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jakescapes · 1 month ago

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𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖'𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨. (𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 2)

pairing: stalker!jake x reader (f)

synopsis: It all started when you met Jake Sim—the campus golden boy everyone adored. Charming, new, and impossible to resist, you quickly become his obsession. But as you fall deeper into his world, you realize the person you're falling for isn’t who he appears to be. And soon, you're trapped in a game you never agreed to play.

warnings: non-con/dub-con!!, suffocation, reader passing out at some point, manipulation, public groping, explicit smut, also not proof read that well

word count: 16k

author's note: hi guyss, im kinda disappointed with this. i feel like i started this story out really strong but i feel like it's rlly rushed towards the end. ive just been rlly needing to finish it so i can get to my other projects, so sorry abt that. also there might be some typos and stuff, i didnt get to properly proof read, but still hope u enjoy!

part one

now playing: mind games by sickick

-------------------------

Jake froze, every muscle in his body locking into place as the faint sound of your voice echoed throughout the apartment, shooting up from the floor in haste. The lighthearted remnants of your voice getting farther away from the front door made his stomach churn with anxiety.

Acting swiftly, he began to hurriedly put all of your panties and bras back into the drawer, fumbling and folding them to make them look as untouched as possible. The faint sound of your footsteps grew louder, and when he heard the soft creak of the floorboards just outside your bedroom door, panic surged through him like a lightning bolt.

The doorknob rattled. Jake’s heart thundered in his chest. There was no time. His eyes darted around the room, searching desperately for an escape plan. He had to hide. Quick.

Without thinking, he dove underneath your bed, barely managing to squeeze his long frame into the cramped, dusty space. It was uncomfortable, the sharp wood frame pressing into his back, but he didn’t have the luxury to care.

As he lay there, Jake pressed his face into the musty carpet and swallowed hard, forcing his breathing to slow. He couldn’t make a sound, not even a whisper of movement, trying to act as invisible as possible. He listened intently, every nerve on edge, as your voice drifted into the room, still lighthearted and casual.

“…I mean, sucks that that one store was closed. Seriously, who closes at 1:30 on a Sunday? What are they, trying to be some knock-off Christian Chick-fil-A or something?” you joked, your voice drawing a laugh from your roommate in the other room.

Jake clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the dust tickling his nose and the pounding in his chest. His mind raced. Every second felt like an eternity as he waited, praying you wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

“…Right? It’s like, I get wanting a day off, but why not just close earlier or something?” Ava replied.

You dropped your bag onto your bed with a sigh, the springs creaking slightly above Jake's head. “Honestly, I’m not even mad about it. I just wanted an excuse to drag you out of the apartment anyway. You’ve been holed up in here all weekend.”

Your roommate groaned dramatically from the hallway. “Okay, but I deserved that lazy weekend. Unlike you, Miss Overachiever, I don’t like voluntarily overloading myself with assignments.”

"It’s called being responsible. You should try it sometime.”

Ava stepped into your room, leaning against the doorframe. “You know who else seems responsible? Jake.”

Jake stiffened under the bed, his heart skipping a beat as his name fell from your roommate’s lips.

You rolled your eyes, flopping down onto the mattress, unknowingly inches above the current topic of discussion. “Don’t start, Ava.”

“I’m just saying,” she continued, walking into the room. “He’s cute, he’s smart, and he literally likes you. What’s the holdup?”

You sighed, your voice tinged with hesitation as you stared up at your ceiling. “I don't know. He’s… really sweet, and he always knows how to make me laugh. I mean, he’s so easy to be around, you know? But sometimes, I get this weird feeling. Like, maybe I’m just overthinking it, but it’s just something is off and I can't ignore it."

Jake’s jaw clenched as he lay silently beneath the bed, every word you said hitting him like a blow.

Ava dismissed your concerns with a wave of her hand. “Are your seriously going on about this again? You’re being ridiculous. He’s just a guy. A really hot, really sweet guy who, for some insane reason, actually likes you.”

“Thanks. Your pep talks are always so inspiring,” you said dryly, but there was a hint of a smile in your voice.

Jake’s mind raced as he absorbed the conversation. On one hand, he was relieved to hear that you liked him, even if you did think he was “off.” But on the other hand, your words lit a fire under him. If you thought he was acting weird, he needed to make sure you didn’t anymore. He had to fix that. He had to fix you.

Your roommate just shrugged, heading back toward the hallway. “Whatever. Just let me know when you’re finally ready to admit you’ve got a thing for him.”

You groaned. “Go away, Ava.”

When the door finally clicked shut and you were left alone in the room, Jake could hear the springs creak again after a few moments as you shifted on the bed. He held his breath, praying you wouldn’t look down or notice anything unusual. If, for whatever reason, you decided to take a peak under your bed, he was done for.

The soft creak of the bed springs put Jake on high alert as you shifted your weight and got up, crossing the room toward your mirror and dresser. He stayed still at first, his body tense and pressed against the floor, but curiosity got the better of him. Slowly and cautiously, he tilted his head, peeking out from under the edge of the bed frame.

His breath caught as his gaze settled on you, oblivious to his presence, adjusting the chain of a delicate necklace in front of the mirror. The way you brushed your fingers over the small pendant, the subtle furrow in your brow as you tilted your head to inspect how it sat against your skin—it captivated him. Jake couldn’t help but stare, his pulse quickening as he watched your every movement.

You opened a drawer, pulling out a pair of earrings and holding them up to your ears, deliberating. To Jake, it was fascinating, how meticulous and graceful you were with such simple actions. He’d never seen this side of you before. It was intimate in a way that made his chest tighten.

But then you paused, turning your head slightly as if you sensed something out of place. Jake ducked back under the bed in an instant, his heart pounding in his chest.

Had you seen him? Did you hear something?

"Ugh, where’s that other earring?” you muttered to yourself, your voice breaking the silence. Jake exhaled quietly in relief, the tension in his body easing just enough to steady his nerves.

He clenched his jaw, realizing how reckless he was being. Yet, despite the danger of being caught, he felt an odd thrill coursing through him, an electric mix of fear and exhilaration.

That sensation intensified even more in the next moment, because the next thing he knew, your jeans were dropping to the floor from of your body. They were then followed by the top you were just wearing seconds ago.

Oh my god, he thought.

You were getting naked. Right in front of him.

Jake's attention piqued even more as he adjusted his head slightly, angling it to get a clearer view from the narrow crevice under your bed. The soft glow of your lamp illuminated your features as you slipped off your panties next, and then unclasped your bra, letting them all fall the to the floor right next to the other discarded pieces of clothing.

It all felt so intimate, so unguarded. Jake’s breathing slowed as he tried to remain as quiet as possible, his body stiff and heart racing, a mix of adrenaline and something deeper coursing through him (his arousal).

Speaking of, Jake immediately got hard, once again, at the sight—feeling his jeans getting tighter and suffocating his dick against the floor as it began to grow. However, it was definitely not the right time to pull his fucking dick out right now, and he knew that. Mostly because there certainly wasn't enough room for him to jerk off anyway, and less because he feared being too loud and getting caught.

But really, who could blame him? Any man with a decent pair of eyes would understand Jake’s fascination. Look at you. You were gorgeous. The way your hair cascaded down your slender back, catching the light just right, as you stood in front of the mirror. The subtle way you tilted your head, studying your own reflection with that quiet intensity, as if you were both admiring and critiquing yourself. It was mesmerizing. The way that your tits sat so perfectly, so perky, right above your waistline, perfectly accentuating your figure. Your belly button piercing glinted subtly under the light, resting perfectly against your skin, almost like a cherry on top of an already stunning masterpiece.

Your long legs. They seemed to go on forever, effortlessly graceful as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. Everything about you screamed perfection in a way that felt almost unfair to anyone lucky, or unlucky, enough to be in your orbit.

And who could forget that ass of yours? Jake, of course, couldn't. Only getting glimpses of what it looked like when you wore jeans or even those tight, tight yoga pants that drove him crazy definitely couldn't have prepared him for the sight before him. It was so round and curvy, resting perfectly against your hips. I could get used to this, he thought. He had fantasies about it, and now, those said fantasies were certainly growing by the moment, as he just stared right at you. Fantasies of grabbing it, slapping it as hard as he could. Didn't even care about leaving marks or bruises, knowing that except for you, he would be the only one seeing them anyway.

He so badly wanted to get a good look at your pussy. But that damn mirror, the one attached to the dresser, ended just where your hips were, blocking any chance of him catching a glimpse of what lay further. With your back turned towards him, it was as if fate had decided to toy with him, letting him catch only fragments of your perfect image before the mirror cut it off. He could only imagine the rest, and the thought of it made his chest tighten with frustration.

But at the end of the day, it was no big deal. The thought of seeing your sweet, perfect little pussy for the first time, up close while he undressed you and ate it out didn't sound so bad. Saving the best for last, I guess. He promised to himself in that moment, that he would eat it so fucking good it would leave you fucking desperate and begging for more.

Jake liked the sound of that. He liked it a lot.

But suddenly, the sound of you walking towards your connected bathroom snapped him out of his thoughts. Jake's heart pounded in his chest as he heard the water turn on in the bathroom a few seconds later. The faint hum of the shower running provided a small but crucial cover for his movements. And as much as he wanted to witness you after a nice, hot shower, probably only wearing a tiny towel wrapped around your body and topped with a sexy messy bun, he knew this was his only opportunity to slip out unnoticed.

Still lying under the bed, Jake strained to listen for any sudden sounds that could signal your return to the bedroom. Satisfied that the shower was fully running and you were preoccupied, he slid out from under the bed as quietly as possible, moving with deliberate slowness to avoid any creaking from the floor.

Once on his feet, he scanned the room to ensure everything was back in its place. His sharp eyes darted around for any evidence of his intrusion, opening up your dresser drawers once more to warrant anything suspicious. Satisfied, he grabbed just a few more pairs of your panties (for safekeeping of course), before he tiptoed toward the door, making sure to avoid stepping on anything that might give him away. Every movement felt painfully loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Slowly, Jake turned the doorknob, grateful that it didn’t squeak. He opened the door just wide enough to slip through.

Now in the hallway, he moved swiftly toward the front of your apartment, glancing over his shoulder to ensure the coast was clear. He could see the shadow of your roommate behind her closed door, which he wanted to take advantage of, in case she had any ideas of stepping out anytime soon.

Before exiting, he paused to ensure the door wouldn’t slam shut behind him. He gently eased it closed until it latched without a sound.

Only when Jake was outside, the cool air hitting his face, did he allow himself to exhale. His hands were trembling, but he couldn’t help the slight smirk that tugged at his lips. The thrill of narrowly escaping made his heart race as he walked away, blending back into the world as if nothing had happened.

-------------------------

You stepped back into your room, towel drying your damp hair, the scent of your lavender body wash still lingering in the air.

Your gaze landed on the door to your room. It was slightly ajar, a sliver of the hallway visible through the gap. You frowned, pausing mid-step. You were certain Ava shut it before you ended your conversation with her.

Shaking your head, you walked over and pushed the door closed with a soft click, dismissing it completely in the moment. But as you moved around the room, another thing caught your eye—your clothing dresser. The bottom drawer, where you kept your underwear and bras and a few other ones above it, wasn’t pushed in all the way. A small sliver of space separated it from the dresser frame, and you swore you’d closed it flush, as you always did.

You stood there, staring at the drawer. Then you laughed lightly to yourself, shaking the tension away. Seriously? You’re being ridiculous. Ava probably came in looking for some clothes to borrow, you reasoned.

To quiet the nagging thoughts, you reached for your phone and opened your messages.

You: thanks for being so understanding earlier about me canceling

You: i feel bad

The reply came almost instantly, as if he’d been waiting for it.

Jake: ofc, don’t even worry about it

Jake: u deserve to have fun with your friends. just lmk if u need anything

The sweetness in his words made you smile, easing the tension in your chest. Jake was always so patient, so attentive. It made you feel safe. Despite the strange feelings lingering in the back of your mind, you found yourself focusing on how lucky you were to have someone like him.

You sank onto your bed, scrolling through your messages and exchanging a few more lighthearted texts with Jake. The oddities in your room faded into the background, brushed aside by the warmth of his words. Everything was finally feeling normal again.

-------------------------

Some weeks later, you and Jake finally became official. After some more one sided pining on his end, you eventually gave in. How could you not? He was the perfect boyfriend if there ever was one. He never pressured you to do anything, always let you decide where to hang out, and gave you cuddles at the end of the day when you were stressed. At least for now he did.

Anyway, you two were the couple. The kind of picture perfect pair everyone whispered about on campus. Sure, girls despised you for being the one to finally cuff the golden boy, their envy radiating every time they caught you two holding hands and walking each other to class. But who cared? Jake was yours, you were happy, and that’s all that mattered.

But damn, you never realized how clingy he could be.

It started small, little things that felt more endearing than overbearing. Like how he would insist on walking you to every single class or text you updates throughout the day about the most mundane things. But as time passed, you couldn’t help but notice how Jake seemed to always need to be around you.

Take tonight, for example. You’d planned a cozy night in with Ava, some junk food, a cheesy romcom, and long overdue catching up. But Jake had other ideas.

“Surprise,” he said, appearing outside your dorm with that boyish grin you found so hard to resist. A bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and takeout from that hole in the wall restaurant you loved in the other. And while you appreciated the thoughtful gesture, you couldn’t help but internally roll your eyes at the fact that he was here. Again. You loved your boyfriend's company, truly, but sometimes... you just needed a little space.

You blinked, caught between guilt and irritation. “Jake, I told you I was hanging out with Ava tonight—”

“I know, I know. But you work so hard, and I just wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve to relax.”

It was sweet. Almost too sweet. You couldn’t bring yourself to argue. Instead, you shot Ava a quick apologetic look from behind the door. She was perched on the couch, arms crossed, clearly witnessing the entire situation and waiting for you to shut the door on Jake so the two of you could finally start your movie. But that didn't happen. Instead, you promised to make it up to her, and followed Jake back to his car.

And this was starting to become a pattern. Whenever you had plans, especially with Ava, Jake would magically appear with something planned. A picnic in the park, an impromptu movie night, or a late night drive to “clear your head.” And every time, he’d have some way of framing it as him looking out for you.

“You’ve been so stressed lately. I just thought you’d want to spend time with me,” he’d say with a pout, his hands brushing yours as he looked at you with those puppy dog eyes. “But if you’d rather be with her…”

The guilt would hit you like a ton of bricks every time. How could you say no to that? Ava would understand. You could always reschedule, right?

But she wasn’t blind.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Jake,” she said one afternoon, cornering you in the campus coffee shop. Her tone was casual, but her words carried weight. “Not that I don’t get it—he’s your boyfriend. But I feel like we barely hang out anymore.”

Her words stuck with you, planting a tiny seed of doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.

You sighed, stirring your matcha latte idly as you avoided her gaze. “I know. I do. It’s just… he’s so clingy. That’s just how he is. And I feel bad saying no to him, you know? He gets so disappointed when I do.”

“I get that. I really do. But I feel like he’s kind of monopolizing your time. I mean, it’s not just me. Have you even seen any of your other friends lately?"

You opened your mouth to reply but stopped. She wasn’t wrong. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it like that. It’s not like I’m trying to push you all away or anything. He just… he makes me feel guilty if I even bring up spending time with anyone else.”

Ava reached across the table, her voice softer now. “Look, I’m not saying to ditch him or anything. I just wish you’d talk to him about it, set some boundaries. You shouldn’t feel guilty for having a life outside of him.”

Honestly, you were a little surprised at yourself at this point. Before Jake, you always promised that you’d never let anyone, let alone a guy, control your life. You had standards. You had priorities. Not that you don’t have those now, but your relationship with Jake wasn’t exactly what you envisioned for yourself back then. Sure, you liked him, maybe even more than you wanted to admit, but the version of you from before would never have tolerated being treated this way. You roommate was right. It was time to set some boundaries.

You nodded. “You’re right. If he tries to do it again, I’ll talk to him. I promise.”

Ava smiled, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “That’s all I’m asking. I just miss my best friend.”

Her words made your chest tighten, and you felt a pang of guilt. You hadn’t meant for things to turn out like this.

And just as you had every intention to talk to him about it, you found yourself realizing how hard it actually was. It was almost as if Jake couldn’t fully grasp what you were trying to say, or maybe he just didn’t want to.

Here you were, in his room, standing near the edge of his bed while he sat there, looking up at you with those eyes. Soft, questioning, and frustratingly innocent.

“I’m not saying I don’t want to spend time with you,” you began carefully, your arms crossed. “I’m just saying I need to spend time with other people too, like Ava. She’s my best friend Jake, and I don’t want her to feel like I’ve forgotten about her.”

He tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing. “I don’t understand,” he said, his tone laced with genuine confusion. “Am I keeping you from her? I mean, I thought I was spending time with you because we like being together. Isn’t that normal in a relationship?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It is normal, Jake, but not when it feels like it’s all the time. I need some space to breathe, to see my friends, to just... be me for a little while, you know?”

Jake blinked, his expression shifting into something that looked hurt. “But I never stop you from seeing her. I never tell you not to. I mean, is it wrong for me to want to be with you? Am I doing something wrong here?”

His words made your stomach twist. He wasn’t raising his voice or arguing back aggressively. It just really seemed like he was unintentionally making you feel like the bad guy without even trying. You could feel your resolve starting to crumble.

“No, you’re not doing anything wrong,” you said, exhaling deeply, trying to keep your frustration in check. “It’s just... I need balance, Jake. That’s all I’m asking for.”

It was silent between the two of you for a few moments and by the look of his face, you could tell Jake was in deep thought. Then he leaned back slightly, patting the space on the bed next to him. “Come here,” he said softly. “Can we just cuddle for now? I don’t like fighting with you. We can talk about it later.”

You hesitated, staring at him, feeling the weight of the conversation slipping through your fingers. Part of you wanted to push back, to make him understand. But the other part, the tired part, just wanted to stop feeling like the bad guy.

Finally, you sighed and stepped closer, sitting down beside him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “I’m sorry if I’m too much sometimes,” he murmured against your hair. “I just love being around you. That’s all.”

You didn’t say anything, just rested your head against his chest, hoping that maybe next time, he’d understand better. But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if “next time” would even come.

You were then snapped out of your thoughts. You felt Jake’s arms tighten around you, pulling you in closer, his hands gently moving you onto his lap as he laid down against the edge of his bed. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him, letting your head fall into the familiar nook of his neck. The softness of his skin and the warmth of his body felt like a comfort, something you couldn’t easily shake off, no matter how many times you found yourself questioning things.

Inhaling deeply, you let his scent fill your senses, something warm, comforting, like a blend of cologne and the faint trace of his laundry detergent. It made you feel safe, even as the earlier conversation lingered at the back of your mind. Trying to push the thoughts away, you shifted slightly, moving even closer to him, needing to feel his strength, his presence.

He was so strong. So big. His arms felt massive against your body, holding you in place like he never wanted to let go. It was overwhelming in the best way, like everything outside of this moment didn’t matter.

Despite the frustration you’d been feeling with him earlier, there was still something undeniably comforting about being held like this. You couldn’t deny that part of you that loved how he took such good care of you, how he made you feel cherished in his own way, even if it was sometimes suffocating.

His voice broke through the silence, soft yet filled with something you couldn’t quite place. "Look at me," he said gently.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were soft, a mix of guilt and apology swirling within them. You felt a pang in your chest, unsure if it was from him or the doubt creeping in. Was I really being that mean to him? you thought, the question lingering in your mind as you studied his face. He didn’t say anything further, but his eyes spoke volumes. They were full of remorse, as if he was silently pleading with you, trying to convey something deeper than words could express.

The weight of the silence pressed down on you. You had tried to voice your thoughts, but here he was, looking at you like this, and it made you feel like you were the one who overreacted. It made you feel guilty in a way you couldn’t shake off.

Without thinking, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips finding his in an almost instinctual gesture. It was a way of apologizing, of quieting the inner turmoil you were both experiencing. His lips were soft and familiar against yours, and in that moment, it felt like everything was okay again. For a few seconds, the confusion and uncertainty melted away, replaced by the warmth of his embrace and the comfort of his touch.

But even as you kissed him, part of you still knew that you were sweeping things under the rug. You could feel the weight of the conversation that still needed to happen, but for now, you chose to silence it. You couldn’t bear to confront it while you were here in his arms, feeling like everything was falling back into place.

So, you continued to play along with the nice guy act—kissing him, feeling him up, giving him the affection he craved. And that seemed to make him forget all about the tension from earlier, his mood lifting with each gesture. What started as simple innocent kissing, soon turned into a heated makeout sesh, with Jake groaning into your mouth with no care in the world.

Even though your boyfriend was known for being the sweetest guy on campus, always the charmer with a warm smile and kind words, you couldn't forget that he was, at the end of the day, a man—a man with needs, desires, and an undeniable level of attraction. When you first started going out with him, you expected him to try to make moves on you, to test the waters, even before he would officially ask you out. It was only natural, right? Especially considering the way he always looked at you with that intensity, the subtle touches here and there, and the moment his eyes landed on you, you could feel his desire to see you stripped of everything. But surprisingly, he never really tried anything. Other than the occasional kissing or making out, there was never anything beyond that between you two. You appreciated the patience. It made you feel respected in a way that was uncommon to see in pretty much any man these days. And maybe that’s why you overlooked the weirdness that sometimes crept in.

So when you could tell he was beginning to feel worked up as you both aggressively made out, him trying to contain himself from thrusting up against you, you let him. And more than that, you encouraged it, meeting his hips halfway, letting some whines slip out as you both tongued into each other's mouths.

Jake was surprised at first, momentarily stopping his movements completely as you continued your relentless riding against the center of his groin. But he then quickly took it as a sign to keep on going, to bring it up a notch.

He started to move his hands from where they were at your hips, all the way down to the bottom of your ass, squeezing them with no shame at all. Surely, you were taken aback at his blunt action, but you couldn't deny that that didn't just turn you the fuck on.

You let him know to keep going by moaning once more against him, which he seemed to like a lot, as he picked up the pace of his hips, thrusting right up against your core. Your panties began to feel a bit sticky, since you were, now, beginning to feel what was right under you the whole time.

You were always curious about what it looked like. Or what it felt like. Sometimes catching glances of it in those grey sweatpants of his, or when he would manspread right next to you on his couch, legs spread wide open. But now your curiosity came to an end, because you could literally feel every. single. inch. of his outline.

And he was bigggg. You just knew. I mean, how could you not? With the way it was completely rock hard against you at this point, being shoved up right against your center over and over, and over again. Now, you were being the one who was beginning to feel riled up and you needed more than to just hump his lap. Thankfully, though, Jake noticed—and he did something about it.

The next moment, you were flipped on your back with Jake now on top, reversing the position you were just in. You let out a gasp of surprise as your back hit the bed's mattress in almost an instant. As you caught your breath, you could see in your dazed eyesight, Jake smirking at you from above, very much liking the affect he had on you.

You were about to teasingly roll your eyes at him, until he forcefully pressed his hips right in between your legs, drawing out a loud, unexpected moan from you. The feeling was so raw with his hard length pressed right up against you, making your pussy ache and crave for more. Then, with no warning, he increased his speed once again, thrusting faster, harder, and spreading your legs apart as far as possible, giving him better access to press his cock onto you. He took them and brought them up against his face, forcing you in a mating press, while continuing his harsh, merciless thrusts, eliciting endless whines from you, and deep groans from Jake.

At this point, you completely soaked right through your panties and your shorts. which you only noticed because Jake was intently staring at the dark spot forming on your shorts, fascinated. Embarrassed, you brought your hands to your face, covering it from his view, getting too overstimulated in the moment from the pleasure coming from Jake's dick, and the almost tangible sexual tension in the room.

"Fuck," he groaned with rasp in his voice, still staring straight at what was in between your legs. "You're so fucking hot. Can't get enough of you."

He then inched even closer to your body, removing his hands from in between your legs, and up to hug your back almost suffocatingly. With this new angle, he could get his cock to reach further up your clit, humping into you at lightning speed. His bed started creaking from the sudden movements, and in the moment, you literally thought it was going to fucking break, considering how fast he was going.

Your mind was blank, overtaken by the waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. Eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, you were lost in the sensation, completely dazed. But it still wasn't enough. You wanted to feel it. With nothing in between.

"Jakeee," you whined, almost desperately. "I need ittt... pleaseeee."

This got his attention, his face lifting up from the crook of your neck. He slowed his movements down, just a bit, but still fast enough to keep you in this mind fucked state.

"Need what, baby? Tell me."

