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b3ach-bunn7 · 20 days ago

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JAPANESE DENIM

You’re one of eight princesses invited as a potential bride for Prince Satoru. With no idea what he looks like, you find yourself ranting to the Prince himself how little you want to marry him

Royal!au, fluff, strangers to lovers

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You wonder how angry your parents would be if you pretend to collapse against the cold tiled floor.

Your dress trails as you walk idly around the ballroom. Your petticoat and crinoline make you feel ten times heavier, your heels pinching your toes as you drag the fabric around. You’d think you’d be used to it by now, the formal dress and the discomfort of it all. But you never have and you never will, which is why you know Prince Satoru will never pick you tonight.

Your parents weren’t even that important. You’re a princess from a kingdom that doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, and you know of the eight girls here tonight you’re the least royal. That, and you’re definitely the least princess-like of them all. Unlike the majority of the girls here, you don’t want to get married. You hate the fact that you’re all dressed up to parade yourself in front of a man just so he’ll pick you to bare his children. You hate that you know nothing about him other than his name and his status. You were here because your parents had forced you to be, but you have no intention of running around and playing nice.

It’s why you’re standing to the side, looking at a painting on the wall. It's tall and so intricately detailed you wonder how long it had taken to be made. You’re sure if you look close enough at the woman depicted you could make out the wrinkles in her skin.

“The painter’s name is Choso. He’s good, no?”

A voice pulls you out of your stupor. You hum softly. “Yes. It’s very beautiful.”

You turn to the voice and you are very glad you did. The man in front of you is incredibly attractive. He’s tall, for one, his hand curled around a glass of wine. His clothes look expensive, a fine tailored navy blue tunic with a white collar curling around his neck. His eyes are unnervingly blue, and you watch them trail up and down you. He looks slightly amused but also just as bored as you do.

“I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You nod your head. You're still unsure who he is, but his garments look far too regal for him not to be important.

He just nods back. “Likewise.” He doesn’t give you his name and you don’t ask for it.

“So. You’re not enjoying the ball tonight?”

You roll your eyes. “No. How long do you think I can wait before it’s socially acceptable for me to leave?”

He huffs a laugh. “You’re already looking to leave? The prince has not even chosen his bride.”

“And if my wishes come true, that bride shall not be me.”

“You’re one of the bachelorettes?” He asks.

You nod, sighing heavily. The man grabs a drink off a nearby waiter and hands it to you. You nod your thanks. There’s a few eyes on the two of you but you pay them no mind. You turn back to the painting and he follows.

“Yes. My parents brought me here to present me to the Prince, but in all honesty I have no intentions to be picked.”

The man tilts his head. The stark white curls on his head curve against his cheek, as the corner of his lips twitch into a smile. “You don’t wish to be his bride?”

You frown. “No. I’ve no knowledge of the man. For all I know he could be a hideous troll.”

The man laughs then, and the sound makes you smile. “An interesting fear to have.” He takes a step closer to you and his height towers over you. “Do you believe all princes to be hideous trolls, then?”

“Only the ones I’ve never met.”

He grins. You lean against the wall and he just watches in faint amusement. “Not very ladylike for a princess.”

“Columbus, if only you felt what it was like in these heels.” You cover your mouth at the curse that slips past your tongue. You shoot him an apologetic look. “God. If my mother heard me speak like that I’d be hung.”

“Don’t worry, my lady. Your secret’s safe with me.” He places a hand on his heart solemnly and you laugh.

The orchestra's music rings across the hall. The room is bigger than any ballroom you’d been in thus far, but you're not surprised. The Gojo family is the richest one around, and the extravagant decorations are enough to tell you that. You take another sip of wine. It’s expensive and you hum contentedly. You turn to the man next to you and find him already staring at you.

“Do you have any idea what the prince looks like? I suppose I should mingle some. I can feel my mother glaring at me from across the room.”

The man moves an inch closer, voice dropping to a softer tone. “If you’re so frightened he’s some hideous troll I could describe him to you. If it would ease your nerves.” He teases.

You nod. The distance between you two is smaller than you’d thought and when you turn to face him you’re near enough to almost brush his nose with yours.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

He breathes heavily. His eyes dart around the room. “Well. He’s tall. Devilishly handsome. Long hair, good build.”

