemblance was grotesquely twisted. His eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, a sickly luminescence that cut through the night like a malevolent beacon. His skin was peeling away in ragged strips, as if he were shedding himself like a decaying husk. This was no longer my Hoseok. He was a creature of nightmares, a monster forged from my darkest fears.

My fingers clung to the windowsill as I stared, my body paralyzed by the overwhelming urge to run to him, to give in to the magnetic pull of his presence. I watched as his lips moved, shaping a single word that seemed to echo through the chill of the night.

“Soon.”

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the vision to vanish. When I opened them again, the parking lot was empty, the lamppost casting its pallid light over a sea of unmoving cars. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, snatched my blanket and pillow, and stumbled back to the on-call room, desperate to escape the sinister call that still haunted the dark corners of my mind.

October 28, 1997

"What should I do?" the nurse asked, her name slipping from my mind like a shadow lost in the night.

"Give them some space," I replied, my gaze fixed resolutely away from the room across the hall. Elizabeth had just passed away, her DNR a cold, ironclad barrier that left no room for last-ditch efforts. Her family needed their final moments with her while we waited for the body to be transported. Mary was still wailing into her husband's chest, and Elijah looked like he'd been dragged through a storm, barely able to stand. Percy stood like a marble statue, his eyes glazed over while his wife clung to him. The sight of Percy’s frozen, unseeing expression twisted my gut in a way I couldn’t ignore. It reminded me too much of what I feared—and I needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere of grief.

"Should we get them out of the room?" another nurse asked, her thick southern drawl hinting at Memphis. "Seeing her like that can’t be good for their mental well-being."

I shook my head. "Let them have their last moments in peace. Offer condolences and check on them regularly."

I fiddled nervously with my ID card, the familiar unease gnawing at me. My wounds from the day seemed too fresh. Miles surfaced in my thoughts again, and I resolved to call my brother on my way home tonight. Hoseok wasn’t working tonight, so he wouldn’t join me on the subway.

"I'm going to check in with 211," I murmured, watching Percy leave the room, clutching his phone like a lifeline. "I’ll be back in 5-10 minutes to see if the family needs anything. Just make them as comfortable as you can."

"You got it, doc."

The subway ride home was a silent affair. My headache throbbed like a relentless drum, and my stomach churned uneasily. The day had been heavy with more deaths than usual. Elizabeth’s family had eventually calmed down, but their kindness on their way out hadn’t eased the knot in my chest. I knew their pain intimately.

I called my brother as I made my way to the subway. Despite his complicated feelings about our mother, he was always supportive. The conversation ended abruptly when Aurora entered the room, demanding his attention. Miles had never truly understood my emotions; I doubted he ever tried.

The short walk home from the subway was a blessing, though the cold night air bit at my skin. I was grateful for the proximity of my apartment, but the streets were alive with noise—tourists laughing, gang members shouting outside their apartment complexes. I was relieved to escape the chaos, though my street wasn’t entirely free of foot traffic. My old apartment in East Harlem had been more of a hustle, with late-night carpooling with a coworker whose name eluded me. I knew it started with an 'A,' but the memory only worsened my headache. I set the thought aside for another time.

After selling the family home in Florida and vacation properties scattered across the country, I’d managed to buy a house on Astro Row at 100th and 30th Street. It was an old building—too expensive for its size, and initially, it seemed far from beautiful. But over time, it grew on me. I loved the brownstones, the front porches, the grand trees, and the quiet streets. I couldn’t imagine leaving. Even the renovations I’d planned were postponed. The charm of the old place had won me over, and I’d made peace with its quirks. I even got along with my neighbor, a small but welcome relief.

Tonight was quieter than usual, and none of my neighbors seemed awake. I missed the old man at the end of the street who used to sit on his porch, sipping coffee and waiting for dawn. It was nearly 4:30 AM. I shrugged and continued; my mind focused on the comfort of my bed.

Fumbling for my keys, I cursed quietly when my pockets were empty. My purse, a cavernous mess of clutter, swallowed everything. As I dug through it, a sudden burst of laughter behind me made me freeze. Two women strolled down the sidewalk, their laughter echoing off the walls. They were both stunning, their pale skin glowing under the moonlight. One of them locked eyes with me, her gaze piercing through the darkness. She looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew me.

"Hello," she said, her voice as light and tinkling as a bell.

"Hi," I replied, feeling strangely off-balance.

The other woman seemed perplexed. Her beauty was almost ethereal, with blonde hair as pale as her skin and eyes as dark as night. Her gaze swept over me with an unmistakable disdain, her teeth bared in a slight sneer. Yet, despite her apparent coldness, she was undeniably beautiful.

"How are you?" the first woman asked, her voice soothing.

"Fine," I responded, my throat dry. "And you?"

The nagging headache intensified as I tried to make sense of the encounter, a sense of déjà vu wrapping around me like a tightening noose. The women moved on, their laughter fading into the night, leaving me with a lingering unease that clung to me like the shadows of my dreams.

She studied me, her face a shifting canvas of emotions before settling into a look of genuine confusion. I tried to place her but struggled. There was something crucial I needed to remember, something just out of reach, but my mind remained stubbornly blank. A frantic urge to call Hoseok seized me.

The realization hit me like a cold slap. Why did I think I needed him? I tried to convince myself I could handle this alone. But deep down, I knew I needed him here. He could make this headache vanish, soothe the gnawing anxiety that had taken root in my chest. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

“What's your name?” she asked, her smile both disarming and unsettling, making my thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm.

“Y/N,” I replied, feeling dazed and disconnected.

“Cold night, Y/N,” she purred, her gaze never wavering. “You should get inside.”

I nodded absently, my words failing me as I fumbled with my keys. The blonde woman's giggle, filled with an eerie excitement, made me shiver. I wanted to retreat, to escape this strange encounter. I shoved the key into the lock, eager to shut out the unsettling night.

“Y/N,” the first woman’s voice halted me, her tone chillingly smooth. Neither of them had moved since they stopped. The blonde’s smile remained fixed, and I couldn’t bring myself to meet the other woman’s eyes. “Be careful out here. You never know who’s wandering around.”

I nodded, turning the doorknob, but her voice stopped me again.

“I work at a bar in Midtown,” she said, her words snagging my attention like a hook. I had always known she worked at a bar, but why was it important? “It’s called Dauphine. Ever heard of it?”

Yes, I wanted to say. That place haunted my nightmares, a dark shadow that clung to the edges of my memory. But I couldn’t piece together why. Hoseok would know. He’d make everything better. No, my mind screamed—he’d only make it worse. I couldn’t say how I knew this, but I wanted to listen to the little voice inside me tonight. Something was very wrong.

“You should come by sometime,” she offered. “We’re on 1st and East 54th in the far corner of the Diamond District. If you need anything, just ask for ‘Bootsy.’”

Bootsy…

“Are you okay with cherry liquor?” she asked.

I let go of the doorknob and turned to face them fully. I couldn’t meet either of their eyes. The sensation was all too familiar. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the answer I didn’t want to hear.

“Do you know Hoseok? He’s my boyfriend.”

The blonde hissed sharply. Bootsy gasped, her face a mask of surprise and something darker, more shadowy. It was clear that Hoseok was connected to these people, tangled up with my memories of New York, the root of all my confusion. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

No, I shook my head. Was that what he wanted me to believe? I wasn’t sure anymore.

“Yes,” Bootsy finally replied. “I’ve known him for many, many years.”

Before I could second-guess myself, I slammed the door shut and locked it. The blonde finally moved, stepping away from Bootsy and muttering something I couldn’t catch. She disappeared down the street, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.

“What’s wrong with me?” I muttered through the door, my voice tinged with desperation.

Bootsy’s response came through with a sorrowful edge. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, my headache pounding with such intensity that I could barely keep my eyes open. “It’s him, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice breaking. “I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s like I remember things but not really, and everything goes blank every time he’s around.”

Bootsy’s eyes, a deep crimson, darted around nervously. They seemed to glow faintly, like a cat’s eyes in the dark. Her dark hair framed her face perfectly, glossy and sleek. Bootsy wasn’t human. What she was, I couldn’t say. But she was somehow tied to the nightmares that plagued me, and Hoseok’s shadow loomed larger than ever.

“He’s a demon,” she whispered hurriedly, her words laced with a fear that seemed almost tangible. “I can’t tell you exactly what he’s done. I’ve never known him to keep someone around for this long, but whatever you’ve done to make him want you seems to have spared your life. You should have died back in ’92 with your friend.”

A friend? Someone else had been involved? Hoseok was a demon? The fragments Bootsy offered were like pieces of a shattered mirror, reflecting a reality I could barely grasp. I believed her, though. I had no reason not to. My memories felt like they were being twisted, distorted by Hoseok’s manipulations.

Then I thought of the creature outside of the hospital and felt my knees go numb. I hadn't hallucinated anything. It was real. It was him. Oh my God.

“We can’t talk for long,” she said, a look of pained urgency on her face. “He won’t sleep for much longer.”

“What can I do?” I begged, clutching my head as if I could squeeze out the pain. It was unbearable. “God, it hurts.”

“Nothing,” Bootsy’s voice trembled. “Hoseok wants you, and he’s never lost a game. It doesn’t matter where you go or what you do; he will win. Whatever you’ve been doing has kept you alive this long, but I don’t know how much time you have left.”

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over me and dragging me under. I had been a pawn in Hoseok’s twisted game, my life manipulated by his cruel whims. What did he want from me? My body? My soul? The realization was suffocating.

“Go to Dauphine and find Taehyung,” Bootsy instructed, her voice carrying a chilling finality despite its almost maternal tone. “He had a soft spot for you back then. If you’re lucky, he might be able to change you, make you like us. That might be enough to satisfy Hoseok.”

Taehyung. The name cut through the fog in my mind like a beacon, easing the throbbing in my head, if only for a moment. He had haunted my dreams, his image vivid: a white button-up shirt, his gentle hands, his voice firm yet tender, saying he didn’t want to share me. He had left me in that bar, but the details were fuzzy—how or why I had ended up there was a blur. All I knew was that I was lost, and he had once been my guide.

She paused, her eyes darkening with a weighty empathy. “You’d be luckier if Taehyung agrees to end your life before the demon does. I wouldn’t wish this half-life on anyone, nor would I be glad to see you die, but those are your choices. I can’t guarantee you’ll make it through this.”

“What happened in ’92?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper, thick with desperation.

Bootsy shook her head, her expression darkening with sorrow. “He killed your friend and tried to lure you away. That's all I know, and I don't have time to explain the rest. The sun’s about to rise, and your demon will be waiting for you to fall asleep. Don’t fight it. Let it happen. If he knows you’re aware of him, he might decide to kill you.”

It felt wrong to just let it happen. What would this mean for me in the end? Would knowing about his influence change anything? I couldn’t be sure, but if I wanted to buy myself time, I had no choice but to take the risk. I needed answers, a plan, anything to regain control.

“Y/N,” Bootsy’s urgent voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Your memories won't come back unless he wants them to. Let it go. Either way you'll be dead.”

With those final, haunting words, Bootsy vanished as quickly as she had appeared. The weight of my predicament pressed heavily on my shoulders, my impending doom looming like a dark cloud. I stumbled back to the porch, unlocked the front door, and sought refuge in the sanctuary of my bed. Bootsy’s grim mantra echoed in my mind as I tried to push aside my troubling thoughts about Hoseok, grappling with the uncertainty that lay ahead.

He appeared to me then, in a vision that was both intoxicating and horrifying. His eyes sparkled with a predatory thrill, his touch setting my skin ablaze, igniting waves of pleasure that crashed over me with ruthless intensity. His worship was ceaseless, his lips warm and insistent, as if trying to devour every shred of my resistance. I was swallowed by him, lost in a whirlwind of passion that twisted the love I once felt (at least, I believed I felt) into something darker, more insidious. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

Bootsy’s words had struck me like a death knell, sealing my fate in an irreversible descent. She had unwittingly set my downfall into motion, transforming innocent affection into a ravenous lust that consumed every corner of my mind. When I awoke late in the evening, the decision to call off work for the rest of the week came with a grim resignation. The struggle to stay awake was in vain; it was becoming starkly clear how deeply Hoseok’s control had embedded itself within me. The inevitable was no longer a distant threat—it had already begun to unfold, dragging me into its dark embrace.

October 31, 1997

I tugged nervously at my skirt, my fingers trembling despite the cool night air that should have been a relief. The address that had arrived this morning was burned into my mind, glaring at me from the top of the paper—Dauphine, the bar Bootsy had mentioned. My plans were clear: find Bootsy, get directions, speak with this Taehyung, and figure out my options. But the gnawing truth was unavoidable—no matter what I did, it felt like my life was already slipping through my fingers.

Sleep deprivation had become my relentless tormentor. My eyelids felt heavy, weighted down by leaden exhaustion, and my attempts to feign illness to dodge work had morphed into a grim reality. It was a battle to stay awake each day, and I feared that simply making it to this bar would be a Herculean task.

I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to adjust the wig perched precariously on my head. I’d opted for a lazy Halloween costume—a half-hearted Cher from *Clueless*. The yellow plaid blazer was a thrift store find, the skirt a serendipitous discovery. But the wig made me look more like a grotesque caricature than a character. Frustrated, I yanked it off and tossed it onto the floor. I’d have to go without it.

Yawning, I fought the overwhelming urge to collapse back into bed. My cab was on its way, and I had to be ready. I gathered my essentials—purse, house keys, phone, and a spare outfit—preparing for a night that could very well be my last. I steeled myself for the confrontation, even if it felt like a hopeless, losing battle.

My daily struggle with myself had turned into a monotonous grind. My feigned illness had kept Hoseok at a distance, but it had only given me more time to spiral into despair over his influence. My mind was a battleground, where fragments of my past life clashed with the twisted desires he’d implanted in me. Every morning, I awoke to a gnawing need, a desperate craving for him that left me feeling sullied and repulsed.

I stepped outside and drew a shaky breath of the crisp night air. Calling my brother was both a comfort and a torment. There was a chance this could be the last time I spoke to him, and the thought tightened my chest like a vise. I fought back tears as I dialed his number.

“Hello?” Miles answered, his voice warm and familiar.

“Hey,” I forced a cheerful tone, though it felt hollow. “Still out Trick-or-Treating?”

“We just got back,” he said. “Rory wants to talk to you.”

My heart ached at the sound of my niece’s voice. “Hi, Auntie,” she said, her voice sweet as ever. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby,” I sniffled, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah!” Aurora’s excitement was a bright spot in my darkness. “I was Katerina, mommy was Miss Elaina, and daddy was Daniel Tiger.”

“That sounds amazing,” I wiped away my tears. “What about your baby brother?”

Aurora’s voice took on a scolding tone. “His name is Corbin, Auntie,” she said as though I should have known better. “He’s still in mommy’s belly, so he wasn’t anything. Mommy’s giving him candy.”

I laughed, though it was tinged with sadness. “How’s your mommy?”

“She says ‘Hi,’” Aurora replied. “We got the best candy! A lady was giving out big Starbursts. Daddy’s letting me have all the pink ones because I’m special.”

“You are special, sweet girl.”

A painful thought intruded—would Hoseok make them forget me if I asked him? The idea was almost too agonizing to bear. He’d kept me alive for five years, a perverse form of flattery that I struggled to appreciate. My self-loathing deepened as I thought about the life I was about to leave behind.

“Daddy says I have to go,” Aurora pouted. “Bye, Auntie.”

“Bye, Rory girl,” I choked out, my voice cracking as the tears welled up. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Aurora’s sweet voice drifted through the line, a beacon of innocence in my storm of dread.

I gasped, the floodgates opening as I fought to keep my composure. “Impossible,” I managed to whisper, my throat tight with sorrow.

“Why?” she giggled, her innocent curiosity slicing through my resolve.

“Because,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “I love you more than the world.”

Aurora’s laughter began to fade as she handed the phone back to Miles. The sound of her giggles and her mother’s laughter echoed in the background, a cruel reminder of the life I was about to lose. My heart clenched painfully at the thought of never hearing those sounds again.

“What’s up, sissy?” Miles asked, his tone tinged with concern.

“I was just heading out,” I said, forcing a tremulous cheerfulness into my voice. “Thought I’d call before my cab gets here. I’m leaving a little early.”

There was a heavy pause on the other end, a silence that spoke louder than words.

“Everything okay, Y/N? You sound upset.”

“No, no,” I hurried to reassure him, biting my lip to keep from sobbing. “Just tired. You know how it is.”

“You sure?” Miles pressed, his concern palpable. He was always too perceptive for his own good, but he never pushed too hard. I hoped he wouldn’t miss me too much.

“I’m positive, Bubba,” I said, my eyes darting to the cab pulling up to the curb. “My ride’s here. I love you.”

“Love you too, sis. Call me later?”

“I’ll try to remember in the morning,” I said, attempting to sound upbeat despite the crushing weight in my chest. “I know it’s late for you guys.”

I closed my phone with shaking hands and stuffed it into my purse, the weight of my decisions pressing down on me. The cab driver approached, his face a blur through my tears.

“Where to?” he asked, his voice a lifeline in the growing storm of my fear.

“1st and East 54th in the Diamond District,” I replied, offering a weak, strained smile.

“Dauphine?” The driver’s eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror, a hint of something unsettling in his gaze. “Ever been there before?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, trying to steady my breath. “I don’t remember it all that well. Guess I had too much fun last time.”

“Watch yourself,” the driver said, turning on the radio with a slow, deliberate movement. “That place is crawling with freaks.”

“Welcome to New York,” I muttered, more to myself than him.

He chuckled, his voice a touch too jovial. “Been here my whole life. My name’s Jimin. Call me if you need a getaway driver.”

The car rumbled with the low hum of R&B, Jimin fiddling with the radio as if trying to mask the creeping anxiety that gnawed at my insides. I mouthed the lyrics, trying to drown out the terror that threatened to consume me.

My thoughts were a twisted mess of fear and longing. The image of Hoseok, tainted by his manipulation, flickered through my mind. The desire to escape him was overpowered by the suffocating grip of my own confusion. Taehyung was my last, desperate hope—a fleeting chance at redemption. But deep down, a gnawing realization settled in I was already damned, teetering on the edge with no way back.