This just made you whine even louder. He knew goddamn what. He was just being a bitch and not giving you what he wanted. But your stubborn self wasn't going to give in. Frustrated, you snaked your hand in between both of your tight knitted bodies, grabbing his dick through his jeans harshly, immediately evoking a low, drawn out grunt from your boyfriend.

"Need itt," you whimpered again, reminding him.

You didn't need to tell him twice after that.

Right away, he let go of you, grabbing onto the hem of your shorts and pulling them down all the way down your legs, until you were just covered in those thin, slutty, fucking soaked panties of yours.

He stared at you for a few seconds, loving and drinking in the sight before him. You were propped up on your elbows, a sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead, panting slightly and your legs spread wide open, just for him.

And as much as he wanted to rip his pants off already and shove himself into you, he knew that was just the easy route. If he truly wanted to get you hooked, to have you wrapped around his little finger, he had to stick to the promise he made to himself that day. The promise he made when he was staring at you unclothed, from underneath the crevice of your bed, in your own room that you had no fucking idea about. Yeah, he thought. This is what I had been waiting for.

So instead, he lowered himself off the edge of his bed, never breaking eye contact with you. He took your ankles into his grip, pulling you forward suddenly, prompting a high pitched squeak from you, so your hips were now just at the edge of the bed, with your legs spread wide, dangling and open in the air. With nothing in his way now, he placed his nose directly above your clothed pussy, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, fucking shamelessly.

Yeah, this surprised you, but like c'mon... it was also so fucking hot. And the way he moaned into it, obviously liking the scent and burying his face even deeper, his nose pressing hard against your clit, sent your spiraling out of control.

"Jake what are you—"

"Shhh," he murmured against you, cutting you off. "Just let me."

So you did. Honestly, you would've let him do anything he wanted to you at this point.

After Jake was finally done with being a fucking pervert in front of his very own girlfriend and was finished with smelling your panties, he dipped his tongue out onto the fabric, applying just the right amount of pleasure. Your eyes instantly rolled back from the feeling, letting your arms and head fall back against the bed. If he was going to do this for you, you might as well enjoy it in comfort.

But for Jake, this was almost euphoric. After the first lick, he licked it again. And again. And again, until he was basically making out with your underwear, even going as far as to rubbing his whole face into it. And he honestly seemed like he was getting more pleasure than you were, moaning loudly enough that the neighbors would definitely come rushing to his door and complaining the next day. But after a while, he needed to really taste you, bury his tongue in your hole, with no fabric or lace in his way.

Finally, ripping your panties off your legs as quickly as possible, that's when he finally saw it—your fucking pussy. Dripping onto his bed, so, so, so perfect. He didn't have to even imagine it anymore. He no longer had to dream of it. After months and months of wondering what was hiding beneath the skirts you wore on your dates, he finally knew. And it couldn't have been more irresistible.

Wasting no time, he dug his tongue back in between your folds, ultimately getting a taste of the raw you. The real you he truly craved for for so, so long. He was instantly hit with a rush of euphoria as his eyes rolled back at the relish. Fuck, you couldn't have tasted better to him. And the fact that the whole time you were dating him, this is what you were hiding? This is what you had the whole time? Oh, poor naïve you. If only you would have known the affect just the thought of your pussy gave him. You could have been the one to have him wrapped around your finger. It could have been you. But unfortunately, it wasn't.

Minutes had gone by. Many, many minutes. Jake was currently sucking on your clit as you gripped tightly at the wavy locks of his hair, feeling the urge to rip out every strand as you got more and more overstimulated and impatient by the passing second. He had been going at your clit for the past who even knows anymore, and as much as his skilled tongue work sent you over the edge, you were starting to reach your limit and you needed his mouth off of you now.

"Jakee, it's too much," you weakly attempted, out of breath, as you tried to close your legs on him. Which obviously, didn't fucking work considering how fast he was to open them up again. You sighed in defeat as he just kept on going, eating you out like he was on death row and you were his last meal.

"Jakee. Stop it. I can't—"

"Shut the fuck up."

Um, what?

Flabbergasted, your body froze briefly at his sudden tone. Your sweet, kind boyfriend who had never even said the words "damn" or "hell" in front of you was now speaking to you like that? Who did he think he was?

Jake could tell you were taken aback by what he said, with the way your mouth was agape in dismay, your eyes fully widened.

"What," he chuckled, enjoying your state of shock. "You fucking asked for it didn't you? So you're going to take it."

And that's all he said, before he lowered his mouth back onto your core, lapping up every single drop, not letting a single morsel of your arousal go to waste. But even that still didn't distract you from your agitation. He had been eating you out for at least fifteen minutes at this point. And you couldn't take another second of it.

Again, you tried to move your legs out of his grasp, but struggling in the end. His grip on your thighs was so tight, it felt like he was trying to anchor you to him, making sure you couldn't escape even if you wanted to. Still, you kept trying to squirm away, your body instinctively resisting, though each attempt only seemed to make his grip stronger. His hold on you was unyielding, and the harder you struggled, the more you felt the tension building between you both. He wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

"Stop fucking moving," he said, mouth full of pussy.

Whining, you started thrashing around. You needed to get him off of you.

"What did I fucking say—"

"Wait," you blurted out impatiently, a strange feeling stirring within you.

"What?"

"I think.. I-I'm gonna.." you whimpered weakly, as you felt an unfamiliar feeling building up inside of you.

"Gonna what?" he asked confused as he looked up at you, but still not letting up on your hole.

The feeling was getting more urgent, something you couldn't ignore as he kept on sucking. It was so foreign, that you didn't know what it could have been, until it was finally ripping out of you.

"Ahhh!" you screamed, overwhelmed by a sensation you had never experienced before.

You orgasmed.

But it wasn't a regular orgasm. You didn't just come.

You fucking squirted.

All over your boyfriend.

The liquid spilled out of you, shooting into the air, most of it landing on Jake's face—coating not just his mouth, but his nose. And his eyes. Everything. Everywhere.

For a second, you both just stood still in shock, not knowing what to do, your eyes and mouth open wide in horror. The air was thick with tension, neither of you moving, neither of you saying a word. It felt like time had frozen, the moment hanging between you like an unspoken question, waiting for one of you to break the silence.

You were so fucking embarrassed. You had never squirted in your life. Ever. No man you have ever spent a night with has ever made you feel so pleasured the way that Jake did, in just minutes. You never expected for your first time to be repaying the person in their face, let alone that person being your own boyfriend!

You wanted to bury yourself in a hole, close it up, and never leave it again. The weight of shame pressed down on you, suffocating you, making every breath feel like it was being dragged through mud. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable, and everything seemed to spin faster as you wished for the ground to swallow you whole.

And it didn't help that Jake was just staring right at you, panting heavily, with your fucking arousal painted all over him. You were expecting him to get up and walk out, or maybe even slam the door in your face, kicking you out like it was nothing. But to your surprise, that didn’t happen. Instead, he broke the silence just seconds later after catching his breath.

"That was... so fucking hot."

Wait what?

What did he say?

"... Huh?" you asked hesitantly.

"I said," he began, as he started crawling back up onto the bed, not even caring that your slick from his face was now dripping onto his sheets. "That was so.. fucking... hot." He said the last words with an emphasis that carried so much tension, each syllable hanging in the air like an ultimatum. You could feel your heart racing in your chest, unsure of how to respond. The silence that followed was deafening, almost suffocating, as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. His eyes never left yours, and there was something in them that you couldn’t quite decipher. Probably his horniness, you concluded.

"Fuck, I need to fuck you so bad," he finally confessed, staring directly at your lips.

And honestly, that idea didn't sound too bad. So you stared right back at him in the eyes, challengingly.

"Fuck me then," you said ultimately, as if daring him, testing how far he was willing to go.

"What'd you say?" he asked, his voice almost tinged with disbelief, as if trying to convince himself that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Making sure he wasn't so horny to the point that he was hallucinating shit now.

"Fuck me."

The next thing you knew, your legs were being hauled up over your own head, once again, in what felt like a literal millisecond. After that, everything felt like a blur. The sound of the metal from Jake’s belt slipping through the loops echoed in the silence, the sharp clink of the buckle followed by the soft hiss of leather rubbing against fabric, pulled off in a rush.

Once all of his clothes were finally on the floor, you took your goddamn time to admire him while you were still perched on the bed. His pecs might have been as big as your own tits while his biceps were strikingly humongous. And damn, that holy six pack.

You were starting to understand now why every girl admired him on campus. His personality was evidently perfect, intelligent, sociable, and effortlessly charming. But you knew that already. However, you hadn’t quite considered just how much his physical appearance played a part in it all. The way his broad shoulders seemed to fill the space around you, the confidence in his posture that commanded attention without him even trying. And that slutty ass waist...

And then your gaze trailed lower... and lower. Until you finally laid your eyes on.. it.

You gasped lightly, Jake finding your reaction quite amusing, already knowing what it was you were gawking at. How the hell is that going to fit inside me?.. you thought.

It had to have been at least 8 inches. And it was veiny as fuck. Just the sight of it made your mouth water a little.

As much as it wouldn't go in that easily, you wanted it everywhere. Inside you, in your mouth, and maybe even from behind too. You were starting to imagine all the possibilities and wondered why it took you so long to finally do this with him. It's not like you were any better to be honest, considering since the day you met him you always wondered what that thing of his could do. And now, you were about to find out.

While he positioned himself right in between your legs, you hastily ripped your shirt and bra off, tossing them carelessly onto the floor.

"It might hurt a bit," Jake announced. "Just tell me if I should go slower."

You nodded, not even listening, your eyes never leaving his giant cock as he aligned it against your hole. But you should've listened, because nothing could have possibly prepared you for the first push of his dick.

It entered you with almost no warning, your body still getting used to the feeling, considering you haven't had sex in a while. And none of your past experiences could have compared to what Jake had. So, for you, it hurt. Like hell. More than usual. But you're a fighter, and you were going to take his 8 inches like a champ. So you took a deep breath, eyes shutting, and pushing through the pain while Jake inched even deeper.

But Jake, on the other hand—he seemed like he was already in heaven. Even when just his tip aligned with your pussy, he was already not confident enough he would be able to hold back, wanting to ram into it immediately and take you with no hesitation. But he can't scare you off like that. At least, definitely not now. So instead, he maintained his composure (or at least tried to) as he pushed his length into you just a few more inches.

He was probably halfway in now. And while you were still getting used to the stretch, squeezing Jake's arms from the pain, he was seriously about to fucking cum. Your cunt couldn't have squeezed him better. Your walls wanted to push him out so badly, while he simultaneously thrusted farther and deeper into you.

And when he finally made it all the way in, you gripped onto his chest fiercely, stopping him, not yet sure you'd be able to take him just yet.

"Just a moment," you voiced urgently. "I just need to get used to it first."

And while Jake nodded and remained rooted inside of you, he was going crazy and faltering out of control. The longer he remained still, the more he wanted to insert himself even deeper, thrusting into you with no abandon. He tried to think about your side though, he really did. How your probably trying your best to speed things up and get used to his size, but just couldn't help how big he was. But that thought just turned him on even more and he needed to move.

"Are you good now?" he asked, his voice laced with more desperation and want than he intended, needing to ram into you so badly. And although you weren’t entirely ready yet, you figured you were probably prepared enough to start. So you gave him a quick nod, which you immediately regretted a few seconds later.

The way that the moment you started to tilt your head to form a nod, he took that as a sign and did not hesitate to thrust all of his length up your fucking cervix, already going at a pace you could not handle.

You gasped, loudly and understandably, since Jake was basically ramming into you from the start, leaving you no time to fully adjust. His arms came down to cage your body from under him, his face buried into the mattress right next to yours, already groaning so damn loudly while you yelled in pain. His pace unfathomably increasing, not faltering for even just a second.

Thankfully though, after a few more seconds, the pain was starting to form into pleasure and lust. You could feel that familiar surge of nerves racing through your entire body while your pussy got fucking violated from Jake's dick. And the urge to scream at him to stop pounding into you slowly faded away in the background.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your mouth hung wide open in a silent scream. His gigantic cock slammed into you at a constant rate, nonstop and uninterrupted. His balls slapped your ass every time he thrusted hardly, definitely marking you with some redness down there.

His body was right on top of you, making it harder to breathe as you both moaned loudly, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room. He was hitting you just right, in the exact places where you felt it the most. Where you felt it the hardest, the most authentic and raw.

You brought your arms up and lifted his head from where it rested on you, your hands framing his face between them. He stared at you from above, his bottom lip caught in between his teeth, sweat sheering his forehead, pleasure and lust written all over his face.

Never you imagined you would see your boyfriend like this. In such a state so vulnerable. So real.

And it was so fucking hot.

"Fuck," you moaned. "I think I'm close Jake."

"Yeah?" he asked, out of breath.

"Mhmmm..," you whined almost pornographically, and you felt Jake's dick twitch from inside of you, knowing he was close too.

"Me too," he grunted hoarsely. He readjusted himself as his pace sped up, thrusting his hips at a pace so unfathomably violent and fast, that it was starting to hurt your insides just a bit. But it hurt so good.

He brought his lips down to your right nipple, sucking and nibbling at the flesh until it was hard against his tongue, then switching sides to your other tit, milking out everything. He slurped and bit harshly, leaving dark purple and red marks that looked like it hurt. You moaned even louder, your pussy getting so wet that it was starting to coat the bed and even the insides of Jake's thighs. You were dripping literally everywhere.

"Want me to give you my babies?" Jake asked, once he was done with your boobs, grinning slyly while his pace fastened even more.

Not even able to fully comprehend the seriousness or reality of his question, you just shook your head weakly, only focused on cumming. Your brain was so fucked out at this point.

"No?" he chuckled lowly. "I bet you'd be such a good mommy though."

And that was all he said until Jake's thrusts were beginning to get sloppier and sloppier, his face contorting while his eyes rolled back to the brim, shoving in one final thrust, until he shot his thick, white ropes of cum inside you with absolutely no warning.

The sensation was so intense, so unfiltered—it was unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your entire body went rigid, frozen in place. You let out your loudest scream that night, when you felt his fluids paint your insides, unleashing your own orgasm. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as your back arched off the bed, until finally, you stilled—your body reminiscing the after moments.

Jake, so fucking exhausted, dropped right on top of you after getting arguably the best orgasm of his life. He panted heavily, eyes shutting immediately, feeling like he just ran a marathon with not a single drop of water.

And that was the last thing you remembered before the weight of exhaustion pulled you both into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-------------------------

After that day, you and Jake had sex, a lot. And everywhere.

In the shower, on the bed, on the floor, the wall, the couch, and even in his roommate's bed (but no one needs to know about that).

It was as if you had both hesitated, afraid to be the first to cross the line—but once it was done, the hesitation vanished, leaving nothing but a mutual understanding between you.

And now, here you were, kneeling down in between your boyfriend's legs, as he sat on his couch. His clothed dick was resting in your mouth, as his hands pet your hair gently.

"Come on, don't be shy," he encouraged, as he drank in the sight of you. You were innocently looking up at him from where you were on the floor, your mouth right on the center of his sweatpants.

"I'm not shy," you said, your mouth still around his dick.

He raised his eyebrow in suspicion, teasingly, not fully convinced by your statement. So, you applied more pressure on his dick, definitely not biting it, but just more force on your mouth overall.

His hips immediately and instinctively thrusted upward at the feeling, while his hand pushed your head downward onto his cock, groaning from pleasure.

You groaned too, although the sounds were getting suffocated and muffled from his pants.

"Okay, enough teasing. Just suck it already," he demanded out of desperation.

He released the pressure from head so you could breathe better, while you took this opportunity to take the hem of his sweats in your hands. You tugged them down slightly as he lifted his hips, allowing you to slide them lower with more ease. Once they were low enough and the only thing separating you from his cock were his briefs, you placed your mouth back onto his center. But this time, you sucked and licked on the fabric, almost like you were mimicking his same actions from the first time he ate you out.

This made his legs spread even wider, hands pushing your head lower onto him as you suckled onto his cock through his underwear, feeling his arousal spreading throughout the cloth. You could almost taste his pre cum at this point. His whiny moans were getting louder, reminding you that you should probably get to it already, so, you removed your mouth from where it was while you finally tugged his briefs down, releasing his hard dick that slapped against his abdomen with urgency.

It looked so damn juicy and delicious. It stood up straight confidently, with pre cum leaking out of the tip from the hole. Veins covered it from top to bottom, and the observation made your own panties start to dampen.

Without hesitation, you brought your tongue to the tip, slurping up all of the pre cum, and almost rolling your eyes back from the taste. Sure, it was bitter and salty, and not your typical go to appetite, but it came from Jake. And that was good enough.

He cursed from above you as you took the whole head of it in your mouth, sucking and licking like your life depended on it. And once your mouth got used to his size, you reached lower and lower, until the halfway mark hit the back of your throat already. You wanted to take it in all the way, but there was just no way it was going to fit. And Jake knew that. So instead, you took your right palm and grabbed the base of his cock, jerking it off while you bobbed your head on the parts that would fit in your mouth.

Now, this wasn't the best head you've ever gave, you'll admit. It was pretty sloppy, but Jake didn't seem to mind. It was understandable, considering the fact that it was pretty uncommon for the average lady to take 8 inches down the throat anyway.

The sounds of you gagging, which seemed pretty unattractive to you, turned Jake on way too much. Him knowing the fact that your tiny little mouth with a gag reflex couldn't take his big, aching cock—the idea rattled him too much, moaning and grunting as he just watched you try to suck it as best as you could. Trying your best to impress him.

But he was growing impatient. And while Jake knew that you couldn't make it fit, he knew he could. So without any notice, he removed your hand from the base of his cock and slammed his hips upward into your mouth, releasing the most yearning moan out of him.

Your throat burned instantly while Jake began to fuck your mouth. You brought your hands up to his hips, grabbing and thrashing at him, trying to warn him that you couldn't take it. But Jake's head was thrown back so far in pleasure, he had no fucking idea. He just kept your head in place with that grip of his, continuously hitting the back of your throat as your tiny, pink lips jerked him off. Tears began to stream down your face, tasting the saltiness of them as they met with your mouth.

Fuck, this couldn't go on for much longer.

You tried to voice your concerns, struggling to make any sound, desperate to get Jake’s attention, but your mouth was still full of dick. And the vibrations from your attempts to speak just sent Jake even more over the edge, groaning loudly as his eyes shut closed in pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... I'm so close.." he managed to mutter, eyes still sewn shut, hips still fucking up into your face.

You tried to breathe through your noise, knowing now that he was about to finish anyway, but really, nothing was helping and your jaw went slack.

Thankfully, with his hips stilling for just a second, you were able to get a small puff of air, before he was ramming back up and shooting his cum down your throat.

The tangy flavor instantly filled your taste buds, but not for long, as you removed your mouth in no time, gasping for air, as if each breath was your last. Finally being able to breathe normally again, you caught the sight of Jake, still very much cumming, but now with your mouth removed, it was darting past you and onto your face. Some got caught in your eyelashes while some landed on your lips. It was almost ironic how, not too long ago, you'd done the exact same thing to Jake, staring into his face with that same intensity while you sat there panting, trying to catch your breath.

But he wasn't done. He grabbed onto your face forcefully with one hand, opening your jaw back up and positioning it right where his dick was, while his other pumped his pent up cock a few more times, with the last bits of his cum spilling out and landing right inside your mouth. Your body jerked at the taste once more, while Jake just watched you, mouth wide open, swallowing up all of his juices with that look of pure sex and passion.

------------------------

"He did what?" Ava asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

You just shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Yeah, I mean, it was definitely pretty unexpected, but like, it was hot," you admitted, watching Ava's face still struggle to process the information.

"But like, it's Jake we're talking about here. I didn't even know he was freaky like that."

You let out a sigh, brushing the hair from your face. "Yeah well, you can never really know with men," you tried to explain to her, glancing down at your hands. "Anyway, let's talk about something else."

"Okay, well did you ever actually talk to Jake about setting those boundaries? You said you were going to do that, right?"

You froze for a moment, the guilt creeping up your spine. "Well," you started, avoiding her gaze, "I tried... but he didn’t really understand. He kept asking me what he did wrong, and it just felt like he was putting it all on me. Like, I couldn’t even explain myself without him getting defensive." You bit your lip, trying to suppress the frustration. "I don’t know, Ava. Maybe I didn’t handle it right, but it was like he was more concerned about himself than actually listening."

Her expression hardened, lips forming a thin line. "You can’t keep brushing stuff under the rug just because he’s sweet sometimes," she said, her voice firm. "You deserve someone who respects your boundaries, not just someone who only hears what they want to hear."

"I know," you whispered, feeling the weight of the situation. "I just... I don’t want to make things awkward or hurt him. But it’s hard when he just doesn’t get it."

She placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. "I get it, but you can’t keep ignoring how you feel just to protect him. You deserve to feel heard and respected, not like you have to change for someone else."

You nodded slowly, feeling the truth of her words settle in. "You're right. I just don’t know how to make him see that."

"Hey, give it some time. He might not understand now, but try talking to him again. I'm sure he'll come around."

------------------------

You and Jake were lounging on the couch in his apartment, your feet tangled in a blanket while a movie played softly in the background. The atmosphere was casual, comfortable. Your thoughts were still lingering on that conversation you had with Ava earlier, and it wasn’t until Jake suddenly perked up that you snapped back to the moment.

“Hey,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket with a grin. “Heeseung is throwing a party at his place later. Wanna come?”

You sighed, unsure. The idea of a party was definitely not appealing and you weren’t exactly in the mood for one of Jake’s big group hangouts with his friends. “I don’t know,” you said, hesitating. “I’m not really into your friends.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, the soft smile still on his lips. “Why not?” His voice was light, but you could hear the curiosity under it.

You shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to explain it without offending him. “Well… they’re not like you. They’re not sweet and gentle.” (yeah right.)

Jake’s expression softened at your words, and he let out a small laugh. “Aww, babe,” he murmured, leaning over and planting a quick kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry. There are gonna be other people there too. I promise it won’t be all my friends. And you’re gonna have fun, I swear.”

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, not entirely convinced. You liked Jake. He was easy to be around, but his friends? You weren’t so sure. The idea of spending an evening with a bunch of loud, overly confident guys didn’t exactly excite you.

“I dunno, Jake…” you trailed off, still unsure.

Jake leaned in a little closer, his eyes soft and coaxing. “Come on, just for a little while,” he said, his voice sweet, almost pleading. “I’ll be right there with you the whole time. You won’t be alone, I promise. And I finally want to introduce my amazing girlfriend to my friends.”

At that, your heart softened just a little. He was just trying to make you feel included, and part of you wanted to make him happy. He had been so patient with you, always caring and thoughtful. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as you were imagining.

You hesitated, glancing at him and meeting his eyes. There was something about his sincerity that made it hard to say no.

“Okay, fine,” you gave in with a sigh, offering him a small smile. “But only because you’re gonna be right by my side the whole time. And if it gets awkward, we’re leaving.”

Jake’s grin widened as he pulled you in for a quick hug, his arms warm around you. “Deal,” he agreed, his voice bright. “We’ll make sure it’s fun. I promise you’re gonna have a great time.”

You felt the tension in your chest ease a little, but there was still a small part of you that wondered if this was a good idea. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing Jake was determined to make it a night to remember.

And a night to remember, it was.

You recalled the booming bass of music, lights flickering and bouncing around the rooms, crowded bodies dancing together. It was your typical college party. The kind of place you’d avoid if it wasn’t for Jake’s hand firmly holding yours as he led you through the crowd. You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, standing on the edges, unsure of where you fit in.

Jake noticed immediately, of course, and with his signature warmth, he pulled you closer. “See? I told you you’d be fine,” he said with a grin, his voice almost lost in the loud music, though he kept his tone reassuring. “Just relax. Let’s get a drink.”

You smiled back, trying to push down the knot in your stomach. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Jake, or even that you disliked his friends, but the scene was overwhelming. Bodies pressed too close together, the noise echoing in your skull, and the flashing lights making everything feel a little too surreal.

As you followed Jake through the crowd, you caught sight of his friends scattered throughout the room, laughter and conversations blending with the music. Heeseung was in the center, as expected, with a few other guys hanging out by the table, while a couple of girls chatted nearby.

Jake waved to them all as you approached, introducing you with a warm smile. “Hey, everyone, this is _____,” he said proudly, his hand on your back. “She’s a little shy, but I’m sure you’ll love her.”

You offered them a polite smile, trying to steady your nerves. They were all smiling back, their eyes friendly enough, but there was something in the air that made you feel like an outsider. They didn’t know you, not really, and as much as you tried to push that thought aside, it lingered.

“So, this is your girl, huh?” Heeseung asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m surprised, man. I thought you were all about the party scene, not settling down.”

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not about the party scene anymore. I’m all about her,” he said, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you a little closer.