You look out into the crowd as well. Your eyes land on a man in green silk robes, long black hair curling down his back. “Is that him?”

The man’s eyes follow yours and they darken upon seeing the same man you do. He frowns. “No. That is not Prince Satoru. That is Suguru Geto. He comes from a much lesser family than the prince.”

You know Prince Suguru, of course. Everyone around the country had heard of his fight with Prince Satoru that had nearly caused war between the two families. You peer at the mystery man curiously, at the sour look on his face. You’re interested in what his problem with that Prince is.

“Do you know him? Personally, I mean.”

The man’s eyes flicker to yours. “No. Why do you ask?”

“You speak with much contempt.”

He smiles slightly. “You see right through me, my lady. We’ve had a few arguments.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. “You have? How did you come across him?”

He just taps the side of his nose, smirking. “You’re a very nosey princess, did you know that?”

“Well, I’m not known for my graciousness.” He laughs.

You look back at Prince Suguru, where’s he’s talking to two young girls. “A shame, though. He’s really quite attractive.”

The man’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “I disagree. I- Prince Satoru is much more good-looking.”

“Hopefully I’ll never know.”

He snorts a laugh at the disinterest in your voice. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why come here? Get all dressed up and ready if you have such an aversion to marriage?”

You sigh. Adjust the top of your corset, finish the rest of your glass. He looks at you patiently, and you miss how his eyes dip to your chest for just a second.

“I’m a princess to a king and queen with no heirs except for me. Despite my aversion to it, I’m not stupid enough not to realise the importance of marriage. I need to marry someone who can benefit my family and my kingdom.”

Your eyes land on the other potential brides. They walk with an air of elegance you never seemed to be able to achieve, a beauty that, despite your aloofness, you can’t help but envy. You sigh slightly, hoping the man next to you doesn’t see the sadness on your face.

“And your happiness is not a factor?”

You snort. You can hear your mother in your head telling you how unladylike you are for making such a noise.

“Don’t make me laugh. I’m not sure where you stand in your kingdoms lineage, but my happiness is never a factor.”

He hums. “I see. Just another pawn for the chessboard of politics and duty.”

You nod. It’s weird how he understands. Most men would scold you for even complaining.

“It’s quite alright. I know a man like Prince Satoru won’t want someone like me, anyway. So I don’t bother.”

“And why wouldn’t he want you?” The man taps his fingers against his now empty glass. You turn to him once more. He looks confused now.

“Look at me. I’m nothing like those other girls. I speak impolitely and I lean against walls and talk to strange men instead of him. I’m not as beautiful as they are. But what can I do?” You shrug.

“You’re wrong. I think you are very beautiful.”

His words draw you to turn to him once more. He looks at you so earnestly that you couldn’t not believe him if you tried. You bow your head in thanks.

“Thank you, sir. As flattered as I am, I doubt the Prince will agree with you.” You shake your head.

The man shrugs. He grabs the glass out of your hand, and for a moment your fingers brush against each other. They’re smooth, unmarred by work, another sign of his nobility. He places the glasses on a waiting tray.

“You never know. Keep your hopes up, my lady.”

You go to respond but suddenly, a voice calls form the front of the hall. It’s time. You shut your eyes, cursing to yourself. You hadn’t even had the chance to speak to the Prince all night. You can already imagine the scolding you’d receive once you got home. You look back at the man and he’s already turning to leave. You reach out and grab his arm. The fabric of his clothes feel expensive beneath your grasp.

“Wait. I never got your name.”

He just taps the side of his nose again. You roll your eyes. “You’re so cryptic, did you know that?”

He barks a laugh. He bows, deep and low. You watch his white locks flutter in front of you, so soft you almost reach for them.

“Good luck, Y/N.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

And you’re being dragged away by a waiting lady before you can see where he goes off to. You don’t have too long to wonder if you’ll ever see him again, because you’re suddenly placed between the other girls, all lined up in the front of the room. You try to smile at the girl beside you but she only scoffs, turning her nose up as she looks away. You roll your eyes. Some people.