The mantra echoed relentlessly in my head: I miss him, love him, and need him…

I was spiraling, caught in a web of my own making, and the thought of facing what awaited me at Dauphine was almost too much to bear.

“We’re here,” Jimin's voice cut through the thick fog of dread that enveloped me.

“Thanks for the ride,” I muttered, my fingers trembling as I fumbled with the cash. I handed him a generous tip, a feeble attempt to cling to some semblance of normalcy.

The alleyway stretched before me, a grim path between the upscale buildings of the Diamond District. It looked less menacing than I’d imagined, but its familiarity offered no comfort. Dim street lamps cast weak pools of light that barely touched the encroaching darkness. I hoped—prayed—that Hoseok wasn’t already here. The fading daylight gave me just enough visibility to navigate, and the murmur of voices outside the bar was a small, shaky comfort. I clung to the hope that these voices belonged to ordinary people, potential witnesses if I needed to make a quick escape.

As I approached, the group of people outside fell silent. My stomach churned violently, and bile rose in my throat, threatening to spill. I couldn’t bring myself to turn and face them; their gaze was almost a physical presence, making my skin crawl even though I never looked directly at them. A low, sinister snicker from one of them sent a shiver down my spine, amplifying my fear. I hadn’t even seen their faces, yet their mere presence was enough to make me quake.

The bouncer at the gate eyed me with a scrutinizing glare.

“Password,” he demanded, his voice flat and unyielding.

“I-” I stammered, my mind racing to recall the password Hoseok had given me. “Audubon.”

The gate creaked open, and I slipped past the security guard, my heart pounding like a drum. Despite my nervous bravado, the bouncer’s indifference did little to soothe me. Once inside, I felt a fleeting sense of relief, escaping the unsettling stares.

I gripped my bag tightly, knuckles white, and started searching for the bar. The interior was starkly underwhelming—plush couches and private booths scattered haphazardly, with red neon signs pointing to the restrooms. The oppressive red and black color scheme was heavy, but thankfully devoid of any overtly horrific scenes. I had no desire for strobe lights or dance floors; the thought of walking into a trap was more than enough to keep me on edge.

Navigating through the dimly lit space, I felt like I was moving through a maze. The long hallway ahead seemed to stretch into an abyss, the darkness intensifying with each step. The oppressive gloom and the eerie silence made my nerves jangle. The jazz music that had been softly playing in the background had faded, leaving me in a disquieting void.

At the end of the hall, the emptiness was almost a relief. The silence was oppressive but meant I wasn’t walking into a room full of hostile eyes. Perhaps this was how I’d met Bootsy—wandering aimlessly until she had found me and guided me out.

The bar seemed to stretch on forever, an architectural labyrinth that added to my growing sense of dread. I held my breath as the walls seemed to close in, my anxiety a tangible weight pressing against my chest. The high ceilings and claustrophobic spaces combined to create a sensation of being trapped. My heels clicked sharply against the linoleum, the sound echoing eerily in the silence. The place felt more like a mausoleum than a bar. Every step heightened my unease, and the hairs on my neck stood on end as I glanced around, trying to ignore the creeping terror that threatened to overwhelm me.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice trembling as it cut through the oppressive silence. “Is anybody here?”

The sudden sound of a voice behind me made me jump, my heart racing as I spun around with a gasp that morphed into a shriek. My balance faltered, and I slammed into the wall, scraping my arm against the rough surface. The sharp sting of pain was immediate and searing. I clutched my injured arm, the pain and the shock making my vision blur. I turned to face the figure who had startled me.

He stood there, his white button-down shirt contrasting sharply with the dim surroundings. His tall, lean frame was framed by broad shoulders, and his long fingers seemed to move with an effortless grace. But it was his smile that made my blood run cold—a wide, boxy grin that stretched unnaturally across his face, his eyes glinting with a mischievous, unsettling light.

“My apologies,” he said, his voice dripping with a smooth, honeyed tone. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I glared at him, struggling to steady my breathing and regain my composure. “It’s fine. It didn’t kill me, did it?”

He chuckled softly; a sound that felt more sinister than soothing. “You’re bleeding,” he said, his gaze dropping to my arm.

I looked down and saw blood seeping through a tear in my blazer. The sight of my own blood was like a cruel reminder of my vulnerability. The pain, combined with the sight of my blood, pushed me to the edge. My hands shook as I raised them to my face, tears welling up uncontrollably. The enormity of my situation crashed down on me like a tidal wave. Everything felt chaotic; my life had been turned upside down, and the relentless pounding in my head was unbearable. I should have stayed home. At least Hoseok’s presence, while twisted, had been a semblance of comfort.

The despair was suffocating.

“Are you okay, sha?” His voice was soft, but his touch on my arm was disconcertingly gentle.

I laughed, a hollow, despairing sound. “Does it look like it?”

“No, you look upset,” he replied, his eyes glinting with an unsettling mixture of sympathy and amusement.

“You don’t say?” I snapped, rolling my eyes and jerking my arm away from his touch.

Despite my evident distress, he remained unnervingly calm, his smile lingering like a dark shadow. His pleasure at my discomfort was unsettling, and the aura around him felt eerily similar to the disquieting presence of those outside. His attractiveness was overshadowed by a deeply disturbing quality that made me want to flee. It was as if fear had paralyzed me, pinning me in place.

Suddenly, a chilling realization hit me. As I forced myself to examine his face more closely, I recognized him from the shadows of my past. He was strikingly beautiful in a haunting way, like Bootsy. His pale skin was almost luminescent, and his eyes, once hidden in the darkness, now revealed flecks of red that seemed to glow with a menacing, otherworldly light. They were mesmerizing yet horrifying, a dangerous allure that made my skin crawl. The spell he cast was broken as quickly as it had begun, and I struggled to look him in the eye again.

“You’re looking for me, aren’t you?” His voice was a silky whisper that seemed to wrap around me, tightening with a sinister intent.

Embarrassed by my earlier outburst, I nodded slowly. My hope of finding help felt increasingly elusive as the night grew darker and more menacing. All I wanted was to escape, but the hope that things might improve clung stubbornly to me. Taehyung exuded a disorienting blend of warmth and menace, a mix of comfort and dread that left me feeling more lost than ever.

“I’m sorry for being snappy,” I said, my voice quivering as I wiped away a tear. “I don’t remember you all that well.” 

Or at all, my mind whispered in the encroaching darkness. The more I looked at him, the more I felt Hoseok’s oppressive influence tugging at my thoughts. Images of Hoseok’s touch, his voice, his eyes—each one flared in my mind with an insidious intensity. He misses you; he loves you, he needs you…

“Requiem was wrong,” Taehyung murmured, his fingers chillingly cold as they cradled my face. “You’re too far gone.”

“Who?” I managed to ask, my voice trembling and my head spinning. His touch was both numbing and intoxicating.

“Bootsy,” he cooed, his breath a mix of cotton and sweet pine needles. “She said you had a chance, but she was mistaken. My friend has already completed the bond.”

“W-what?” I whispered, dazed and confused. The throbbing ache in my head resonated with Taehyung’s presence. “What bond?”

“Maybe not,” he whispered, his proximity making my pulse race.

When his lips met mine, they were like ice, yet the jolt of electricity that surged through me made my knees buckle. His laughter was dark and twisted as he wrapped an arm around my waist, his tongue brushing against my lips. I mewled, clutching his shoulders as the electric sensation overwhelmed me. His groan sent shivers through my entire body, and the echo of Hoseok’s voice in my head was relentless. He misses you, he loves you, he needs you…

Suddenly, I shoved Taehyung away, gasping for air as a searing pain exploded in my head. It felt as if a sledgehammer had struck my temple. My vision swam, and I collapsed to my knees, tears streaming down my face as I sobbed uncontrollably.

“Poor child,” Taehyung crooned, kneeling beside me. His scent, soothing yet oddly comforting, did little to ease the tremors wracking my body. “I’m so sorry, but I cannot help you.”

“I’m going to die,” I sobbed, my voice cracking under the weight of my despair.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “The pain will lessen once you accept it; accept him.”

“What does he want?” I managed to choke out.

“Can’t you see?” Taehyung’s eyes glittered ominously in the dim light. “He believes he’s in love with you. It’s a pity, really. I want nothing more than to keep you, but I can’t risk angering him. He would destroy Requiem for revealing his secrets; she is my most cherished friend. Do you understand?”

Numbly, I nodded. I’m going to die. I miss him. I’m going to die. He loves you. I’m going to die. I need him. I’m going to die. I love him. He needs you. I’m—

“Your eyes look just like his,” Taehyung marveled, his gaze softening. “He’s bound to you in a way I’ve never seen before.”

As I stared at Taehyung, my vision began to blur, and the voices in my head whispered louder in the dark corners of my mind. Their weight pressed down on me, my eyes rolling back until all I could see was a void. When I came to, I was horrified to find vomit splattered across Taehyung’s pristine white shirt. His expression twisted in horror and pain as he watched me unravel.

A dark, malevolent presence loomed near, its acrid stench of soot and kerosene overwhelming my senses. My head throbbed as if it had been cleaved in two, and a grotesque, pecking sensation gnawed at my exposed, vulnerable insides. Taehyung’s icy touch against my rigid form offered little comfort as I lay helpless against his chest, terror seeping in with every passing second.

“There’s my girl!” Hoseok’s voice cut through the haze of despair, and just like that, the pain evaporated.

I exhaled, sinking into Taehyung’s embrace. His body felt like ice against my fevered skin, a chilling contrast that brought an unexpected relief. His cool fingers traced my scalp, their touch a soothing balm amidst the chaos.

“I hope you understand Bootsy’s decision,” Taehyung’s voice was as cold as his touch, carrying a weight of finality. “She thought you were still playing games. But she was wrong.”

A deep, resonant rumble filled the space, and Hoseok’s voice emerged from the darkness like a spectral echo.

“Requiem has every right to her judgment,” Hoseok said, his voice a smooth caress laced with menace. “If it were anyone else, I might not care. But Y/N’s suffering is a consequence of her meddling. I had hoped to keep her alive.”

“Why?” I croaked, the question barely escaping my lips.

“You’re my special girl,” Hoseok purred, his voice dripping with a twisted, cruel fondness. “So innocent, so malleable. You’re perfect.”

A strange calm enveloped me as I lay against Taehyung, the tumult of emotions and pain fading to a low murmur. Hoseok’s presence hung over me like a dark, oppressive cloud, his words a cruel mockery of the comfort I desperately sought.

Taehyung’s fingers moved through my hair with a cold, almost clinical precision. “You’ve been chosen,” he said softly, his voice carrying an unsettling calm. “It’s a rare bond that neither Bootsy nor I can undo. I wish there was something more I could do for you.”

My vision blurred, shadows of past anguish swirling around me. Hoseok’s voice echoed in my mind, a haunting lullaby that twisted my insides. “You’re mine, Y/N. No matter how you struggle, you are woven into my essence.”

The room seemed to constrict, the walls inching inward, shadows elongating and darkening. A biting chill settled over the space, the whispers of the damned intertwining with my deepest fears. I could almost see their forms, spectral and menacing, reaching out from the darkness.

I struggled to my feet, the world spinning dizzily around me. My head throbbed with a relentless ache, my heart pounding like a trapped bird. I stumbled away from Taehyung’s unnervingly composed presence, my eyes darting frantically for any sign of escape or salvation.

“Y/N,” Hoseok’s voice was a dissonant blend of soothing and threatening. “Don’t run from me. You belong here, with me.”

My breath came in ragged gasps, the overwhelming urge to flee battling with a stubborn thread of hope tangled in my despair. My thoughts were a chaotic mess, clinging to the faintest possibility of survival amidst the encroaching darkness.

I turned to Taehyung, my gaze pleading, desperate. “Is there no way out? Is there any hope left?”

Taehyung’s expression softened with a mixture of pity and sorrow. “Try to enjoy your final moments.”

Footsteps echoed ominously down the corridor, each step deliberate and foreboding. My heart leaped as a figure emerged from the gloom. Bootsy. Her presence was both a flicker of reassurance and a shadow of dread.

“I’m sorry,” Bootsy’s voice was a murmur of regret in the darkness.

I looked at her, then back at Taehyung, and finally at the encroaching shadows that seemed to reach out with a ravenous hunger. The weight of the choice, of my impending doom, pressed heavily on my chest, threatening to crush me under its gravity.

With a shuddering breath, I steeled myself. “I can’t let this happen to me,” I said, my voice trembling but resolute. “I don’t want this.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the darkness thickening. Hoseok’s laughter echoed through the void, a low, mocking sound that sent icy shivers down my spine. “Of course you do. You wouldn’t be writhing on the floor if you didn’t.”

The shadows deepened, the walls closing in as if reality itself was warping to ensnare me. A cold grip tightened around my soul, a force dragging me back into the abyss I had fought so hard to escape. An aching chill settled below my diaphragm, squeezing the breath from my lungs. My head spun again, his voice a soft whisper in the recesses of my mind. I miss you. I love you. I need you…

Don’t leave me.

Taehyung’s expression hardened into one of grim resignation. “You’re already bound to him. The bond is too strong.”

As I fought against the invisible chains tightening around me, the futility of my struggle became all too apparent. The darkness swallowed me whole, dragging me back into the depths I had desperately tried to escape.

“Please,” I whispered into the void, but the darkness consumed my plea. “Please, no.”

Hoseok’s voice filled the void, smooth and victorious. “Welcome home, darling.”

The last glimmers of light vanished, leaving me in an eternal night, a prisoner of my own choices and the dark forces that had ensnared me. My mind fractured under the weight of the consuming darkness, and as the final remnants of my resistance crumbled, I faced the harrowing truth.

There was no salvation. No escape. Only the endless, consuming dark.

And in that darkness, I was utterly, irrevocably alone.

I don’t know how long I’ve been trapped in this suffocating darkness—hours, days, months, or maybe even years. Time has become an abstract concept here, slipping through my grasp like the thin veil of reality that separates me from the void. The only link to the world beyond this prison is Hoseok, a ghostly presence who appears with a gleam in his eyes that chills me to the bone. His voice, carrying the weight of a thousand tortured souls, always asks the same haunting question: How are you feeling?

We were never friends. Each passing day has sharpened my memories into a cruel clarity. I don’t know where my physical body is—doubtful it’s anywhere near this place. The ink and paper I use to write materialize out of nowhere whenever I need them, appearing and disappearing like phantoms in my disturbed mind. This place defies all logic and reason.

Initially, I fought Hoseok with every ounce of my being. Each refusal brought excruciating pain that felt like it would tear me apart. My screams echoed back at me from the oppressive void, unanswered and ignored. Hoseok would slip into the darkness with a silent, predatory grace, his hot hands roaming over my shivering body before I even knew he was there. I would scramble away, howling and begging him to take me home, but he always left without a word.

Eventually, I gave up the fight. I accepted that escape was impossible, even though my soul still ached for my old life. The pain eased only when I surrendered, and Hoseok’s visits grew more frequent. They were filled with idle chatter about his plans for me. I learned he was a demon, and I was destined to become one too. The possession would erase most of who I once was, but when I awoke, we would be forever linked as master and shade. My freedom would only come after I took my first human life, but that day seemed impossibly distant. Hoseok savored every bite of my soul with a mournful delight.

What I felt for Hoseok wasn’t love—it was an obsession, a malignant force that had seeped into every corner of my being. “A natural reaction of a shade to its master,” he said. I was bound to him, and escape was nothing but a cruel illusion.

The first signs of my unraveling appeared when Hoseok vanished for days on end. In the infinite darkness, where time had no meaning, his absence was a torment of its own. Despite his power to bend reality, he chose to leave me here, dependent on his presence for any sign of change. I began talking to myself, my voice the only sound in the oppressive silence. I spoke for hours, my throat raw and hoarse from the effort, desperately trying to fend off the encroaching madness.

I felt like an addict in withdrawal. I don’t recall when hallucinations began, but soon I was conversing with a phantom chorus of voices. Deep down, I knew it was Hoseok orchestrating these illusions, but my fractured mind twisted reality into something I could barely comprehend. My hatred for him only served to cloud my already distorted perception.

As time dragged on, I grew weary. My speech turned into riddles, convinced I was a prophet receiving divine revelations. Raised Catholic, I had long drifted from faith, but the darkness reignited an obsession with God. I clung desperately to fragmented Bible verses. Hoseok, ever the manipulator, provided me with a Bible. If I weren’t so far gone, I might have questioned his uncanny ability to fulfill my twisted needs.

When I told Hoseok about my religious background, he laughed, and the darkness morphed into a cathedral. For the first time, there was something tangible to focus on during his absences. It was both a prison and a gift. The pews were filled with spectral congregants, and every day became Sunday. I feverishly wrote sermons, warning of the apocalypse. Hoseok attended with a devotion bordering on reverence, but he always left too soon.

The withdrawal pangs paralyzed me, but incessant talking kept the crushing loneliness at bay. I remember the first encounter after becoming accustomed to this madness. My body trembled with need, yet my mind remained alert. Each denial of release brought physical agony, and Hoseok’s visits grew more frequent and prolonged. My breakdown was inevitable.

On the day of my final descent, I felt his presence before I saw him. My struggle had reached its nadir. Despite my lingering hope for escape, Hoseok’s presence shattered my resolve. I became an all-too-willing participant in his dark designs. Even now, as I lie prostrate in my despair, I can’t escape the haunting reality of my existence.

The words of the prayer rolled off my tongue like a ghostly murmur in the dim, solemn church. Each syllable was a desperate plea, a sacrament of my crumbling faith:

“Soul of Christ, sanctify me.”

“Body of Christ, save me.”

“Blood of Christ, inebriate me.”

This prayer was a twisted sacrament, a litany of sacred pleas that felt increasingly like cries into the void.

“Water from Christ’s side, wash me.”

“Passion of Christ, strengthen me.”

“O good Jesus, hear me.”

I bowed my head, eyes squeezed shut like a child hiding from monsters under the bed. My hands gripped tightly in a futile attempt to hold onto my sanity. I prayed not just for absolution but for a distraction, for him to stay away, for the sinful thoughts to dissipate like smoke in the sun.