You could feel your cheeks warm at his words, the possessiveness in his tone making you both giddy and uneasy. You smiled awkwardly, trying to stay in the moment, but the eyes of his friends were on you, analyzing, judging, like you were a puzzle they couldn’t figure out.

“Alright, alright, no need to embarrass the poor girl,” another one of his friends laughed, giving you a friendly wink. “Don’t worry, we’ll take it easy on you.”

You couldn’t decide if that was supposed to be comforting or not.

You stood there for what felt like probably hours, as Jake chatted away with his friends, eagerly accepting every drink offered to him, while you politely declined each one that came your way. Your eyes started to feel heavy from the monotony, a yawn escaping your lips as you were about to ask Jake to leave. But then, you felt it.

Jake's hand, gripping your ass from under your miniskirt. Out of fucking nowhere.

It was as if all of your senses heightened in that moment, eyes widening, darting around to see if anyone noticed. Thankfully—well, or maybe not—no one seemed to be paying attention. You did your best to force a smile, turning to Jake, but he was lost in conversation, laughing away with his friends, completely ignoring you while his grip just got even tighter, squeezing your ass to the point to where it stung.

You lightly (or not so lightly) tapped his side, trying to get his attention. After a moment, he finally turned his gaze toward you.

"Hmm?" he asked, almost innocently.

You gave him a pointed look, trying to hide the growing frustration that bubbled up inside you. "Jake," you said, your voice low but firm. "What the fuck are you doing."

The innocent expression on his face quickly faded, replaced by a stern glare that made you feel small and uneasy, a wave of fear creeping up your spine. He squeezed your ass again.

"Don't," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation as he noticed you trying to get the attention of his friends.

Then, without warning, he shifted his position. Where he had once been standing beside you, he was now directly behind you, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, possessive embrace, almost as if giving you a romantic back hug. But there was nothing romantic about this. Especially considering how he started to subtly grind himself against your ass. This immediately made every nerve in your body on high alert, your eyes flickering around out of embarrassment. All of Jake's friends were still gathered around, caught up in deep conversation. Some were drinking, others smoking, but they were all very much present. What completely threw you off, though, was how none of them seemed to notice what Jake was doing to you. The dimmed lights and the haze of drunken chatter certainly helped, but still. It was as if they were oblivious to everything happening just a few feet away.

"Jake, you're drunk," you said, your tone getting weaker by the second, but still trying to regain control of the situation. "Let's just go to the bathroom. We can continue in there if you want."

You hoped the suggestion would calm him down, give you both a moment of privacy away from the crowd, but as you looked at his face, the flicker of emotion there made you second-guess your words.

Jake just seemed oblivious to your growing discomfort, or maybe he just didn’t care. He ignored you completely, incessantly grinding his now hard cock into your ass, whimpering lightly right into your ear, where he began to lick and bite.

You felt humiliated at this point. How could nobody see what was happening? Were they just pretending not to notice, or did they simply not care? You looked uncomfortable, giving up on trying to appear normal, and now desperately trying to signal for help, hoping his friends might intervene. But nothing. No one noticed, or if they did, they turned a blind eye.

You didn't understand. Why was he acting like this? Sure, he was drunk, but that didn’t excuse what he was doing. His slurred words, his frantic movements, none of it made sense. He had crossed a line, and yet, in his haze, he seemed unaware of the damage he was causing.

"Jake, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling. You could feel the tears threatening to spill. "Let's just go."

"Shhh.." he whispered into your ear, sucking on it, clearly giving you no mind. His hands roamed from you waist all the way up your dress, until they reached your breasts, groping at the flesh and shoving his hand inside.

You couldn’t take it anymore. With all the strength you could muster, you grabbed his hands and threw them off of you, rushing out of the crowd. Your heart pounded in your chest, and adrenaline surged through your veins as you bolted towards the first door you could find. Without even thinking, you slammed it shut behind you and locked it.

You found yourself in the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The lights flickered above you, casting a harsh glow on your tear streaked face. You barely recognized the person looking back at you, disheveled, disoriented, and utterly broken. You felt dirty, like his hands were still on you, even though you were now alone.

The tears came without warning, streaming down your face as you sank to your knees. You tried to catch your breath, but the overwhelming feeling of being violated, ignored, and trapped consumed you. How had it come to this? How could your sweet, loving boyfriend do this you? How could he treat you like this, especially so shamefully, right in front of all his friends? You felt betrayed, confused, and disgusted by the very person who had once seemed so perfect.

You hugged your knees to your chest, feeling the coldness of the bathroom floor seep into your skin, but it didn’t compare to the ice forming in your chest. Jake had always been the guy who made you feel safe, made you feel like you were the only one that mattered. But now? Now it felt like he’d turned into someone else, someone you didn’t even recognize.

You let out a shaky breath, wiping the tears off your face, but they kept coming. The humiliation lingered, gnawing at your insides. The fact that no one else had noticed, or maybe they had and didn’t care, made it worse. It made you feel so small, so invisible. But the worst part? It was Jake, the person you trusted, the one who said he loved you, who had done this to you.

You wished you could turn back time, make it all disappear. You just wanted to feel safe again.

You pulled out your phone with shaky hands, scrolling to Ava’s name and pressing call. The ringing felt like it lasted forever, but no one picked up. You tried again. Straight to voicemail.

It was too late at night. She was probably asleep, unaware that you were falling apart on the other end of the line. A strangled sob escaped your throat as you clutched your phone, feeling more alone than ever. You wanted someone, anyone, to help you, to pull you away from this nightmare.

After what felt like an eternity, you mustered up the courage to leave the bathroom. Your legs felt weak, your body still shaking as you opened the door and stepped out. The music was still blasting, the party still in full swing, as if nothing had happened. You scanned the room desperately, searching for a familiar face, someone who could get you out of here.

But everyone was too drunk, too caught up in their own world to notice the panic in your eyes. You approached a group standing nearby, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hey… can you help me?”

They barely acknowledged you. One girl gave you a fleeting glance before turning away. Another guy just laughed at something his friend said, completely oblivious.

No one cared.

And then you saw him.

He was already making his way toward you, his face painted with guilt, his steps quick and deliberate. Before you could react, he was in front of you, his hands reaching out.

“Baby,” he started, his voice soft, apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

You flinched away from his touch, the sight of him making your stomach turn. Anger, fear, and heartbreak crashed over you all at once, and suddenly, you were thrashing at him, pushing at his chest, hitting his arms. “Get away from me, Jake!” you choked out, your voice breaking. “Don’t touch me!”

But he just grabbed your wrists, his grip firm but not harsh. “Shhh,” he murmured, pulling you outside, away from the crowd. The cold night air hit you, but it wasn’t enough to stop the burning in your chest.

“Let go of me,” you sobbed, twisting in his grasp, but he wouldn’t let you.

Instead, he cupped your face and kissed you, forcefully, desperately. You tried to pull away, but he only deepened it, as if that would fix anything.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s go home, okay?” he coaxed, his voice gentle, as if nothing had happened. “I wasn’t thinking straight. Don’t be mad at me, baby.”

His hands stroked your arms as if to comfort you, but it felt suffocating.

“It won’t happen again,” he promised, his eyes pleading. “I love you.”

And just like that, he was leading you away from the party, his grip firm but careful, as if he hadn’t just shattered your trust into a million pieces.

By the time you both reached his apartment, Jake’s grip on your wrist had loosened, but the phantom weight of it still burned against your skin. As he fumbled with his keys, he shot you a small smile, his tone light, casual, even.

“Just remember, my roommate’s home, so we can’t be too loud, okay?”

You nodded numbly, but your mind spiraled. What would happen if you begged for help, would he even help you? Or would he just brush it off like everyone else at the party?

It seemed so simple, so easy. All you had to do was open your mouth.

But you couldn’t.

The words never came. The air felt too thick, the weight of Jake’s presence suffocating. It wasn’t fear exactly, it was something more complicated, something more deeply ingrained. Like no matter how much you wanted to, your body simply wouldn’t let you.

So when Jake was eventually leading you to his room while he undressed the both of you, stripping you both completely of any clothes, you just let him, too weak to put up a fight, too weak to resist the way his hand pressed against your body, touching you in ways that used to feel so loving and precious, to now malicious and unwanted.

You were just too exhausted to argue.

Your body felt heavy, like you were sinking into the floor with every step, but Jake didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

The door clicked shut behind you.

"Baby, you know I love you," he tried to tell you as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading them wide, just like he did that day.

You couldn't even speak, not able to find the words, or maybe just too afraid to try. Your throat felt tight, like any attempt to talk would only come out as a broken whisper.

He brought his thumb up to your clit, rubbing gently at first, and then speeding up his movements. And as much as you hated it, your body reacted the way it wanted, with your hole getting wetter and your body heating up.

"C'mon, don't act like you don't like it," he said with a smirk, savoring the sight of you beneath him. So vulnerable, so weak. The feeling of control sent a rush through him.

Even with mascara streaks on your cheeks, tear stains, messy hair, dark circles, and swollen eyes, Jake still thought you looked beautiful. To him, you were breathtaking. Raw, unfiltered, completely his. He brushed a strand of messy hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your damp cheek.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are right now," he murmured, his voice dripping with something you couldn’t quite place. His thumb traced over your bottom lip, his eyes dark with emotion.

You wanted to recoil, to push him away, but your body felt heavy, drained. Instead, you just stared up at him, searching his face for any sign of the Jake you thought you knew. But you couldn't see anything.

This new feeling of power he had over you made his dick stand up, as he just stared at you and your emotionless eyes. Your face was sucked of all of it's life as he pushed his cock in, and this is where you realized that your boyfriend was gone. But he was never really ever there though. The man you thought you fell for, it all just crumbled before your eyes, revealing a stranger in his place. The man you thought you knew, the one who made you feel safe, had never truly existed.

"No, no stop. Pull out," you weakly attempted, hoping he would finally listen to you, but to no avail. He just kept on pushing in, sighing and momentarily pausing his movements once he bottomed out, before he was eventually pulling back and thrusting forward again.

"Don't worry, it'll feel good soon baby," he tried to hush you, but it only made things worse, intensifying the panic bubbling inside you as you struggled to push him away, your heart racing.

You shoved against his chest, panic rising as you struggled to break free. Every inch of you screamed to escape, but he wasn’t budging. His grip on your wrists tightened as he slammed you back against the bed. His eyes flashed with frustration.

“This is your warning,” he growled, voice low and threatening. “If you don’t stop, I won’t be nice anymore.”

But you didn’t care. If he wanted to play this game, you were going to play it. You continued to twist in his grasp as best as you could, determined to break free no matter what.

"Stop bitching," He grunted, his grip tightening as you continued to struggle. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, he didn't budge. His eyes burned with intensity as he held you in place, not showing any sign of his movements stopping inside of you. You could feel the tension in the air, but your defiance only grew stronger.

"Okay, that's it."

He seized a handful of your hair, the sharp sting of his unyielding grip making you cry out in pain. With a forceful tug, he yanked you off the bed, throwing you face first into the mattress. His weight pressed down on the back of your head, forcing you further into the fabric, the pressure relentless. You struggled for air, your screams drowned beneath the suffocating pressure of the mattress as you thrashed helplessly. Every movement felt weak, your body’s desperate attempts to break free only muffled in the fabric, leaving you feeling more trapped than ever.

"I told you," he began sternly. "I won't be nice anymore."

Keeping your head pinned against the bed with one hand, he pulled your arms behind your back, his grip unyielding as you fought against him. It was no use though, how the next thing you knew, he was shoving his full length into you all at once.

You screamed, the pain searing through you, unbearable and relentless. Every inch of your body screamed in protest, but the intensity only grew, leaving you feeling powerless and raw as he quickly built up a pace, so violent against your hole and violating your body in one go.

But the more you screamed, the tighter the pressure around your chest became, each gasp for air growing more desperate and shallow. The world around you seemed to blur, the pain and suffocation overwhelming every thought as you struggled for just a breath.

"Yeahhh... that's it," Jake sighed, moaning and throwing his head back.

"I like you better like this," he spat. He just couldn't help it. Your wetness was just jerking him off too good, pussy clenching around his cock, even though you hated every second of it.

That was what made it so intense, his absolute power over you. The way he controlled every movement, every breath you took, leaving you helpless and vulnerable. The fear mixed with something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name, but it made the struggle feel all the more real. His dominance was undeniable, and it made your every attempt to break free feel meaningless.

He just kept on going, slamming those muscular hips into yours, that were now probably bruised, weak, and way too sore to even stand up straight. At this point, you were too consumed by the struggle to breathe, your entire focus narrowing to each labored gasp. Everything else faded into the background, the pain, the fear, the fight, until all that mattered was the next breath, and even that felt like a distant hope. You stopped trying to fight it, the weight of it all crushing any will left to resist. It was as if you’d given up, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation of being trapped in this moment.

The pleasure you once felt from your boyfriend was now twisted, a distant memory drowned by the overwhelming sensations that felt far from comforting. What had once ignited warmth and connection now left you hollow, the intimacy corrupted by the force of control. Every touch that used to feel reassuring now seemed to carry a weight, shifting from something you craved to something you no longer recognized.

Your vision started to blur, the edges of everything softening as if a fog was slowly creeping in. The sounds of Jake's cock and your arousal squelching together became distant, muffled, like they were coming from underwater. Your thoughts turned hazy, slipping through your mind like water through your fingers, leaving only fragments of clarity. It was as if the world was dissolving into a haze, and no matter how hard you tried to hold on, everything felt heavier, slower, more distant.

As your consciousness began to slip away, your thoughts became a fractured blur. You could feel the edges of reality fading, like sinking into a dreamless void. The pain dulled into a distant echo, and the struggle to breathe became a quiet, desperate rhythm in the back of your mind. A sense of surrender washed over you, as if everything was slipping through your fingers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. The world grew darker, quieter, until it all faded into nothing.

------------------------

The days after what happened felt like a blur of weakness, an overwhelming numbness that clung to every part of you. Your body was there, moving, but it didn’t feel like yours. You went through the motions, eating, sleeping, and existing, but the life had drained out of you, leaving you hollow. Jake begged you to stay with him for a few nights after what happened. He told you how sorry he was, how he’d messed up, and promised that he could make it up to you by being the "perfect boyfriend" again by cooking for you, cuddling you, treating you like nothing had changed. He even said he would make sure you felt happy again. And part of you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that things could go back to normal, that somehow you could undo everything that had broken inside you.

But that wasn’t how it worked.

You didn’t know how to explain to Ava what had happened. You didn’t know how to say it aloud, to break down in front of her, to admit how broken you felt, how you’d lost yourself in a way that felt too overwhelming to put into words. It was too much, and the fear of being seen as a mess, of having her look at you with pity or confusion, kept you silent. So you stayed with Jake. You stayed in his room, cocooned in the strange comfort of him pretending everything was fine. He acted like nothing had changed, like the hurt he’d caused wasn’t there, and for a while, you let him.

You hadn’t gone to class in days. The weight of everything kept you locked in that room, a prisoner of your own inability to face what had happened. Jake was your only form of “entertainment,” your only distraction from the mess inside your head, even though, he was the one who planted that mess in the first place. But as much as you tried to convince yourself it was fine, the truth was clear: You were never the same after that night. Jake noticed, though not in the way you might’ve hoped. He noticed the way you didn’t smile anymore, the way your once sharp arguments with him turned into silence. He noticed how you withdrew into yourself, your eyes dull, your words fewer. But he didn’t care. In his mind, you were still his, still under his control, and that was all that mattered. Maybe to him, you were better like this.

Days passed in this strange, disconnected state. You no longer felt like yourself, but you didn’t know how to fight back or even what to fight for. The numbness only deepened, and you wondered if you would ever feel like you again.

Eventually, you couldn’t avoid facing the outside world forever. After almost a week, Jake agreed to let you go back to your place, so you could finally fix yourself up a bit.

You walked through the door of your apartment, expecting to be greeted with concern, with Ava asking where you’d been, why you hadn’t been answering her calls, why you hadn’t been to class. You expected a wave of relief, a safe place where someone might understand. But when you saw her standing there, her expression wasn’t relief, it was frustration, anger even.

She demanded to know where you had been, her voice sharp with worry and annoyance. “You’ve been gone for days. You didn’t show up for class. You wouldn’t pick up my calls, and now you just walk in here like everything’s fine?” Her words felt like a slap. “I was worried sick!”

You opened your mouth, wanting to say everything, everything that had happened with Jake, the way he’d broken you, how trapped you felt, how empty you were now. But as soon as you tried to speak, the words stuck in your throat. You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t tell her what had happened. Not like this. Not in a way that would make her understand.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, trying to explain, but the words felt weak, disjointed. You wanted to say that Jake had hurt you, that everything had changed in ways you couldn’t explain. But when you looked at Ava’s face, you saw the doubt in her eyes, the skepticism.

“Jake?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Jake is the nicest guy ever, you know that. Everyone loves him. He’s never even laid his hands on a fly.” Her words were sharp, cutting you off. “I don’t understand. Why would you even say something like that?”

The disbelief in her voice hit you harder than you expected. You wanted to tell her how wrong she was, how much you wished she could see the truth, but instead, you felt smaller. Like a part of you was breaking in front of her.

“I... I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just need help, Ava. Please.”

But she wasn’t listening. She backed away, her arms crossed over her chest as if she couldn’t even fathom what you were saying. “I don’t even know if I can trust you anymore. I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Her words cut deep, and with each one, you felt more isolated, more abandoned in your own confusion.

Your heart sank. You had hoped she would believe you, hoped she would understand, but instead, she questioned you, as if what you were saying was the lie. The emptiness inside you grew, as if the world was slipping through your fingers. You were alone, and even the one person you thought would be there for you couldn’t, and wouldn’t understand. You weren’t sure how to fix any of this, or even if it could be fixed. All you knew was that you were broken, and no one seemed to care enough to help put you back together.

You came running back to Jake, broken, sobbing, feeling like there was nothing left of you. Everything you had known, everything you had thought was secure, was falling apart. Ava had turned her back on you, your closest friend, the one person you thought would understand. She didn’t believe you. She wouldn’t listen to the pain you’d endured, wouldn’t see the truth of what had happened. Her trust was gone, and with it, so was any semblance of the life you had before. Your family, too, was slipping away. You had pushed them all so far, not responding to any of their calls or messages, unsure how to explain what you were going through, or if you even could. The space between you and them only grew with each passing day.

Jake shushed you gently, his hands moving to soothe you as if he could wipe away the pain with each soft touch. He pulled you into his chest, cooing softly, assuring you that everything was fine now. You didn’t need anyone but him. He was there for you, he would always take care of you. He whispered over and over that everything would be okay, that the people who hurt you, your friends, your family, didn’t matter. He was all you needed now.

You found yourself spiraling, withdrawing more and more into the safety of Jake's arms. He was the only constant left in your life. The only person who seemed to care, or at least, you told yourself he did. He welcomed you back with open arms every time you ran to him, his hands soothing as he whispered over and over how sorry he was for everything, how he didn’t mean to hurt you. He promised he would make it up to you, and for some reason, you let yourself believe it. The promises of making things right, it felt comforting, like you were returning to something familiar.

And the more you spent time with him, the more you realized just how much of your life was slipping away. You stopped going to class, stopped seeing your friends, stopped reaching out to your family. You let it all go, burying yourself in Jake’s world. He was your everything now, your only source of comfort, your only form of connection.

And when Ava moved out of the apartment a few weeks later, it was like the final piece fell into place for Jake. He wasted no time in moving his things in with you. At first, you told yourself it was a relief. Now you’d have him all to yourself, no distractions, no one to intervene. But as he settled in, things began to change.

Jake’s presence started to feel suffocating. He had you all to himself now, and the isolation was complete. You no longer had anyone to lean on, no one to offer a second opinion, no one to speak truth to your doubts. He knew exactly what he was doing. He watched you, broken and fragile, clinging to him as though he were the only thing keeping you afloat. He could see it in your eyes, the vulnerability, the desperation. You were easy to manipulate now, and he wasn’t about to let that slip away. Every word he spoke was calculated, every story he spun designed to pull you deeper into his web.

He fed you lies, yes, but they weren’t just lies, they were carefully crafted truths, twisted versions of events that only he could control. He knew exactly what to say to make you doubt everything you thought you knew. With every lie, with every slanted version of reality, he watched your perception of the world begin to crumble, piece by piece.

You remembered that one night, months ago, when Ava had told you about how she kissed Jake during a spin the bottle game. It resurfaced in your mind randomly, and curious to hear his side of it, you hesitantly brought it up to Jake.

But when you mentioned it, Jake’s eyes turned cold for a moment. He shook his head vehemently. “No,” he said, voice tight. “Ava tried making moves on me that day. She was obsessed with me, always had been. But I never really reciprocated. She just couldn’t take a hint, you know?” He said it with such conviction, his words painting her in a way you hadn’t considered before.

The more you thought about it, the more it made sense. You started to believe that Jake was the only one who truly cared about you, the only one who understood you, and anyone else, especially Ava, was just a threat to your relationship.

He could see the doubt forming in your eyes, the way you hesitated before speaking, and he knew it was working. He was twisting the truth, slowly erasing the foundation you had built your friendships and relationships on. You were starting to believe him. It made him feel powerful, like he was the one who controlled your reality now. You were his.

And the best part? You didn’t even realize how deep he had dug in. He wasn’t just convincing you of lies, he was rewriting your entire past, making you question everything, even yourself. He was the one who had become your anchor, and the more he spoke, the more you trusted him, even when you felt a strange unease. The more you doubted the people who had once been in your life, the more you needed him. And Jake knew that. He thrived on it.

You didn’t realize it at first, but you started to build an entirely new narrative in your head. You told yourself that Ava had never been your friend at all, that she had been a threat to your relationship with Jake from the beginning. That’s why she was so mad when you tried to tell her what Jake had done to you. She didn’t care about your pain, she was just angry that you had gotten in the way of what she wanted. You convinced yourself that she was jealous, that she wanted Jake all along. The realization felt bitter and suffocating, but you pushed it down. You believed Jake. You had to. He was the only one who had stuck by you, the only one who hadn’t betrayed you.

And so, you cut ties. One by one, you stopped answering your friends’ calls, stopped replying to their messages. You didn’t need them anymore. They didn’t understand. They never would. Your best friend was gone, and with her, your past life. You blocked her number, you blocked all of them. Jake was the only one who remained. Jake was all you had left, and in some twisted way, you were okay with that.

------------------------

As the days turned into weeks, you felt yourself slowly becoming more isolated, but Jake reassured you that this was how it was supposed to be. He was all you needed. And when he started packing up his things to officially move in with you, you helped him, eager to keep the peace, to build the life that seemed perfect. But that’s when you stumbled upon something that shattered everything.

As you were helping Jake pack, moving boxes from his old place into yours, you found something you weren’t meant to see. Buried beneath a pile of clothes and books were items that didn’t belong to him. Items that were yours. Your things—your jewelry, your lost underwear, personal things you had kept in your apartment. You froze, a sick feeling twisting in your stomach as the truth hit you. You’d never realized it before, but now, it was all laid out in front of you.

Suddenly, it all clicked. You remembered how your bedroom door had never been pushed all the way closed that one day, or how something just felt off in the room, like a presence that wasn’t supposed to be there. You remembered all those clothes that had gone missing over the past few weeks, the shirts, the panties, the things you never thought to question before. It was as if everything you’d ignored or brushed off was now flooding your mind, each detail falling into place, connecting the dots in a way that made your stomach drop. The realization hit you hard, like a cold wave crashing over you.

Those subtle changes, those small signs that you had convinced yourself were nothing. Now, they felt like undeniable evidence.

He had been there. He had been in your space, when you weren’t looking. It was all starting to make sense, but the truth was so much darker than you had ever imagined.

You thought you knew him. You thought you had control over your own life. But now, as the pieces fell together, you understood just how much of it had all been carefully orchestrated. You hadn’t just been blind to his manipulation, you had been living in it, suffocating beneath it. And it wasn’t just your trust he had stolen. It was everything.

Jake had been here, in your life, controlling everything in ways you never even realized, and as the truth crashed down on you, you stood there, frozen, not knowing whether to scream, run, or finally face the man who had torn your world apart.