You glance and see the Prince's two knights, two pink and black haired boys, standing at the side. They look awfully young to be fighting, you wonder, but the glare on the black haired one’s face makes you feel like they might never need to.

The King and Queen look at the row of you with interest. All big, long robes of expensive cotton and silk trailing down the golden thrones they sit on. It’s only then, when you’re studying the intricate finery of their crowns, you notice the Queen's hair. A white, so stark and vibrant you don’t think you’ve ever seen it anywhere else. But then you realise you have. On a mysterious man insistent to make conversation with you. And it’s then, when you turn your attention to the King, you see his eyes bluer than the ocean and the sky combined, and your heart drops.

Because just as the dots connect in your head, your mystery man comes to stand at the front of the hall. Eyes trailing lazily over the women next to you before they land on you. And then he grins, winking at you quickly.

The girl besides you gasps. “Gods, he just winked at me.” She speaks in a hushed tone to the girl next to her.

You're too distracted to try to correct her. You’re so stupid. How could you not know? Of course, it was your first time in the kingdom, but. How had you no idea that he was the prince? The man you’d practically embarrassed and debased yourself in front of, cursing and calling him a hideous troll to his face. You feel your cheeks flush as his gaze doesn’t waver from yours, an unreadable expression on his face.

The signs were all there. The way he carried himself. Something about him just screamed expensive and important, if not for his important robes or the way people had been glancing at the two of you all night. His hatred for Prince Suguru. You’re a fool.

You’re so stupid. He’d have you hung, surely. Hung or exiled from the country as a whole.

Your hands tighten where they are clasped in front of you. You watch as the king stands, steps forwards until he is side by side with his son. He claps a hand on his back and the Prince straightens slightly.

“It is now time for my son, the oldest and only Gojo heir, to choose a candidate to be his future queen and mother of his heirs.”

You’re sure the king says more but your brain is too preoccupied. You wonder what your mother will say. You wonder how horribly your reputation will be after this. If any man will ever want to marry you. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that it takes you a minute to hear Prince Satoru say your name.

“Princess Y/N. I choose her.”

You can’t move. Chatter erupts amongst the people and the women next to you sound just as shocked as you feel. Satoru just looks at you expectantly. You feel your mothers hand curl around yours. You let her drag you forward, smiling and nodding at those who bow around you. She whispers congratulations as she and your father come up to greet the king and queen, and you’re placed in front of Satoru.

You bow your head immediately.

“Please, forgive me for my actions before, I- I had no idea you were the prince, I had no right o say what I did.” You say quickly.

A hand curls under your chin, lifting your head up to look him in his eyes. There’s a small, pleased smile on his lips.

“None of that, now. Where’s all that sass I saw from you earlier?” He grins.

You scoff. “I’m not stupid, your majesty. I would never call you such names to your face.”

“So you would behind my back?”

Your cheeks flush and you shake your head quickly. “Well, no I-“

“Please, Y/N, calm down. It is quite alright. I liked your sass. Your vim. So refreshing after my conversation with those ladies behind you.”

You sigh. His hand leaves your chin and they both travel down to grab your hands.

“But. Why me?”

“Why not you?”

You roll your eyes, then look towards the other girls, who are glaring daggers at you from below.

“They’re better princesses than I. All prim and proper. Polite. I doubt any of them would call you a hideous troll. They’re perfect.”

Satoru can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at your response.

“Ah yes. Princesses are supposed to be perfect. All manners and decorum, never showing any sort of flaw or imperfection."

He turns back to you, a glimmer of mischief in his gaze.

"Which is exactly why I picked you."

You tilt your head slightly. “You’d settle for imperfection? For me?”

Satoru shakes his head slightly, his gaze locking with yours.

"No. I don’t want to settle for imperfection. I just don’t want perfection. I don’t want a prim, proper princess who’s only talent is looking good."

He steps closer to you, his eyes searching yours intently. And now, with him as close as he is, you can see a dusting of freckles across his face, eyes tinged with a hint of green you’d not noticed before. He’s so beautiful and you can’t believe he’s yours.

"I want someone real. Someone who will challenge me, make me think, keep me on my toes. You are not a prim, proper princess. And I like that."