“Y/N,” a voice whispered, spectral and insistent, urging me to rise, to accept, to finally bend to its will.

Reluctantly, I dragged myself to the pulpit, my legs trembling. I focused on the Gospel before me, the rhythm of my breath, the rehearsed words of today’s homily. I could hear murmurs of anticipation swelling in the pews, bouncing off the stone walls like echoes of forgotten promises.

Did they know? Did they sense the darkness creeping into my soul?

To be honest, I was unsure if anyone was really there or if my mind was playing tricks on me. This place had a maddening ability to distort my perception. I steadied myself, nodding to the organ player, offering a fleeting smile to the choir’s children—figments of my fractured mind. Their eyes, hungry for guidance, believed in my wisdom, though I felt utterly unworthy. Their gaze was a reflection of my own inner torment.

My eyes locked on a figure in the front row, right side, five seats in. My breath hitched, caught in my throat, as I beheld him. Jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket—an irreverent defiance slicing through the sanctity of the church. His gaze was a burning, unholy fire that cut through the darkness with unnerving clarity.

In that moment, the last vestiges of my sanity crumbled, leaving me exposed to the consuming darkness that had become my prison.

I steadied myself, nodding to the organ player, and offered a fleeting smile to the choir’s children, who I no longer believed were real. My gaze wandered over the congregation, each face a testament to a faith I felt unworthy of. Their eyes, brimming with expectation, seemed to pierce through me, demanding guidance I could no longer provide. I questioned my own sanity, wondering if anyone in that room could see how profoundly empty I felt.

I once had everything figured out. Before this… before him.

My eyes locked on a single figure in the front row, right side, five seats in. My breath hitched, caught in my throat. There he was: jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket—a casual defiance that sliced through the church’s sanctity like a blade. His legs were crossed, hands poised by his sides, eyes ablaze with a fire that seemed to burn straight through my composure.

No holy book in his hands, no righteous smile on his lips—just an unspoken, rebellious challenge. His presence was a magnetism that pulled me toward a pit of temptation and sin. I forgot my sermon. I forgot the vows and promises etched into my soul. The solemn pledges made to men of faith and to God. Promises I had written daily to stave off the creeping insanity.

Those promises now felt like distant echoes, overshadowed by him. His eyes, his lips, his rebellious aura—an inferno of forbidden heat that ignited a longing I could no longer contain. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to escape the searing image of him. Abs, legs, an all-consuming heat that seemed to draw me into its vortex.

When I opened my eyes again, the fire remained. A cough from the crowd jolted me back to the present. I tugged at my collar, the symbol of my childhood and a cruel gift from Hoseok. It used to offer comfort, a sign of belonging, but now it felt like a noose tightening around my neck.

The faces of the congregation were a sea of silent, unspoken questions. Their eyes bored into me, filled with unvoiced suspicions and judgments.

Shit.

My fingers trembled as I gripped the edges of the pulpit, trying to anchor myself amidst the spiraling chaos. The eyes of the congregation felt like spectral judgments, each one a reminder of my spiraling failure. Hoseok’s presence, fixed in my peripheral vision, was a constant, unsettling pull—a dark promise of chaos just beyond the edge of reason. It pressed heavily on my chest, a suffocating weight threatening to collapse my fragile sanity.

I forced my gaze back to the Gospel, attempting to focus on the familiar lines of scripture, hoping they would restore my fractured resolve. But the words on the page blurred and twisted, tangled in the storm raging inside my head. Each verse felt like wading through molasses, and a bead of sweat trickled down my temple, mingling with the cold sweat already gathering at the base of my neck. I cleared my throat, trying to regain control, but the sound emerged as a strangled rasp.

The whispers grew louder, like rustling wings pressing against the walls of my sanity. My heart pounded like a funeral drum, each beat a reminder of my mounting desperation. I could almost hear the devil’s laughter, mocking my feeble attempts to maintain a façade of righteousness.

Hoseok’s gaze was unwavering, a predator’s gaze that seemed to sear through my composure. His movements were fluid, deliberate—like a hunter preparing to strike. My mind raced, desperately searching for an escape from this hellish vortex. I glanced at the crucifix behind me, its hollow eyes and outstretched arms now a pitifully inadequate shield against the encroaching darkness. The sacred symbol that once offered solace now seemed like a cruel joke, highlighting how far I had strayed from purity.

The murmurs of the congregation grew insistent, a chorus of impatient whispers that echoed like an unholy chant. The church, once a sanctuary, now closed in around me, its weight suffocating. I took a deep breath, summoning the last remnants of my willpower. I forced myself to meet Hoseok’s gaze again, confronting the fiery rebellion in his eyes. He offered no sympathy, only a silent taunt that echoed my own guilt.

With a trembling hand, I reached for the microphone. My voice cracked as I began to speak, the words spilling out in a disjointed stream. I struggled to reclaim my authority, but with each passing moment, my grip on sanity slipped further. The congregation’s expressions shifted from curiosity to concern, then to alarm. Their faith faltered under the weight of my unraveling composure.

Hoseok’s gaze remained fixed, a dark star in a sea of light, drawing me inexorably towards his gravitational pull. My voice faltered, becoming increasingly erratic, reflecting the chaos within. The church fell into a tense silence, broken only by the rustling of the congregation’s uneasy shifting. I felt every eye on me, their silent judgment a palpable force.

My final words came out as a barely coherent murmur, a defeated whisper lost in the oppressive silence. I stumbled away from the pulpit, my mind a tempest of confusion and dread. As I retreated from the glaring scrutiny of the congregation, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was stumbling towards some dark, inevitable reckoning. Hoseok’s gaze followed me, a constant, unsettling presence as I fled the sanctuary.

I collapsed into the shadows behind the altar, my breath coming in ragged gasps that echoed through the oppressive silence of the church. The darkness around me felt like a living entity, wrapping itself around my chest and squeezing, threatening to suffocate me. Hoseok's eyes lingered in my mind, their haunting intensity a constant reminder of the sin and torment that had become my existence. The certainty of my spiraling downfall felt inescapable, and every breath I took seemed to deepen my dread.

The pews had emptied in an instant, leaving the room cloaked in a suffocating silence. My heart pounded as I watched Hoseok move toward me. The man before me was no longer the mortal guise he had once worn; his true form emerged, dark and unnervingly compelling. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now burned with a shadowed hunger that quickened my pulse with a mix of terror and something I couldn’t quite name.

“Y/N.” His voice, soft and reverent, seemed to carry a sacramental weight that sent an icy shiver down my spine. There was a truth hidden in those syllables, a meaning only he understood. As his nearness intensified, confusion and fear danced across my features. His calm, deliberate hand cradled my cheek, the touch both tender and overwhelming. The heat of my skin seemed to beckon to him, an invitation that terrified and enthralled me simultaneously.

"You're so lovely," he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur that barely masked the wild intensity in his eyes. His touch guided me backward with a grace that felt almost otherworldly. The church seemed to dissolve around us, melting away into a space that was unsettlingly familiar—a fragment of my life from New York. The red brick of the two-story house brought a strange, bittersweet comfort, like a fragment of a life I had once known. It calmed my racing heart with its eerie familiarity. He led me to the front door, his touch both comforting and possessive.

The lock yielded effortlessly, and as we crossed the threshold, the gravity of the situation settled like a stone in my stomach. The house, once a sanctuary of normalcy, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in with a menacing intimacy. 

"So perfectly lovely," he murmured again as he closed the door behind us. I stumbled back, my nerves crackling with an unsettling energy. It wasn’t just fear anymore—it was something darker and more confusing. A part of me ached for normalcy, for escape, while another part was drawn to him with a desperate, confusing need. The line between terror and an inexplicable, forbidden desire blurred beyond recognition. I clung to the last shreds of my sanity, even as I felt myself unraveling under the weight of my own conflicted emotions.

"Why are we here?" I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of breathlessness and an unspoken longing. My heart pounded with a confusing blend of fear and desire. It was as if clarity had returned to me for a fleeting moment, yet I was still tethered to the confusion Hoseok had woven into my days. His promises of relief had begun to erode the pain, even as they wrapped around me like a vice. I remembered the dreams he'd planted in my mind, their seductive whispers blurring my sense of reality.

"I thought you might feel more at ease here," he said softly, his tone smooth and soothing as he followed me through the cluttered living room. Each backward step I took seemed to draw him closer, his presence an inescapable shadow. "Do you like it?"

I hesitated, glancing around at the artifacts of my past—family photos, treasured mementos, relics of a life that now felt so distant. The room was a museum of a future slipping away from me, and Hoseok's eyes seemed intent on taking it all. "Yes, I do," I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. The room, once a sanctuary of normalcy, now felt like a stage for his dark play.

"I'd like a drink," I said, placing a hand over my racing heart. I clung to the pretense of normalcy, desperate to maintain some semblance of control. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt a flicker of my old self. "Is there anything here? Surely you would... like one... as well."

Hoseok, having long since discarded any pretense of humanity, closed the distance between us with unsettling swiftness. His movements were almost too fluid, his presence too intense. His hands, warm and steady, framed my face with a possessive grace, his gaze fixed on the pulse in my neck, the rich, inviting blood beneath my skin.

"Oh, Y/N, my sweet, innocent little lamb." His voice, a velvety murmur, sent a shiver down my spine. His touch, trailing down to my neck, felt both magnetic and maddening. His eyes lingered on my flesh with a hunger that was almost palpable, a craving that seemed to consume him as much as it did me.

I trembled in his embrace, my conflicting desires mirrored in his touch. A soft moan escaped my lips, my breath warm and trembling with a heady mix of fear and desire. His smile widened, a predatory glint in his eyes as he encircled my waist, his touch moving possessively lower, tracing the curve of my hips and thighs. The tension between fight and flight heightened the charged atmosphere, leaving me both desperate and disoriented.

His eyes traced the flush of my lips, a reflection of the flush between my legs. The scent of my arousal mingled with my anxious heartbeat, a call to the beast inside him. His senses seemed overwhelmed by the promise of my warmth, the floral sweetness of my skin, and the earthy musk of my desire.

"You don't want... a drink?" I stammered, struggling to grasp the situation, to find a shred of reason amid the chaos of my emotions.

"Oh yes, Y/N. I very much desire a... drink." His smile was amused, his lips hovering just above mine. The taste of his breath, mingling with his tantalizing scent, sparked a deep, primal hunger within me. I was alive with all these unfulfilled needs, caught between an overwhelming desire and a paralyzing fear.

I inhaled shakily, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. "What... would you like?" The question was a desperate plea for clarity, a tenuous grasp at the last vestiges of control in a world that had become a tumultuous blur of lust and dread.

A low laugh rumbled in Hoseok’s throat as he brushed his lips over mine, savoring the teasing trace of my flavor. "I want you, Y/N. I want to drink you." His honesty was laced with a raw, consuming need, a plea that mirrored the chaotic mix of longing and fear surging through me. It was clear he had no intention of letting me escape���not now. His tongue traced the corners of my mouth, and his body pressed against mine, making his heat seep through every layer of fabric that separated us.

I trembled, caught in a storm of conflicting emotions. The scents of my home—the cheap cotton sheets, synthetic pillows, and lingering traces of my perfume—led him with a haunting familiarity. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me with a purposeful stride, and placed me gently at the foot of my bed. The moonlight offered only a weak shield against the encroaching darkness that seemed to swallow us whole.

My heart raced, feeling like a delicate butterfly trapped in a predatory web. As he dropped his coat to the floor and drew me into a deep kiss, my earlier uncertainty dissolved into a raw, electric need. Each touch of his fingers against my body made me shiver, a mix of anticipation and dread coiling tightly within me.

The bed was unmade, its disarray a silent testament to my disordered state. His scent lingered in the tangled sheets and blankets as he lowered me onto them. My sweat-dampened palms gripped his hair, my fingers exploring the nape of his neck and shoulders. The buttons on his shirt came undone beneath my trembling hands, my desire growing bolder despite the icy grip of fear that clenched at my chest. His groan as his teeth grazed my throat made me arch my hips, pressing closer, driven by a need I couldn't fully understand.

My clothes fell away under his hands, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. His eyes devoured every curve of my body, his gaze as palpable as his touch. His mouth descended on mine, hungry and insatiable, and I was enveloped by him, lost in a swirling tempest of our shared desire. His touch became a language, one that read my body with an intimate knowledge I was helpless to resist.

As he explored my secret places, my soft sighs turned into desperate pleas. His searing touch brought goosebumps to my skin, but I pressed closer, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving me. I was caught between wanting more and the creeping dread of losing myself entirely.

"Y/N," he groaned, his voice a dark promise. "I want to consume you." His words were a growl, a warning wrapped in seductive desire.

"Yes, I want you to. Do it. Take me," I panted, clutching at his shirt sleeve. My body spoke louder than words, arching upwards in desperate need. I knew I didn't fully understand what I was asking for, but the awareness was drowned out by the intensity of my longing.

His hands covered my breasts, his fingers finding my nipples. I gasped, pushing closer as his mouth found each tip, his low growl sending shivers through me. My heart raced beneath his lips, the rush of blood whispering of more delights to come. I arched again, my body twisting off the bed, craving more.

His mouth sucked at my nipple, his tongue flicking to heighten my pleasure. His thigh pressed between mine, the fabric of his jeans rasping over my nakedness, igniting a desperate heat. I moaned and bucked against him, my fingers digging into his arms as I convulsed beneath him, reaching the peak of my desire. The exhilaration of the moment was punctuated by the fear that clawed at the edges of my consciousness, a persistent reminder that I was teetering on the brink of something both irresistible and terrifying.

The climax left me gasping, trembling, caught in a whirlwind of confusion and overwhelming need. Each wave of pleasure only heightened my fear, and my body’s reaction seemed to betray my mind's desperate protests. His touch, relentless and insistent, found a rhythm that both seduced and terrified me. I cried out, unable to stop the sounds that escaped my lips, but a part of me wanted to resist.

I tried to pull away, my hand grasping his wrist with a frantic intensity. "What... what are you doing to me…?" My voice was a ragged whisper, trembling with a blend of confusion and fear.

He looked at me with a dark, hungry smile, his eyes alight with a dangerous fire. "Y/N, don’t lie to yourself," he said softly, his fingers curling in ways that made my body shudder. "You’re not overwhelmed. Your body is telling me you want this. You’re close to coming again. I can feel it."

My protests dissolved into incoherent moans as his touch stimulated a spot deep within me. The pleasure was a cruel paradox, blurring the line between ecstasy and dread. I could barely think, my mind clouded by the intensity of his actions.

"No, Hoseok, it’s too much," I whimpered, struggling to catch my breath. "I can’t..."

His mouth moved to mine, his lips teasing, his breath warm against my skin. "You’re a beautiful little liar," he murmured. "It’s not too much. You crave this. You know you do. Beg for it."

The force of his command broke through my haze of desire. "Please, Hoseok...," I gasped, my will crumbling under his dominance. My words felt like a betrayal, but I couldn’t stop myself from begging. "Please, just... take me."

His satisfaction was palpable, a dangerous hunger in his eyes. His touch grew more urgent, driving me to the brink of madness. I was lost in a maelstrom of sensation, my mind screaming to pull away, but my body’s response only seemed to draw him closer.

The moment of his thrust was jarring, a mix of pain and pleasure that overwhelmed me. My body reacted instinctively, my hips rising to meet him even as my mind struggled to grasp the reality of what was happening. The intense pleasure was intermingled with a profound fear, a dread of losing myself completely.

His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as though he were chasing an elusive climax. I was limp in his arms, my breathing ragged, torn between an unbearable desire and an escalating terror.

Despite my growing fear, I clung to him, my hands fumbling for some semblance of control. My kisses were desperate, seeking to anchor myself amidst the chaos. His touch was relentless, and every stroke seemed to heighten the conflict within me.

He pressed closer, his hands exploring with a possessive intensity. My body’s reactions were at odds with my thoughts, creating a tumultuous storm of sensation and fear. My mind raced, grappling with the realization of what was happening, but the pleasure was so consuming that it blurred the line between consent and coercion.

As the moment approached, I felt his breath on my neck, a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked beneath his seductive veneer. The final act was a blur, my fear mingling with an overwhelming rush of sensation.

I was a walking paradox—caught between heaven and hell, life and death, sin and redemption. His presence was a fiery furnace, consuming me with the heat of stolen life he had been deprived of for so long. My body clenched around him, a pulsating rhythm that seemed to drive him to the edge of his sanity. His pleasure was overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that painted the world in a chaotic blaze of colors.

“Hoseok, please…” I whispered, my voice a fragile breath against the overpowering cacophony of sensations. I wasn’t sure if my plea was for him to stop or to continue, a desperate cry from a place deep within me that I couldn’t fully comprehend. My fear was a gnawing presence, clawing at the edges of my desire, but the confusion of what I wanted and what I was willing to accept blurred together.

His eyes were dark with a twisted satisfaction as he sensed the last of my climax and my blood draining from me. The thought of taking me to the brink of death both exhilarated and haunted him. His grip tightened, and with a guttural snarl, he pulled away from my neck, his fangs retracting with a mixture of frustration and reluctant restraint. The rush of his thirst roared inside him, but he forced himself to temper his need.

I was an indulgence he wouldn’t be denied again, a forbidden pleasure he was determined to claim. He gently laid me back on the disheveled sheets, my heartbeat weak and fluttering. He licked the last drops of blood from my skin, his breath ragged and uneven. Each touch was deliberate, sealing the wounds with a final, lingering caress—a practical necessity for a demon who wanted to savor every part of me.

“Mine,” he growled, his voice a low, dark promise that vibrated through my core. “You are mine, Y/N. From now until death claims you, until I claim you.” His breath was warm and heavy against my face. My eyelids fluttered, barely able to focus, but his words penetrated my haze. “If any other man dares to touch you, I will tear him apart. Remember this, my beautiful little lamb. Remember who you belong to.”

“Hoseok,” I murmured, my voice a faint echo of surrender. His satisfaction was palpable, a twisted delight in my obedience and submission. He rose and slipped out of the room, leaving me tangled in sheets and blankets. From across the street, hidden in the shadows, he watched and listened, his gaze a persistent weight on my fragile state.