#jakescapes #enha x reader #enhypen #jake fanfic #jake sim smut #enhypen jaeyun #jaeyun x reader #jake fic #jake x reader #sim jake #jake sim #jake sim fanfic #jakesim #jake sim smau

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apricot-blossomss · 22 days ago

Note

anything with apollo's fear that-sometimes-comes-out-when-he's-angry of reader fearing him??? 🫶🏻

I think this is the perfect definition of making a thing out of it 🫣

☛ when your village's crops are failing, they think a sacrifice might appeal to the gods' mercy- only, they haven't taken your lovers deadly rage into account

☛ apollo x mortal!f!reader; sfw; cw: violence, death (not the reader's); wc: 7k

You let the flour rinse through your fingers, watching the fine dust swirl in the dim light. The window was wide open, enabling you to cherish the last whiffs of fresh air. Long and heavy lay the summer upon your small town, bending people's backs as sweat dripped down their temples. Fortunately for you, you were no farmhand- not that farming had much of a point these days. For weeks now, your village’s crops had been failing. The river, too, was running dry, and out in the fields, you could make out a group of children running off to fetch water a few towns over. Desperate attempts to keep some of the crops alive to avoid mass starvation.

The dough was soft beneath your palms, sticky with honey, and the smell of baking bread wrapped around you like a comfort. You had an advantage over those now begging on the streets- a divine lover who wouldn't have you endure a day of hunger. What he did not know, however, was that you shared his gifts with your fellow townspeople, resulting in you climbing into bed with a growling stomach, but a light heart.

You hummed to yourself, kneading the dough until your arms ached, careful to avoid it getting on your dress. It was too nice a dress for baking. A dress for quiet afternoons, a dress for meeting your lover beneath the pine trees. A dress for better times. But he had announced his visit through signs, and you had dolled yourself up properly to meet him. The last time he'd appeared, golden and radiant as he was, he'd pressed a kiss to your brow and told you to be patient. That rain would eventually bless your village. But you weren't a god, so you could only hope and pray.

That was when you heard it. Faint at first- a dull thud against wood, a voice raised, carried by the wind through your window. You couldn't make out the words, but the tone seemed aggressive. You paused, hands still coated in flour, and approached the window to listen. Smaller brawls about food and water were no rare occurrence these days. But the noise swelled, and you could make out the thudding of many footsteps, the shouting of voices growing louder. Drawing closer.

Dark premonition tightened into a coil in your chest- this was no small brawl, it sounded like the whole village had banded together, approaching this scarcely inhabited outskirt. Nervosity clawing at your insides, you cleaned your hands with a towel and walked towards the door to inquire about the noise. But before you could even reach it, there was a knock. And another. Loud bangs, mirroring the heavy pounding in your chest. Then, a commanding voice sounded through the wood of the door. “Open up, now!”

Your fingers shook with apprehension as you turned the doorknob and opened the door. You were greeted to a sea of faces and chants. Most of them you recognized, and you looked around in helpless confusion at them. But their expressions were twisted into hateful rage, one that you could not explain to yourself.

But before you could make an inquiry, the man who must have knocked on your door, a temple guard, judging by his uniform, obscured your sight by stepping in front of you. He towered over you, much taller than you, and his eyes glinted with a sadistic sort of irony. “Well, well,” he said to himself, eyes raking over your figure. “What a shame.” Without a warning, his hand shot out and wrapped itself around your upper arm in a grip so tight it made you wince. His fingers dug painfully into the meat of your biceps, so hard it would surely leave bruises. He yanked you from your home entrance and into the awaiting hands of the masses.

You stumbled into a curling snake pit of hands, grabbing at you, ripping your clothes, yanking at your limbs. Any sounds of protests, all of your confused questions were drowned out by a flood of screams, chants and yells. Desperate for support, you clung to the baker who you sold your breads to. But, with an almost disgusted look, he pushed you off and against one of the soldiers. Someone fisted your hair and yanked you in no particular direction, and when you cried out in pain, the masses laughed.

You were helpless, and completely disoriented. Dragged around and pushed from one to the other, the world blurred before your waking eye, until your head hit the ground with a painful thud. You scrambled to your feet, but the moment you had found some footing, the hands grabbed at your dress and yanked you. Their pull was irresistible, the voices swelled into a loud chant your ears didn't comprehend. It was too much. Too much pain, too much noise, too much movement. You wanted to fall to your knees and pray, beg for an explanation for this nightmare, but your body was like that of a puppet, strings cut and ripped around by violent hands.

Overwhelmed, all you could to was whisper his name under your breath, again and again. It was no prayer, no ode, no cry for help. It was simply that his name was the only sound that would make it past your lips, as if it was the only one you knew. The only thing tethering you to the world as you lost the ground beneath your feet.

Your cries for an explanation, for help, were ignored as the solider who had knocked on your door got a hold of your upper arms and dragged you down the road, barely letting you walk on your own. As you looked around, through the mist of tears clouding your vision, you could make out people following you or watching the angry procession from their doors and windows. Slowly, you began to understand.

When you stumbled, the soldier ripped you up violently and hit you across the face. The harsh slap made your head spin as your cheek burned. The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth, and your tongue traced your lip to find it busted. A new string of tears spilled out of your eyes, eliciting hollers and new yells from the crowd that derived great pleasure from your pain.

Only the ground beneath you turning from stamped earth to cobblestone announced to you that you had reached the city square. Under the cheers of the crowd, you were pushed towards the center and onto your knees. With a painful thud, they met the ground, scraping against the hard, uneven stone.

Your village elders had assembled in the center. As you were being dragged before them, they looked up from a discussion they were having; frail old men holding too much power, and glaring down at you as you lay in the dirt at their feet, shaking and sobbing. Your whispers of your god’s name went unnoticed, swallowed by the people’s shouts and chants. Only when one of the elders, a man called Zephyros, stepped forward and raised his hand did the noise gradually subside.

When he called your name, you raised your head shakily, looking into hard, unforgiving eyes. “Pharmakis. You stand accused of dark witchcraft, of destroying our crops and drying our rivers with the goal of starving our city. How do you plead?” (Pharmakis = "witch")

“I didn't do anything!” you cried out, tears and dirt running down your face as the soldier’s grip on you tightened. “Please- why would I do something like that? I am no witch!” Desperation laced your voice, felt heavy on your tongue, as you searched for the right words with dire need. Words to calm their anger, dispel their doubts. But the only thing they seemed to have no doubt about was your guilt.

“You remain the only one untouched by this catastrophe, that has been taking children, animals, and people alike! Your neck remains adorned by jewelry. How did you get it, by baking bread?” A humorless laugh left his lips as angry whispers broke out around you. Someone threw a necklace at your feet- they must have taken it from your home, you recognized it in an instant. As all your jewelry, Apollo had made you take and wear it against your initial protests that it was too much, too good for you. Wide eyed, you stared at the gold as it reflected the sun’s light.

“Your spells have cursed us and enriched you!” Hissed Zephyros, looking down upon your trembling figure, “your greed has angered the gods.”

“Please!” you cried out over a new swelling of shouts. “If I had offended the gods, why would they grace me with fortune and riches?”

“Shut your mouth!” Seethed Zephyros, turning to the crowd and raising his voice so it bellowed all over the city square. “The gods are angry because of her! She’s been seen in the fields at dawn, whispering to the soil. The earth rots under her hands, and the rivers dry in her shadow. A witch, poisoning our village from within!” New tears formed in your eyes, the hopelessness of the situation dawning on you when the people chanted for your death sentence. “The sun turns harsh, the rain refuses to fall- this is her doing. She consorts with dark spirits, cursing our land while we starve. How else do you explain our suffering?”

The words fell upon you like stones, and with your hands twisted behind your back, you were unable to shield yourself from the vile accusations they inflicted upon you like beatings with a harsh stick. They stung- you belonged to this village, you had lived here your whole life, waved a good morning to the same people who were now calling for your execution. Always had you made an effort to provide for those in need, to strike up a friendly conversation with those who were hopeless, had worked in the temple, sold on the market, been at the heart of their community. All that, now thrown out the window as if it meant nothing- it stung more than the harsh fingers digging into your shoulder did.

Your chest tightened as you looked up into their faces, twisted with fear and anger. Looking for a scapegoat. The same faces that had smiled at you warmly, now so hostile, now calling for your demise. Your breath came out in shallow puffs as your heart pounded loud enough to drown out the words the elders spat now, only words sticking out to you. “Pharmakis” “Traitor” “Gods’ ire”. You searched their faces for something- reason, mercy - but all you found was fear, expertly disguised by their hypocritical righteousness. The people you'd prayed for now looked at you as if you were a monster.

“Φοῖβε, ἀγάπη μου… βοήθει μοι…” (“Phoebus, my love… help me…”) you whimpered, lowering your head and squeezing your eyes shut as the desperation and hopelessness overwhelmed you. “Ἀπόλλων, μὴ μὲ ἐγκαταλείπῃς…” (“Apollo, do not abandon me…”). But he didn't come. No ray of sunshine, no glow of reassurance, no soft touch of safety, only the cold stone beneath your aching knees, the painful grip on your shoulder and the harsh words of accusation thrumming against your ears.

Suddenly, the elders fell silent and the crowds' shouts subsided into a low whisper. When you looked up, you were greeted to the sight of a hooded figure emerging from the closed lines of the soldiers. The simpel audacity to interfere with an elders sermon strook them all with silence- the people were props to cheer and fight for them, to applaud them. Not to raise their voice.

But he did- the hooded stranger spoke to the elders, and his voice was smooth and steady as he did. “I am a seer, a holy priest of Apollo. I come only with the most well-meaning advice, and it is dire. I have seen it in the stars, the behavior of the birds: a warning.” He pointed at you and you instinctively shrunk under his pointed finger. “Harming this woman will not save you. In fact, it will condemn you.”

A breathless silence layed heavy on your shoulders, pressing them down as a spark of hope danced inside your chest. Seers were people of the greatest renown in your rural community, religious readers, believed to be speaking to the gods themselves. Apollo, of course, had told you with a smile that most of them were swindlers, his warm fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he explained that only a few were blessed by his divine gift.

“A seer?” sneered elder Argyros after recovering from the shock of someone talking back to him. As the richest man in the village, he was used to people cowering before him. The stranger made no such attempts however, standing still as the elders eyes scrutinized him. “Or just another fool who's been charmed by her sorcery?”

“I am warning you,” the strangers voice sounded, much calmer. In spite of his old cloak and humble attire, he stood upright and his words were made of molten gold. “The sun watches, even now. His light sees everything. And if you spill her blood, it will burn you to ash.”

Your heart beat in your chest as you looked up at the man. Could he be saying the truth? Would Apollo be angry, maybe even grieving if you died? His love for you had always seemed so sincere.

“How can you be so sure it is her who has angered the gods?” asked the seer sharply, turning to the crowd. “Perhaps, the one who displeased them is among your highest ranks.” Turning to the elders once more, his eyes bore into those of elder Zephyros. “You haven't been treating your guests very well, have you, elder Zephyros? The gods value hospitality very highly. In fact, this whole council has treated its guests with a lack of respect and hence brought on themselves their own demise!”

“We don't need omens from a stranger,” elder Xanthos spat defensively, face turning both red and white at the same time. “We need blood to satisfy the gods. If Apollo were angry, he would have struck us down already. Maybe this is what he wants.”

The stranger opened his mouth, seemingly to protest, but elder Zephyros shut him up by pointing a finger at him. “Guards, seize this charlatan!” His eyes held a dangerous glint as they returned to your broken figure. “Take the girl to Apollo’s temple. I will prove to you all that Apollo would rather bless than curse us for this sacrifice!”

Before you could comprehend his words properly, you were seized by the arms and ripped up violently. The steadily growing crowd followed behind and around you as the guards dragged you to the gates of Apollos temple, which was located near the city square. The most glorious and beautiful sight your small city had to offer. The place held some of your most treasured memories. The first time you'd talked to him. He'd appeared to you in the disguise of a mortal man as you were parting before his altar.

“Please,” you whispered to god’s giant marble statue, unaware of the presence looming behind you. It was a warm summer night, the whole town was already asleep- safe for the harlots, the thief's, and you. “Please,” you whispered again, “Just a sign. Anything.”

“What if this sign was another person?”

Even in your sitting position, you spun around so fast that it scraped your knees. Upon seeing the young man lean so casually against one of the holy pillars, you scrambled to your feet, smoothing out your skirt and frowning at him, at his relaxed smirk. “You shouldn't eavesdrop on prayers.”

Though a teasing smirk graced his lips, the young man’s eyes held a certain, almost disarming warmth. “I wasn't eavesdropping. You spoke loud enough for even a god to hear.”

“You have an awfully bold tongue for a worshipper,” you remarked with narrowed eyes, folding your arms over your chest. If you had known you’d meet a man today, would be alone in a room with him, you’d have worn a less revealing dress.

The man let out a soft laugh and pushed himself off the pillar, taking a step towards you. “I’m not here to worship.” Your lisp opened in inquiry, brows furrowed, but he cut you off before you could even speak, eyes clinging to the marble statue. “You talk to that statue like it's alive.”

You glanced at him, unimpressed. “Maybe I have more faith than you do.”

His lips curled into a grin that was irresistible, even in his mortal form. Eyes locking onto yours, you could hear your breath hitch in your throat- and could have sworn he had heard it too, because his grin only widened as he took another step towards you, so casually it could have been by chance. “Or maybe, you like talking to men who don't talk back.”

With a scoff, you averted your face to hide your smile from him. This mysterious stranger was making you extremely flustered. “If that's true, I have no reason to talk to you, do I?” He laughed in response, and your head snapped up at the sound. His laugh sounded like a melody, like a sudden outburst of creative talent. It didn't quite match his voice, in a way that could have been unsettling. But the look of amusement on his face was too warm, too reassuring, too kind.

You scolded yourself for these thoughts- they were inappropriate for someone like you, especially seeing as you had just met this guy in the dead of night in an otherwise empty temple. At the same time, it was the place you felt safest- no one would dare dishonor it through violence, would they? The god would strike them down.

The stranger had reached your side with his languid, slow steps and turned to follow your gaze, eyes wandering over the statue, the altar. There was something like amusement in his eyes, and you quickly averted yours when you realized you were staring. How embarrassing. The strangers lips twitched. “What if Apollo isn't worth your prayers?” He asked into the silence that had settled upon you.

With a startled gasp, you whipped your head around at him, eyes darting around nervously. As if one could hide such impunity in the god's own temple. This man had to be doomed. “How dare you say that in his temple?” you snapped, scrutinizing him with your glare.

Unimpressed by your outburst, he chuckled. “Just a thought. What if he's vain and selfish?”

With a frown, you turned back to the altar. “Even if he is,” you said in a sharp voice, emphasizing the ‘if’, “he still brings light to the world.” You gave him a challenging look that he returned with a look of veiled awe- or maybe you were just imagining things. “Do you?”

The stranger let another soft laugh fall from his lips, but this time, he lowered his head and you thought you saw the lightest of pink tints adorning his cheeks. “Maybe not,” he admitted, locking eyes with with you and giving you a look heavy with something indescipherable. “But you certainly do.”

Something slamming into the side of your face ripped your out of your reminiscent memories. Something was dripping off your jaw, and you realized someone had thrown a tomato at you. Spitting out the juices that tasted like lead on your tongue, you tried to avoid other projectiles thrown at you, but you couldn't miss them all. Some unknown substance soaked the skirt of your dress and mocking whistles emerged when they turned it see-through in places. You felt sick, your head was spinning, your ears thrumming and your vision blurring.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see people lining the house fronts. Not all were shouting and chanting. Many of their faces were averted. They were the ones you would chat with on sunny days, you would share your breath with, who would invite you over for a drink to make friendly conversation. Yet now, they didn't even look at you, turned away, as you were violently shoved towards the temple. None of them lifted a finger to help, none spoke up on your behalf. They all just stood there.

Only the elders and soldiers followed the ones dragging you into the temple. The noisy crowd stayed outside, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. Gates wide open, you were thrown against the altar, making you cry out in pain. Rough hands grabbed you and hoisted you onto the marble, then grabbed your collar from behind and ripped your dress open. With a strangled, teaerful gasp you attempted to cover yourself, feeling sick at the way some of the elders ran their tongues over their lips. A few of the soldiers sniggered, but not the one who now held you down.

The priest stepped forward from amongst the elders. For one mad moment, you hoped he would spare you- he had always been grateful for your efforts in the temple, even though you were no priestess. But he didn't spare your dirty, trembling body a glance, opting to turn to the council and raising his hands in prayer. “O great Apollo, lord of light and prophecy, we offer you this life in repentance. Let her blood cleanse our land, and may your mercy restore our fields.”

He gave the guard holding you in place a curt nod and suddenly, you felt something cold press against your throat. Gasping, you realized it was the cold edge of a blade digging into the skin of your neck. A sharp pain cursed through you when you squirmed, fear clouding your senses, and a trickle of blood ran down your skin. You shivered, new tears spilling from your eyes. If only you had seen him one more time, if only you had known it had been the last moment- you would have savored his touch so much more, captured the sound of his voice in your heart, the molten gold of his eyes. Why had you never told him you loved him back?

The priest returned from his sermon, and you could feel death drawing closer. Coldness spread, from the blade against your throat down to your fingertips, freezing your heart as if rushed through the fatal beats that would be its last. You couldn't help the sobs bubbling out of your throat. This was no graceful way to die. Shaking, crying, dirty and desperately holding your dress up. At least Apollo didn't have to see you like this. It would break his heart.

“In the name of the immortal gods, we cast out this child of ruin,” called the priest and the soldier tightened his grip on you. “May her death appease your anger, and may your favor shine upon us once more, lifting us upon-”

Suddenly, he broke off, but you weren't sure why. Your head was clouded with your raging panic, the prospect of certain death. But then, you could make out a figure making their way through the huddle of elders, and their indignant gasps when he stepped before the altar, facing them. You recognized the shabby clothes. It was the seer who had advocated for you.

“We forbid this insolence-” hissed one of the elders, but he seemed to choke on his own words, suddenly falling to his knees and clutching his throat. The air seemed to shift. It shuddered and trembled around you, like it was radiating in waves off of something- someone. The hood slipped off the seers head, and in that very instant, a wave of heat rippled through the air, warping all light. There was no mortal man standing before you anymore. The hooded man was gone, burned away in an instant, and in his place stood something too radiant, too vast, too terrible to be contained in human form.

Golden light spilled from his skin like molten fire, his very presence warping the world around him, like he didn't belong in it. Otherworldly. Heavenly. Godly. His eyes were no longer shadowed by the hood, no longer softened by moral pretense. They blazed with the fury of a dying sun, searing into the huddled elders with a heat that made them recoil. With a round of gasps and cries of shock, they fell to their knees, cowering before the man you had thought most about on this cursed day. Apollo.

The laurel wreath resting on his golden locks shimmered, a crown of gold and flame, and when he spoke, his voice was no longer bound by human restraint. It rolled through the temple like thunder, shaking the stone, splitting the air, making the ground itself tremble beneath them. “You dare,” he said, his voice thrumming in your ears as you stared at him. The elders quivered and cried as they pressed their faces onto the cold marble, but Apollo only sent them a disgusted look before turning to you.

His eyes, ablaze with ancient fury, softened slightly when he took in your shaken figure, your wide, teary eyes. The soldier that was holding you immediately retracted, and you, still dizzy and frozen with shock, threatened to crash into the hard marble of the altar.

But he was there in an instant, hands almost burning on your skin as he held you, as carefully as if you were made of glass. His eyes flickered over you frantically, darkening when they skimmed over the bruises and your hands clawing at your dress to hold it up, focusing on the trickle of blood down your neck. An eerie quiet lay on the room, multiplied by the sheer might of his presence.

“A- Apollo?” you asked, voice shaking, laced with disbelief. Could it really be him? Could you really be safe? When he normally visited you, he looked much simpler, if that was possible for something as eye-catching as him.

His voice was soft as his palm ran over your hair, as if he was trying to prove to himself that you were here, breathing, warm, alive. “It’s me, darling,” he assured you, but behind his calm facade, his voice was taut with restrained rage. “It's me.”

Stupidly, your eyes burned with tears once more, only this time it was tears of relief. You drew in a shaky breath and nodded frantically, fingers trembling as they touched his, needing to feel him against your skin. He was too ethereal to be true. “They-,” you whimpered, choking on your tears. “They were going to- I thought-” Your voice broke off and he drew calming circles on the skin of your arm.

You hadn't thought it possible, but the god’s voice broke when he whispered to you. “I know. I know what they did. What they almost took from me.” Towards the end of the sentence, his voice transformed into a low growl that made some of the elders wince.

His expression twisted into one of pure hatred as he softly layed you down on his altar and turned his attention to them. His fingers trailed lazily across the altar’s edge as he paced, the stone blackening and smoking beneath his touch. He didn't look at the elders as they whimpered and begged- not at first.

He smiled at their fear, a terrible, gleaming thing, as if he was savoring it. “You dare raise a knife to her throat?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Here? On my altar? I have watched men wage wars in my name, have seen empires rise and crumble beneath my gaze. And yet, it is here- here, in this wretched little village- that I find the greatest insult of all.”

Slowly, he stepped down the stairs to the altar, towards their kneeling figures. Apollo moved like a predator- slow, deliberate, each step echoing like a war drum. His golden eyes blazed with fury, burning too bright to look at for long, and the air shimmered around him, as if the very world recoiled from his wrath. “Tell me,” he drawled, “did your fields rot because of her? Or because you are lazy, foolish and undeserving of the gods' gifts?” He halted his steps when he reached elder Zephyros. The old man trembled under the weight of his divine gaze. “Answer,” the god commanded and the elder flinched as if he had hit him.

“B- because of our sin, my lord,” he managed to stutter out, and Apollo scoffed. As he walked past him, Zephyros breathed a sigh of relief. But Apollo soon stopped behind another elder, lowering himself until his lips were just beside the man’s ear. “Kneel lower,” he breathed, and the man collapsed, forehead pressed into the dirt sobbing. Looking at him as if he was something bad smelling he stepped in, Apollo raised himself and let his gaze sweep over their figures, crouching impossibly lower in fear. “I have lit your fields with gold and warmed your skin with light, and this is your gratitude? To carve a blade into the one I love?"

In spite of their terrified state, there was a collective whisper among the elders. As the realization dawned on them, some directed their widened eyes at you, as if begging you for mercy, but Apollo stepped in front of them, shielding you from their fearful gaze. “We- we misunderstood your signs, Lord Apollo!” called the priest, who seemed to be the most courageous of all. Or maybe, he thought being a priest of his would earn him a forgiving touch. “Please forgive us!”

Apollo laughed a cruel laugh that made a shiver run down your spine. It was a horrible sound, his melodic voice twisted into something so utterly terrifying yet still pleasing to the ear in the most self-destructive of ways. "I sent you signs. I gave you commands. I testified before you. But your greed and your ignorance were too strong."

His gaze cut through their frantic apologies like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. "My Lord Apollo,” one elder managed to utter, “we didn't know she was dear to you! We never would have-" Apollo tilted his head, slow and almost curious, before stepping closer- so close the man choked on his words and collapsed to the ground. You flinched when the dull thud echoed around the room, as did his fellow elders, but none made a move to help him.

Apollo stretched out a hand, and a golden flame flickered to life in his palm- beautiful, deadly. He let it hover there as he walked, a silent threat, the fire casting jagged shadows across their terrified faces. "Ah, now you kneel. Now you grovel. I wonder, did she do the same? When you dragged her to this altar, did she beg?" The lot of them averted their faces, shieding themselves from his barely contained fury, as if that would protect them. "You look at me with fear in your eyes,” he said in an almost mocking tone, though it was humorless and cold. “Why? Is this not what you wanted? A sign from your god?"

Apollo stopped his paces to look around, his eyes scanning their cowering figures. He began circling the elders like a lion playing with dying prey, the faint trace of a smile curling his mouth, but there was no warmth in it- only cruelty, only fury barely held in check. "Look at you. Pathetic. Crawling to your knees like insects the moment your prey turns into a lion. I should let the sun forget this place. Let your crops wither. Let your rivers dry. Let the world never remember your name. Do you know how many temples l've watched crumble? How many cities l've watched rot? One would mean nothing to me. And yet, even now, even as you tremble... you don't understand the danger you are in."

One of the elders caught your eye, his gaze mad with fear. Probably mirroring your own just moments prior when he had called for your execution. “ἱκέτις!” (Spoken hiketis, translated to the one we beg) he called pleadingly, “we beg you- soften his heart, spare us!”

Apollo’s gaze snapped to the elder and he stepped forward. The man flinched and let out a short whimper. “You dare speak to her?” Apollos voice was a low snarl. “You? Who pressed a blade to her throat and called it devotion?” He leaned down, his voice softening to something far more dangerous. “Direct another word at her, make her shed another tear for you, I will turn your fields into ash myself. You are not fit to speak her name, let alone defile my alter with her blood. She is worth more than all of you combined. The sound of her breath matters more than your entire village. When she cried, I heard her. When she bled, I felt it. When she whispered my name, I came."