He smiles cheekily. “And I meant what I said earlier. You are beautiful.”

Your breath comes shakily at the close proximity. He smells like something rich, expensive and his thumb rubs circles on your hand.

“I’m glad. And I will try to be a good wife for you, your majesty.”

Satoru gazes down at you, an inscrutable look in his eyes. You look so suddenly vulnerable, and a small part of him feels bad for putting a hint of uncertainty in you. For putting you on the spot like this. His hand comes back up to graze your jawline.

"You don’t have to try to do anything. Just be you." He smiles. "That’s why I chose you."

Satoru lets his hand drop, but not before his thumb gently brushes across the edge of your jawline, lingering for a moment. You watch his eyes dart to your parents conversing behind you. His gaze flicks back to you, a small smirk on his lips.

“At least your parents will be off your back now.”

You grin. “I’d hope so, having married into the Gojo family.”

Satoru lets out a soft huff of amusement. "Yes, I imagine they're quite pleased."

He glances at your parents across the room, who are clearly quite satisfied with themselves. He turns his gaze back to you, his smirk growing slightly.

"I’m sure they’ll be even more pleased when they get to have grandbabies."

Your cheeks redden. If not just for his words but for the hungry way he looks at you.

“I hardly think that’s a conversation to have right now, your majesty.”

“Enough with the formalities. Call me Satoru, you are my wife now.” He takes a small step closer to you, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"And why not?" he teases, his voice low. "Isn’t a prince allowed to be excited about his future heirs?"

“Well of course. It’s just. I hardly think this is appropriate to discuss in front of all these people.”

You hope nobody can see the flush on your cheeks from the hall. Satoru lets out a soft hum, noticing how your eyes dart away from his.

"We are soon to be newlyweds, sweetheart," he replies, a hint of husk in his tone. "Discussing heirs is hardly inappropriate."

He grins slightly as he steps even closer, his body almost a breath away from touching yours.

"Afraid to discuss the… practicalities in front of everyone? Hm?"

“I- Yes. Slightly.” You laugh nervously.

And Satoru’s grin grows wider, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. He reaches out, his hand gently grasping your chin once again, tipping your face back up to look at him. His thumb grazes ever so gently over your bottom lip, the touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"No need to be nervous." His voice is low, almost a murmur. "After all, we will be getting rather intimate very soon."

With all the luck in the world, your mother steps forward, bowing to Satoru before gesturing you away. The weddings to be set in three days, three days until you become a Gojo and the next queen in line for the throne. You watch with keen eyes as Satoru greets your mother like he’s know her his whole life. Has some weird manly conversation with your father, before he returns back to you.

“Three days. I trust you’ll be able to keep yourself out of trouble until then?” He raises a brow.

You bite back a smile. “Yes, Satoru. I’ll see you then.”

He nods. “Until the wedding, then. Safe travels, Y/N”

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I had this idea while watching Harry Potter movie? I have no idea why. Also reader why r u lowkey like.. not like other girls omg 🙈

also I’ve lowkey been so obsessed with Harry Potter recently??? So either except some Harry Potter fics or some JJK/MHA X HP fics 😝 feeling bold

I hope u enjoyed!!

#oneshot #fluff #b3ach bunn7 #jjk satoru #jjk oneshot #jjk gojo #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo x reader #geto x gojo #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

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dorkydilf-l0ver · 11 months ago

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“Pretty little flower~”

Oberyn Martell fic

Word count: 824

A/N: hihihi my lord I have been inactive on this account. My apologies, but I’ve been lacking motivation and ideas… well, until now. So, hope you enjoy :) also, let me know if you would like a part two as the ending is a little suggestive ;}

The party was dull.

You never thought, after accepting an invite to the Head of House Martells party in the Kingdom of Dorne, that you’d be stuck listening to some old crone ramble on about his riches. You feel your eyes begin to droop, yet they snap right open after they make contact with the reason you came to this party in the first place. Standing across the room, gorgeous face lit with expression as he recalls some amusing anecdote to the guests crowed around him, looking as divine as the rumours warned you.

Prince Oberyn Martell.

The Red Viper.