As dawn’s first light crept through the blinds, it painted the room in a sickly, eerie glow. I lay amidst the tangled sheets, each twist revealing new bruises and bite marks—a grotesque map of the night’s events etched into my skin. The aftermath was a haunting blend of pleasure and torment, an unsettling reminder of what had transpired.

Hoseok’s presence lingered in the room like a shadow that refused to lift. The darkness he brought with him clung to the corners, an inescapable reminder of the nightmare I had just lived through. My mind, once a storm of fear and confusion, now spun in a twisted acceptance—a deranged serenity that felt as liberating as it was unsettling.

The door creaked open like the groan of an old house settling into its own despair. Hoseok reappeared, his eyes still gleaming with that predatory glow, but now softened by an unsettling tenderness. He moved towards me with a deliberate grace, each step imbued with a dark reverence that made my heart pound with a blend of fear and reluctant desire.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice a low, seductive murmur that slithered across the room. “Do you understand now? You are mine, every inch of you.”

I looked up at him, my smile a grotesque reflection of the twisted contentment that had taken root in me. It was not a smile of joy or freedom but a shadowy acknowledgment of a reality I could no longer escape. My old life had withered into obscurity, replaced by the suffocating reality Hoseok had imposed upon me.

“Yes,” I breathed, the word barely escaping my lips. “I belong to you.”

The truth of my submission felt like a heavy, warm blanket, pressing down on me with an oppressive weight. Despite the enormity of what I had given up—my freedom, my chance to reclaim any semblance of my old life—there was an undeniable satisfaction in surrendering wholly to him. The pain and loss had twisted into a perverse form of fulfillment, filling the void in my chest with a dark semblance of love.

Hoseok’s smile widened, a dark curve that spoke of unyielding possession. He reached out, his hand caressing my cheek with a gentleness that clashed violently with the ferocity of his claim. The room seemed to close in around us, the air thick with a palpable tension, as if the very walls bore witness to my surrender.

“You will never leave me,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto mine with an unbreakable determination. “You are mine, forever.”

I nodded, the movement small and almost imperceptible, but it was enough. It was a surrender, a relinquishment of my will to the dark force that was Hoseok. He pulled me into his arms, and I felt my resolve melt away, my body becoming a canvas for his power, intermingling with the strange warmth of our shared connection.

As his darkness enveloped me, I felt a disturbing sense of belonging. In the shadows of the night, under his control, my fears and desires tangled together, creating a new reality that was both terrifying and intoxicating. In that moment, I understood there was no turning back. I was his, bound in body and soul by the twisted threads of fate and desire.

Hoseok’s eyes softened as he pulled me close, his cold skin a stark contrast to the feverish heat of my own body. His embrace was a strange sanctuary, a place where I felt both ensnared and cherished. My mind, once a battleground of conflicting emotions, had slipped into a state of blissful madness. In Hoseok’s dark embrace, I discovered a twisted joy that defied all rational thought.

“I’ve given you everything,” he murmured, his breath cold against my ear. “We are bound now, Y/N. Forever.”

His words were a chilling promise that resonated through the marrow of my bones, a haunting echo that left me trembling uncontrollably. I clung to him, my grip a mix of desperate need and profound terror, as a disturbing form of happiness took root in the darkest corners of my mind. The loss of my old life, the sacrifice of everything I had once held dear, seemed like a fevered dream compared to the unsettling contentment I felt in his arms.

As the first light of dawn filtered into the room, casting long, distorted shadows that twisted and writhed, I looked at Hoseok with a gaze that was both adoring and disturbingly fractured. The vibrant world I had once known had dissolved into a distant memory, replaced by a nightmarish existence defined by the twisted love and passion we shared. My heart swelled with a love so profound it overshadowed any lingering regret, even as my mind spiraled further into chaos.

Hoseok’s final words were a chilling promise wrapped in disturbing tenderness. “Remember, Y/N,” he whispered softly, his voice a ghostly caress in the dim light. “You are mine, in every sense—in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul.”

As the door creaked shut behind him, the morning light seeping in like a reluctant witness, I was left enveloped in the oppressive embrace of the darkness we had forged together. My smile, twisted and unnatural, reflected the bizarre, unsettling happiness I had found in the abyss. I was forever bound to the night, my soul tangled in the shadows of Hoseok’s dark desires.

The room seemed to breathe with the remnants of his presence, each corner cloaked in an oppressive stillness that mirrored the void he had filled within me. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of fragmented thoughts that raged in my mind. Now, there was only the echo of his words, the haunting promise of a future forever intertwined with his darkness.

I lay there, wrapped in the aftermath of our twisted union, my body marked by the evidence of his possession. Each bruise, each bite mark was a grotesque map of the new life I had been forced into. The pain was now a distant echo, overshadowed by the profound and disturbing contentment that gnawed at my chest—a contentment born of both surrender and madness.

As the minutes ticked by and the morning light grew stronger, I found myself replaying his final words in my mind, my thoughts fracturing with each repetition. “You are mine, in every sense—in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul.” The truth of those words reverberated through me like a haunting mantra, a binding contract signed with my very essence, even as my grip on reality slipped further away.

There was no turning back, no reclaiming the life I had once known. I was irrevocably his, a willing participant in the dark dance we had begun. The thought brought a grotesque smile to my lips, a smile that spoke of a happiness found in the shadows, a contentment born of surrender and madness.

At least, I wanted to believe it was madness alone that made me forget how afraid I was.

October 31, 2024

The house had become an enigmatic beast, its former guise of normalcy utterly transformed. From the street, it looked like any other home—silent and shadowy against the midnight sky. But within its walls, it was something else entirely. The shutters were clamped shut, keeping out any unwelcome glimmers of daylight. The curtains, heavy with dust, obscured the outside world, making everything inside a surreal, dreamlike blur.

Within this labyrinth of darkness, the house seemed like a twisted echo of a familiar nightmare. The air was thick with the mingling scents of old incense and stale dreams, creating a heavy, almost intoxicating atmosphere. Flickering candlelight cast eerie, jittery shadows that danced and twisted, as if mocking my attempts at normalcy. Silence pressed down on me, almost alive in its oppressive weight.

Days blurred into one another, each indistinguishable from the next in a fog of disorientation. Hoseok’s routines had become my own, though I couldn’t quite remember how or when they had taken over. My existence revolved around small tasks—cooking, cleaning, and performing acts of devotion—that had evolved into a kind of ritualistic pattern. It was as though each action was a silent offering to the enigmatic darkness that had enveloped our lives.

When I glanced in the mirror, the person staring back was a ghostly apparition of my former self. My face, serene to the point of being unsettling, bore a look of eerie contentment. I was a wraith, drifting through my days with a confusing mix of dread and satisfaction.

As night fell, the house came alive with an almost palpable energy. Hoseok’s presence was overwhelming, filling the space with his dark, commanding aura. His arrival was always marked by the ritualistic locking of doors, a subtle reminder of his control. The sensations of pleasure and pain that accompanied his touch had become a surreal symphony, a haunting reminder of the path I had chosen.

One particularly cold night, as the moonlight filtered through the grime-covered windows, Hoseok and I stood together, looking out into the void. The world outside was a distant blur, an irrelevant expanse that felt disconnected from my reality. The sky stretched above us, a vast, unyielding black, reflecting the emptiness of my existence. We were bound together by something primal and deep, though its true nature remained elusive.

Time inside these walls seemed to warp and distort. The house, once a symbol of normalcy, had turned into a crypt of our peculiar existence. The outside world had faded into obscurity, replaced by the certainty of Hoseok’s presence. I had found a strange form of happiness in this eternal night, where the terror of the outside world had been replaced by the dark, enveloping comfort of Hoseok’s embrace.

As I settled into my favorite worn leather chair, the house seemed to pulse with anticipation for Hoseok’s return. My knitting supplies were spread around me, with a scarf for Hoseok in progress. I hummed softly, my heart beating with a sense of calm and eager expectancy, as if I were awaiting a beloved dream to resume.

I replayed our last conversation in my mind, Hoseok’s words lingering like a haunting melody. “An old friend is coming for a visit,” he’d said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “She’s good at dealing with werewolves.”

I couldn’t suppress a bubbling laugh, the sound rising unbidden. “Isn’t she the one Namjoon’s obsessed with?”

His kiss on my temple had been darkly tender, sending shivers of pleasure through me. “Clever girl. It will be fun.”

I teased him playfully. “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

His laughter resonated through me, sending a thrill down my spine. “When have I ever been nice, lamb?”

“Nice to me,” I’d replied, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Very, very nice.”

Settling back into the leather chair, the hearth’s flickering light casting long, shifting shadows, I resumed my knitting with a serene focus. Each stitch felt like a small act of devotion, a testament to my growing obsession. I hummed softly, my heart a silent witness to the peace I had found in this twisted, eternal night. The lines between fear and love, sanity and madness, had merged into a strange, intoxicating tapestry that I no longer fully understood.

Hoseok said I was perfect. His praise was a balm to my disoriented soul.

I smiled, pushing away any lingering doubts about my sanity. I was fine. I was perfect.

Pager Codes:

110 307 - Go To Bar

209 - On My Way

08 - OK

420 - You’re in trouble

3011 - Be Careful

221 - Where are you?

419 - I don’t understand

100 - Come Back

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[gguk-n]

The illusion of destiny (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Summary- In a world where you are destined to be with someone forever, a hopeless romantic lives her life in hope of finally finding her soulmate.

Growth and realisation Tragic circumstance

Warning- angst. No hate to anyone, all of this is fictional.

(first person POV)

"The fate that brought me and your father together was the best thing that happened to me" my mother said as she brushed my hair.

I was 5 years old when I realised that soulmates exist. Just like any other nights my mother was telling me a story of how the princess met her prince charming when she least expected it. It was another version of her parents love story. They filled her with so much love, I felt like a ball of love willing to share it with the people I loved. My whole life was spent looking at people in love, finding their soulmate and pouring that love into their children. The first time I saw someone find their soulmate was my uncle. He had given up on love or finding his soulmate since he wasn't having much luck at it for years. It was like the skies had cleared after a thunderstorm when he found his soulmate in the grocery store. She looked lost since it was her first time there and I had begged him to buy me ice cream. It was like an invisible pull that pulled him towards her. She looked shocked but elated to have finally found the love of her life.

Later that day, I asked my uncle, who seemed over the moon to even sit still, "How did you know that the pretty lady in the supermarket was your soulmate?" a curious question that my mother had yet to answer. He looked at me and said, "I just did; there was this red string that was tied to both our fingers and before I knew it, I was standing in front of her." a permanent smile etched on his face. I was happy that he had found his soulmate, my sad and grumpy uncle had become this ball of sunshine.

The first of my friends to have found their soulmate was at the end of high-school at the graduation ceremony. It was a sibling of one of our friends who was also attending the ceremony. My friend didn't even make it to the seats before they went running to the soulmate who's string of fate had apparently become visible on entering the graduation hall.They looked happy. I got to attend their wedding a few years later.

I spent my college years searching for my soulmate. It would take time as my mum put it. She didn't find my father until much later on in their lives. So, I was content with waiting for the right time for my soulmate to pop into my life. I would catch myself playing with my pinky finger a lot, in hopes of seeing the red string of fate that attached me to the love of my life. My college years were boring by others standards since I spent it all waiting for my destiny. I didn't feel the need to entertain others when the one for me was probably waiting for me. It would be rude had I decided to play with another's heart. My college graduation ceremony was wonderful; a part of me hoped to meet my soulmate here. But alas, he seemed to not be there.

Around this time, I had taken a liking to formula 1. A peculiar thing, since me and sports didn't blend well. I have painful memories from my childhood where I got hit with a ball, a bat, a football, tennis racket multiple time as I tried to coordinate my limbs so that I could play. My father called me a silly little thing and worried for my soulmate who would have to bubble wrap me to keep me safe. I would laugh along, imagining a look of concern on a face-less figure on me hurting myself. It made me giddy and my heart race. I guess I liked formula 1 since I was merely a spectator.

It was only sometime later, was I able to save up money and buy tickets to a race. Me and my best friend, Sara, were going to the race together. I couldn't wait. I had bought all the prettiest outfits and gotten my hair and nails done. I couldn't sleep all night. We drove to the race, the weather had started warming up so I was wearing a white sun-dress. As soon as I got out of the car, the string on my hand became visible. My heart was thumping against my chest, my mouth felt dry and palms clammy. Before I could say anything, Sara announced that she was going to get us some snacks from the stand before we went inside and left for the food stands. I started walking forward, it was like I was being pulled. I couldn't control my excitement. I kept walking for a good 30 minutes, I could hear my phone ringing but I paid not heed. My eyes kept scanning the crowds, in hopes of finding my soulmate.

That was when my eyes landed on a man in an orange shirt with black shorts. His finger was on the other end of the string. I sprinted towards him, almost out of breath when I stopped. As if on queue he turned around and stared at me, a look of guilt in his eyes. It was Oscar Piastri, driver for McLaren. My heart leapt out of my chest, I knew there was a reason he was my favourite I thought; it was like the universe bringing us together. But why was he looking at me with so much guilt.

I raised my hand forward and introduced myself, "Hi! I'm Y/N Y/L/N, your soulmate." I smiled brightly. He took my hand and gave it a firm shake. I expected more I guess, maybe a hug or some more enthusiasm maybe it's because he's a celebrity, I thought. "I'm Oscar Piastri" He replied. Our string was glowing and so was my face, my cheeks hurt from smiling and I felt like I could faint any moment. He let go of my hand, "I'm sorry Y/N." he said. I was so confused as to why he was apologising. Before I could say anything, he continued, "I hope you will understand but I have a girlfriend I love deeply. We've been together for many years. I never believed in this soulmate thing, but I'm really sorry. We can't be together, I love her a lot." How could I have forgotten, Oscar had a girlfriend he had been dating since high-school. I had thought she was his soulmate but I guess fate isn't the only thing allowed to make choices.

Before I could say anything, I saw his girlfriend walk up to him and as he took her hand in his, leaving mine hanging beside me. I watched them walk away as he explained that I was a fan and wanted an autograph. She smiled and kissed his lips while he happily reciprocated. I stood there for a very long time, tears staining my cheeks and hands shaking before Sara came and tapped my shoulder. She was worried as to why I was crying, I told her I met Oscar. She seemed happy for me but little did she know that he just broke my heart as he walked away. She wiped away my tears and asked, "Shouldn't you be happy? Why do your eyes seem so sad?" I had no answer to that. I told her I didn't feel too well and that I was leaving. I couldn't stay here any longer when I had no place in his world, the world I dreamt of making ours seemed cold and devoid of any love or warmth. I wanted nothing more than to hide away from the cruel treacherous world for giving me a hope and dream that would never become real. It wasn't fair when everyone around me had found their soulmate and mine just left me standing in the middle of no where.

[heich0e]

do reader and sunaosa’s families know about their relationship? i ask bc my cousin came out as poly earlier this year and i had to call my 70 year old father before a birthday party and explain to him what polyamorous meant. fun conversation

mama miya knows, and she's accepting of it. samu didn't really hide it from her, but he did take some time to think about how he wanted to tell her. more than anything, what weighed on his mind was that after he told tsumu—and that happened pretty much immediately—he was effectively asking his brother to keep something from their ma, and that just didn't sit right with him.

but even though he took time to tell her, and was concerned about finding all the right words, it all came out rather plainly in the end. in the middle of an otherwise unremarkable conversation over a meal in the house she raised him in, osamu opened with the whole 'hey ma, just so you know i like girls and also i like boys', rounded it out with 'also i'm dating the slouchy kid you've been seein' me hang around with since i was a teenager', and finally brought it home with 'and i'm still crazy about the girl ya like so much, but just so you know she and rin are datin' each other too.'

it took a bit of processing on mama miya's part, and no one can blame her for that, but at no point was she unkind about it. she asked some questions, found no fault in her son's answers, and ultimately came to the conclusion pretty quickly that even if she doesn't totally understand something that doesn't make it wrong. she didn't love her son all these years just to give up on him for choosing the thing that makes him happy.

(years down the road, the twins joke that she threw a bigger fit about them dyeing their hair in their teens than she did about osamu coming out. she laughs with them.)

suna and his parents aren't very close.

his mom and dad divorced when he was in middle school, but they never really liked each other much to begin with, so it wasn't like it came as a shock. after the split, he went to live with his dad in an apartment a few towns over, while his sister went to live with their mom at their grandparents' house. suna doesn't talk much about this point in his life, and doesn't really remember it in any great detail, but he doesn't feel resentful or particularly weighed down by this part of his past.

rintarou moved into the inarizaki dorms in his mid-teens, got his first apartment after graduating while he did his brief stint as a uni student, and has pretty much been on his own since. as an adult, his relationship with his dad is pretty distant—even as a kid they weren't particularly close, since his father was never really a man of many words to begin with. he doesn't talk to his mom much at all, either—maybe a phone call if something notable comes up in the extended family, a card sent in the mail on a birthday, that kind of stuff. nothing terrible or horrible ever happened with either of them, and he has no hard feelings about it, his family just was never really much of a family to begin with.

the only one he ends up telling about you and samu is his little sister. she's the only member of his family he has much of a relationship with, having stayed in touch with her over the years, and properly reconnecting as they both got older and gained proper independence. she puts most of the pieces together herself over time—she sees pictures of you and samu both on his social media, and the ones up in his nagano apartment, she hears him talking to you on the phone every so often and notices how soft his voice is when he speaks to either of you—and then when she finally asks he doesn't deny it. she's accepting of it right away, and isn't all that fazed by it to be honest. she's known samu for ages, since he and rin have been friends all these years, and he's always treated her like a little sister anyway, so she takes no issue with it being "official" now. she likes you a lot, too (having met you a few times prior to your relationship being revealed, where you were introduced as osamu's girlfriend,) and begs rin to let her spend more time with you once everything is out in the open—and rintarou never says it, but that makes him really happy.

[ladykailitha]

The latest in the Steddie brain rot, so you now those crossword thingies where they say the first three words use see are x (your love life for the next year, your new year's resolutions, stuff like that)?

There was one for fan fiction, the words I saw were enemies to lovers, historical, and time travel.

I'd link to it but FB refreshed and I lost it.