The priest sobbed into his own, knotted hands, not daring to direct his gaze at his god. “We only wanted to restore balance! We thought a sacrifice-”

But Apollo cut him off with a snarl. “A sacrifice? Tell me, when your harvest failed, did you cut your own throat? Did you offer your life? No? How strange." Hate was laced into every tone of his voice as he rose and slowly walked back up the steps, his gaze still firmly locked on them. "I could make your bones glow with fire. Turn you into torches to light my way. Shall I teach you what true suffering is? Shall I let you taste what you so eagerly prepared for her? Perhaps I should deliver you to my sister, let the beasts have you. Let the wolves rip the flesh from your bones while the crows pluck at your eyes."

“Please!” elder Xanthos cried in utter desperation, tears streaming down his webbed cheeks. “Mercy!”

But the plea only elicited a cold laugh from your god. "You beg me for mercy with the same mouth that condemned her? I will not be merciful. Not for this."

Apollo lifted his hand, and fire bloomed in his palm- not wild and chaotic, but controlled, precise, as if each flicker of flame carried the weight of his will. The golden light swelled, casting jagged shadows as the elders screamed, their bodies consumed in an instant. He didn’t turn to watch them burn. Instead, he stepped in front of you, his broad frame blocking the sight of their writhing silhouettes. The glow of the flames haloed around him, but not a trace of heat reached your skin. His hand hovered just above your cheek, trembling with the remnants of his fury, yet when he finally touched you, his fingers were impossibly gentle.

You were shaking all over, thoughts racing, eyes squeezed shut, as you wished you could drown out the sounds of their fiery deaths. Alas, the glow subsided, and when you threw a cautious look over Apollo’s shoulder, you saw they had been reduced to ash. “Shh,” he said, but despite the calming sound, when you looked up at him, his eyes were still ablaze with fury. His soft lips pressed a kiss onto your temple before he moved towards the door- fast, determined. But you couldn't let him.

Despite the weakness in your knees, you managed to catch up to him before he reached the entrance gates. Before them, the village people had lowered themselves onto their knees, witnesses to their elders destruction and fearfully awaiting their fate. But you couldn't have that- in spite of the pain they had caused you, they were still your people. You knew you should have felt anger, but it had subsided and given way to pity. So you stepped before Apollo, clutching the remaining fabric of your dress over your chest in an attempt to retain some dignity.

Your heart skipped a beat when you looked into his eyes- brimming with fury, with godly wrath. You had never seen him like this- only ever experienced him as a gentle lover, his soft touches and teasing smiles, his kind reassurances and his hand holding yours as he made you feel better than any mortal man ever could have. Never like this. You almost didn't recognize him. Apollo looked deadly. Scary, even to you. Your breath constricted in your throat, but you forced the words out. “Please, Apollo,” you pleaded, voice breaking. “don't hurt them. I beg you. Haven't they suffered enough?"

He simply stared at you, as if he couldn't believe the words had left your mouth. Part of you didn't either. His voice was sharp when he spoke, and you suppressed a shudder. “They cheered as they dragged you to the altar. They watched you bleed. And you ask for their lives?" His voice had risen to a harsh snarl and when he reached out for you, you flinched. You couldn't help it, it was a natural mortal instinct, this close to unshielded divinity.

But his brows furrowed at your action, and when he spoke, his voice was hollow, his gaze devastated. “Are you afraid of me?” His eyes flickered over your expression, saw right through you, and you found yourself unable to hide your true feelings from him. Drawing a shaky breath, you hesitantly glanced up at him. "I saw what you did to them... I've never seen you like that." Your voice was so small it was barely audible, but he, of course, could make out the words, and they seemed to hit him like a brick wall.

Taking a step back, his eyes darkened with grief. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, the remnants of his wrath still simmering beneath his golden skin like embers refusing to die. "I would set the world on fire for you. Do you not understand that?"

“I know,” you said, voice shaking, and in your desperation, you fell to your knees before him, clutching the torn fabric of your dress to your chest, words tumbling from your mouth in frantic, broken pleas. “Please, Apollo, let them go. I can't bear this.”

This village, these people, were all you had ever known, all you had loved. Even though they hadn't lifted a finger to help you, had cheered your public humiliation, you could not be responsible for their deaths- it would forever haunt you. The elders dying you were okay with, they were a corrupt lot of old men who'd salvitated at the sight of your ripped dress and ordered your death despite their own greed. But in your eyes, the villagers were innocent- not in his, though.

Apollo watched you, stricken, his expression caught somewhere between rage and devastation. His hands- hands that had held you like you were something holy- curled into trembling fists at his sides. He knelt before you slowly, carefully, like he was approaching something fragile and wild. The god who had just brought such lethal destruction now looked terrified to so much as breathe wrong in your presence. But there was a terrible, aching violence in the way he shook, his divinity still thrumming through the air like a storm that hadn’t passed. “Don’t,” he rasped, voice raw, stepping toward you. When you flinched, a sound escaped him - something wounded, something desperate. “Don’t look at me like that.”

When you looked up, you were shocked to find tears brimming in his eyes, drops of gold. You hadn't known gods could cry. But in spite of his grief, his rage was still palpable and his voice dripped with venom when his gaze flickered over the kneeling townspeople. “They applauded your suffering. They deserve to choke on their guilt.”

“You're better than this!” you sobbed, reaching out to take his hands.

At first, they were stiff in yours, before his fingers interlaced with yours and he tilted his head at you, his rage somewhat taken over by an intense sadness. “No,” he said, voice faltering, “You are better. I am a god. I am not kind.” His rage hadn’t faded- not fully. It lingered just beneath his skin, a seething thing barely leashed. But it was the sight of you bowing to him, begging like a supplicant, that finally broke him. “Stand up,” he whispered, voice fractured. “You don’t kneel for me. Not you.”

“You are kind,” you disagreed with him, giving into his pull and letting him lift you to your feet, your legs barely carrying your weight. “You are to me.”

Slowly, as if every touch could set you off, Apollo lowered his head and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to your head. Beneath your fingertips, you could feel his rage subsiding slowly. He let out a shaky breath against your hair and you leaned your head against him, exhaustion settling on every single one of your bones. “Please,” you whispered, knowing you almost had him. “Can we just go?” You swallowed heavily. “Just… anywhere?”

“Ἀγαπητή," (Agapētē = Beloved) he sighed, and some of the tension seemed to seep out of him, the flickering blaze in his eyes calming. “Forgive me,” he pleaded, and you stiffened as his tone turned into that of a desperate beggar. “Don't fear me, my love, don't flinch away from my touch.”

“I don't,” you breathed against him. He was stabilizing your whole body weight by now, but he didn't seem to mind. His arms only tightened around your waist. “I could never.”

It was all too much- the sensations of the day, the lingering heat, the gruesome sight of the elders burning, and now hundreds of eyes boring into you as Apollo held you gently, so unlike the way he'd threatened their lives. You were the only thing that could calm a storm like this, like him. “I love you,” was the last thing you managed to whisper before exhaustion overtook you and sleep pressed down your eyelids. He must have caught you when you slumped against him, because you felt like you were flying and heard his voice in your ear:

“I'm taking you home, sunshine.”

#greek mythology #greek gods #greek gods x reader #greek mythology x reader #apollo x reader #apollo #apollo x you #apollo x mortal reader #apollo fluff #apollo x fem! reader

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cy-cyborg · 2 years ago

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Writing and drawing amputee characters: Not every amputee wears prosthetics (and that's ok)

Not every amputee wears prosthetics, and not doing so is not a sign that they've "given up".

It's a bit of a trope that I've noticed that when an amputee, leg amputees in particular, don't wear prosthetics in media its often used as a sign that they've given up hope/stopped trying/ are depressed etc. If/when they start feeling better, they'll start wearing their prosthetics again, usually accompanied by triumphant or inspiring music (if it's a movie). The most famous example of this is in Forest Gump, Where Dan spends most of the movie after loosing his legs wishing he'd died instead. He does eventually come around, and him finally moving from his wheelchair to prosthetics is meant to highlight this.

The thing is, it's not that it's unrealistic - in fact my last major mental health spiral was started because one of my prosthetics was being a shit and wouldn't go on properly, despite fitting perfectly at the prosthetist's the day before. I'm not going to use my legs when I'm not in a good headspace, but the problem is, this is the only time non-prosthetic using amputees ever get representation: to show how sad they are. Even if that's not what the creator/writer necessarily intended, audiences will often make that assumption on their own unless you're very careful and intentional about how you frame it, because it's what existing media has taught them to expect.

But there are lots of reasons why someone might not use prosthetics:

they might not need them: this is more common in arm amputees because of how difficult it can be to use arm prosthetic, especially above-elbow prosthetics. Most folks learn how to get on without them pretty well. In fact, most of the arm amputees I know don't have prosthetics, or only have them for specific tasks (e.g. I knew a girl who had a prosthetic hand made specifically for rowing, but that's all she used it for).

Other mobility aids just work better for them: for me, I'm faster, more manoeuvrable and can be out for longer when I'm in my wheelchair than I ever could on my prosthetics. Youtube/tik tok creator Josh Sundquist has said the same thing about his crutches, he just feels better using them than his prosthetic. This isn't the case for everyone of course, but it is for some of us. Especially people with above-knee prosthetics, in my experience.

Other disabilities make them harder to use: Some people are unable to use prosthetics due to other disabilities, or even other amputations. Yeah, as it turns out, a lot of prosthetics are only really designed for single-limb amputees. While they're usable for multi-limb amps, they're much harder to use or they might not be able to access every feature. For example, the prosthetic knee I have has the ability to monitor the walk cycle of the other leg and match it as close as possible - but that only works if you have a full leg on the other side. Likewise, my nan didn't like using her prosthetic, as she had limited movement in her shoulders that meant she physically couldn't move her arms in the right way to get her leg on without help.

Prosthetics are expensive in some parts of the world: not everyone can afford a prosthetic. My left prosthetic costs around $5,000 Australian dollars, but my right one (the above knee) cost $125,000AUD. It's the most expensive thing I own that I only got because my country pays for medical equipment for disabled folks. Some places subsidise the cost, but paying 10% of $125,000 is still $12,500. Then in some places, if you don't have insurance, you have to pay for that all by yourself. Even with insurance you still have to pay some of it depending on your cover. Arm prosthetics are even more expensive. Sure, both arms and legs do have cheaper options available, but they're often extremely difficult to use. You get what you pay for.

they aren't suitable for every type of environment: Prosthetics can be finicky and modern ones can be kind of sensitive to the elements. My home town was in a coastal lowland - this means lots of beaches and lots of swamp filled with salty/brackish water. The metals used in prosthetics don't hold up well in those conditions, and so they would rust quicker, I needed to clean them more, I needed to empty sand out of my foot ALL THE TIME (there always seemed to be more. It was like a bag of holding but it was just sand). Some prosthetics can't get wet at all. There were a few amputees who moved to the area when I was older who just didn't bother lol. It wasn't worth the extra effort needed for the maintenance.

People have allergies to the prosthetic material: This is less of a problem in the modern day, but some people are allergic to the materials their prosthetics are made from. You can usually find an alternative but depending on the type of allergy, some people are allergic to the replacements too.

Some people just don't like them.

There's nothing wrong with choosing to go without a prosthetic. There's nothing wrong with deciding they aren't for you. It doesn't make you a failure or sad or anything else. Using or not using prosthetics is a completely morally neutral thing.

Please, if you're writing amputees, consider if a prosthetic really is the best mobility aid for your character and consider having your characters go without, or at least mix it up a bit.

For example, Xari, one of the main characters in my comic, uses prosthetics unsupported and with crutches, and uses a wheelchair. They alternate between them throughout the story.

#disability #disabled #id in alt text #writing #writing disability #disability representation #authors of tumblr #write #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writer #creative writing #writing tips #writing resources #writing help #writing advice #writing disability with cy cyborg

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bruhstation · 3 months ago

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hello tumbled er

greetings and salutation. it is I, senja heterocaine, speaking to you through your favorite home screens. now you might be wondering: where on earth has senja heterocaine disappeared to these past 5 months? well the answer is as simple as it gets

I focused on my studies.

well yes that is the main reason. but that's like the nerd "obvious" answer. there’s other reasons too. some of which includes me getting into new interests, revisiting my old, hibernating interests, getting involved in university organizations and events, getting more involved in big family stuff since I'm the oldest and the only of-age grandchild of grandma from mom's side.... lots of stuff

so I just finished the third semester of premed school right. honestly speaking, with how I was losing motivation on drawing, the art block post-art fight, and lack of time, I decided to well, take a break. and it’s pretty convenient too since it was early on in the third semester. during the entirety of it I was feeling pretty proud of myself like "oh I've been studying a lot. I've taken a break from drawing and blog stuff. surely things will get better" and it did! not immensely but it's significant enough that for once I don't feel an indescribable sense of terror after the semester ends. the focus of this semester was about reproduction systems and growth and development which is pretty fun? we get to use models and medical phantoms hands-on and poke them with needles and other rube goldberg contraptions. I did miss breeding bacterias in petri dishes and seeing my friends burn the microbiology lab’s ceiling like last semester though. my grades are also improving… slowly but surely

(aftermath not pictured: me lounging on the couch scrolling through quora to see if there are people currently in college wanting to drop out)

maybe I was aiming too high. at least my grades are better than the previous two semesters and my social life is much better than it was back in high school. speaking of exams -- I went through my first osce exam around a week ago (practical exam to see if you can actually perform the skills labs lessons from the entire semester like you're a real physician). it was the most terrifying day of the month. my dentist said I have a big tongue and that’s why I can’t speak properly if I’m being too fast. ntm I WAS NERVOUS!!! MY FIRST OSCE!!! with how I memorized everything I needed, I was pretty confident that I'd pass, though. I didn't and retook the exam the next day. the prelude was the worst crash out ever

ah ptooey. I'll just take it like a champ. my tutor who's 3 years older than me and currently in the anesthetic rotation of co-ass told me that things will get easier but that's very subjective. he's a medical olympiad student after all. my parents are pretty happy though with how my academic life is becoming better so that's that

LETS MOVE ON TO SOMETHING LIGHTER. section B: what I've been getting into ever since bruhstation was put on cryostasis

you know Transformers One (2024)? the transformers movie directed by josh cooley? based on the Transformers(tm) franchise by Takara Tomy and Hasbro? most tragic break up movie of the decade? I watched it twice, squealed once, and left me broken and inconsolable for weeks on end. it made me revisit my dormant transformers interest after 5 years. I've reread the idw comics (mtmte, LL, taao, main transformers comic), and is currently checking out more (reading the wreckers saga right now). god it made me miss rodimus and friends' zany space opera adventures. I've always envisioned casa tidmouth to have the same tone as mtmte... the oftentimes dark humor, fridge horror stuff, weird magic/science, the roller coaster of emotions, confronting the past... its crazy good.

stories where misfits and knuckleheads band together in a confined space while having crazy doctor who-like adventures am I right. like I want casa tidmouth to be like that. remind me to thank 14 year old me for this trip down memory lane. and as usual, I tend to make self-indulgent crossovers of any interest I'm thinking about at the moment with casa tidmouth

a terrifying sneak peak on what's to come.

I've been working on my oc projects too. you may have seen some of them on artfight (graciela, saudade, altair, etc) but I've been focusing the most on graciela and saudade's universe, children's heterotopia. it has the largest amount of characters in any story I've created (not counting casa tidmouth), the most effort put into planning the stories and weaving in its themes about capitalism, patriarchy, period-typical bigotry, etc. there's human experimentation and they're given powers that range from punching super hard to time and space displacement. I also inserted whatever I wanted into the story. sure, yes, there's a lesbians-only organization of which its members are named off the knights of the round table, theres a mafia that focuses more on the family drama and attempted parricide from all angles, and tragic assassin maids of which their names are wuthering heights references. also if you've been following my main tumblr hajimedics for a while, you might've seen my three fairly oddparents ocs. well I've given them the tezuka star system treatment and inserted them into children's heterotopia as well.

I've also gotten into UTAU production! I've made a number of UTAU covers but haven't uploaded them to youtube. only shared them around with my friends on priv twitter. a good friend of mine assisted in the creation of my own UTAU voicebank! their name is TORKA (like "torque"), their voice bank has a slight accent when singing in japanese (because I'm their voice lol) and CV-only, their in-universe lore is that they're an intergalactic train conductor picking up wayfarers and outcasts trying to find a place in the vast universe, and I love them dearly

moving on! this is a thomas the engine and company blog THIS IS A LIFE UPDATE POST

I'd rather not discuss about how I'm doing mentally in deep detail BUT what I'll say is that I can't confidently say "I'm doing better" or "I'm doing worse" because it always depends on the days. things are okay-ish nowadays. some days are scary. some days are boring. I still experience delusions, (ironically) worried about my anhedonia, and believe that certain bouts of confidence will trigger a jinx, but I think I've been controlling myself well? at least? I keep internalizing the belief that I'm an adult. 20 years old. I have to act accordingly and my life in real life is ten times more important than the internet. things are going to change more and more once I graduate premed and began the co-ass program. I have to think 10 steps into the future. building successful connections before you turn 30. sigma grindset and all that. sorry that was my father using my body as a spirit medium

AND ALSO. ALSO. BACK TO THE BLOG DO YOU GUYS REMEMBER THAT ONE TIME I PROMISED TO MAKE A COMIC BASED ON THE RESULTS OF THE 1000 FOLLOWERS POLL AND NEVER DID UNTIL NOW. I'm terribly sorry. I promise I will get into it I SWEAR procrastination is kicking my ass. I have to plan the dialogue and script and stuff AND DRAW BUT

BUT HERE’S THE FUNNY THING

THE BLOG REACHED 2000+ FOLLOWERS A FEW MONTHS AGO

NOW WHAT DO I DO TO CELEBRATE?

I don’t know honestly. I haven’t done the 1000+ followers celebratory comic, and NOW I HAVE 2000+ FOLLOWERS. THERES 2000+ OF YOU NOW!!!!! THAT’S CRAZY (IN A GOOD WAY)!!!! I thank you all for sticking with bruhstation through thick and thin for around 2 and a half years. I’m glad for all your support, fanarts, asks, and such truly. like wow. 2k. in such a short time too! thanks guys. admittedly, I feel kind of guilty to leave everyone hanging for months with nothing to give, especially with such a high follower number. and realistically? I don’t think I’ll be able to draw as much as I used to. like I’ve said earlier, I’ve been busy with my personal life and oc projects. it’s not like I’m abandoning this blog any time soon? I’m just speaking from a logical perspective, given my status as a student and (possibly, hopefully) future doctor too. I don't want to burn myself out posting like thrice a week, answering asks daily, I want to take things slow. at my own pace. maybe I'll focus on designing side characters as well and thinking about their roles in the story! but that's for another day. I’m just glad everyone’s still sticking around and enjoying my silly stuff

I do want to draw more for this blog! I want to put thomas and co. in more situations. make them dance for all our entertainments. but when you’re an adult, you realize that you have your own priorities. you can’t always do the things you wanna do. you can’t just drop something you don’t like out of the blue. sometimes you have to sigh, scratch the back of your neck, and brave it while saying “I sure am getting old”

oh and also I'm a butch lesbian now. still he/they (heavy preference on he/him), still preferring masculine terms like "mr", "sir", "guy", still as crazy as ever. still aroace too and not interested in dating, something that's been a constant in my identity ever since I'm in early high school. little have changed I can assure you this. I am still senja. senja heterocaine from the net.

and thus concludes senja’s life update post! what will the next post after this be about? something gordon-centric again? serious colored art? old men yaoi? silent hill UK localization? place your bets. everyone loves a good laugh

#life update post: now with illustrations #zin.txt #thomas the tank engine #ttte gordon #ttte james #judea (oc)#casa tidmouth #tugs zip #tugs ten cents #fortezza bigg city #very long post #senjart

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rosemaze-reveries · 10 months ago

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I would like to ask for a idv male hunters(of your choosing) reacting to a female reader where she suddenly goes "omg your tits are bigger than mine.."

maybe it was their first meeting, maybe she was bored when she got chaired, whatever the case I just thought it'd be funny.

SJKASKJA thank you for the laugh, i opened this ask like WHAT!!!! but i will indulge u anon... <3

⚠️ suggestive content (strip tease, clothed fondling & flirty banter).

⚠️ reader uses she/her.

🐦‍⬛📸🦎⚡🌪️🦌

🐦‍⬛ Nightmare doesn't immediately respond. He sends a sideways glance to you, who's bound and bored at a slow-ticking rocket chair. "I guess you'd be hard-pressed to find any bigger than those. Must be nice to brag about," you rattle on. If you're trying to seduce your way to freedom, you're failing miserably. Nightmare stalks over to your chair, his broad chest casting a shadow over you.

"Would you have that same attitude once you've been smothered beneath them? Keep mouthing off, and I might just test it."

...What? Was that supposed to be a threat? Anyway, it didn't achieve the desired effect. You blink up at him, not totally opposed to the idea.

📸 Joseph's gaze flicks to your chest. He blinks away a milisecond later, but not quickly enough to escape your notice. A cheeky grin appears on your face as if to say made you look. "I disagree," he tuts. "Remind me, which one of us is so inept with her brassieres that she needs me to unclasp them for her every night, and – despite loathing them so – dutifully puts them on again the next day, as if her poor, aching back demands it of her?" Knowing you can't say anything, he sends back a winning smile of his own.

🦎 Luchino readily cocks his attention to you. "Oh? Like what you see?" You just never noticed how visibly his chest protrudes, especially from a side view. But your comment attracts him closer to your chair, and he decides to give you a little show. Slowly, too slowly, he slips off his jacket, letting it crumple to the floor.

"Oh," escapes your lips once you realize what's going on. Next goes the first button of his shirt.

⚡ Alva sets down his pen when you drag your nails down his chest. What began as an innocuous shoulder massage quickly turned into marveling at the broadness of his pecs. He's sure you meant well, but that comment draws a sharp sigh out of him. "I'm glad to know I'm entertaining you..." he murmurs. That snaps you back to reality: you wanted to be serving him today. You kiss his shoulder blade as an apology, kneading his tense muscles until he lets out another hitched breath.

🌪️ Ithaqua takes your comment as an invitation to reach forward, cupping an icy hand over one of your breasts. It happens so fast you can barely register it. Then he decides: "They're not too bad." He has never been one for delicacy, but that was so blunt it startles you into a fit of giggles. Sometimes you forget he's inexperienced with this sort of thing.

🦌 Bane looks down at the pout you're sending him. This is the first time he's let you hug him, and you're just realizing how much you have to strain your neck to avoid being suffocated by his chest. "A bigger body just means a stronger shield. Nothing more to it than that," he says dryly. You roll your eyes. He's always so hardheaded.

"You're more like a pillow to me," you try. "I wish I had some of these."

He still doesn't give you the reaction you're fishing for. He silently clutches your waist and tips back onto his bed, so that you're properly laying on top of him -- like a pillow.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #alva lorenz x reader #ithaqua x reader #idv nightmare x reader #joseph desaulniers x reader #bane perez x reader #luchino diruse x reader

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lostbookmark · 6 months ago

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MDNI 18+

WHISPERED SECRETS Masterlist

Summary: After four years, your sister's ex-boyfriend comes back into your life. Can you keep your entanglement a secret? Will the guilt eat you alive?

Pairing: Sisters Ex Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader.

Genre: SMUT, angst, hurt - comfort, romance.

Warning: Explicit sex, fingering, Possessive Yoongi, swearing, reader is insecure, jealousy, punishment, unprotected sex, drinking, dirty talk, praising, degradation, spanking, spanking as punishment, teasing, hair pulling, arguments. Over use of the name baby. Squirting.

A/N: I just wanted to say thank you to everyone. I was so SCARED to post on here, not really knowing what I was doing. When I hit the post button, I wanted to delete it right away. I didn't expect anyone to read it, and when the first person liked it, I was so ecstatic. I want to thank all the readers, rebloggers, and the ones who messaged me.

SMUT! SMUT! SMUT! SMUT!

“Yoongs, can you zip my dress,” you yell from the bathroom. You wait, wait, and wait. You can't hear him anywhere in the apartment. “Yoongs?”

“I'm here, sorry,” he says, turning the corner and entering the bathroom and finally helping you do up the zipper. “Look at you. That dress is quite….clingy.”

“You don't like it,” you smirk and look over your shoulder at him.

“Oh, I do,” he said, kissing your shoulder. “Why don't we just stay home tonight. I'll show you just how much I like it.”

“Mr. Min,” you gasp. “You can't miss this event. What will Joon think if his partner isn't there?”