The handsomest man in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

He does a double take as your eyes meet again, and smiles wide, unintentionally showing off his perfect royal teeth. Then he winks, sending a flock of butterflies flying to your stomach. You feel yourself blush ferociously as you smile back, shyly, at the prince.

You declare some stupid excuse to the old man you’re talking to, muttering that you are too warm and need a minute outside. You leave the room and enter a beautiful garden, find a bench and sit down. Exhaling deeply, you need a minute to collect your thoughts. The pretty prince had muddled them up, making you think only about him, his gorgeous face lit up, his dark brown eyes that you could get lost in, and you find yourself imagining what his beautifully toned body would look like under that golden robe that makes him look like a god.

Good lord.

You realise how down bad you are for a man you’ve never even met, only heard about in stories from people glowing with admiration.

“Well, whatever are you doing out here? Sitting in the garden like a little flower while everyone else is at the party?”

You jump, swivel your head to come face to face with the owner of this smooth, attractive, playful, slightly accented voice.

As soon as you make eye contact you leap off the bench in a hurry.

Oberyn Martell. The Prince of Dorne. The Red Viper. Had just caught you sitting by yourself outside a royal party.

This is not the first impression you wanted to make.

“I’m so sorry, your highness. I was just- uhm- I was only- no offence to your brothers party- I just needed some- erm- air.” You stumble pathetically with your words, praying that you aren’t offending the prince with your unwillingness to be present at the royal celebration, your eye contact with him faltering.

He chuckled, smiling at your attempts, and the sound invited back that pesky flock of butterflies back to your stomach.

“Oh my, little flower, are you shy? Is that why you are out here?” He asks, tone not mocking, but playful, like you’re sharing an inside joke as old friends.

“You’re certainly a pretty little flower aren’t you.” The prince moved forward, face now suddenly more serious, inquiring, seeming interested in taking all of you in as his eyes trail from your head to your toes.

Your face glows red at his words, the blush that so easily overtakes you when an attractive person looks in your general direction, made ten times worse as the most attractive man you have ever seen compliments you. “Thank you, sir.” You say. “I must say, you are even more handsome then the rumours let on”

“Rumours?” He asks, eyebrow cocked. “And tell me, what do these rumours say?”

“Only that you are the most handsome man in all of Dorne.” You shrug, gaining confidence as you converse. Oberyn Martell has turned out to be a very easy person to talk to. “However, I believe these rumours are wrong. You have proven to be the most gorgeous person in all of the Seven Kingdoms.”

His eyes widened in surprise and he smirked at your flirting. “Is that so?” He began to move closer, closing the distance between you, the butterflies moving at max speed in your tummy as he placed a hand on your waist. “Well, it appears that the rumours are wrong.” He leans in, lips to your ear as he whispers. “You, little flower, are the most gorgeous person I have ever seen.”

You gasp at his bold statement, giggling slightly in disbelief. He notices your doubt, cupping your face in his hand. “Seriously, it as if the god’s sculptured you in a way that would make you perfect to me…” He breaks off, lost in a thought. “Tell me, how long are you intending on staying at this party?”

“Well, before you came out here, I was planning on requesting a carriage to take me to my lodgings, but now I believe I will be staying a little longer.” You declare, as your eyes involuntarily flit down to his lips.

He notices you staring, smiles, and moves closer, your lips nearly touching, and it takes all your free will to not close the gap. His hands move up your body as he asks:

“Pretty little flower, would you perhaps~ stay the night?”

#oberyn martell #oberyn martel x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #game of thrones #gender neutral reader #pedro pascal #prince oberyn #the red viper #game of thrones fic #oberyn martell fic #game of thrones season 4 #prince of Dorne #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x you #oberyn x reader #pedro pascal x you

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johnwickb1tsch · 1 year ago

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you’re the worst thing (i’m addicted to)

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here...

Part 1.

“Hey, Hels.”

There is no answer, only the warbling of a bird in a distant tree. The day is bright and blue, spring has come again in all her glory. It doesn’t seem right, somehow, that the sun should still shine, and the birds should still sing.

Because she is gone.

It’s been two years, but you still haven’t really wrapped your head around it.