But buckle up, babes, we're going in for a ride.

Hawkins has always been hell. There was no denying that. Eddie in 1983 isn't sure he's going to graduate high school. Yes, he knows it's only October, but school really sucks.

All the bullshit with his dad and trying to make life suck just a little less, he accidentally stumbles on a Gate. But not to the Upside Down. At least monsters he handle (not really, but he's trying to be brave), but snobbish upper class in the middle ages? Yeah, that's going to be a problem.

Like he knows how to talk and how to act, he's be researching the hell out of that stuff since he was a kid.

He doesn't know how to get back , so he kinda wings it and becomes a traveling minstrel. Like it pays decently enough and people will talk to him.

Then he hears of a little princeling who hasn't smiled since his mother died and King Richard is willing to pay a handsome sum to whoever can make the prince smile.

Eddie decides to take up the challenge. If he can get into court, then he have more of ear to the ground to be able to get back to his own time.

The initial audition does NOT go well. The king doesn't like him and the prince is in different.

So Eddie runs his mouth. It really should have gotten him killed or at least thrown in jail, he calls the prince a couple of rather choice insults. And holy fuck, the Prince smirks.

It's not a smile, it should have not counted as one. But the king does. He tells Eddie, now named suitably Edwin (yes he knows his parents named him Edward, but Edwin seemed older somehow), that he now has 30 days to turn that smirk into a real smile as that is when the ball for the Prince to chose his bride and he can NOT have a dour son.

Eddie gets thrown into the Prince's room and is told to stay there until after the ball.

And now he's pissed. That was not the plan. He needs to find a way to get back home. To running water, heated buildings, and flushing toilets.

Dressing up is one thing, D&D is another, but this is Hell. What he wouldn't give to go back to the hellscape that was Hawkins High.

The prince he's learns is named Stephan, so piss him off Eddie calls him Stevie.

The two are hostile to each other. Steve doesn't want the ball, he doesn't want to laugh or smile. He wants to mourn his mother in peace, thank you very much. Which pisses Eddie off. He didn't get the luxury of mourning his mom, and he was much younger than Steve. Dude is nearly twenty. Grow up.

They start snapping and sniping at each other. But close proximity to each other starts to wear off their sharper edges, and they learn to tolerate each other, then like each other.

Then just two days before the deadline, Eddie makes Steve laugh. The King is overjoyed and now Eddie feels terrible. He forgot the price to be paid for making Steve was laugh was to lose him.

As he's packing up to go, a duchess named Eleanor slips into his room and tells him she knows he's from the future and she knows how to get him back. He needs to stay at the castle. So she "hires" him as her personal bard.

Steve is surprised and happy to know that he's still around. The ball comes and he's introduced to a lot of beautiful, rich, well connected women. Lady Christine from France, Duchess Tamera from Russia, Countess Annaka from Germany, and Marchioness Martina of Italy. (Am I borrowing from my other medieval story? Maybe a little. Shush!)

Steve is forced to wait on these women hand and foot, all the while his cousin, the Thomas, the Duke of Hagan is cozying up to King Richard, making an all to obvious bid for the throne.

Lady Eleanor has figured out how to get Eddie home, but Eddie doesn't want to leave without Steve, so he tells him who he really is. Steve wants to believe him , but it's so fantastical.

He starts packing up a bunch of his clothes, his mom's jewelry, and some trinkets from his past that he wants to keep. He has about three bags full and Eddie is getting antsy.

Steve runs into Lady Christine and tells her he's running away and she can either move to the side, or he's going to have to tie her up and gag her. Because he will not be stopped.

She winks at him and runs to the opposite direction Eddie and Steve are going and starts screaming there is an intruder in the castle.

All the guards go rushing to her, leaving the path Steve and Eddie need to travel free.

They get to the gate and Lady Eleanor shoves an scroll into Steve's hand, telling him that all she asks in payment is that when the time comes, when meets a little girl named Jane, with extraordinary powers to give her the scroll. It will help her end the troubles once and for all.

They jump through the gate and they land in the forest behind Forest Hills, just three days from when Eddie left.

Eddie does not graduate that year, because he's too busy teaching his boyfriend modern life and dealing with actual fucking monsters, who knew?

Steve gives Eleven the scroll when he learns her real name is Jane and she has so many questions, but with the information Lady Eleanor gave her, she can completely collapse the entire system. Return it to just a place where nightmares come from and not actually evil.

It takes a lot of effort and some major team ups, but she does it. The Upside Down is no more.

Eddie keeps asking Steve what he's going to with the stuff he brought with him, until Steve sells one of the trinkets to a museum and gets serious money from it. Steve explains that historians are the same no matter the era. You show them something that will blow theories out of the water and they will eat that shit up.

And they live happily ever after.

A lot of museums come calling but after learning about vaults hundreds of feet below their building, hiding treasures from the world out of greed, he will only sell to earnest collectors and small well funded museums that he in turn donates to.

Steve also learns Thomas and Christine married but he died shortly procuring an heir and she took over as regent making her the best queen they ever had.

[squinch-depraved]

priest schlatt I beg

we're not gonna talk about how long this took me to get to

happy national clergy appreciation day (in the u.s.) !! sorry if this sucks i was raised southern baptist and even then i sucked at christianity there's a reason i practice witchcraft now lol

hanging your head low as you ducked into the confessional wouldn't save you. sure, there was no one around to see you, but knowing that god had witnessed what you had done was reason enough to try and hide from the world as much as you could. but still you tucked yourself away into the corner of the booth, clutching your purse in your trembling hands.

religion was a something of a sore spot for you; growing up in a hyper-christian family was one way to ensure you didn't feel comfortable in a house of worship. you had always viewed god as an inevitable outcome, a fact that awaited you whenever you happened to reach the end of your journey here on earth. once you graduated high school and locked yourself into a four year program at a catholic college one state over, you came to realize that the reason you couldn't stand your religion wasn't because of overbearing relatives. no, it was the very idea of god himself. you found him sadistic, an egotistical prick who had nothing better to do than let horrible things happen to his creations. maybe it was true that most of the teachings you had heard were lost on you, that you didn't even make an effort to understand the lessons passed down for thousands of years. but so what? nobody had ever made an effort to understand you or what you were going through, why should you waste your energy extending that courtesy to a church that obviously didn't care about you?

but you know who did make you feel understood? the guys you had dated in the three years since you arrived at this prison. at least, for a few weeks, in the beginning. the first one was fine. he was the one who convinced you virginity was an outdated concept- which you still agreed with to this day, you decided. he was surprisingly "woke" about the whole religion thing, which was what drew you to him in the first place.

"my parents made me study here too," he sympathized. "i totally wish i could've gone on a mission trip instead of getting a degree. like, college will be here in a few years! those impoverished people might not, y'know? i just feel like god is totally calling me to go serve. like, 'troy, man, go feed those guys! tell them how cool i am!'" he stopped tossing a miniature foam basketball against your bedroom wall for a moment to look at you.

you smiled weakly at his sentiments and glanced up from your laptop to nod. "totally, troy."

turns out, (unsurprisingly) troy was a fucking douche. he stayed around just long enough to get into your pants a couple times, but then you caught him with the girl who lived in the dorm across from you, so he had to go. nobody ever found out who stole his clothes from the men's showers, but the videos of him streaking down the hallways while he ran to his room were sent around campus for months after that.

guys two and three were more painful than troy; you had actually grown attached to them. guy two lasted almost a year, and three was only a few months, but he felt special. and the half dozen guys you slept with while trying to get over them just added to the tally of sins you were keeping subconsciously.

so when your grades started to slip from depression in the winter of your junior year, and your counselor called you to her office for an appointment, it was no surprise that her words got under your skin as easily as they did. how could they not? getting students to go to church was part of her job. she was concerned that your grades were slipping because she hadn't seen you at mass in a long time, and the absence of the lord will do that to a young girl, you know.

so later that night, after drinking by yourself at a bar a few miles from the school, you stumbled into the church on campus and slunk into the confessional. realizing that the wooden box was incredibly uncomfortable, you winced and pulled off your heels, rubbing your feet gently as you waited to be listened to.

you shrieked quietly when a small lattice window on the wall next to you slid open. "oh, fuck... sorry! um, it's my turn, right?... yeah, i think so. okay, so, um. bless me father for i have... sinned? it's been, like," you paused as you counted back the time on your fingers. "almost two years since my last confession. oh, jeez, that makes me sound awful." you were hiccupping as you rambled, and you could have sworn you heard the faintest exhale of amusement if you weren't plastered.

"whatever, it's too late to stop now," you sighed, crossing your legs. "i let some guys sleep with me and now i'm all unpure and like. i'm supposed to show up here a couple times every week now but i don't wanna, i don't care enough about this whole god thing to waste the rest of my college life becoming a nun. i'm already worried i wasted three years coming here instead of a school where i could have felt like myself," you trailed off.

it was quiet for a moment before a gruff voice with a new york accent asked, "how many guys?"

you snorted. "9, i think," you said with a smirk, rolling your eyes.

the man on the other side of the panel felt his face heat up as he mumbled, "jesus." you couldn't hold in your laugh at how absurd this was. this was what you deserved for coming to confess at 2 in the morning.

"i know it's been a while since i've been here and all, but i'm pretty sure that's not what you're supposed to say," you giggled.

a chuckle was heard before he answered, "sorry. you're right, it's not. tell me more, what led you to sleeping with them?" at least now he was trying.

the two of you talked for about an hour, until it no longer felt like a confession and you were sure you had fallen for this priest you couldn't even see. eventually, he tried to dismiss you without giving you your penance, but something in your gut drove you to bring it up yourself.

he stepped out of the booth first, and you hesitated for a second before following him, freezing when you saw what he looked like. tall, scary, with gorgeous brown eyes framed by aviator glasses and fluffy chops adorning his cheeks. by some miracle, he also felt immobilized by his view of you hopping out of the wooden compartment- dress disheveled, fishnets ripped, heels in one hand and your purse slung over one shoulder. you were his worst nightmare, a temptation he simply could not resist. god had just placed a vulnerable young lamb like you in his midst; who was he to deny himself of the simple pleasures his lord had provided for him?

"father? father, my penance," you waved your hand in front of his face (after a bit of trying to get his attention), which had just gone dark. his eyes now looked hungry and cold.

"hmm?" he blinked and tilted his head towards you slightly. "oh. uhm," he let out a deep exhale, as if contemplating something. "y-y'know what? just come with me," he spoke gently, taking your hand and leading you to a back room with some spare furniture scattered about.

a part of you knew what was coming, and a different part of you never could have guessed the situation you were about to find yourself in. once you were alone in the room together, he pulled you close and pressed you against a wall, letting his hot breath waft over your neck as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

"god's telling me we should make it 10 men you've been with," he murmured, voice velvet smooth as it coated your eardrums. "so you can say at least one of them was a real man of the lord, hmm, doll?"

your breath, caught in your throat, sped up as he slowly, gently, tenderly took your wrists in one of his hands, bringing them to rest above your head. "father..."

"schlatt. my name's schlatt. but that's just a courtesy, hm? stick to callin' me father." you felt him smirk against your skin as he sunk his teeth into the flesh of your neck, drawing out a frantic moan from you.

"careful with your noises, angel, there's two other guys here tonight, and if we get caught, i'm gonna have to share you," schlatt warned. he used his other free hand to pull down the top of your dress, smiling greedily at the sight of your exposed breasts. "no bra?"

"i-it didn't go with the outfit," you tried to defend yourself, but he just shushed you and fondled your chest lovingly, like he really was just appreciating one of god's creations. pathetic noises spilled from your lips as you watched him admire you, a hypnotized look on your face.

"you're so beautiful, doll. wha's your name?" he asked, glancing up at your face to meet your gaze.

you stammered out your response and he repeated it, running over the name in his mind.

"pretty," he said simply. "i'm gonna make you feel good now, okay?" it was more of a statement than a question, and you nodded with a gulp as he knelt down and slid his head under your dress. you felt your pupils dilate as you leaned your head back against the wall and let your eyes fall closed. schlatt ripped a bigger hole into your fishnets and pulled your skimpy panties to the side, licking a long stripe up your folds and tracing circles with his tongue on your clit. it was hard to keep your whorish noises contained, but clamping your hand over your mouth did a good enough job.

he ate you until you were frantically scratching at his head through the fabric of your dress as you came all over his face, sobbing from how good you felt. you didn't even know it was possible to feel this euphoric, but here this priest was to show you how. once he was satisfied, he pulled away from your cunt and rose to tower over you again. he reached into his robes and opened them enough so that his crotch was visible. you watched as he pulled out his length, stunned at the size of it, and let him pick you up and position you around his waist.

"father, i'm scared, i don't know if it's gonna fit," you admitted guiltily. schlatt locked eyes with you while he replied.

"it's okay to be scared. but you have to do it anyways." with that, he slid into you, stretching you out more than you ever had been before. you bit onto him in an effort to keep quiet; his robes did a good job of muffling the sound. after a generous amount of time to let you get used to him, he started moving.

he was gentle at first, but gradually got rougher and rougher. there wasn't a moment where he wasn't focused on making you feel good. his eyes pierced through you as he rammed into you at a relentless pace, and the attention he was giving you didn't make you feel objectified like it did when the other guys fucked you. it made you feel divine, ethereal almost.

grunts and pants, along with the occasional squeal, were all that could be heard as he rolled his hips into you time and time again. he coaxed another orgasm out of you just with his cock, and once he felt like he had pleasured you enough, he sped up, now thrusting at a frenzied pace.

"when i tell you, you're gonna get on your knees and take me in your mouth, okay angel?" he instructed, out of breath. you nodded, eager to please.

"yes, father," you gasped as he reached deeper and deeper inside you with every thrust. schlatt's eyes rolled back slightly at the title and he went impossibly faster for a few seconds before speaking.

"n-now! now!" he ordered desperately. he set you down hurriedly and you slammed down onto your knees to take him in your mouth, letting him burrow deep into your throat before he finished with a loud groan and grabbed your hair roughly.

he remained in your throat for a moment while he caught his breath, sliding out once his chest had stopped heaving.

"there's your penance, doll. i better see you here for a 2 a.m. confession next monday as well, yeah? i think that's what the lord's callin' me to do," schlatt said as he buttoned his robes. you straightened your clothes as much as you could and looked up at him sheepishly.

"looking forward to it. but, uh, is there a back door i could leave through? because i do not want to walk through the church like this." you gestured to your outfit, tattered and wrinkled, and winced.

he chuckled and nodded. "yeah, i'll show you to it. maybe it could be our secret entrance," he joked.

"oh, of course. i'll knock three times whenever i need to be let in," you retort with a grin.

maybe coming to church wouldn't be so bad, after all.

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: " I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, specially not from the house next door."

Warning: angst, fight, toxic parents, fluff, smut, smut and smut! dirty talk, orgasm, squirting (Yessss) 👅 oral sex (male and female) fingering 🤟, nipple sucking, Jungkook calls reader a slut (just once, sorry) Jungkook knows what he's doing 🤌

A/N: Hello! I came back later than expected 😬 sorry! Here is the chapter! I hope you like it! From here on, I am writing the story. Everything you have read so far was written last year. I ask for a little more patience because I need to write, edit, and English is not my native language! Thank you for all the support! (PLEASE VOTE!)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 7

"I didn't know about your college, let alone that you are studying to be a teacher, Y/N," Mr. Jeon says, putting the chocolate dessert in his mouth. I nod my head, excited to talk about a topic I love so much.

"Yes, I love children. I thought it would be a way to work with something I enjoy, and things are going really well." I reply with a smile. Knowing that my course is practically finished and that there is less than a month until I graduate gives me a pleasant thrill in my stomach. All the hard work and dedication are finally paying off.

"I'm so proud of you. I can't wait for you to start working in the field you're studying," my mom comments beside me, her eyes squinting when she smiles. I know it's true because she was one of the people who encouraged me the most to pursue this career. "The schools in Busan are great, big and prestigious. Y/N will adapt very well."

Mrs. Jeon shakes her head with a radiant face, happy for me. I, on the other hand, lose all my excitement. My mom knows, because I've mentioned a few times, that I don't want to stay in Busan after I graduate. I like being here since I've lived in this city practically my whole life, but I feel inside me that I need new challenges. I don't want to spend the rest of my days under my mother's wings. I'm curious about myself and how far my limits go, too. I know I'm capable of doing this.

It's not her fault that I'm like this, so attached and dependent. Since my father passed away and we were left alone in such a hostile world, she became my escape valve. Her approval suddenly became the most important thing in my life. I started looking at her as if she could leave me at any moment, just like my father, and that transformed me into what I am today: vulnerable, indecisive and weak. I've been trying to strengthen my mind these days. I started questioning the decisions I made in previous years and noticed, not without some surprise, that I never did what I really wanted. Jungkook, by a miracle, was my only wish fulfilled by my own desire. It's as if I wanted him so much, that even my bindings couldn't prevent me from having him.

"Let's see, mom. There are several other schools I want to try to get into." I respond, and almost at the same moment, her body tenses. She turns to me and opens her mouth to reply, but knocks on the door sound throughout the house before she can continue. I almost sigh with relief, knowing that at least for now, I'm free from any scolding.

"Excuse me, I'll see who it is." Mr. Jeon gets up from the chair and heads to the living room. After a few seconds, he returns with a smile on his face, with Jungkook behind him. Of course it's him; who else could it be? His hair looks different, in a new cut that makes his face look more youthful; his cheeks are fuller, and his eyes much bigger.

I take a deep breath and try to keep my expression as neutral as possible. He greets my mother with a nod, perhaps knowing that it's better to keep his distance from her, and hugs Misuk, wrapping his arms around her back. It's nice to see their interaction together. They really love and respect each other. Then he turns to me and squeezes my hand with a smile.

"Hello, Y/N. How are you?" He asks with a light smile. I am impressed; his performance couldn't be better. It's almost as if we hadn't been talking almost all day through messages. If I didn't know him, I could swear I hadn't been to his house two days ago. That we didn't kiss so much that, almost by a thread, I lose my iron control and decide to throw myself at him completely.

"Everything's great, and you?"

"All good, too." He sits in the chair in front of me, watching the food that had just been our dinner.