Yoongi did it. He finally gave into Namjoon and has officially become a partner in Persona. His role at the company didn't really change that much. He still wrote, produced, and had his quiet little sanctuary. He just had to wear a suit every now and then for meetings. You couldn't believe it when he said that he was going to buy in and be a co-owner. You asked why he had changed his mind. His answers were always vague. You wondered if he had something up his sleeve.

You, you loved your summer art program and learned so much. It was a lot of work, but it helped you grow as an artist. You were nervous about the art exhibition at the end of your program. Yoongi showed up happily supporting you. Your friends showed up, and your dad showed up with his new girlfriend. She was nice, and you enjoyed getting to know her, and much to your surprise, your mom showed up. You found out your dad had given her an invite. Yoongi didn’t want to leave your side when she showed up and made sure to cling right to you. You told him softly that you needed to be able to talk to her alone. He left reluctantly with Lisa and Jimin, giving you the space that you needed.

You noticed your mom looked brighter and was actually civil to everyone. She had complimented your pieces and asked how your program went. She then apologized to you and said that she was proud of you. She went on to say how she started therapy and needs to learn how to love herself again so she can love you properly like she always should have. She told you how she always had a dream to travel and take pictures when she was young but never had a chance since she married young and then soon after had you and your sister. She's now taking your lead and is going to go for it. You hear your sister is upset about this, now your mom won't be at her beck and call anymore. You unblocked her that night.

Yoongi had asked you if you would now finally apply to go to school full time. You surprised him by saying no. He wanted to argue, but you wouldn't let him. You loved your experience, but you loved him more. WIth his new role and your whole workload, you didn't have much time with him. You loved your job, and you loved your office with the parking lot view that you now shared with Seungkwan. You were happy to just do your drawings for you. You think you might open an Etsy shop or some form of online store and try to sell them one day��but not now. You were happy, and he finally conceded.

“Fine,”Yoongi sighs and kisses you. “Go get a necklace, and I’ll help you put it on.”

You roll your eyes at him and enter your bedroom. You stop dead in your tracks and look at the bed. There was a plate with rolls on it sitting on the end of the bed. You stare at it in confusion.

“What's this?” You ask him.

“Early birthday present,” he calls out from the bathroom.

You take the top roll off the pile and plan on shoving as much of it in your mouth that you can. However, you don't….you can't. Upon taking it, you revealed a black velvet box. One much like your ring currently on your finger came in. You can't move. You feel frozen looking at it. Arms come and wrap around your middle. Yoongi plucks the box from the plate and turns you in his arms, lovingly staring at you. He smirks and strokes the smooth skin of your cheek. Slowly, he drops down onto one knee. It's real, you realize. This is really happening. He pops open the box, and you almost faint as you see what's inside. A huge square cut diamond ring placed beautifully on its cushion. It's huge…huge, you think it's bigger than the one your sister had worn all those months ago. Is this why he finally decided to partner with Namjoon?

“It's been almost a year since I found you again. I never believed in fate but that night when I saw you again. That night changed everything, ” he said softly. You could tell he was nervous by the way his hand shook just a bit. “I don't ever want to lose you again. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you say quietly. He slips the ring on your finger, and it's a perfect fit. Throwing your arms around him, the two of you fall to the floor. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmurs against your lips. Pulling back, he gives you a questioning stare. “You really didn't know about this?” You shake your head no. “Hmm, Lisa and Jisoo came with me to pick it out. I guess I owe her one for keeping a secret.” You laugh and kiss him again.

Jisoo, Lisa, and Seungkwan all coo over how gorgeous your ring looks on your finger. The diamond sparkles and shines under the lights of the hotel lobby where the four of you gather.

“I can't believe you guys kept this a secret!” You exclaim, looking at them.

“I didn't know,” Seungkwan tells you.

“That's because you have a bigger mouth than me,” Lisa snarks. “I'm going to find Jimin.” Blowing you a kiss, she struts off and leaves Seungkwan pouting.

“I’m going to go find Yoongi. I'm sure he's loving all the conversations forced on him right now,” you tell your other two friends, hugging them goodbye.

Yoongi hates these events. Industry insiders all kiss each other's ass to get something they want. It might be a charity event, but social climbing will come first. It's the worst. Fake smiles, fake laughs. You've had to fake awe and excitement over some big names before, and Yoongi loves you for it. Supposedly…..you're charming. You spot him engaged in a conversation with two unknown men. They were good-looking, of course, and you silently cursed your boyfriend…fiancée for being in this damn industry. When you reach them, you slide your hand up his chest, smiling at his guests.

“Sweetheart,” he says and widens his eyes a bit. You get it….game on. “This is Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Jeonghan. They own Darling Media, and they're looking to partner together for future projects.”

“Oh wow,” you gasp and giggle. “It's so nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all ours,” Jeonghan says, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. You giggle again, and it seems to do the trick.

“Yes,” Seungcheol says, clearing his throat. His eyes definitely did a once over, and Yoongi definitely glared a bit. “We found a new, talented artist who we think would be an asset to Persona.”

“Who,” Yooongi asks the handsome man.

“His name is Kai. I believe that he is friends with Jimin. I’m surprised you haven't scooped him up already.” Seungcheol explains. You try not to laugh, and you feel Yoongi stiffen. Out of everyone trying to make it in music, they found Kai. This is the funniest thing you think you may have ever heard.

“The famous model and commercial actor?” You asked with an excited smile on your face.

“Yes, that's the one,” Jeonghan answers. “ We have some great ideas for him, but we would like him attached to the record company first. Then, we can talk…maybe about long-term contracts?”

“Oh, Yoongi, they have such a good eye for talent. Kai is so handsome and talented,” you gush. You feel Yoongi pinch your butt kind of hard. Ow!

“Yes, my love, they indeed do. Why don't you give me a call on Monday?” He ends the conversation by handing them a business card. As they walk away, you wave coyly at them. “You think that's funny?” Yoongi hisses in your ear.

“It's hilarious,” you laugh, and Yoongi takes your hand. He gently pushes you to move forward, and the two of you walk toward the exit of the room. He pulls you down the hallway and into a shallow alcove just tucked on the other side of a statue. Your back hits the wall, and he leans over you. Trapping you in the small space as he places his hands on either side of your head.

“I'm not writing for him. Your boyfriend will have to find another company,” he snarls at you.

“Yes you will,” you say, sliding your hands around the back of his neck. “You will write him a hit song and make him very famous.”

“I’ll write him the worst song I can think of,” he says, bending down and capturing your lips with his. “I'll tank his career.”

His hands are everywhere, and his mouth attaches to your neck. Your head leans back against the upholstered wall. You can feel your hair go staticky Yoongi though, he has no care in the world that you are in public and some important people could catch the two of you. His hands start to creep under your dress, hitching your leg over his hip when someone clears their throat. Whipping around Yoongi hides you behind him. You pull your dress down and pat your hair, trying to smooth the static. You look over his shoulder, and your eyes widen. It's Mingyu…with your sister.

“Sorry,” Mingyu says, blushing. “Umm, I…we were hoping that you would be here Y/N. Your friend Lisa said she saw you come this way.” At least he has the decency to look embarrassed.

“Yeah,...I…i'm…here,” your voice is small, and you think you sound stupid.

“Min Yoongi,” Yoongi says, holding out his hand professionally. Mingyu smiles politely and shakes it. You see Yoongi clench his jaw a little as his eyes fly between Mingyu and your sister.

“Kim Mingyu, it's nice to meet you again,” he says as he introduces himself. Mingyu looks at your sister, and so do you. She looks around at the room, staring at the different paintings on the walls. Basically, she's just trying to keep her eyes off of you and Yoongi. Your eyes sneak a peek at her finger. She still has her engagement ring on.

“What can we do for you?” Yoongi asks stiffly, pulling you into his side. Unconsciously, you let your left hand rest on his chest, and you realize just how tense he was. You see Mingyu nudge your sister, and she sighs.

“The wedding invite we sent you came back,” she said, barely giving you a glance.

“Oh,” you say softly. “Oh, umm, I don't live at my apartment anymore.”

“That's good,” Mingyu says. “It was an honest mistake. We pushed it back to next fall after we had a little…chat.” He gives her another nudge, and she opens her clutch and blindly hands you a wedding invitation.

“We would love it if you could attend,” her voice was robotic, like she practiced that over and over again.

You look at the pretty invite in your hands and then look at Yoongi. He gives you a slight shrug. You know that he will go along with whatever you want to do. Mingyu smiles gently at you. You think that he has good intentions, and honestly, you don't want to ruin this relationship for her. Looking back at her, she's staring hard. Her stare is burning a hole right through the ring on your finger. Mingyu seems to notice as well.

“Oh, what a lovely surprise. When's the special day?” He asks.

“Umm, it just happened today. We really haven't had time to talk about it yet,” you explain. “Thank you for the invitation. It really does mean a lot but…I don't think it's a good idea if I come.” You look at your sister and say her name softly. she looks at you warily. “I'm sorry I couldn't be the sister you wanted but you're my sister and I still love you. Mingyu seems great, and I'm happy for you. I wish you all the best.”

“Thanks,” she whispers. Her eyes look shiny, but she quickly blinks them away, and you wonder if you imagined it.

“Well, it was nice to meet you again,” Yoongi tells Mingyu, shaking his hand again. “We have rounds to make and then home to celebrate.” Yoongi brings your hand to his mouth and kisses it.

“Goodbye,” you tell them and once again walk away with Yoongi's hand wrapped around your own.

The door to the apartment crashes open as you two stumble in lips attached. You almost fall, tripping over your feet. Yoongi is quick to catch you. He pulls his mouth from your own and drops kisses onto your neck.

“Are you sure you want to do this right now?” He asks, worried you might be upset about seeing your sister.

“Please, Yoongi. I want you…more than anything,” you whisper into the dark room.

Reminiscent of that fateful night almost a year ago, Yoongi picks you up, and you wrap yourself around him. Holding on for dear life, as he quickly gets you to the bedroom…your bedroom…the one you share.

Dropping you on the bed, he dives for your neck again as you lie completely back on the bed. You welcome all his kisses and touches that he gives you happily. Wet, open mouth kisses start at your ear and slowly make their way to your chest. Yoongi nips at the exposed skin of your cleavage. His hands take the fabric covering your breasts and tug it down just below your breasts, exposing you to the cool air of the room. You run your fingers through his dark, soft hair and gently pull, earning a groan from his lips. You look at him, and he smirks up at you with a heated gaze. Yoongi sticks his tongue out, and as you watch, he starts to rapidly flick your nipple. You close your eyes and arch your back a little up to him. You are hoping that he will give you more than that.

“Look at me,” he demands softly.

You open your eyes and watch as he takes your peaked nipple between his teeth, giving it a slight tug. You feel that familiar jolt shoot down your body. You try your best to rub your lower half against him to find some sort of friction for relief, but he won't let you have it. He chuckles and moves away just enough that you can't find what you need.

You huff and push him backward. He has to catch himself from falling off the bed, earning a giggle from you. You guide him down to your previous position and straddle his hips. Your hands fly to the buttons on his shirt, undoing them as quickly as you could. Upon finally getting it off, you brace yourself on his chest and press your mouth to his. His hand goes into your hair, holding you to him. Your tongues dance together, breathing each other in. Souls connecting.

Your hips start to move on your own, barely touching the hardness still caged in his pants. Unfortunately, the dress stops you from opening your legs as far as you need to feel him fully, and you let out a frustrated groan. Yoongi's hands fly to your dress and lift it up over your hips, bunching it at your waist. He grabs your waist and presses you down so you can rub against him the way you need.

“You need me that much, huh?” he asked, letting out a breathless chuckle. You nod your head and press kisses to his neck. “I always need you too, baby.”

You sit up on him, trailing your fingers over his exposed chest. Yoongi hands gently rub your legs as he gazes up at you as you smile down at him. You stretch your arm behind you as far as you can to pull the zipper of your dress down. Yoongi reaches up and pulls the front of your dress down completely. Exposing you further to his gaze. Sitting up immediately, he sucks your nipple into his mouth, and his hand massages your other. Your head tilts back as you hold him to your chest. His hands wander around you and travel up and down your naked back before attempting to pull your dress the rest of the way off down your hips. Due to your position, he is unsuccessful in his mission.

“Lie down for me, baby,” he tells you when he pulls away from you.

You bite your bottom lip and do as he asks. You watch Yoongi undo his belt and fling it across the room. You hear it hit something and fall to the floor. His hands make quick work on the rest of his clothes before they tug your dress the rest of the way off. Kissing your calf, he drags his tongue across your leg and up your inner thigh. Lightly, he bites at the sensitive skin, licking the red marks that he leaves behind. Settling down between your open thighs, his fingers toy with the inner hem of your underwear. His dark eyes flicker up to you.

“Tell me what you need, Y/N. I'll give you anything you want,” He slowly moves your underwear to the side, and your eyes never leave his. “The wedding of your dreams.” A slow lick up your dripping pussy. “A home to call our own,” A kiss to your clit. “I'll give you the world if you let me.” His tongue starts drawing lazy circles around you. Your breathing starts to grow heavy and your eyes threaten to close but you don't let them leave him. “What do you want, baby? What do you need?”

“Just you,” you whimper.

Yoongi smiles at you and pulls your panties off. Diving back in between your thighs, his mouth is relentless on you. Tongue flicking back and forth on your clit as his fingers seek entrance into you. Your back arches as he is successful and pumps two fingers in and out of you. Yoongi sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning around you. Your hands fly into his dark hair and hold him to you. You hold the back of his head desperately, trying your damnedest to get him as close as you could. Pulling off you, his fingers still work their magic working your wetness out of you. His mouth attaches to your nipple for a quick second before giving your other breast the same treatment. Grabbing his face you pull him down to your mouth. Lips meeting in a chaotic clash of tongues. A kiss full of want and desire. A kiss of craving. A kiss of pure unadulterated neediness.

“I need you now, Yoongi,” you say quietly against his lips.

He stares at you for a moment while biting his bottom lip. Fingers massaging your innermost spot. Bending down, he kisses your lips once, twice, three more times. Yoongi pulls his fingers out of you, and he reaches down and takes a hold of himself. Tapping the head of his cock against your clit makes your neediness worse. Your hips start squirming trying to get him into you and it only makes him laugh quietly at you.

“You need this, huh?” He asks, sounding just as breathless as you. You nod your head eagerly.

Running the tip along your entrance, coating himself in your wetness, Yoongi starts to slowly roll his hips. Entering you slowly until he is fully inside of you. “I've always thought about you. I had always wondered what happened to you.” His hips start to move at a calm pace. “If you ever found someone who loved you,” you shook your head at him and pulled him down closer to you. He allows you to, and he brings his weight on his forearms. “You didn't ever love anybody else?”

“No, I've loved you since I was seventeen. I've always loved you, ” you tell him honestly.

Yoongi presses a hard kiss against your lips. His hips pick up in pace, fucking you into the matress. You pull away with a gasp, pressing your head back into the pillows. Your hands grab his sides, fingernails slightly digging into his skin. He moans at the feeling and buries his face into your neck. The sound of his hips slapping against our own echo throughout the room, his panting breath in your ear. It feels so overwhelming, loving someone like this, making love like this. Something you could only feel with him.

Yoongi adjusts both of you. He moves to sit on his knees and brings your own to your chest, holding them there. You hear him gasp as he slides in deeper, hitting all the spots that make you see stars. This may not be your favorite position, but the noises he makes are worth it. You'll start stretching every day for those noises. You bring your own arms around the back of your knees, taking over for him. Pulling them back just a little further and closer together.

“Fucking, shit. Do you feel how deep I am?” he moans, leaning back slightly, his thrusts never stopping. The change in angle makes his cock hit your sweet spot over and over again. “Do you need more?” he asks, he sounds like he's struggling himself.

“Yes,” you cry out. Your cries become louder as his fingers rub your clit quickly. The tightening in your stomach winding so tight your body is wanting to get away from it. You feel that familiar heat that starts to take over, your skin getting flushed, heart pounding in your ears. Your core starts to tighten around him.

“There you go,” he hisses. “Let go, baby, let go for me.”

You do. You let go, You finally let go of all the self-consciousness, all the self-doubt. You let go of every insecurity that you have ever felt. There's a high-pitched ringing in your ears. Your body tenses up. You've never felt this pleasure before so deep. So, deep inside of you that you think you might pass out. You feel like you're floating, and you're not coming back down. You think you can hear him reach his end as he swears, but it sounds so far away and muffled. You feel so…high.

“Breathe,” you can hear a voice. “Y/N, baby, breathe,” it's Yoongi. You snap back to reality, spotty vision clears, and your eyes land on him. His dark hair is sweaty and sticking up in all different directions. He looks just as dazed as you feel with his mouth agape. He's breathing hard. He can't look away from you.

“You….came really hard…uh,” he tells you and looks down. You look down as well, and your eyes widen. He is definitely wet as is the bed, and…you don't think it's from him. While it doesn't look like it does in the few adult videos you've seen, you know exactly what happened. Your hand flies to your mouth in shock.

“I'm sorry, that's gross,” you say, turning red. “Eww…I…” Yoongi dives on you, crushing you with a kiss.

“ I can't wait to make you my wife, damn,” he says, going in for more kisses. Pulling you up out of the bed as he flings you over his shoulder. Yoongi gives you a quick slap to your ass laughing. “You better believe that's going to happen more often. Let's shower.”

A/N: So, now that we have reached the end, I have an announcement. Thanks to the wonderful Anon who asked about drabbles, I had come up with a few ideas about the future of the characters. As of right now…….I'm about 4 loosely written chapters into a SEQUEL!!! However, I'm not super happy with the way it's going so….I think I will take my time and try to rewrite them.

“Yooonnnngiiiiiii,” you screech happily. Yeah, you finally let go. You're going to give him everything.

Secondly, I was writing another story before I started the sequel. I have 6 chapters done on that one. I'm thinking I might drop a teaser to the Whispered sequel next week if I can get on a clear path of how I want it to go. So, everyone….stay tuned.

Tagged Reader:

@marimarvelfan, @unicornbabylover,@minghaosimp, @seoullove96, @iheartsvt, @babyitscoldoutside

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cotl-flower-crown · 4 months ago

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Wip showcase

I most likely won't be finishing any of these WIPs, but I figured that I might as well show them off already

This might be a bit long

Obligatory Bishop doodle

They turned out a bit boring tho. I wanted to redraw them properly, both with their bishop forms and follower forms, but I don't think that's happening any time soon.

The Lamb before the execution, aka Kora

That is Angel, before they became the Leader. They were born in the Lands of the Old Faith right before the Sheep Genocide begun. Them and their parents were fated to live a life on the run. It wasn't always bad, but it wasn't easy. Their parents sacrificed a lot to raise them. As you can see one of the sketches is unfinished.

Cotltober "You are what you eat" prompt

Gave up halfway into this drawing, but I think it would be a waste not to show it off. Like to think that the Lamb actually devours the hearts of the bishops to get upgrades

Cotl Red District (gang au) oc

A red panda that Grinder used to know very well in his high school years

Angel's harem

Yes, Angel was supposed to have a harem. Funnily enough, most of them are women. Even funnier, only one of them is not jealous of the other spouses. I wouldn't be surprised if Angel thought for the longest of times that they were a lesbian. First one is Nana, the first follower of the Lamb, second is Ruri, third Sylvia (my OC) and at the last is Narinder, the latest addition to the team. The wives tend to exclude him though, due to the clear favorism from Lamb's side. Well, mostly Nana does, the other two understand Lamb's infatuation.

I wanted to make more doodles of them interracting with each other and a relationship chart, but I've been putting it off for a long time already and I doubt I'll ever get to it

And lastly there is a series of VERY rough sketches for Red District AU lore Those were supposed be Lambert's Isaac's (yes, I changed his name) family photos to depict the family dynamic in his life before he met Grinder

The first one is a wedding photo of his parents. They married young, Isaac's father is beaming, while his mother has more of a toned kind of happiness on her face. She's posing, which is going to be a pattern in these photos.

Second depicts the parents holding their first son, Isaac's older brother. They both look very happy, as they pose for the picture in embrace. A nice heartfelt photo.

Third one is where the tone shifts. It was taken some time after Isaac was born. His father, looking noticably more tired, holds newborn Isaac, while the mother happily clings to her first born son. Shouldn't it be the other way around though? Notably, there is also a bit of a space between the parents, they no longer as much as touch each other.

Fourth one is taken after the birth of Isaac's younger sister. There's notable variety of expressions here. Most of them are clearly forcing themselves to strike a nice pose for the photo. Couldn't hide father's judging look as he observes his wife holding a child that looks vastly more different than any of them, nor could it hide the mother feeling said look like sins crawling on her back. It kinda looks like the parents just finished an argument. Why did they decide to keep it?

Fifth picture is a graduation day for Isaac's brother. The mother is leaning on her unimpressed first son proudly, while holding her daughter closely. Meanwhile Isaac and his dad stand around as if they're not supposed to be there, tired, but still smiling for the picture. Isaac is notably thinner and than anyone else in the photo.

Sixth sketch is about Isaac's graduation. The older brother is not in the picture anymore, off in the college, arguably couldn't bother. Isaac is flusterred by the attention he's getting from his dad, who's clearly doing his best to make up for the lack of attention from his mother. She's just there to strike a pose and look pretty, holding her lovely daughter as if trying to shield her from Isaac.

Seventh picture is of Isaac's sister and her graduation. For one reason or the other, Isaac and his older brother are not in the view. Her mother haven't been this happy since the birthday of her first son, while the sister herself looks more like she's trying her best not to cry. At that point the young girl looks vastly more different than how she looked when she was a child, and clearly she's not happy. Meanwhile the father looks too tired to even acknowledge her hidden despair.

Eighth picture is a complete family photo with the parents and their grown up children. The eldest doesn't seem to care at all, the youngest looks clearly uncomfortable with the presence of either of her older brothers, and Isaac is trying his best to ignore his mother's killer stare with a cute pose. She's clearly not happy with his presence there. The father tries to pleadingly look at his wife, but she doesn't even acknowledge him.

Nineth picture... Welp It is chaos. While Isaac is strangling his mother on the dinner table, the sister is cowering in the corner as their father is rushing in to help in panic. The eldest brother, who's haven't been off his phone the entire time is taking the photo among many.

The dialogue in the 10th picture goes as follow, in case my writing is too hard to read. It was written before I decided to change Isaac's name: Grinder: "Lambert, this is a proof of crime. I think you should get rid of it." Lambert/Isaac: "Aww, that's my favourite one tho!"

Thanks for reading!

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl au #cult of the lamb au #wip #art wips #wips #art wip #sketches #sketch dump #doodles #unfinished #rough sketch

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lenaswritingandstuff · 6 months ago

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All I had • Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Requested: No well I lowkey did

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: After his girlfriend y/n is killed, Mattheo has to deal not only with pain and sorrow, but also cruel accusations (complete original prompt here)

Word count: long as hell 2.4K

Warnings: mentions of death, lost, and grief

A/N: When I had this idea a few weeks ago I didn't think it would actually be so hard to write and I hate it lol :) I can't remember for the life of me if people in universe know Voldemort wants to be immortal, so for this one be an angel and pretend they do :) Might write a part two with a certain someone if many people ask 👀. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

Hogwarts, 1997.

The two Aurors were walking right behind him, firmly holding his arms to prevent him from running. Run where? he thought. Not that he had somewhere to go. Snape, who had always looked at Mattheo and his brother with an annoying suspicion, was walking ahead of them, his robes floating behind him. Mattheo didn’t know where they were going, or why. Not that he actually cared. Even though the Auros were leading his movements, his legs still seemed to be carrying him on their own, and if he didn’t try to resist, protest or at least ask questions to the silent Aurors, it was only because he didn’t have any energy or will to do so. Everything, including his body, felt numb and his mind was clouded, not functioning properly at all, barely noticing or hearing what was happening around him, instead full of the events of the night, as if it was trying to look for a reason. The only thing he could feel was the grip of the Aurors on his upper arms, the painful dryness of his blurry eyes, his throat sore from crying, his still wet cheeks, and this feeling of unbearable pain, anguish and confusion inside his chest.

After walking through countless corridors, they finally arrived in a smaller corridor, where Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were apparently expecting them. It often came as a surprise to those who didn’t know, but Mattheo actually held great respect for the old headmaster. How could he not? He was the only person his father had ever feared. Dumbledore was still the same as usual, looking calm and serene, while McGonagall looked at Mattheo with what seemed to be sadness. As they came closer, Mattheo saw a simple gray door on the right, which suddenly opened.

“Mr. Riddle,” Dumbledore said with a calm, almost kind voice, and Mattheo only raised his eyes towards him for a quarter of a second before looking at the ground again, “I will have to ask you to sleep here tonight. If you are in need of anything, please feel free to ring the bell. But I assure you, everything will be alright.”