You still have your last text message thread with her in your phone. It’s as though you could just punch a few buttons and still talk to her. Always, she would answer you, no matter what she was doing. Sometimes you want to type in I miss you and hit send, just to see what might happen.

But then, maybe it is appropriate, that today should be such a beautiful day. On this day, forty-two years ago, your sister was born. Roughly ten years later, you followed. As a direct result, your mother died of complications in childbirth.

Your father still blamed you, but Helen never did.

In a way, Helen was your mother, more than the woman who bore you.

It makes it all hurt so much more.

“Happy birthday, by the way.”

You look down at the stone, this massive granite behemoth. You find it rather ugly, to be honest, but it will certainly stand the test of time, nuclear war notwithstanding. Loving Wife, reads the epitaph below.

You know it was true.

You know that perhaps John Wick is the only person Helen loved more than you. But the inscription still seems too brief. Short changing her, somehow.

But then, John paid for the stone, so you suppose he got to pick what it said.

You were ensuring her memory lived on in other ways.

“I finally did as you asked,” you tell her. “I’ve used the photos you left me in a painting. We're going to be in a show together. I wish you were here to see it.”

There is a mean part of you that suspects your submission was only accepted because it contained work from the late, great, photographer Helen Morgan-Wick, but you shove that down into the seething pit with all the rest of your fears and doubts. You didn't use them for the attention. You did it to feel close to her, and because she asked you to. One final art project, the note had said. She knew you too well, knew that the only thing that kept you from toeing the line of the abyss was a good artistic obsession.

You knew she’d planned to leave a project for John too. A puppy, she’d said. You’d shared a laugh over it, through tears, the last time you’d been together. You never found out how that had gone. John hadn’t attended a family gathering since Helen passed.

Too painful.

You didn’t blame him one bit.

“I miss you, Hels. I feel so lost without you.”

“Amen.”

The sound of another voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You turn to find him, in one of his signature tailored black suits, looking unfairly scrumptious despite the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't made a sound in his approach. He never did. The man moved like a ghost and looked like a dark dream. You'd always found him insanely attractive.

You'd never done anything about that, of course. But goddamn, you had eyes.

“Hi, John.”

“Hello, y/n.”

You’ve never run into him at the gravesite before, though you have seen the wilted offerings of daisies left by the stone, and you always had assumed they’d come from him. You haven’t seen him since Helen’s funeral. He hasn’t changed much, really, though there is a sharpness to his aspect you’d never noticed when Helen was alive. An edge to his gaze; how can eyes so dark convey so much? Despite yourself, it sends a little thrill down your spine that you absolutely know you should not revel in.

Maybe you haven’t seen him in person after Helen passed, but you’ve gazed at him plenty through Helen’s lens. There had been so many photographs of him in the collection of prints she’d left you. Nothing risqué, but the way he’d looked at her even through the camera had been nothing less than intimate.

There were times, late at night in your studio, when you’d pretended he’d been looking at you that way.

“How…have you been?”

He offers a grim shadow of a smile and a shake of his head that you understand all too well.

“Nice to be with someone you don't have to pretend with.”

“Yeah.”

You both stare down at the grave, meditating on your loss of this woman who touched you both so completely.

“Do you think she can hear us?” you ask, unable to lift your voice above a whisper.

There is a long pause from her widower, the man she left behind.

“Not really.” He lifts his face to the sun, eyes closed, as though maybe he can feel something of her presence. “But you should talk to her anyway. I might be wrong.”

You smile at that.

“Do you ever talk to her?”

“All the time,” he admits with a huff of self-deprecating laughter. “But then, I might just be losing my mind.”

“Ah well. That makes two of us then.”

You gently lay down the bouquet of Gerber daisies you'd brought for her. Helen’s favorite. If you ever have a garden, you will plant some for her. As it is, you have to buy them from the store. You remember the patch of daisies she’d cultivated in the garden of your childhood home. Their cheerful faces and soft petals. They had been your mother’s favorite too. When you were a girl Helen would sing to you and braid them in your thick hair. You couldn’t know at the time, how precious those perfect days had been.

The wave of sorrow hits you like a freight train, the weight of your loss a crushing force. You start to cry, hiding your face in your hands; you would prefer to do this alone, but you cannot stop it.