"Jungkook, how about you eat something? You’ve been looking so thin lately." Mrs. Jeon furrows her brows, analyzing the dark-haired guy from head to toe. I wonder if she really thinks he's thin. All I see are muscles and a large, healthy body. I remain silent, poking the dessert with the tip of my fork.

"I'm fine, mom. I'm not hungry. I just came to see you. I missed you." He responds affectionately. I can't help but smile, happy to see how he acts with her. It's cute, if that's the right word to describe a heavily tattooed man like Jungkook.

"You should sleep here, Jungkook." His father comments to his son, looking at the silver watch that wraps around his wrist. "It's already quite late. I don't want you to ride that huge motorcycle in the dark."

"I'm fine... The motorcycle is completely safe." He grumbles, pouting as his parents look at him worriedly. He seems like a sulking teenager, not a tattoo artist full of piercings who lives alone in a bachelor apartment. I let out a small laugh trying to disguise it, but he notices. He bites his lips hard and stares at me for a few seconds. I divert my eyes to my hands, fiddling with the dark pink nail polish that decorates my nails. "Alright. I'll sleep here tonight."

"Perfect! You can stay in the room you used on the first day you came to Busan." His mother suggests, taking a sip of her orange juice.

"Yeah, that works. I loved that room." Jungkook responds with an ironic tone that's hard not to notice. Is he trying to provoke me? He smiles slightly, and for a few seconds his attention focuses on me. "With a great view from the window… you know? Of the garden and everything."

"Alright then, it’s settled." Mrs. Jeon seems excited, holding his shoulders with an almost indescribable happiness. "And how have you been, son? You’ve been visiting me less and less. I'm worried about you, whether you're sleeping well, drinking water, and eating right."

"I've been very busy lately." He takes the juice from the table and pours himself a bit. "It's hard to find tattoo artists I can trust. I still haven't found someone who really has the style I'm looking for. The designs I like aren't very common here in Busan, from what I've noticed."

"Tattoo artists… My God!" Eunji suddenly whispers, disgusted. I open my mouth to try to interrupt her and stop her from saying one of her craziness, but she’s quicker than me. "Every time I see someone with a tattoo, I wonder how they had the courage to dirty their own skin like that. It's horrible to think that these things, whether the person wants it or not, have no return."

"Mom!" I hiss, completely embarrassed. I cover my face with my hands, not knowing where to look. The Jeon family seems surprised, but this acidic comment doesn't shock me. She always does this because she can't keep the peace for too long. It's as if she enjoys causing disagreements, no matter who it is with.

"It's the truth, Y/N!" She argues, as if she were shocked that I disagree. "These things are from the devil! How can someone mark their body like that? It was God who created us in his most perfect form. I just don’t understand!"

"Eunji... I understand what you mean. But everyone chooses their own way to live. I don't think God disapproves of someone just because they have drawings on their skin." Misuk, our neighbor, shares her opinion. That's what I think too. I nod to everyone and make it clear that, even though I'm Eunji's daughter, I don't agree with her. Not in a million years.

"God disapproves, Misuk! I'm surprised you don't think like I do." My mother continues. I sigh, trembling, completely nervous. "The youth today only think about worldly things, drinking and adorning themselves as if they were delinquents! I can't believe this will be the future of our society!"

"Are you saying I didn't raise my child well?" Mrs. Jeon questions. Her face is neutral, but her voice rises a few notes. She finally seems irritated, and rightly so. I would be too, if someone came into my house and said those barbarities.

"Mom, I think it's time for us to go." I get up from the table without waiting for a response. I'm so embarrassed I can't look at anyone, much less Jungkook, who's been quiet the whole time. It's as if he isn't affected by my mother's comments, but I'm aware that deep down, he feels uncomfortable.

"I'm not saying you raised your son badly, but look at him, Misuk! He dresses like he’s part of those bad things. He must be going from party to party doing God knows what. He put those horrible things on his face!" She grunts disgustedly, convinced that she's saying the right things. I try to breathe deeply and groan, desperate to leave. "Y/N only goes where I allow her, and has never even set foot in those dubious places. I let her sleep here last week, but I'm seriously thinking of denying it if there’s a next time."

I widen my eyes as the words leave her mouth. I look at Misuk and see her furrowing her brows in confusion, as if she doesn't know what my mother is talking about. She opens her mouth to respond, disoriented, but Jungkook is quicker and steps in front of her, suddenly.

"I think it's getting late." He says with a false smile on his face. He looks at me for a few seconds and then continues, "This conversation could go on for a while. Mom, I've worked a lot this week. Is it okay if we rest earlier tonight?"

"No, dear, but..." My neighbor shares a confused look, staring at me as if asking when I slept at her house. I make a discreet sign that we’ll talk later, and she nods her head, sighing. "I think that's best. Eunji, sorry to interrupt this conversation, but as you can see, my husband and son are very tired. It's better for you to go, please."

I sigh with relief, feeling my heart race in my chest. My mother opens her mouth to retort, but then seems to think better of it and gets up from her chair. I don't even wait for a proper goodbye; I open the door to my neighbors' living room, wave to them, and rush home, without waiting for anyone. My legs are trembling, I'm so nervous. My mother almost discovers the lie I told her, some days ago. I have to thank Mrs. Jeon a lot after this and explain in detail why I lied. I have a problem on my hands because I slept in Jungkook's place and I don’t want to tell her that.

Eunji follows me, almost like an angry bull, seeing everything red. She stops in the living room, slams the door of our house, and then stares at me, her dark eyes full of tension. I swallow hard, not knowing what to say.

"Do you have a problem, Y/N?" She asks, frowning. The few wrinkles she has become more prominent when she does that.

"What do you mean?" I ask in a low voice, scared and fearful.

"Why didn’t you agree with me? I am your mother! That man, Misuk's son, he's a complete aberration! You acted like you agreed with them!"

"I didn't agree with anyone, Mom." I grunt, disgusted. I don't like hearing her call Jungkook that way. I knew she didn't like him, not at all, but proving that in real life hurts me much more.

"You did agree! I don't want to see you hanging out with him! I don't know what I was thinking when I let you go with him that day! I must have been crazy!" She screams, and my already aching head throbs even more. She throws her shoe to one side of the living room, out of control, and then looks at me again, with an ironic and insincere smile. "You won't go to Misuk's house anymore. Not me either. That woman... I thought she was sensible, that she was like us, but letting her son dress that way is a terror to me!"

"And what does that have to do with us, Mom?" I ask, shaking my head. Eunji opens her mouth to respond, but I'm quicker. "He's her son, and it's not up to us to judge the lifestyle he decided to have! It's not up to us to judge other people as if we're better than them!"

"Have you gone crazy?" She retorts, increasingly irritated. "I'm not judging him, I'm just pointing out the obvious! Do you think a man like that is going to heaven? With me? Believe it or not, my daughter, hell is full of people like him: who dress like psychopaths and walk around as if they know everything. All I feel is pity."

"You’re not God to know who goes to heaven or not." I whisper, turning my back. My eyes widen when the words escape my mouth uncontrollably. It's as if heavy feelings took over me and expelled the sentence without my consent. I hear a deep gasp of shock from my mother. When I look at her, her face is so filled with hatred that I can hardly recognize her.

"I'm not God, but I'm his daughter! I won't allow you to talk to me like that!" She snarls and approaches me so quickly that my body freezes. I've never seen her like this before, so upset over so little. "Go to your room. This conversation makes no sense, and I'm already tired of it."

And I go, without saying a single word. Things were too good to be true. The reality is that my mother can't control her mouth. Always saying whatever comes to her mind without reasoning how much it can hurt others. Her favorite motto is 'tell the truth, no matter who it hurts.' I hate that, aware that the more my mother does this, offending and discriminating against everyone, the more people will distance themselves from me. Nobody wants to hear, especially in their own home, the craziness she just said.

I take off my shoes, throwing them to the floor, and look at my locked window, still shocked and nervous about the events. Since that day I saw Jungkook taking off his clothes, I haven't left the blinds open, afraid that another embarrassing thing might happen. Curious, I unlock it and peek out, seeing that the light in the room next door is on. I sigh and take a deep breath, and in an act of courage, I throw the window wide open.

"Jungkook!" I half-whisper and half-shout, trying not to draw my mother's attention from downstairs. He doesn't appear, so I call him again. "Jungkook!"

"What are you doing?" He suddenly appears in front of me, coming out of a door inside the room. The bathroom, I suppose, by the white towel around his neck, as if he just brushed his teeth.

"Speak lower." I ask fearfully, lowering my voice. "I don't want anyone to hear us."

"Your mom, in this case." He smiles ironically. I nod, having no desire to laugh. I feel terrible about how the night ended.

"If she finds out that my room is so close to yours, she'll never let me sleep here again." I say jokingly, in a desperate attempt to purge the bad feeling invading my chest. "I called you to apologize. My mom shouldn't have spoken that way about you to your family, saying all those things."

"You could have sent a message." Jungkook replies, shrugging, as if none of this were important.

"I wanted to talk to you in person. I really feel bad." I express myself as best as I can, with all the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in my mind.

"I’ve never met someone as crazy as your mom, and I know a lot of bizarre people out there." He leans against the iron railing of the balcony, mocking. I try to cover my mouth and hide a smile, but it's hard. Jungkook is a goofball. "I had already noticed how she acts, you know? As if she could dictate what is right and what is wrong, so superior."

"I know, she is very difficult." I sigh; I run my hands over my arms, chilled by the increasingly strong night breeze. "She became like this after my dad died."

"Has it been a long time since he passed away?"

"Ten years. It seems so recent, but all this time has gone by. It was very difficult because she worked a lot. She wasn't like this. I remember she even drank a bit on weekends, like a normal person."

"So she kind of went crazy?" He asks curiously, wrinkling his nose. I laugh and shake my head.

"Not quite like that. She's not crazy... She just hasn't understood yet that she's traumatized and can't hurt others because of it." I explain, leaning on the window. We're so close that I can smell his perfume. A nice scent of flowers and fields that I really like. "Did you feel bad about what she said?"

"To tell the truth, no." He shrugs, as if he doesn't care. "I'm used to judgments. If she knew that my ex-boyfriend is a man, she'd freak out."

"I'm really sorry." I say in a whisper, feeling sad about his words. I believe that yes, he felt affected by what happened, and just doesn't want to tell the truth to spare me the embarrassment and guilt. I have no idea how hard it must be to be comfortable in your own skin when other people do everything to make you feel like an aberration. Like the wrong one, like the one who isn't normal.

"You don't have to apologize so much." He smiles affectionately, with a rebellious strand of his hair falling in front of his eyes. "And you, Y/N? Have you never done anything crazy in your life? Your mom seems so controlling, that I was thinking while she was saying all that, how difficult it must be for you to be yourself."

"I never felt like doing anything rebellious until I met... well, until I met you." I smile, embarrassed. My cheeks turn red when he laughs mischievously in response.

"Almost fucking me in my apartment isn’t exactly a great act of rebellion." He shrugs and rolls his eyes, laughing. I grunt, increasingly embarrassed.

"That was definitely the craziest thing I've ever done in my life." I assure him. Being with him may seem like a little thing in his eyes, but for me, it isn't.

"Have you never thought about maybe, I don’t know, getting a tattoo? I think that would definitely kill your mom."

"I never thought about it." I laugh incredulously. I never even considered the possibility of doing something like that. "How did you decide to get your first tattoo? Did it have any meaning or was it more impulsive?"

"I got it when I was twenty. And it wasn't impulsive. I always thought about getting a tattoo, and when I left my parents' house, I gathered the courage and designed it." He laughs, and for the second time this night, I find him cute. "Actually, I got a new one yesterday. Do you want to see it?"

"Seriously?" I ask, a bit confused. We talked all day and he didn't mention it at all.

"Yeah, I had time last night." He explains, as if reading my mind. "Do you want me to show you?"

I nod my head in agreement, and he takes a leap to leave his balcony. I get startled, frightened, when he climbs through my window and enters my room. I don't know what to do; my breathing accelerates as he gets closer.

"Jungkook, you shouldn't be here!" I whisper, agitated, afraid that at any moment my mother will enter my room, and then go completely crazy.

"Calm down. It's all good." He rolls his eyes, teasing me.

"I'm being serious. You could have shown me your tattoo in your room." I argue nervously. "If my mom sees you here, I’ll never leave the house again."

"You're too stressed." He comments calmly, placing his hand on my shoulder unprotected by the thin straps of my shirt. I feel an immediate shiver down my spine, taking a step back quickly. No matter how long I spend with him, Jungkook still has that crazy effect on me that I can't control. "Sorry, I shouldn't have touched you."

"You don't need to apologize." I whisper, going back to my previous spot. He must have thought I was uncomfortable with his closeness, and that's far from being true. I miss his touches, and if I could, I would ask for more. "Can you show me what you did?"

"Yeah. Wait a second." He murmurs. His fingers go to his waist, and he pulls the fabric of his t-shirt up, raising it until the piece is in the palm of his hand. I swallow hard, looking at his body so close to mine. No matter how many times I've seen him like this, I'm still shocked at how handsome he is. All muscular, with pale skin adorned with tattoos. My eyes roam over his strong arms and go to his abdomen in a fine path of hair that follows inside his sweatpants.

"I got this clock yesterday. It represents the passage of time. How I have to give importance to the moments in life, whether they are good or not, because everything can end suddenly."

He points to his bicep, now covered by a plastic film, which protects the new ink. I raise my hand and touch the warm, soft skin, testing and exploring. He stays quiet, waiting for my inspection with patience and attention. I've never seen anything like it in my life. I smile, embarrassed, when I notice that wherever my fingers go, the hairs on his body stand up and prickle. I say nothing, absorbed and hypnotized.

"It's beautiful." I confess just for his ears. He turns to me and looks into my eyes.

"I really wanted to show you this. I missed you. Did you miss me?" He asks suddenly, in a serious way. And he certainly has no idea how much. During these two days, with all our messages, I've never felt so alive. I missed him in an inexplicable way that he can't even imagine.

"A lot." I reply, shaking my head, red. "Jungkook, can I tell you the truth?"

He just nods and makes a noise with his throat, agreeing. I swallow hard once more and take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself.

"I want you." I say in a whisper, like a secret. He smiles at the corner of his lips, never taking his eyes off mine. "I want you so much that I don't even recognize myself. It's like I can finally be me. I've never felt this way."

"Do you remember that night?" Jungkook raises his hand and caresses the top of my cheek with his thumb, in a tender gesture.

"You know I do. Of everything." I say. His pupils dilate, and his face becomes more serious. He takes a step forward until his chest touches mine, and we are completely glued to each other.

"I've wanted you immensely since that day." He confesses, and I can feel the sincerity in his raw words. "I want you so much that I'm about to go crazy... I don't want to deny myself when I know you want me too."

"I don't want you to deny yourself." I reply. And it's the truth. I close my eyes and feel his lips pressed intensely against mine. The cold piercing makes me shiver all over when I touch him.

I let out a sigh amidst the desire and grab his hair between my fingers, pulling hard, not measuring the pain he might feel because I know he likes it. His soft, low moan proves that to me. I smile through the kiss and slide my tongue into his mouth, playing with his, feeling his massage mine. His hands go to the back of my thighs, pulling me with such force that I need the support of his shoulders to remain standing. I wrap my legs around his waist, accidentally feeling his hard cock pressed against my intimacy. It's overwhelming, in such a way that a groan escapes from the back of my throat.

His lips detach from mine, and his dark eyes lock onto my irises. I feel ecstatic, almost in a parallel world, seeing only his red, wet, and swollen mouth from our kisses. And I can't stop. I feel so good, almost as if I had denied myself a vice that I am only now getting to taste again. I wrap my arms around his neck and bring my mouth closer to his ear, smiling when I notice his skin prickle one more time because of me.

"Take me to bed, please." I ask softly, not thinking about the consequences. I nibble on his earlobe and plant wet kisses along his neck, sucking and tasting the flavor of his skin; the little spots I like so much turning even redder and more marked. He lets out a deeper moan and lays me on the bed, settling between my legs.

"You just have to ask me to stop." He says in a hoarse voice, looking me up and down. He sweeps his newly cut hair back, illuminated by the moonlight.

"You know how far I can go." I assure him, my cheeks flushed. He smiles, and almost immediately kisses me again. And I love kissing him. I've never had much experience, having little to compare, but I don't need that to know it's really good. More than good, it's wonderful.

I start to feel what I've only felt with him, lust, eating away from the inside out. I drag my hands over his warm arms, where I now know his new tattoo is, and pull his body closer to mine, feeling his abdomen, his heat, and his desire, all at once. The sweatpants aren't very effective at hiding his excitement, and I take advantage of that for my own benefit, rubbing against him, finding relief and pleasure that, without wanting to admit, I've missed so much.

I moan low, wet and excited, yearning for more. Jungkook suddenly pulls back a bit and releases me from the mattress. He grips the end of my shirt and slowly pulls it up my body. His eyes darken as my breasts are revealed. My first impulse is to cover my nipples, illuminated by the dim light, but his lips graze my jaw and his warm breath hits my collarbone, making me so eager that I can't worry about anything else. My entire skin tingles when he uses his tongue and licks my neck.

Jungkook lets out a little smirk, pauses, and looks at me, watching my reactions closely as his index and thumb go to my areola; I moan again, feeling my nipple swell when he squeezes it tightly, causing a pleasurable ache that sends shocks and waves of pleasure to my intimacy. I'm so wet that I feel my panties soaked, the cotton fabric sticky with my lubrication. His teeth dig into my breast, and his tongue wraps around my nipple, circling and swirling. To avoid any noise, I concentrate on keeping my lips pressed together, almost to the point of not being able to breathe. Jungkook grumbles and releases me, moaning as if he enjoys it as much as I do, and he returns to kissing me.

"You’re so tasty..." He groans, as if my pleasure were his. "I could eat you all day long."

"J-Jungkook... let me touch you." I implore in a whisper, breathless.

"Touch me." He commands, straightforward.