‘Alright’? Mattheo would have laughed if he could. Behind him, the Auror snigged. Mattheo didn’t speak a word, and when he turned to pass the door, he saw Snape give him a more suspicious look than before. He managed to enter the room, which was a rudimentary bedroom with a bed, two chairs around a small rounded table with a small golden bell on it, and a sink. No window whatsoever, only a few candles floating in the air and drawing shadows on the walls.

“If you wish to turn the candles off, just ask them to sleep,” Dumbledore told him.

“We will be back in the morning,” one of the Aurors told the Headmaster, and then the door closed abruptly, leaving Mattheo completely alone with his thoughts and the cold silence of a cold room.

After a long, boring day of classes, he had spent the evening in y/n’s dorm, talking and cuddling, enjoying the comfort and peace only her could make him feel. Then Theo texted him, asking him if he fancied a smoke. Mattheo initially wanted to refuse, not wanting to leave y/n’s embrace, but she told him to go, that she didn’t want to keep him away from his friends. And so Mattheo went, going to one of the darkest corners of the castle where he and Theo knew they wouldn’t be caught by any professors and especially Filch. But the smoke break lasted much longer than usual, and when Mattheo went back to y/n’s dorm, planning on continuing their night together and eventually falling asleep with her in his arms, he walked by the castle’s courtyard and, in the dark of the night, saw something strange on the courtyard’s ground. Frowning, he had hesitated before slowly walking towards it, curiosity leading his mind. The closer he got, the more the strange “thing” on the ground, the clearer the mass on the ground got, and soon it appeared to be a body. Despite the fear that it might be someone he knew, Mattheo had quickened his pace, and barely a few meters later, he recognized whose body it was.

Oh, God. No, no, please, no. Not this. Anything but this.

At the second he recognized y/n’s body, he ran towards it and fell beside her, immediately holding her to his chest, gently shaking her despite his panic which grew every quarter of a second.

“y/n?! y/n, can you hear me? Baby?”

But he didn’t get any answer, and when he checked her pulse, he had almost felt his heart break from the pain.

“No, no, no, y/n, please! Fuck!”

Tears had started to feel, and he was now screaming. He didn’t know how long he spent here, holding her body as tight as he could, crying like he never thought he ever would and begging her to come back, to not leave him alone, but at one point, someone had seen him, had a loud gasp, and had ran to tell someone. Soon, Professor McGonnagall and two Aurors were here, and they tried to take her from him. He screamed and protested, not wanting to let her go, but they managed to separate them, and Mattheo was then led there, his entire being shattered in pieces and his mind unable to work knowing she was gone.

Not caring to take off his shoes, Mattheo laid on the bed, and tears started to run down his cheeks. She’s gone, she’s gone, his mind kept screaming, and yet, it refused to accept it.

This is just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. I’m gonna wake up soon.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink or eat, Mr Riddle? Professor Dumbledore insisted.”

Mattheo barely looked at the Auror sitting on the other side of the metallic table, and kept silent. He could hardly keep his eyes open, too tired from not sleeping at all the night before - and yet not feeling sleepy at all.

“Well,” the Auror continued, putting a long, thin black bow on the table. “I guess we can start, then. Mr Riddle, do you know why you’re here?”

Mattheo shook his head.

“Really?” the other Auror asked, sitting next to his colleague. “No clue? At all?”

This time, Mattheo raised his eyes towards the two men for a few seconds, and tried not to find weird the way they were looking at him - with disdain, coldness, and something he couldn’t quite get yet - as, after all, a lot of people looked at the son of the Dark Lord with suspicious - Snape included - or even fear, and he got used to it. Why would their eyes matter, when y/n’s eyes looked at him with nothing but love?

And now I won’t ever see them again. Mattheo felt his eyes becoming watery, and tried to fight tears as much as he could.

“Because y/n is gone,” he said, looking at the table.

“You’re right,” the Auror on the left said. “But allow me to be more precise, Mr Riddle. Miss y/l/n is gone… because you killed her.”

Mattheo’s mind, still as cloudy as the night before, suddenly cleared up like and working like a machine being turned on. He looked at the two men, and suddenly understood the reason they had been looking at him like that ever since they came into the room a few minutes earlier. They think I’m guilty.

This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare. This isn’t real. I’ll wake up any moment and see her sleeping next to me.

Shock, anger, and a bit of panic and confusion came into him like a gigantic wave. “What? I didn’t kill her! Why the hell would I kill her?”

This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare.

“Oh, you would be surprised at all the reasons why a man could kill his girlfriend. She caught him cheating, he caught her cheating, she saw something she shouldn’t have seen…” the Auror stopped, and looked at Mattheo with malice. “Or maybe he wants to prove himself to his father.”

If he could, Mattheo would have laughed. Here it is. The “son of the Dark Lord” bullshit. He ran his hand through his hair, and sighed.

“You think I killed y/n because my father asked me?” he asked, trying his absolute best to remain calm. “Why would I have accepted?”

“Well, you’re the second son. The spare. Your father likely planned for your brother Tom to be his second in command, and, if he were to die, his heir, didn’t he? And then, what do you have left, Mr Riddle? At best, you remain the spare and then your brother’s second in command your whole life, and in the worst case… Nothing.”

y/n. I would have y/n.

“Dumbledore told us your father tried to contact you last summer,” the second Auror spoke.

Mattheo felt annoyance growing inside of him, “and did he also tell you that I refused, and hid from him the whole time?”

“Yes,” the first Auror admitted. “He did say you told him that. But how can we be sure you didn’t lie?”

Mattheo closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

“So, you guys think I’m a murderer just because my father is? For no other reason than that?”

“Actually, Mr. Riddle, the main reason we do believe that, is because…of that.”

The Auror took the long, thin black bow he had put earlier on the table, and opened it before showing the inside to Mattheo, whose eyes opened in surprise.

“My wand?”

“Yes, Mr Riddle, we-”

“I lost it,” Mattheo interrupted with a louder voice, feeling his heart beat faster, “I lost it yesterday sometime after class. Where did you find it?!”

“You lost it?” the Auror asked while crossing his arms, sounding amused, “Well, did you tell anyone? Any teachers?”

“I went to tell Professor Snape,” Mattheo answered, “but he wasn’t in his office. I waited for him for almost an hour but he never came back. My friend Lorenzo saw me, I asked him if he knew where Snape was.”

The Auror shared a look that told Mattheo they already knew Lorenzo had seen him - and yet didn’t believe him.

“Now,” Mattheo continued, more annoyed by the second, “where did you find my wand?”

“Why, near you, Mr Riddle. When we found you near your victim’s corpse,” the second Auror said as if it was obvious.

The dark-haired boy stared at them in disbelief. “What? No, you’re…You’re lying.”

“And when we used Prior Incantato, we saw that the last spell your wand used was the killing curse.”

“That’s why he brought you here, Mr Riddle”, the second Auror continued immediately. “If we didn’t find your wand near you, our theory wouldn’t be based on anything. We might even have believed you when you’re telling us you didn’t kill miss y/l/n.”

“I did not kill her!” Mattheo screamed.

The Auror sighed, “Mr Riddle, please. Out of respect for miss y/l/n and her family, do tell us the truth. They deserve justice.”

“You’re lucky, you know?” the second Auror went on, “If it wasn’t for Professor Dumbledore, you’d be in Azkaban, awaiting your trial.”

“I’m innocent!” Mattheo yelled, feeling himself going mad. “I told you the truth!”

“Alright,” the Auror said with a loud voice, putting a clenched fist on the table. “If you didn’t do it, then who did?”

“How would I know?” Mattheo snapped. “I found her body in the courtyard, and I didn’t see anybody else.”

“See? You can’t give us a second option. Our talks with teachers and students told us Miss y/l/n had no enemies, was loved by both classmates and teachers alike, and her parents are good people. No one had a reason to kill her, except for you.”

“We don’t need to know the reasons on why you did it, Mr Riddle,” the first Auror said in an almost kinder, more patient tone. “Even though we have some ideas about the ‘why’. Just admit you did it.”

“Admit you did it because either your father asked you to do it, or because, despite your best efforts to make people believe you’re different from him, the truth is, you’re just like him.”

“I didn’t do it!” Mattheo screamed. “How many do I have to tell you?! I didn’t kill y/n! Someone must have taken my wand and killed her! How can you not see that?!”

The first Auror sighed, meanwhile the second clenched his jaw.

“Mr Riddle, y/n-”

“DO NOT USE HER NAME!” Mattheo shrieked.

But the Auror ignored him, closing his eyes for a second, “y/n had a family, friends, people who loved her, and a whole life with a bright future ahead of her.”

Yes. And all I had was her.

“You took enough from her. Do you take away from her grieving parents the satisfaction that their daughter’s killer is not in prison, paying for his crime.”

Mattheo put his face in his hands, feeling tears burn his eyes.

“I want to see my brother.”

“Your brother?” the first Auror asked, and this time he sounded genuinely surprised.

“Well,” Mattheo spat, raising back his head to stare at the two men, “someone should find y/n’s killer if I’m going to be in Azkaban soon, don’t you think?”

“So you admit it? You killed her?”

“No! For fuck’s sake, no I didn’t kill fucking kill her!”

They didn’t understand, Mattheo thought with desperation and frustration, putting his head back in his hands. Mattheo couldn’t even remember how life was before he fell in love with y/n during their third year. All he remembered is that two years ago, in their fifth year here, he finally gathered the courage to let her know how he felt, and, by some miracle, this beautiful, sweet witch with a heart of gold felt the same way about him. Ever since, all that was inside his mind was y/n, how his heart, life and soul belonged to her and her only, how she was the only one to not see him as Voldemort’s son but how he really was instead, how she was always there for him, especially when he started feeling anxious when his father came back after the Triwizard Tournament, and how their kisses, their hugs and cuddles and sleeping with her in his arms were the most important things to him. And now, he had lost it all.

The two Aurors suddenly rose from their chairs, and left the room, leaving Mattheo alone with his broken heart and nonfunctioning mind.

This is a nightmare, this is a nightmare.

PART 2

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Masterlist

#harry potter #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #tom riddle #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #angst #benjamin wadsworth #reader insert #hp fanfic #lorenzo berkshire #masterlist

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filthyslashertoad · 2 years ago

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The Slashers & Miscellaneous Reacting to You Breaking Your Leg

Patrick Bateman(You already know)

Asks you if you want sparkling water, not painkillers, or comfort, just sparkling water.

If you're in a "relationship" with him, he may bring you his signed record from Huey Lewis and The News so you have something to occupy yourself with.

Michael Myers

Tries to avoid you at all costs because he feels like he might accidentally hurt you.

Even when you're sleeping, he'll sleep somewhere else during that time because he doesn't want to move suddenly and risk you injuring yourself more. (Sympathetic Mikey)

Pyramid Head

Just quietly watches you.

Brings you things that he thinks may help you or that you'll enjoy.

Leon Kennedy

Doesn't really know how to empathize with you properly because he doesn't want to come off as an asshole.

He resorts to sending you little Post-it notes and cards that have horse jokes on them. (Don't ask why they're horses specifically)

(Btw, Chris and Carlos suggested the idea)

Carlos Oliveira

Refuses to leave your side .

Tries his hardest not to cling to you.

He's a super sympathetic boy, so he somewhat blames himself for your injury and feels liable for it. (Pls reassure him)

Poly!Ghostface

Stu brings markers to sign your cast and while he's doing that, Billy is in the corner stressing and overthinking.

Stu draws dinosaurs and little skulls all over your cast, if you're lucky he may even draw one of your favorite horror movie characters, though it has to be labeled because nobody knows who it is.

Heisenberg

Tries to glamorize your cast by making a metal one that has spikes and different decals all over it.

It ends up being a nuisance and he almost stabs himself in the leg when he hugs you.

Hellboy

Keeps a close eye on you for the duration of your injury.

Develops a bit of an attitude when people try to bother you when you're resting or in pain.

Danny Johnson

Sends you dumb articles that loosely or have nothing to do with the fact that you broke your leg and when you ask him why tf he sent it, he just says, "I wanted to make your day better😊"

When he thinks that you're upset with him he shows up with a cast of his own and shouts "TWINS!!! NOW WE CAN GET BETTER TOGETHER."(No he didn't actually break his leg, and yes he will be using it as an excuse to be lazy)

Hannibal Lecter

Becomes your own professional nurse.

Nurse Hannibal is now at your service. Prescribes you any and all medication you need and gives you advice on how to heal as fast as possible.

Takes time off of work to take care of you. (It's not often that he gets to pamper people this way and he enjoys doing it for you)

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aliceintheworld · 6 months ago

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PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: more religion 😬 depression, Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi appear. Jungkook in a towel 💦👅 finally a kiss (things from here happen quickly.) ATTENTION, THIS STORY IS NOT SLOWBURN.

A/N: Guys, I took a while this time for reasons of: laziness and discouragement. I wanted more people to read what I write, but I'm introverted even on the Internet, which leaves me with few alternatives to show my writing to the world. Thinking about it, I'm in trouble. Other than that, only a few days have passed, so everything is fine. Back to the story, everything starts to pick up pace. Just to repeat, the fanfic is not slowburn, so there will be smut in the next chapter. Stay tuned.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 3

I spend the whole week riding an emotional rollercoaster. I find myself visiting my neighbor, Mrs. Jeon, more frequently than usual, and with each visit, our friendship blossoms deeper. She shares stories of her youth, of wild adventures and carefree days when she was my age. Her openness encourages me to share my own experiences–or rather, my lack of them. I recount my first disastrous kiss, confess that I've never been in love, and reveal how my once unshakeable faith in the church has wavered since my father's passing. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders; here, I am free to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, without fear of judgment.

Yet, there's one thing I keep to myself: the incident with her son, Jungkook, and the profound effect he has on me. Throughout all my visits, I never see him again. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I casually ask Mrs. Jeon where he is. She tells me that he moved and rented an apartment to avoid being a burden. He only spent the first night at home after his trip, and I remember that night well–from my window, of course–but I don't mention it. Disappointment settles in me like a stone; I long to see him again, but I focus on his mother instead. Having her to confide in is a relief, a breath of fresh air in my otherwise stifling life.

I patiently wait for her to open up about her own struggles, her depression, but she never does. I worry that I might know something I shouldn't, that perhaps she's not comfortable sharing with me. But I promise myself I'll keep her secret safe, no matter what. Today is Sunday, and I won't visit Mrs. Jeon since I'll see her at church. I'm excited–despite my mother making unnecessary comments and disturbing my peace of mind, I'll have someone to rely on.

I smooth down my dark brown dress, fixing my messy hair. I dab a bit of lipstick on my fingertips and press it onto my lips, careful not to overdo it. The truth is, I enjoy makeup, but I've never learned how to apply it properly. I feel embarrassed drawing attention to myself with bolder colors; after all, people are used to my lack of vanity. I sigh, steeling myself as I head downstairs to meet my mother.

She hasn't stopped talking about Jungkook. Unlike me, who had a good first impression, she despises him. She criticizes everything: his eyebrow piercing, his bold style, his tattoos, even the way he carries himself. I can't help but wonder if she accepted the dinner invitation just to analyze him, searching for flaws that exist only in her mind. She's been friends with Misuk since moving to town, and I want to believe–perhaps naively–that my mother doesn't have ulterior motives.

We arrive at church early, the space quiet with only a few members milling about. My mother drifts away to chat with the older congregation, and I find a seat, taking a deep breath. I scan the room for Mrs. Jeon but I don't see her. Since it's still early, I'm not too worried. I take a moment to read the Bible, reflecting on positive thoughts when I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turn, and there he is–Jungkook, smiling brightly. I frown, almost convinced he's a mirage. Am I daydreaming?

"Hi Y/N, are you okay?" he asks softly, his lips brushing almost against my ear. His intense gaze locks with mine, and I'm relieved to be sitting down; my legs feel weak in his presence.

"Everything's fine," I reply, my eyes dropping to my fingers. I want to engage him, ask about his week, inquire how he's been, but the words stick in my throat. It's as though I can't act normally around him. I take a deep breath, mustering the courage to comment, "I didn't know you attended church."

"I don't," he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes. And rightly so; considering his clothes–a heavy leather jacket, shaved sides, and a wavy fringe–it's sexy but definitely not what you'd expect at church. "I haven't been since I was a kid."

"Really? Why?" I ask, genuinely curious, my gaze drawn to his eyebrow piercing, oddly captivating.

"I didn't feel welcome," he replies simply. There's no bitterness in his voice, and I understand all too well what he means. My mother, for example, was the first to judge him based on his appearance, and I can only imagine how difficult it is to feel at home in a place where you're not embraced.

"I understand," I say, unsure of what else to add. "So, you came here to give it another shot?"

"No way," he chuckles. "Actually, my mom mentioned you two planned to meet at church today."

"That's true," I confirm.

"Unfortunately, she can't make it today. She's not feeling well."

"Is she okay?" My concern surfaces immediately.

"She's fine, don't worry. Just a headache, and she took some medicine. She'll be better soon," he assures me, his hand lightly touching my shoulder. I can't help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. I shake my head, trying to divert my thoughts from Jungkook's hands to anything else.

"I'm relieved to hear that," I smile, noticing the church is starting to fill up.

"I'm actually inviting some friends over to my apartment, and I wanted to know if you'd like to join us," he says, brushing his fingertips against his ear, a bit shy. I'm taken aback; I didn't expect this invitation. He wants me to come over with his friends?

"And why?" I ask, surprised. It's been a while since we last saw each other, and we haven't talked much even then.

"I like you. I want you to come so we can have fun."

"If this is some kind of payment, or something like that... you really don't need to." I reply, not believing it. I don't have friends, and the thought that he wants to be with me and the people he likes seems absurd to me.

"It's not that. I'm even a bit offended." He jokes, smiling. "I really want you to come, please."

"Jungkook... I don't know."

"I swear they're nice. Every time I'm in Busan, we hang out. They're trustworthy, I promise."

"I can imagine," I reply, still hesitant. I'd have to leave church, skip the service, and ask my mother for permission to go out with him, and of course, she wouldn't allow it. No way. It's not that I don't want to; I desperately want to spend time with him. That's been on my mind all week. "I don't think it's possible; my mom..."

"I know," he interjects, as if he anticipated my response. "But what if, just this once, you say you are going to my mom's? We could say I'm taking you there when in fact, you're coming to my apartment."

"Are you asking me to lie to my mother in a church?" I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. He shrugs, grinning.

"God knows it's just once," he replies confidently, pouting slightly. "What do you say? Later, I can take you to my mom's whenever you want, or you can stay at my apartment since I have more than one room. You set the time and conditions."

"Jungkook..." I groan, covering my face with my hands. The thought of lying to my mother, especially to go to a guy's house, sends a wave of anxiety through me. If she finds out, I'll be in big trouble.

"Come on! It'll be fun. I promise," he pleads softly. I can't say no to him, at least not now. I nod, agreeing to the madness.

"Okay, but you're the one who's going to talk to my mom. And if I say I want to leave, you agree. No alcohol because I know you drive. Those are my conditions," I assert, trying to sound firm. He smiles and salutes me, like a soldier receiving orders, and I slowly get up, taking small steps toward my mother. I let Jungkook lead the way, my nerves creeping back as I prepare to tell a lie in this sacred place.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Eunji. Good afternoon, everyone," he greets my mom and the other church members. My mother looks utterly shocked, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she takes in his appearance.

"Good afternoon, Jungkook," she replies, lacking enthusiasm, her gaze scanning him from head to toe. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to do a favor for my mom," he clarifies, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost believe him. "My mom asked Y/N to keep her company since my dad will be out of town for a few days. I came to pick her up."

"Really?" my mom looks at me, and I don't say anything, just nodding.

"It's true. My dad went to Daegu this weekend, and since my mom hasn't been feeling well, she asked Y/N to spend time with her. If you allow it, of course," he smiles calmly, and I brace myself waiting for my mother's response. I watch her weigh her options, glancing between Jungkook and me for what feels like an eternity before she sighs and nods.

"Alright, that's fine. Is your mom feeling okay?"

"Yes, she's getting better. Can we go now?" he asks, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Yes, you may go," my mom sighs, placing a hand on her forehead. "It's a shame you're missing the service today, Y/N. Next week, you'll definitely come, okay?"

"Yes, mom, for sure," I agree weakly, clearing my throat and avoiding her gaze, still stunned that she let me go to Jungkook's house. Well, not his house, but is practically the same thing.

"Shall we go, Y/N? My mom is waiting," Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow. I nod, still silent, as we make our way toward the exit.

Some people stare, especially the older members, who seem shocked by Jungkook's appearance–too conservative, in my opinion. Somehow, the situation feels even funnier. Once we're sure no one can see us anymore, I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach. Jungkook chuckles too, exhaling as if he's just finished a tough exam and is finally free.

"Your mom is tough, huh?" he laughs. "I thought she was going to kill me with her eyes."

"Sorry," I say, still giggling a little. "She's like that with everyone."

"Even with you?"

"Even with me," I nod. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we go to my apartment. My friends have the key, so they're probably already there."

"Don't tell me they're all guys," I groan, suddenly anxious. I hadn't considered that he might not have any female friends, and I'd be the only girl at the apartment if that were the case.

"No, relax! I have female friends too. You'll like them," he assures me, walking toward a sleek black car parked across the street. I know nothing about cars, but I can tell this one is expensive. I feel out of place, acutely aware that Jungkook lives in a different world, one that's far removed from my own.

The tension in the car is palpable as we drive. The ride feels like it takes forever, the windows closed, and I'm intoxicated by his scent. I discreetly watch his large hands on the wheel, the way his long fingers tap rhythmically against the leather seat. I have to swallow hard to keep from drooling over him. I'm starving–not for food, but for him. All week, I've yearned to be near him, to touch him. I think I'm suffering from a Jungkook overdose, craving something I haven't even tasted yet.

I ponder whether he's aware of the effect he has on me, but I like to believe he hasn't noticed. It's easier that way. I breathe slowly, attempting to relax in my seat. It takes another ten minutes before Jungkook opens the gate to a condo with a small remote and drives in slowly. His car fits the place perfectly. Everything is stunning and upscale. I glance at my clothes and regret agreeing to come. Why did I say yes? I don't know his friends, and I don't know Jungkook that well, aside from the overwhelming attraction I feel toward him. What do I actually know about him? That he's a tattoo artist from Seoul? That he's rich and hasn't set foot in a church since childhood? I feel like I've walked into a situation that's spiraling out of control.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You went quiet all of a sudden," he asks, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine. Just feeling a bit strange," I admit.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I confess, omitting my paranoid thoughts. "I always feel like this in new places."

"I get that. I feel that way too," he tells me as we step into the parking elevator. I follow him, digesting this new revelation.

"You seem so confident and social," I comment, genuinely amazed. His big eyes meet mine as the elevator rises, floors passing by in a blur.

"I know, it seems that way. But in reality, I'm quite introverted. I have a small circle of friends and prefer it that way. I just fake it really well," he shares, and I find myself wanting to know more about the person behind the confident exterior.

"Really?" I ask, intrigued.

"Yeah," he nods, his expression earnest.

I try to respond, but the elevator stops on a floor, and Jungkook smiles at me, indicating that this is the right place. I feel one of his hands gently touch my waist, guiding me to a white door. I have to take a deep breath to keep from freaking out, my sweaty, trembling hands hidden in my pocket. I hear different music from the other side of the door before the place fully opens up to us.

"Hey, he's here! Finally, Jungkook!" I hear a male voice. It's a guy around Jungkook's age, I realize as soon as we walk in. His hair is a dark red, and his skin is pale and smooth. It's no surprise that his arms are covered in tattoos, drawings and phrases I can't read so far away. He also watches me closely, smiling warmly.

"Guys, this is YN, the one I told you about," Jungkook introduces me with a smile.

I turn red because there are at least seven people staring at me from head to toe. The apartment is well-kept, with dark wooden furniture. The living room is immaculate, with abstract paintings and photos of Jungkook and his family on the walls. I don't have much time to take everything in as my eyes focus on Jungkook's friends, who are strangers to me so far. Saying they're different from me would be an understatement.

They all have many tattoos and wear dark clothing. I sense an aura of confidence from all of them, but never hostility. It's as if they're very similar to Jungkook, with a completely different exterior from their inner selves. I relax a bit, smiling warmly and putting on my best expression.

"Nice to meet you all," I say, feeling a bit shy. They stand up and smile at me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Yoongi. That's my girlfriend, Minji," says the red-haired guy, pointing to the woman who just smiles. I offer my hand, feeling his cold skin from the beer bottle he was holding earlier.