You feel an arm about your shoulders. It surprises you—John was never a touchy-feely man, never one for hugs, always preferring a wave or a handshake. Only for Helen, did he ever display any sort of affection. They had always been touching, holding hands or sitting hip to hip on the couch, his strong arm slung protectively around her shoulders. You didn’t want to say you’d been envious of that, but…perhaps you’d wondered, what it might be like, to be so cherished.

When he pulls you against him you only manage some token resistance. “I’ll mess up your suit.” You sound pitiful, even to you.

“I have an excellent dry cleaner.”

His dry wit had always amused you. This time, it breaks you, and you give in. He is solid as an oak, and as it turns out, his chest is an excellent place to cry on. Under the shelter of his chin you wring yourself dry, until it feels like you have nothing left inside you. His large hand rests lightly upon the back of your head, shielding you from the world. He is warm, and his cologne is subtle but heavenly. Sandalwood, maybe, and something spiced. Cardamom, perhaps. A hint of pepper.

You don’t particularly want to move, even though you absolutely should. Yet his hold on you has not loosened, and you tell yourself that maybe John Wick needed a hug just as badly as you did.

“People keep telling me that it gets easier, and I just want to punch them in the face,” you sniffle.

A huff of laughter escapes him. You feel it stir your hair on the top of your head. “Yeah. I get that.”

Finally you pull back, though not as far as you should. You’ve never actually been this close to him before, and you look at each other from a foot away. Sometimes proximity can shatter the illusion of someone’s attractiveness—but not this man. The impossible angle of his cheekbones, the soft scruff of his beard…is it just you, or does the edge in his gaze soften a little, when he looks at you? It makes your legs a little weak, and you kind of hate yourself for it.

It has nothing to do with you, stupid, you tell yourself. Where you and Helen weren’t exactly twins, you did resemble each other strongly. In profile, you’d been mistaken for her in public plenty of times before. If anything, it was probably unnerving for this poor man who missed his wife so much, to hold you, a sorry facsimile, in his arms. Out of pity, most likely.

Helen had been the good sister. The upstanding one, the kind one. You? You can be such a twisted little thing.

“Sorry,” you sigh, noticing the smudge of makeup on his lapel.

He doesn’t even glance down, that intense gaze still fixed upon you. “Don’t be.”

Unbidden heat blooms from your cheeks to your toes, finding yourself the subject of that gaze. You’ve got to go, before you really embarrass yourself.

“I'll leave you alone. It was nice to see you, John.”

You turn to go, hugging yourself against the early spring chill. Why did you have to feel so bereft, without his arms around you? You take a few steps before he calls after you, “Y/n?”

You freeze in your tracks, a thrill jetting down your spine. “Yeah?” you dare, turning to half look over your shoulder.

“I…was thinking about going to Helen’s favorite restaurant tonight. Would you like to join me?”

Your heart beats double time in your chest, as you slowly turn to face him. You should say no. There’s a thousand reasons you should say no. This was your sister’s husband. It doesn’t matter that he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, and that he’s been kind to you, and that he’s looking at you like he might drown if you say no.

“I would like that,” you answer, and your heartbeat thundering in your ears sounds like the hammering of nails into your own coffin.

Part 2

#john wick x you #john wick #john wick x you fic #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #im going to hell #john wick fic #title from a black keys song i fucking love them

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judeatheatos · 24 days ago

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darklina - 1026 words - rating: t - boss/employee sickfic au

Aleksander got the text five minutes before his first meeting of the day and ten minutes after he got the email with all the notes he needed, something his assistant would usually be there to deliver in person.

hi mr morozova im sorry im really sick im not gonna be ghere

Another, before he can respond.

im sorry pls dont fire me intried totake some meds this mornign but they didnt do anyhting im sorry

Alina, who never so much as misses a semicolon, sent him a text. With a typo.

He hesitates on what to say for only a moment considering his 9 o’clock is already waiting out in the hall for him, the white 8:58 looking up at him like a timer from the top corner of his phone screen.

It’s alright, Alina. Please stay home today, I’d rather you were recovering than trying to do your job half asleep and on cold medication.