With the idea of making him feel everything I'm going through, I slide my hand down his gray sweatpants. I find, still over his underwear, his hard and thick member. Jungkook hisses and closes his eyes, but doesn't stop sucking me, digging his teeth into my flesh and causing a hickey that I know will take days to disappear. I become more confident when I feel how excited he is, all heavy in my palm. I lower the fabric of his pants to where my hands can reach, and when I can't anymore, I use my feet, wrapping my legs around his waist.

His navy blue underwear slips down his thighs until his cock finally springs free, hitting the end of his abdomen. The tip is all slick, red, and the veins make it appear even more aggressive, all manly and virile. It's crazy how, even not knowing much what to do, I don't feel intimidated seeing him this way. I just want to touch him. To have him.

"I want to touch you..." I whisper, wrapping my fingers around his member; my heart racing in my chest. My face burns with embarrassment, but I don't stop. "Teach me?"

"What do you want to do?" He questions, closing his eyes. His head tilts back when I accidentally touch his balls, and I squeeze him a little harder. "Shit, I might come just from that."

"I don't want to do things that way." I stop my caresses. He stares at me, frowning. I bite my lip a little shyly, but I'm determined to explain my desire. "I want- I want to kiss you down there, I just don’t... I don’t know how to do it. I wanted to do the same thing you did to me that time."

"It's all good." He smiles slightly, calming me down; he grips my waist tightly and continues, "Are you sure? I don't want to pressure you into anything."

"You're not pressuring me." I say firmly. And he's not. In the end, all the choices I made so far regarding him were based solely on my desires, never Jungkook's. I like that. It's one of the first times in my life that I'm the one choosing what to do or not. He nods, seeing that I'm confident, and opens the button of my skirt, parting my legs to fit his body better against mine. My panties remain, a light pink cotton that I know is nothing sexy, but apparently doesn't bother him. The fabric is stained with my wetness, from how turned on I am. I watch eagerly as his hand approaches, and his thumb touches my clit through the fabric, stroking up and down, in slow, deliberate circles, taking his time. I roll my eyes in ecstasy, and if I hadn't been so eager to make him come, I would let him continue.

My hole pulses when I pull his finger away, yearning for the peak, but I focus on him and his pleasure. I get up from the bed and pat the mattress for him to lie down. He obediently complies, unashamed of his nudity. I stare at him, amazed at how handsome he is, muscular and at the same time, with an angelic aura.

I lean in closer to his face and watch as he closes his eyes, waiting for a kiss, his long, thick eyelashes brushing against his cheeks as he realizes my mouth is heading for his neck. I tenderly kiss a little mole on his collarbone and another near his jaw. He sighs but says nothing, remaining quiet. I lower my mouth, licking his skin and breathing in his scent, which is fragrant and pleasant.

"Hold my cock." He whispers in my ear, pleading. "Have you ever done that?"

"No." I shake my head, embarrassed. He just smiles and takes my hand. He spits in my palm and grips my wrist, spreading the saliva over his shaft. I watch mesmerized as a vein seems to pulse at the back of the tip. I stroke it once, testing to see how he reacts to the caress. He seems to enjoy it, gripping the sheet of my bed and closing his eyes. "Is it good?"

"Y-yeah." His voice falters as he answers. I smile with pride, deciding to increase the speed just a little, using my thumb at the opening and spreading the pre-cum to make things flow more smoothly. My mouth waters when a drop of his desire starts to ooze from the tip, and I mentally wonder if I'm strange for wanting to taste it.

"How do I do it?" I ask, not stopping. I kiss his jaw and wait for his response. He clears his throat and looks at me with dilated pupils.

"The only thing you have to avoid is your teeth. There's no secret; just never bite." He explains calmly, as if teaching me anatomy. I nod and say nothing more, focused on protecting my teeth and not hurting him in any way.

I slide down my body to the end of the bed and position myself over him, closer to his cock. It looks bigger now, up close. More powerful and voluminous. I stroke it, twisting my wrist and testing it with my tongue first, tasting the salty flavor of his pleasure. It's not bad, actually, so I try again, licking the tip and feeling his flavor get stronger in my mouth. Jungkook moans louder, tilting his head back onto my pillow. He doesn't close his eyes, however, observing closely my inspection of his body. I start to feel more confident and in a spur of the moment, I suck his cockhead, swirling my tongue and caressing the pink skin, as if it were a lollipop. I groan, lowering my head a bit more, returning to the surface to take a deeper breath.

"Shit..." Jungkook grits his teeth, moaning. "There's no way this is your first time."

"It’s the truth." I say, smiling. I'm glad he's enjoying it, even with my inexperience. I caress his thigh and kiss it before diving my mouth back onto him once again. He disappears inside, filling the back of my throat. He doesn't fit all the way inside me, and I don't push too hard, using my hand on the rest and following my sucking.

I use my tongue, circling and stroking that thick vein that runs along his shaft. Suddenly, Jungkook pulls his hand away from the blanket and reaches for my nape, holding my hair. I watch his reactions closely, like when he moans softly, or when he swallows hard before closing his eyes and cursing softly. I notice his chest stops moving, and Jungkook holds his breath as I go deeper. I realize he wants to go harder, to grip me more firmly, but he restrains himself for some reason. I pull his fingers to my scalp, encouraging him.

"You can hold me tighter." I pull his cock from my mouth, wiping some saliva that starts to drip down my chin.

"If I hold you, I won't be able to stop."

"And who said I want you to stop?"

"Y/N..." He tries to say something, but I interrupt him.

"Do whatever you want with me." I say suddenly, surprising both him and myself. He smiles wickedly, as if my consent had triggered something inside him. I return to his cock and suck it, this time hungrier, going up and down its long length.

His hand returns to my nape, his fingers entangled in my hair, and without hesitation, he pushes my head down forcefully, roughly and dominantly. I choke on his shaft but don't stop, excited that the pain I feel in my scalp is directly affecting my pussy. I'm literally dripping, sucking him off without stopping, without wanting to separate. His flavor fills my palate and I love it.

"You’re such a slut..." I hear him curse, almost unconsciously. I’m not offended, strangely. My canal clenchs, and more creamy lubrication flows from my entrance, dripping down my thighs just from hearing how he calls me. "Fuck, you like this, don’t you? You like sucking my cock with your mom in the same house?"

I remain silent, too busy enjoying his pleasure. I moan and try to nod, but his hand doesn't let me go, pushing me harder against his pubis. His pace quickens, and even though it's hard to keep up, I continue sloppyly, drooling.

"You must be so wet just because my cock is in your mouth." He chuckles, because he knows it's true; his firm hand is caressing my back down to my ass. He strokes my skin before slapping my buttocks hard. I choke, afraid my mother will hear us, but he doesn’t stop, and neither do I. My head is so clouded with pleasure that I can't think of anything else but him.

"Kook, cum for me... please." I plead; my eyes water. He grunts with a raspy voice and throws his head back. I use my tongue on the frenulum of his cock because I notice it's more sensitive there, and suck harder, almost ferociously. Jungkook moans and growls, and I know he's close. His face turns red, and his chest freezes, as if he no longer needs to breathe. He suddenly opens his eyes, biting his lips furiously.

"Open your mouth. You're going to swallow all my cum." He commands, without asking for permission, as if he knows I would give it anyway.

I keep going, not stopping; my lips hurt, and my jaw does too, but I really want to see him come and I keep that as my main goal. The first spurt goes straight to my throat, catching me off guard, until he fills my mouth with his cum, making me swallow it all at once, as he promised. I don't feel disgusted; on the contrary, I enjoy it so much that I clean him off completely, until the last drop of his pleasure, kissing his cock when he whimpers from sensitivity. I smile when he catches his breath and looks back at me, as if he's in the clouds, feeling light and tired.

"I'm drained..." He says softly and in a whiny tone. He seems like an innocent boy, not a man who just forced me to take all of him.

"You called me a slut." I comment, laughing a little. It's the first thing that comes to my mind when everything is over. I laugh even more, seeing his cheeks turn red, as if he felt more ashamed than I did about what happened.

"I'm not going to apologize. I saw that you liked it." Jungkook argues, laughing too. I nod in agreement. I didn't know I liked this kind of thing, but I do. I stroke his tattooed arm and give it a little kiss, addicted to touching him. "Lie down on the bed, I want to suck your pussy."

"Aren't you afraid my mother will show up?" I ask, but I obey, lying down on the bed. "I'm afraid she'll hear us both."

"Just ask me to stop...even though we both know you won't." He winks at me. My back hits the mattress when he presses his palm on my belly, and literally pulling my legs to the mattress, my thighs are spread wide apart. He takes my ankle, caresses it, and then puts it over his shoulders, bringing his face closer to my intimacy. I'm embarrassed, I won't lie, but I'm so horny that I can't wait for him to start.

"Please, Jungkook, touch me already." I say when he takes his time to caress my skin with his fingertips, without touching directly where I want it most.

"Don't be impatient." He laughs, oblivious to my desperation. I grunt, grumpy.

"Please..."

"Needy." He says ironically, mocking me, as if he hadn't suffered with me minutes before. His bright eyes turn to my pussy and he smiles, before kissing my crotch and caressing my skin. I try to laugh at the situation, but the truth is that it makes me even more excited. His fingers part my small lips and he licks from my entrance to my clitoris, closing his eyes and frowning, as if he were eating something and really enjoying the taste. "Fuck! You're so wet."

I don't say anything because I know it's the truth. I hold his hair lightly, giving him more freedom to caress me. I watch carefully as his lips surround my most sensitive bud, kissing and sucking my clit. His nose is all sticky with my lubrication, but he's not afraid to get dirty and sinks his tongue into my hole, driving me crazy and boiling. I feel him inside me, hot and wet, going in and out. I moan, covering my mouth to be as quiet as possible, but I don't know if I'm very successful and I don't care. I'm in heaven, with the delicious sensation of my pleasure and there's nothing in the world that can take me out of this trance.

He takes his tongue out of me, swallows my taste and brings his mouth closer to my clitoris once more. I have to remove a lock of his hair in front of his eyes to see him better, feeling the tips of his fingers exploring my channel. I relax my body and wait for the penetration, watching with concentration as the flesh separates to accommodate him inside me. I sway my hips, feeling the sensation of being filled to the limit in my intimacy. I imagine what it would feel like if it were his cock, much bigger and thicker.

"Is it here?" Jungkook asks, looking at me carefully, curling his fingers upwards in search of that spongy spot that had driven me crazy last time.

"A little deeper, Kook…" I instruct, knowing he is close. My intimacy contracts instantly when he finds it, massaging and caressing my pleasure point with intensity. "R-right there… keep going, please."

And he continues. His fingers go in and out again, more vehemently. He sucks me as he picks up the pace and penetrates me, in a long and intense thrust. Out and in, fast and strong. I moan louder this time, unable to help myself, guiding his lips back to my clitoris. His nose feels good in contact with my slit, adding to all the delicious sensations at the bottom of my belly. His fingers are long but painless, using the moisture of my pleasure around my entrance and making them wetter, before erupting again. I know I'm going to cum, I remember everything I felt that night with him and I know I'm very close.

"Oh my God...! I'm going to cum!"

"Don't cum." He orders, raising his head, but doesn't slow down. His arm moves in time, massaging my clit with his thumb.

"I-I can't." I choke, at my limit. My heart races and my legs tremble, almost on the edge, falling and diving at my peak, when Jungkook suddenly stops. My eyes fill with tears and my throat closes. My imminent pleasure begins to cool, until it goes away all at once. I hold my nipple and contort my body trying to make it come back, but it's impossible. "Why Jungkook? I was... I was so close."

"I know." He laughs mercilessly, kissing my belly. He sucks his fingers wet with my lubrication and puts them inside me again. He easily finds my pleasure spot, even more sensitive and delicate because of the denial of orgasm. I try to close my legs but he stops me and wraps my ankles around his shoulders again. "You'll thank me when we're done." He doesn't wait for an answer and goes back to sucking and licking on my clitoris sloppyly, swollen from the loss of climax.

My intimacy is very sensitive, his touches twice as intense. I relax my body and trust my pleasure to Jungkook, holding onto his hair and waiting expectantly for the warm feeling in my stomach to return. And it comes fast, stronger. He seems to know my body very well, better than I do, so I concentrate and don't think about anything else, emptying my mind. I sigh and close my eyes, unable to face the image of him crouching in front of me, focused on giving me everything. It's too much for me.

My clitoris becomes the main object of his caresses and although they are not strong, they are intense and deep. He knows exactly what he's doing. "Jungkook! Fuck..." I moan breathlessly. I pull and pinch my nipple hard, pulling myself away from the bed. My back is soaked in sweat, my body is so hot. I grunt, feeling something strange in my intimacy. It's different from other times, a desire to pee that Jungkook's fingers only incite. I sigh and grind my waist, rubbing my clit against his mouth, my orgasm and the hot sensation growing stronger. "Kook... Stop. There's something strange."

"Trust me, Y/N." He whispers, looking into my eyes. "Relax that pussy and cum really good, love."

I roll my eyes and writhe on the bed. My heart races and my breathing catches. The most delicious and hot sensation releases itself inside me and I fall onto the mattress, my arms weak. Jungkook doesn't stop at all and sticks his fingers deep inside, massaging my sticky inner walls. It's the longest orgasm I've ever had, as if it never ends. I bite my hand, trying not to scream, but it's very difficult. I'm literally on another planet. My whole body trembles and a sob escapes my throat. Only then do I realize that I'm crying, this experience is so intense and incredible for me. With my free hand, I push Jungkook away a little, feeling pain from the sensitivity. I need a few good minutes to recover, taking a deep breath and relaxing my muscles. When I look down, with my eyelids closed and weak, I'm shocked to notice the wet sheets and his chest damp from my pleasure. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out.

"How are you?" Jungkook asks, gently lowering my legs. He picks up my shirt thrown between the covers and cleans himself, with a smile.

"Did I pee on you?" my eyes widen, moving from side to side to avoid looking at him. I hear him laugh, before he holds my chin and caresses my cheek.

"You squirted. It's not pee." He explains, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear. His thumb touches my cheekbone, wiping away my tears. "You cried. It was the most delicious and exciting thing I've ever seen in my life."

"Did I pee on you?" I ask again, just to confirm. He laughs, throwing his head back.

"No, I swear. That's never happened to you?"

"No, never. I already told you... My first orgasms were with you." I only feel embarrassed and realize what I said when he smiles at me, laying his chest on top of my breasts.

"Have you never touched yourself?" he asks curiously, playing with my nipple to make it swell. It's strange because I can see in his eyes that he's moving my body, at least for now, without malice, as if he's touching me without ulterior motives. I frown at his action but decide to be permissive, fingering his scalp, blowing on the dark strands wet with sweat. We urgently need a shower.

"I've tried," I confess, finding it easier to say this when his eyes aren't on me. "But I've never felt the way I feel when I'm with you."

"After we were together..." He begins, lifting his face, watching my reactions. "Have you ever tried to touch yourself while thinking about me?"

"You'll never know," I reply, laughing. He pouts his lips but nods, as if he agrees even though he's sulking.

"Okay, I'll accept you not answering me on one condition," he says mysteriously. His finger plays with his eyebrow piercing before he continues. "The next time we meet, you'll touch yourself in front of me."

"You're kidding, right?" My eyes widen. My whole body tenses at his suggestion, a little scared. Does anyone do something like that? It's such an intimate thing and touching yourself in front of someone... I never imagined something like that.

"Say yes. You won't regret it. I even have a surprise for you when we meet."

"You're not serious."

"I'm serious all the time, woman." He teases, pulling my nipple hard. I groan in surprise, hitting his arm. I start laughing along with him, laughing out loud, when I hear a noise at my bedroom door, as if someone outside was trying to open it.

My heart races and my body immediately trembles. For a while, I completely forgot where I was. I didn't even remember my mother's existence or the possibility of her ever showing up.

"Y/N, open this door now." My mother says from the other side. I feel a little calmer because she seems irritated, but not crazy, as she would be if she knew who was with me in my room. I jump out of bed, feeling my legs weak from the powerful orgasm, but with adrenaline running through my veins. I look at Jungkook putting on his shirt and searching for his clothes in the middle of the mess. I stare at him, trying to know what to do, but he seems more focused on organizing my room than helping me.

"I'm coming, mom... I'm working out!" I shout, putting on my shirt. I gesture for Jungkook to leave my room through the window, but he points down, showing his penis swinging from side to side, practically naked without his underwear. I start to laugh nervously, afraid that my mother will catch us at any moment. Holy shit! "Wait a little longer!"

I gesture again for him to leave, and quickly throw his clothes on, putting on my skirt that was thrown under the bed. He laughs and before jumping out my window, he takes a few steps back and turns to me. His forehead touches mine and his bright eyes fix on mine. My heart beats faster and I feel butterflies in my stomach. I know that my nervousness, at this moment, is not for my mother. He kisses me, a quick and simple peck, before going to his balcony, waving one last time and turning off the light in his room. I close my window, waking up from my daydreams and opening the door to my mother, who looks irritated.

"What took you so long?" She asks, putting her hands on her hips. I cover my room with my arms and walk to the bathroom.

"I told you, I was working out." I repeat, crossing my arms in front of my chest. My entire body is wet with sweat, and I avoid her proximity as much as possible, knowing that I smell of sex and men's perfume.

"I didn't know you worked out." She narrows her eyes.

"Yeah." I shrug, smiling forcedly. "Why did you come to call me?"

"I'm going to have a work trip tomorrow, in Seoul. I'll be away for a few days, so I need you to take care of the bazaar for me this week."

"Okay." I quickly agree, opening the bathroom door. "Is that all?"

"Yes, that was all. Good night." She walks away coldly, entering her own room.

I sigh in relief and lock the door, staring at myself in the mirror. My hair is a mess, tangled and full of knots. My mind returns to normal and I have to sit on the toilet lid to breathe a little. I laugh in disbelief and shake my head in disbelief. What just happened?

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

@ttipa @joonwater @ane102

[hermetiqa]

What advice do you need for your current situation?

Daily Message: 21.08.24

Reminder: it doesn't matter if you saw this reading a day or a week or a month or a year after posting this. My readings are timeless. You'll see this when you're meant to see this and receive your message.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath before picking a pile. If you feel drawn to more than one pile, it's alright, you may take the piles that you're drawn to. What's important is to take it how it resonates and leave what doesn't.