"I'm Bora, and this is my boyfriend, Jimin," one of the dark-haired women greets me next, pointing to her boyfriend. They're a good-looking couple, the kind you see in magazines. Jimin has the brightest and most open smile.

"Nice to meet you," I nod.

"I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae," one of the guys says, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'm Yoori, Tae's girlfriend. Nice to meet you," she winks, making me laugh.

"And I'm Hayun, the only single one in the group," one of the girls shakes my hand, pulling me into a hug. She kisses my cheek, making her presence increasingly noticeable.

"Hayun, you're only single because you want to be, come on," Bora rolls her eyes. Hayun laughs, grabbing a snack from the coffee table.

"I like being single, except when I'm surrounded by couples. Especially couples like you guys."

"Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?" Jimin asks. Embarrassed, I shake my head.

"No," I reply. They seem surprised, making noises with their mouths.

"But Jungkook is single too, right?" The guy with dark hair says, drinking his beverage. I thinks his name is Tae, if I remember right.

"And I want to keep that way." Jungkook replys.

"Of course you do." Yoongi laughs along with his friends, rolling his eyes. I remain silent, not understanding the joke. Then Yoongi looks at me and seems to notice my confusion. "Y/N, Jungkook never dates. The only time he tried, it went so wrong that now he doesn’t want to do it again."

"It was a disaster." Yoori adds, as if telling a fictional story. Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing, but his friend continues: "he’s been avoiding relationships like the devil avoids the cross since then."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"It’s not true, Y/N." Jungkook smiles at me. "They’re idiots."

"That’s not a lie." Minji, who had been silent until then, clarifies. "He’s been asked out several times, and he always declines. Women go crazy for him, for some reason."

"I know what the reason is." Jimin laughs mischievously, suggesting something while raising an eyebrow. I turn red when they laugh at the joke. Jungkook doesn’t contest it, too busy eating one of the snacks on the table. "But what about you, Y/N? Have you ever dated before?"

"Never." I reply. They don't look surprised this time.

"So you're like Jungkook, who avoids relationships?" Bora asks with a laugh. I feel Jungkook's eyes on me, watching attentively for my response. I shake my head, feeling awkward.

"No, actually, it's just a lack of options," I clarify, deciding to be honest. I hold my hands together nervously.

"Now you have two options," Yoongi suggests with a chuckle. Minji hits his arm trying to stop him, but he continues: "There's Hayun, since she likes to try out a little bit of everything, like some pussy and shit."

"Oh!" I widen my eyes, shocked, as they laugh even more. It's the first time I've seen someone speak so openly like this. Embarrassed, I look at Hayun, but she doesn't seem to mind the comment, laughing with the others.

"Who would be the other option?" Taehyung asks his friend with his trademark grin.

"Our friend Jungkook, obviously," Yoongi clarifies, and I choke on the answer, coughing uncontrollably.

They laugh even more, watching me nearly suffocate from the joke. Jungkook pats my back, smiling widely. His thumb caresses the skin of my arm, waiting for me to calm down. We're so close that he inadvertently wraps one of his arms around my shoulder. I'm shocked and even more unsettled. For me, physical contact beyond my mom is rare. Hugs, affection... I'm just not used to it.

"Are you okay?" he asks amidst his friends' chatter. I nod, staring at my hands. "Sorry about Yoongi; he always makes these kinds of jokes. He doesn't mean any harm."

"It's fine," I assure him, feeling awkward, unable to look into his eyes. "I actually liked everyone."

"Really?" he asks, bringing his nose close to my hair. My whole body shivers as I realize he's smelling my perfume, giving a satisfied smile when he pulls away. "Good to know."

I stay silent, feeling his warm breath near me. Jungkook removes his arm from my shoulder, but his skin still brushes against mine when he takes off his heavy jacket, leaving him in just a T-shirt. His friends are fun and involve me in the conversation, making me feel comfortable, but the truth is that having Jungkook so close drives me crazy and I can't pay much attention. I wonder how long I'll feel this way about him. Will this strong effect never go away? This is the third time we've met, but something tells me that no matter how many times I see him-be it two times or a thousand-my heart will always race whenever he gets close and smiles at me.

I don't even notice the time passing and only realize it's late when Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung offer to take their girlfriends home, along with Hayun, who complains about not having anyone waiting for her at her apartment. Everyone leaves until only Jungkook and I remain. He promised to take me to his mother's house if I wanted, but I'm hesitant to ask as it's quite likely Mrs. Jeon is already asleep by now.

"Y/N, do you want me to get a towel for you?" Jungkook asks, tidying up the living room. I'm confused, picking up some empty soju bottles his friends drank to throw away.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not going to stay here?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Not really?" I laugh, then realize I might have been a bit rude, so I rephrase my response. "I mean, I don't think so. I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother. If you want, you can take a shower in my bathroom and sleep in the guest room." He offers with a smile. I bite my lower lip, unsure what to decide. I want to stay here, but it's just him and me now; is it really the right thing to do? It doesn't matter, Y/N. Just for one night.

"Okay then. Do you have a toothbrush, please?"

"Of course I do. Come with me, I'll get the stuff for you to use the bathroom." He calls me with a smile and walks down the long hallway. We pass by a few doors until we reach his room. My throat goes dry as my eyes scan the new space. His bed is large and covered with a dark gray blanket. The walls are white and everything is very organized, with a laptop next to the wardrobe and a fluffy black rug on the floor. His scent is everywhere, almost as if I'm breathing him. I clutch my hands together nervously about being alone with Jungkook in such an intimate space. He reappears after going to the closet, holding a white towel and some cotton clothes.

"You can take a shower in my bathroom while I use the guest one," he says, placing the items in my hands.

"Jungkook, that's not necessary..."

"Don't worry. I want you to be comfortable." He says before I can argue. His satisfied smile makes me not deny it again, happy to receive so much care from him. I just nod, agreeing. "The toothbrush is in the cabinet by the sink, in the package. You can open it, okay?"

"Okay, thank you very much." I smile before he walks down the hallway. I head to the door leading to the bathroom and sneak into the new space. I start thinking Jungkook has no flaws.

The place is as clean as the rest of the apartment, which makes me curious; does he clean everything himself, or does he hire someone to keep it tidy? I slowly take off my dress, grabbing my phone to text my mom and let her know I'm okay. I feel bad for lying, but the night was so good that I can't truly regret it. If I had to lie, to meet these same people, I would do it again. Thinking this surprises me, because just a few hours ago, I didn't think this way. The shower has a strong hot jet of water that massages my whole body, and it's so good that I have to convince myself to finish the shower and put on the clothes, trying to be done before Jungkook.

I brush my teeth quickly, smelling my skin that's still male fragrant with the liquid soap. I smile at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair with my fingers, trying to manage the unwashed strands. I open the bathroom door carefully, trying not to make too much noise and disturb the neighbors at this hour, when I see Jungkook again, this time only in a towel. I hold onto the doorframe, barely able to stand. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't be watching him naked again and that I should turn around, go back into the bathroom, and pretend nothing happened, but I can't. I simply can't anymore. His muscular, wet back is in my field of vision as he searches for clothes. At that moment, my brain turns to mush and I decide to say what's been stuck in my throat.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I muster the courage to ask him but I regret it immediately. What the hell am I doing? Jungkook turns slowly and the view from the front is a thousand times better than from the back. His whole body glistens in the light of the room, and his tattoos have never been so vivid. His body is muscular, virile and strong. I gonna lose my mind! Feeling new sensations I've never experienced for anyone before.

"Y/N?" He whispers my name with that soft voice he used when we first met. He doesn't seem surprised or embarrassed, which makes me even more unsettled.

"You're doing this on purpose, Jungkook?" I ask again. I have no idea where I got such courage and I don't know how long it will last. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest. My whole body is on edge and sweating. I feel my hands trembling as I swallow hard. "You're trying something? I mean... you're not wearing clothes again and..."

"What do you think, Y/N?" he retorts suddenly, with a hoarse, deep voice. His eyes wander from my head to toes, as he raises an eyebrow along with his piercing, with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. My legs turn to weak twigs immediately, ready to collapse.

"I-I don't know." I stammer as he takes one step, then two and three, getting closer and closer to me.

"When I arrived from my trip to Busan, on the first day, I was tired and exhausted," he tells me, taking another step. I start to run out of breath, anxious and aroused. My cheeks flush as he speaks more slowly. "All I wanted was to rest and sleep the whole night, but that night I couldn't, not for an hour. Do you know why?"

"N-no..." I moan softly as his chest presses against mine. His warm, wet skin makes contact with mine, and I no longer know where I begin or end, pressed against his body. His pink lips curl into a wicked smile, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me and it's all intentional. I shiver as his free hand moves up my wrist and grips the back of my neck firmly, making my eyes focus on his mouth and then his dark, deep eyes.

"A woman, next window, taking off all her damn clothes, completely shameless," he growls, pulling my neck closer to his face and pressing his lips to my ear. My spine tingles as I feel his teeth on my earlobe, in a bite that doesn't hurt but damn, it makes me shiver. My body contracts once and twice, and I know exactly what I'm feeling now: desire. The kind I feel occasionally when I try to touch myself alone and can't reach climax. The feeling I only have when I'm alone and confortable in my bed, trying to use my imagination even with the lack of real experience, but this is real, and it is infinitely better than what my mind could create.

"It was an accident, Jung..." I try to say, but my voice doesn't come out. The tip of his nose travels along a sensitive spot behind my ear, one I didn't even know existed, slowly moving down my jawline, discovering new paths. His hand tightens around my waist, keeping me in place, immobile.

"It may be that you didn't notice, Y/N, but I know you were watching me, even while I was undressing, even when you had every opportunity to stop." He argues with a smile, as someone who knows what they're doing and enjoys seeing the result. "And you know what's worse...? The worst thing is knowing the effect you have on me. From the first time I saw you in my house, with your innocent and curious eyes. I can't get you out of my damn head. Your mouth, your scent..."

"J-Jungkook... please." I beg, closing my eyes tightly. And I know what I want. I want him, since the first time I saw him. Since my eyes met his, I desired him so strongly that I couldn't think straight. He pulls away just a little, and I almost moan in a plea for him not to go. He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" he asks in a very soft voice, and I nod because, despite all the things I believe in–God, hell, heaven and even my mother–nothing has ever been as adored as Jungkook. Since I met him, inexplicably, I only think about him, like a spell unable to contemplate of any other answer besides yes. I look at his eyes as they travel to my mouth, and I lower mine to his, exhilarated by that pink that only exists in him.

I move closer, my lips almost touching his, feeling the warmth of his breath. "Just kiss me, please." I murmur scared of what I'm doing; temptation clear in every word. And then he does.

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

@ane102 @ttipa @joonwater

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snowysosturn · 3 months ago

Text

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 21

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x dealer!Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, angst, cursing, death, funeral setting, mention of dead body, grief, sadness

The day had arrived.

Chris’s funeral.

The thought of it made me feel like I was trying to breathe underwater. I’d spent the last two days in a haze, caught between disbelief and devastation. I kept in consistent contact with Nate, who had been the one to tell me about the funeral being an evening ceremony, explaining they wanted to keep it as lowkey as possible. Especially after the chaos at Danny’s funeral.

I didn’t ask what had happened at Danny’s service in depth, and I didn’t think it was time to ask questions. All I could think about was Chris. His face, his voice, the way he used to look at me like I was the only thing grounding him in this world.

Willow hadn’t left my side since the news broke. She held me the last two nights when the sobs came so violently I thought they might break me in half. Even now, as I sat in front of the mirror in my room, staring blankly at my reflection, she hovered nearby, quiet but present.

“You should eat something” she murmured gently, placing a cup of tea on the dresser beside me.

I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”

Willow sighed but didn’t push. She knew me well enough to know it wouldn’t help. Instead, she sat on the bed behind me, her presence steady and reassuring.

I hadn’t told Mom and Dad about Chris. Not about his death, not about him at all. Telling them would mean explaining how I got tangled up with someone like him, and I wasn’t ready for that. I could already hear the questions, the judgment in their voices, the disappointment. I’d rather just let them enjoy their holiday.

Chris wasn’t perfect. I knew that. But he was mine.

My fingers trembled as I pinned my hair back, the small motion grounding me for a moment. I caught Willow’s reflection in the mirror, her eyes filled with concern. She stepped out of my room to give me a minute.

The last time I saw Chris was that fateful afternoon at my house. He’d kissed me, told me he’d call me later. He didn’t. I never imagined that would be the last time I’d see him alive.

The most harrowing this was when Nate’s voice cracked as he explained that Chris’s injuries were too severe. Now, there wouldn’t even be a chance to say goodbye properly. The ceremony would be closed casket.

I swallowed hard, blinking back tears as I smoothed down my black dress. The thought of not seeing him one last time felt like a cruel twist of fate.

Nate had offered to come get Willow and I, and the time was drawing close for him to arrive. I tried to pull myself together, but the tears wouldn’t stop, sliding down my cheeks in relentless streams. My chest felt heavy, like it had been hollowed out and filled with bricks.

Willow peeked into my room, her expression soft and cautious, as if she didn’t want to intrude but couldn’t leave me entirely alone either.

“Nate’s outside” she said gently. “Do you want me to wait with you?”

I shook my head, sniffling. “No, it’s okay. You can go ahead. I just.. need a minute.”

She hesitated, her hand lingering on the doorframe, before nodding. “Alright. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

When she left, the silence in the room felt deafening. I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to will myself into some semblance of calm. It didn’t work.

I moved toward the bed and sat down, my eyes falling on Ralph – the white teddy bear Chris had won for me only days ago. Without thinking, I reached for it, clutching it tightly in my arms. The soft fabric was a small comfort against the ache in my chest.

As I held it close, I caught a faint scent – Chris’s cologne, still lingering on the bear’s fur. My throat tightened, and I buried my face into the plush, breathing him in like it was the last piece of him I’d ever have.

“Chris” I whispered, my voice breaking.

Suddenly, I heard a soft click, followed by a sound that made me freeze.

His voice.

“Off to get some coffeeee for my beautiful girlfriend. I can’t believe I get to call YOU my girlfriend. I’m the luckiest man alive! Love you!”

I pulled back, staring at the bear in disbelief. My hands trembled as I pressed its stomach again, and the same recording played.

Chris’s voice, warm and full of life, echoed in the quiet room.

Tears spilled over again, but this time they weren’t just from grief. They were from the bittersweet ache of hearing him say those words, words that felt like a lifeline and a dagger all at once. I hadn’t even known the bear could do that. Like he’d left this piece of himself for me to find.

“Chris..” I whispered again, holding the bear close to my chest. My body shook with sobs, but for the first time in days, they weren’t entirely hopeless.

I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, and maybe I never would be. But in this moment, with his voice wrapping around me like a fragile embrace, I felt a little less alone.

I decided to take Ralph with me, clutching the soft bear to my chest as if it could somehow protect me from the waves of grief threatening to swallow me whole. With a shaky breath, I turned off my bedroom lights and made my way out of the house, the cool night air hitting me as I stepped outside.

Nate’s car was parked at the curb, the engine idling softly. Willow stood by the passenger side, her arms wrapped around herself for warmth. When she saw me, she gave me a small, reassuring nod before climbing into the back seat to give me space in the front.

I slid into the passenger seat, and Nate glanced at me briefly.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

I swallowed hard, gripping Ralph tighter. “I’m.. here” I managed to say, my voice cracking.

He nodded, not pushing for more. I knew he felt it too – the loss, the emptiness, the weight of carrying Chris’s memory. In a way, we were all each other had left of him now.

The car ride was quiet, the kind of silence that hung heavy in the air, filled with unspoken thoughts and shared sorrow. I stared out the window, the darkness outside making it impossible to figure out where we were going. The streets blurred past, unfamiliar and anonymous, as if the world outside didn’t matter anymore.

Eventually, the car slowed, pulling up in front of a small white chapel. Its modest structure was almost hidden in the shadows of the night, the faint glow of its windows the only indication it was there.

Before we got out, Nate reached into the center console and pulled out something green. He handed it to me – a bandana, worn and soft around the edges.

“Chris always wore this” Nate said, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “He used it to keep his face hidden. Not many people knew what he actually looked like, and he’d want it that way for you too. So when we leave here after the funeral, no one knows who you are, and nothing ever happens to you.”

I stared at the bandana in his hands, my throat tightening. It felt like a part of Chris, a piece of him that Nate was entrusting to me. With trembling fingers, I took it, feeling the fabric between my hands as though it could somehow connect me to him again.

“Thank you” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

As I tied the bandana around the lower half of my face, I reached for the folded paper in my pocket – my eulogy for Chris. I’d written it late last night, pouring every ounce of my heart into it. It was my final goodbye, the only way I could put into words everything I couldn’t say while he was still here.

I glanced at Nate hesitantly. “I was hoping to read this.. but if you think it’s safer-”

Nate shook his head, cutting me off gently. “I’ll read it for you” he said, his voice firm but kind. “It’s better this way, for anonymity reasons. But it’s your words, Y/n. Everyone will know how much he meant to you.”

I nodded, biting my lip to keep the tears at bay.

As we stepped out of the car, the chill of the night settled over me. I held Ralph close, drawing strength from the little bear and the faint scent of Chris that still lingered on it.

This was it. My final goodbye. And even though my heart felt like it might shatter, I knew I had to face it – for Chris, for Nate, and for the love that would always remain, even in his absence.

The chapel was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting flickering shadows on the walls. Nate wasn’t kidding when he said it would be a small ceremony. There couldn’t have been more than a 25 people scattered across the rows, their faces somber and heads bowed.

I glanced around discreetly, trying to piece together who these people were. I didn’t see Vince Moretti, which was a small relief. The man’s absence was probably for the best, though it also struck me as strange. For someone who claimed to have so much power over Chris’s life, Vince wasn’t here to honor it. It made me wonder.

My gaze drifted from face to face, searching for any clue that might reveal Chris’s parents. But no one stood out. Either they weren’t here, or I didn’t recognize them. A hit of guilt twisted in my chest. I should’ve asked more about them, should’ve known more about the people who gave him life.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, gripping Ralph tightly in my lap. The weight of the bandana around my face felt heavier than it should have, like it carried all the unanswered questions I would never get to ask Chris.

As the ceremony began, I couldn’t stop the spiral of thoughts in my head. The priest’s words faded into the background as my mind filled with blame as I stared at the coffin.

This is my fault.

I had pushed him to act, to take immediate steps to leave the gang. I’d begged him to make a choice, to do it now before it was too late. And now here we were. Maybe because I made it happen so fast, that this is the outcome.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them away. I needed to keep it together, at least for now.

Nate stood up, unfolding a piece of paper as he moved to the podium at the front of the chapel. My heart clenched. It was my eulogy, my final goodbye to Chris. I’d poured everything into those words, and now Nate was going to speak them aloud because I couldn’t.

He cleared his throat, his hands shaking slightly as he held the paper. His voice was steady, though, as he began to read.

“I have a note from someone who was very special to Chris that I would like to read out” he said, clearing his throat before he started:

“Chris wasn’t just someone I loved – he was my safe place, my compass when the world felt too chaotic to navigate. He was the person I never thought I’d find again, and the one I never imagined losing this way.

Chris had this quiet charm, the kind that snuck up on you when you least expected it. He didn’t say much when words weren’t needed, but when he did, they stayed with you. He could make me laugh when I didn’t think it was possible, and somehow, in those moments, everything felt easier, lighter.

But Chris was more than the laughter we shared, more than the memories that now feel so far away. He was the late night conversations, the way we would look at eachother and know exactly what the other person was thinking, the feeling of his arms around me that made the world disappear. He was the only person who ever truly saw me – the messy, complicated, and unpolished version of me, and he never looked away.

He wasn’t perfect, and neither was I, but we were perfect together in our own, flawed way. Chris gave me a love I didn’t know I needed, a love I didn’t think I deserved. And even though life was complicated, even though we didn’t always get it right, I never once doubted how much he cared.

I wish I could tell him that now, tell him how much he meant to me, how much he still means to me. I wish I could go back to that last time we were together, hold on a little tighter, kiss him a little longer, and tell him how proud I was of the man he was trying to be.

Chris, you were my everything, and now, I don’t know how to do this without you. I don’t know how to fill the space you’ve left behind. But I promise I’ll try to be the person you always believed I could be. I’ll carry your memory with me in every moment, every choice, and every breath.

I hope you know how deeply you were loved, how much you’ll always be loved. And I hope, wherever you are, you’ve found the peace you couldn’t find here.

Goodbye, Chris. My heart will never stop looking for you.”

Nate looked up while folding over the piece of paper and stepped down from the stand, his face an unreadable mask as he returned to his seat. I watched him, trying to make sense of how he seemed so composed. It surprised me, the way he carried himself as if this wasn’t tearing him apart too.

But then I thought about it – how could he not be numb by now? Losing the two people closest to you in such a short amount of time would be enough to shatter anyone. Maybe this was his way of holding it together, of keeping himself from completely falling apart.

I stole a glance at him as he sat in front of me. His jaw was tight, his hands clasped in front of him, but there was a hollowness in his eyes that spoke louder than anything he could’ve said. He was here, but I could tell part of him was somewhere else, stuck in memories he couldn’t escape.

I wanted to say something to him, but what could I say? There were no words that could ease this kind of pain, no way to bring back what he’d lost, what we’d both lost. So, I stayed silent, gripping Ralph in my lap like it was the only thing tethering me to this moment.

The ceremony finally ended, and the coffin was taken away, but I couldn’t bring myself to go with them. I watched as the others left, their faces a blur of sorrow and disbelief. The heaviness in my chest was unbearable, and the thought of following Chris to be cremated, of truly letting go, was too much. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stand the finality of it.

So I turned and walked away, out of the chapel, out of the world that felt like it was spinning too fast. I didn’t even remember getting into Nate’s car, didn’t remember the drive home. Everything was a daze, one moment blending into the next, the sound of my own heartbeat drowning everything else out.

When I finally made it home, the house felt colder than I remembered. I stepped inside, greeted by the silence, and for a moment, it felt like I was the only person left in the world. Willow followed in behind me, her eyes full of concern. She was always there when I needed her, but today, I just couldn’t bear to have anyone close.

“Do you want me to stay?” she asked softly, her voice so gentle it almost broke me.

I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. “No it’s okay, I just.. I just need to be by myself for a while.”

Willow hesitated, as if she wanted to argue, but then she nodded, understanding. “Okay. Just.. don’t shut yourself off for too long, okay?”

I barely heard her as I turned away, retreating into the quiet of my room. I closed the door behind me, feeling the weight of the world settle on my shoulders again. I didn’t bother turning on the lights. The room felt smaller now, suffocating. But it was where I needed to be. Alone. With my thoughts. With my grief.

I didn’t want to forget Chris, but I didn’t know how to keep carrying this pain.

I collapsed onto my bed and lay there in pure darkness, my body heavy with grief, as every emotion I’d been holding inside finally poured out. I clutched Ralph tightly to my chest, replaying the sound of Chris’s voice over and over again. Each word felt like a delicate thread tying me to him, keeping his memory alive even as the pain made it hard to breathe.

I stared at the ceiling, lost in a swirl of thoughts that didn’t make sense. I couldn’t understand how everything had changed so quickly. One minute, Chris was here, and now he was gone. The world felt like it was shifting beneath me, a constant reminder that nothing would ever be the same.

Then, out of nowhere, I saw it. A flicker of lights. Fast, erratic flashes coming from outside my window. My heart raced in an instant. The treehouse.

I scrambled out of bed, my pulse quickening, hoping against all odds that somehow, someway, it was Chris standing there.

But as I opened the balcony door, the wind hit me with a chill, harsh and unrelenting. The lights were flickering, not from anything magical, but because the wind was blowing against the wire of the fairy lights that wrapped around the treehouse. It was untouched. Empty.

I stood there for a moment, the reality of it all settling in like a cold stone in my chest. Chris wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t there.

I grabbed my phone, still holding Ralph as if he could somehow fill the space Chris had left behind. The treehouse. I needed to go there. It felt like the only place that could still hold pieces of him.

When I reached it, I crawled under the familiar blankets, the ones we’d spent so many nights tangled in. The ones I’d always imagined would be filled with laughter and love, but now they felt like a graveyard of memories. I opened Spotify and selected the first song that came to mind. Strangers in the Night by Frank Sinatra. Since that night I dreamed that one day, Chris and I would dance to it at our wedding, not knowing that the night we shared it would be the first and last.

The tears came again, overwhelming, hot, and uncontrollable. I cried until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore, until the sorrow and exhaustion took over. And then, I drifted off to sleep in the treehouse – alone, with only Ralph and the ghost of Chris’s love to keep me company.

a/n: lowkey sadder than part 20.. hang in there w me though

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