PAID READINGS | TIP JAR | FEEDBACK | MASTERLIST

I'm offering my paid readings so I can save some money for my tuition fees this year, as well as for my checkups (for health problems). Any tips in my Ko-fi would be a huge help for me and would be highly appreciated.

Pile 1

I'm getting some student energy from you here, Pile 1. It's either you're a graduating student or you already graduated. You're thinking and planning to move out of your house/parents' house with someone here, I'm hearing a friend or someone you're in a relationship with. You're planning to move out with them and rent a place together, specifically an apartment. You've been thinking about this a lot and you're willing to take the risk on this one. But I'm getting that you should be patient with this and don't rush it. I'm hearing that you want to start anew here because you might have some bad relationship with your parents and family, and you will, just take things slow and don't act on impulse. Ask for some help from people who were in the same situation as you and now they're happy and stable with their own lives. Make them your inspiration.

Pile 2

So you're thinking of walking away from your relationship. You might have had some conflicts or arguments and for you, it's not working out anymore. This person might be apologizing to you now but you chose to take a break for a while, have a cool off, and reassess the relationship. I can see that you're reassessing this relationship and you're thinking that maybe it really just won't work out, but you still might be hopeful about this. You're trying to heal from all the pain that this person had caused you in this relationship. And now, after reassessing for a while, you're thinking that perhaps it's best if you break up with them. And I'm getting that yes, it is. It's starting to get toxic and unhealthy, it's not good for your well-being. So it's time to start anew on your own. You don't need them in your life anyway. You might still be in some kind of in denial stage, you might be trying to convince yourself that this will still work out, but it won't anymore. You took some break from this relationship to see things clearly, and now you shouldn't gaslight yourself for something that will not happen. Take some time to look back in your life without this person and think how happy you were without them. Go on, start anew without them and heal yourself from what you've been through in this relationship. Don't let this person manipulate you and convince you to give them another chance and they say that they'll change because with all the chances you had given them, they didn't change. This time won't be any different.

Pile 3

You're anxious about the school year coming up. It's so near and this is making you anxious. You might be a transferee student and you're scared that you might not do well in your new school/university, perhaps you're a freshman. Either way, I'm getting that you need to do some advance study now. Set your hobbies aside for a while and include studying in your daily schedule and routine. You're scared that the teachers/professors won't recognize your efforts this year and you need to protect yourself from this feeling. Don't let this fear take over and control the way you manage your day-to-day life. Don't let it hold you back from actually improving and doing your best because you're thinking that it might not be enough. You've already went through a lot here, especially when it comes to your studies, you already learned a lot and you're even done with all the school drama. Now, it's time to get yourself and your life together, welcome this school year with passion and be interested in what you have to learn this year.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Call It What You Want

————————————————————————-

Summary: Joe makes your first anniversary something you'll never forget. After some bumps in the road, Joe shows you there can be smooth sailing ahead.

Warnings: None, fluff, barely mentions of sex

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Everlasting Love

————————————————————————-

December 20, 2023

(y/n’s pov)

Day two of staying with Joe in Cincinnati, and I couldn't be happier.

Today was extra special because it marked one year of Joe and I being a couple.

I woke up to tiny kisses being littered on my cheeks. A small smile spread across my lips without me even opening my eyes.

When I finally did, my eyes locked with those ocean-blue ones that I had fallen in love with the first time I saw them.

“G’morning, pretty girl.” - Joe

“Good morning, Joey.” - you grinned

Joe was leaning over top of me and gently lowered himself to place a huge kiss on my lips.

“Happy anniversary.” - Joe

“Happy anniversary, baby.” - you

“Can you believe it's been a year since I asked you to be my girlfriend?” - Joe

“It's felt way longer than that. Probably not seeing each other for two months made it feel like a longer amount of time.” - you

“I promise you’ll be here with me soon, full-time. That is… if you want to.” - Joe

I leaned up in bed and looked down at him, who was now lying on his back.

“Are you asking me to move in with you when I graduate?” - you

“Do you want to?” - Joe

“Yeah…” - you smiled

“Good. We can go back to Athens whenever because that's where both our parents are. If you want you can start slowly moving your stuff here every time you come over.” - Joe

“I would love that.” - you grinned and laid back down

Joe wrapped his arms tightly around my waist and held me against his chest.

“I can't wait to wake up to you every day.” - Joe

“Me too. Opening my eyes and seeing your gorgeous blues is something I'll never get over or take for granted.” - you

I ran one of my hands over Joe’s cheek and rubbed my thumb under his eye. That perfect smile found its way onto his lips.

“You’re so handsome, Joe.” - you

“Well, you are absolutely gorgeous and I can't wait for you to live here with me, it kinda gets lonely sometimes in a big house by myself.” - Joe

“Well trust me, you aren't gonna feel lonely with me here.” - you

“I know… fuck I’m so excited.” - Joe

“One more semester, Joey.” - you laid your head on his chest

I’d be finishing college this spring, and finally be done in May. My commencement ceremony wouldn't be till fall though.

——

After breakfast, Joe sent me upstairs to get ready and said I wasn't allowed to come downstairs till he said so.

Joe said I didn't have to put anything fancy on, and that comfy would be best, so I wore a pair of leggings and stole one of his sweatshirts.

After getting changed, I headed to the top of the stairs.

“Joe! Can I come down?” - you

“Almost! Give me like one more minute!” - Joe

I waited patiently, feeling a soreness between my legs as I stood there. Last night was so good, and Joe 100% made up for the two months without sex.

Before I could get lost in my thoughts over last night with Joe, the man himself snapped me out of them.

“Okay, you can come down, baby!” - Joe

I excitedly trotted down the stairs to find Joe waiting for me at the bottom of them.

“Should I be scared?” - you

“No.” - Joe laughed

When I got to the last step, Joe gently took one of my hands and led me to the living room.

A smile formed on my lips and I squeezed Joe’s hand when I saw what he had been doing.

There was a fort made out of a ton of blankets taking up the majority of the living room.

“Awe, babe. You made this?” - you

“Yup, after way too many, like an embarrassing number of instructional videos.” - Joe

Laughing as I faced him and got on my tiptoes, Joe and I both leaned in to kiss each other.

His arms wrapped around my waist as my hands found their place on Joe’s chest.

We stayed there for a second, intertwined.

In the end, Joe pulled away and started showing me more of his fort, which he was very proud of.

“I know we had breakfast a little bit ago, but there's a box of pizza in there for whenever we get hungry. Uhm… I have some movies picked out for us to watch. What else… oh and I have a gift for you.” - Joe smiled

“A gift? Joe, we exchanged our anniversary gifts a couple of days ago, remember? We couldn't wait to give them to each other.” - you

“I have another one for you.” - Joe

“You've already done so much though…” - you

Joe rubbed my back and pulled me back into his chest.

“And you deserve even more.” - Joe

“I love you.” - you mumbled into his built chest

“I love you too. Wanna get in the fort?” - Joe

“Yes!” - you

I excitedly broke away from him and knelt to get inside the fort.

When I was fully lying down, Joe followed behind me. His big 6’4 self barreling into the blanket fortress, causing me to bust out laughing.

“Shit, that wasn't the romantic entrance I was going for.” - Joe hid his face in a pillow

Running my fingers through his hair, I pulled on Joe’s blonde locks to pull his face away from the pillow.

“I love your silly self, now come up here and cuddle with me.” - you

“Yes ma'am.” - Joe smirked and crawled up the blankets

He cuddled into me, and I quickly became the little spoon to Joe.

“You comfy?” - Joe

“Mhm.” - you moved back against him

Joe abruptly grabbed my hip to stop my backing up and I flashed him a look over my shoulder.

“Just… don't do that. It'll end in this fort tumbling down.” - Joe

I giggled at the sexual tone behind his words before lacing my fingers with his. The hand of his was connected to the arm he had thrown over my waist. Joe’s arms were so long and thick, who wouldn't want to cuddle them?

——

A movie and a pizza later, Joe and I were feeling full and tired.

“It’s three o'clock but I want to go to bed. I don't know why I'm so tired.” - Joe

“I am too, baby. Wanna take a nap real quick? It's probably the comfort of this damn fort that's making us tired.” - you

“Aye! Don’t make fun of my fort!” - Joe

“Joseph, I’m not. I'm saying you made it too comfortable!” - you

Joe and I both drowsily laughed at each other before trying to find a comfortable cuddling position to get into for sleep.

Just as my eyes were drifting shut, Joe abruptly sat up behind me.

“Wait! I have to give you your gift.” - Joe

I watched him with a smile on my face as he wiggled himself out of the fort, coming back later with a gift bag.

Joe handed it to me, but I waited for him to get settled before I would even acknowledge the gift.

“Here, my love.” - Joe

“Should I be scared?” - you

“Babe, that's the second time you've asked me that today. I'm starting to think you don't trust me.” - Joe

“I do trust you! I'm teasing.” - you

A few seconds passed of us just smiling at each other till Joe spoke up.

“Open it.” - Joe

Opening the gift bag, there was a small box inside of it. Probably jewelry.

I looked up at Joe to see him smiling at me, I could sense nervousness behind his movements.

Pulling the box out and bag setting the bag to the side, I opened the box to find a gold chain necklace with a ‘J’ pendant.

“Awe, baby. I love it.” - you

“Here let me put it on you.” - Joe

Joe took the necklace out of the box after I handed it to him and maneuvered himself behind me.

He moved my hair to the side and placed a big kiss on the back of my neck, then put the necklace around my neck and clasped it.

When he sat back down in his spot and saw his initial resting on my chest, identifying me as his and his only, I saw the blush on his cheeks deepen to a rosy shade I’d never seen before.

“It looks great on you.” - Joe grinned

“Thank you, baby. I think J’s are a good fit for me.” - you

“I think so too.” - Joe leaned in and kissed you

There was no other boy’s initials that I'd rather wear than Joe’s. He showed me what true love is, and though we'd only been together for a year, I knew he was the one I’d be with for the rest of my life.

With all of the odds stacked against us and everyone saying it wouldn't work, Joe and I tuned out the noise. All because Joe showed me that all that mattered was the fact we were so in love.

All the drama queens taking swings, all the jokers dressing up as kings, they fade to nothing when I look at him.

So yeah, call it what you want.

————————————————————————-

Authors note: A fic not posted after 9 pm?!

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[at0michips]

people pleaser — art donaldson

summary: after years of worrying about other peoples needs, art finally finds the pleasure of having someone do everything it takes to make him satisfied.

Art Donaldson was known for lowering his head for a long time, as a kid if his grandma asked him to do some chore he'd drop whatever he was doing and obey her, just to hear a "Thank you nana's love, let's bake you some cookies". At boarding school, Patrick would always be making bets with him just because he knew Art would do the stupidest things just so he could see his friend smirk and pat his back saying how impressed he was that Art really did that. During his marriage things were no different, Art would do whatever Tashi said inside and out of court. He was determined to make her satisfied, to be seen and rewarded just how it happened his whole life, in all his relationships.

However, this didn't last forever. During Lily's first years of life, Art didn't felt the pressure of pleasing his wife, in fact it was the first time he didn't felt the need to please anyone around him. All he wanted to do was care and protect his baby, and he was so happy to do so, until she was big enough to stay with Tashi's mom and they had to go back to the routine. After this it seemed like something shifted and Tashi was way colder and bossy about his performance, and all of a sudden he wasn't able to please her anymore.

It did took some time, but Art finally built up enough courage to ask her for the divorce and shortly after, retire from tennis. He bought a big house, decorated Lily's room with her during recess and thought he had finally found some peace.

And for sometime he was, he kept on going to sports events, watched some tennis matches and kept as much sponsorships as he was able to. But then one day, he was invited to a sports event at Stanford, where all the students who played something would be listening a lecture he and other alumni would say how much the university helped them in their careers, answer some questions and maybe take some pictures. Nothing out of line, right?

That was until the end of the event, when one of his former professors approached him with a girl by her side. She introduced her as the top of her class and, an amazing tennis player just like you were. Art notices that he does know this girl, he remember avid movements on court, how she basically devoured her opponent. She was in fact an amazing tennis player, and also a fan of Art Donaldson.

Art learned how to aprecciate his fans more with time, enjoy the attention, and as they both walked through campus he was enjoying it too. Although she was basically asking him things about his career, he noticed how she was nervous about being around him and even stuttered sometimes, seemed to be worried about the next line.

But the moment he could see the nervousness in her eyes, was when they were sitting down both with a cup of coffee on their hands and she asked the question "i was hoping you would be my coach". The nervous girl was able to make the confident Art Donaldson spechless. Coach? Art had never thought about it, let alone after retiring, but he would be lying if he said he didn't missed the feeling of competing, and as he heard her reasons Art started to wonder if maybe, it wasn't what was missing in his new life, a little bit of his old one.

As soon as you graduated you went pro. You couldn't believe it when you heard him agreeing with becoming your coach, it seemed like a dream, you remember being eleven and watching one of his matches with your dad and immediately falling in love with Art, and just like every girl who's obssessed with a celebrity, started consuming everything related to him, and yes it meant that you also begged your parents for tennis classes. The surprise came when you were actually good at it and started to enjoy it, good enough to earn a scholarship to Stanford.

With time, your crush on him became less and less intense and eventually escaped your head. That was until your favorite professor and you were having a talk about your future and you revealed the wish to go pro to her and she started saying about how one of her best former students became a professional tennis player, and how he could help her with that.

The first time you met him, it felt like you were eleven again and as he started to coach you it got even harder.

It didn't took much time for Art to start regretting his decision, you were great, and after he started coaching you got even better. The public saw it, the brands saw it and quickly everybody noticed you, by your talent and also your coach. But being on the spotlight again was not what was bothering Art, it was how you would move as he told you, hit the ball as he told you, at how powerful he felt as you looked sad when you would screw something up during training and immediately try to fix it, was how even outside the court you were always trying to find the right words to talk to him and how eager you were to be perfect for him.

Your body became stronger, your were always showing off your toned legs and everytime your eyes weren't on the ball, they were set on him. He wasn't stupid, he knew you had a thing for him and he knew that if he asked you for any favor you'd just drop whatever you're doing and help him out, if he decided that you would receive some embarassment punishment after a mistake in court you would just do it, and he was pretty sure that if he simply bent you over the bench you would simply stick your ass up to his cock. And he enjoyed it, he genuiely enjoyed how much power he had over you.

And for that he hated himself, you were barely legally drinking while he was retired, divorced and a father, it was impossible for anything to happen between you two.

That's what he thought while he was setting down on his hotel room, it was the first time you and Art had to travel for a tournament, it was a big one and it would start the next day, however your coach wanted you to know the court you'd be playing, train a bit and enjoy a good night of sleep without having to worry about waking up late and fuck everything up. You'd be lying if you said that you weren't shaking nervous, everything you did after Art became your coach was milimetrically calculated to be perfect and meet his expectations, you were living the dream and wouldn't let it all go away with your stupid mistakes, this you could and would control. You weren't so sure about how hot he was, Art was on his 30s but he really couldn't look hotter.

You kept trying to get rid of this thoughts all day long, but the fact that he was always there watching you closely and talking to you wasn't helping at all.

Even after a cold shower and a good 30 minutes tossing and turning around your hotel bed, your mind wouldn't stop thinking about Art, not giving you any peace of mind to focus on your breath and fall asleep. Tired of it, you decided to take a walk around the hotel, hoping it would finish tiring your body. Shit, Art would be mad if he saw you awake this late? Or would he have a disappointed look on his face? 

Grabbing a sweatshirt and putting it over your head was all you did before opening your door and facing your coach. “Y/N, what are you doing up this late?” he said in a low and rough voice

You looked up at Art, caught off guard by his unexpected presence. His sharp gaze met yours, a mix of concern and something more inscrutable flickering in his eyes. The hallway was dimly lit, casting shadows that seemed to accentuate the tension between you.

“I... I just needed to clear my head,” you stammered, trying to sound more confident than you felt. The late hour and the quiet of the hotel made the situation feel even more intense.

Art stepped closer, his imposing figure filling the space in front of you. His presence was both intimidating and oddly comforting. “You should be asleep,” he said, his voice softer now but still carrying an authoritative edge. “You’ve got an important match tomorrow.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of anxiety and excitement stir within you. “I know. I just couldn’t stop thinking... about everything.”

Art’s eyes softened, a rare glimpse of vulnerability from the usually unyielding coach. “Thinking about me?” he asked, his tone almost teasing but laced with something deeper.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah. About how I messed up during practice and how I’m not ready.”

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re ready,” he said firmly. “You’ve been working hard. But I get it. Sometimes the mind doesn’t shut off as easily as we want it to.”

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. “I didn’t expect you to be out here. I thought you’d be asleep too.”

He smirked slightly, the corners of his lips curling up in a way that made your breath hitch. “I have my own ways of dealing with things,” he said cryptically. “And right now, it seems like you need something else to help you unwind.”

Before you could react, Art closed the distance between you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch was startling, and you could feel the electricity crackling between you. His thumb lightly brushed against your skin, sending a shiver through your entire body.

“What are you—” you started, but the words died in your throat as he leaned in closer.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender. It was as if all the unspoken words, all the hidden desires, were being conveyed through that single, intense connection. You melted against him, your initial surprise giving way to a deep, burning need to reciprocate.

Art’s kiss was demanding, yet gentle, his hands sliding to your waist as he pulled you closer. Your own hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping them as if they were the only thing anchoring you to reality. The kiss deepened, both of you lost in the moment, forgetting the world outside and the looming challenges.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together. Art’s eyes were dark with a mixture of satisfaction and something that could only be described as tenderness.

“You needed that,” he murmured, his voice low and rough once more. “And I needed it too.”

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. “Yeah. I think... I think we both did.”

Art’s gaze softened further, and for a moment, the stern coach was gone, replaced by someone who seemed genuinely caring and vulnerable. “Go back to bed,” he said gently, his thumb brushing your cheek one last time. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

You nodded, feeling a newfound sense of calm. As you turned to head back to your room, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. Art’s gaze followed you, a silent promise in his eyes.

“Goodnight, Art,” you said softly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his voice carrying a note of warmth that lingered even as you closed your door behind you.