The grey typing bubble appears and disappears several times before she finally responds at 9 on the dot.

thank u sir mr morozova ill be in tomorrkw i promise thank uou

Aleksander sighs, and places his phone face down on his desk. He’ll have to call her at lunch and tell her he can survive without her for a few days.

His call at lunch went unanswered, ringing until all he got was the familiar voice of his assistant saying a very unfamiliar assortment of words: hi, you’ve reached Alina Starkov! I’m not available at the moment, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as you can!

Not available.

Aleksander’s worried. Maybe too much so.

Alina is only his assistant. Sure, he remembers the New Years party as well as she does, the champagne fuelled horribly cliche incident of fucking his assistant in his office while getting even drunker off the sounds she made and off of the taste of her, but after the holidays, when the office opened up again, Alina was quick to tell him that they should forget it ever happened. Aleksander was going to promote her when he had called her in. Bring her closer to his position. Make their…relations a little more acceptable, but he respects her wishes, so he shouldn’t be this worried about someone who’s only his assistant.

Maybe he’s been lying to himself about how much he respects her wishes.

If he truly did, he wouldn’t be standing outside apartment 308 right now holding a hefty plastic bag and a paper cup of green tea that is currently burning his hand. The door opens after a minute, a confused looking man with short, bleached hair staring out at him.

“Can I help you?”

Alright. Aleksander cannot embarrass himself. “I’m here for Alina, I heard she wasn’t feeling well,” he hesitates. “I’m a friend. From work.”

The man nods, then lets him in.

Aleksander toes off his shoes at the door the second he sees them all piled up there, knowing this must be a household very much like the kind he grew up in where wearing shoes on the carpet will get you a smack to the back of the head.

“She’s down the hall,” the man says. “First room on the right.”

“Thank you,” Aleksander says, and follows his directions.

Thankfully, considering his full hands, the door is already open a crack.

“Alina?” he says softly, poking his head through, “are you awake?”

“Mal?” Alina mumbles from the bed, barely visible in the mix of dull pink from the fairy lights and dimmed laptop screen playing a cartoon where two children are currently having ramen made for them.

“No, sorry.”

Alina sits up slightly, and turns to look at the door. It takes her a second, then she’s quickly sitting up and slamming her laptop closed, “Mr. Morozova? What— what are you doing here?”

Maybe he did overstep.

“I had called you at lunch to check on you and you didn’t respond. Maybe I got a little too worried, uhm—” Aleksander holds the plastic bag up higher so she can see, “I brought you some food.”

Alina reaches over for her lamp, washing the room in a soft yellow and showing just how sick she looks. The purple under her eyes, the exhaustion clear on her face. Sympathy curls in his chest, the urge to care for her flaring up to an inappropriate degree.

“What is it?” Alina asks, moving her laptop off of a small lap desk and holding out her hands for it.

“Well,” he hands her the tea first, lets her open it and sniff it to the best of her ability when she’s as congested as she is, “I know you really love that Vietnamese place by our office, so I—”

Alina gasps as she unties the bag. “Mr. Morozova, you brought me pho?”

“I… I did. Is that alright?”

She grins up at him, taking the big container of broth, slightly smaller container of noodles and brisket, and much smaller container of bean sprouts from the bag.

“I would hug you right now but you probably don’t want to get sick,” Alina says, then takes a sip of the broth. “God, you’re my hero.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Aleksander says quietly, “after all you’ve done for me.”

Alina blushes, or maybe she’s just warm. She’s probably just warm.

He should go. He’s definitely overstepping her boundaries now—

“Pull up a chair,” she gestures behind him to the one at her desk, something high-backed in a soft pink. “I’m watching Ponyo, you’ll love it.”

Aleksander does as told, sitting what he hopes is a respectful distance from her.

They watch the movie together in silence, Alina devouring her pho like she hasn’t eaten all day. He knows her. She probably hasn’t. When she’s finished, all her cups and bowls stacked together and her lap desk moved aside, Aleksander nearly jumps as she reaches over and takes his hand.

Alina looks at him, a silent question of consent in her gaze.

Content he isn’t overstepping, perhaps now stepping perfectly in time with her, he squeezes her hand.

She squeezes back.

#darklina #shadow and bone #darklina fic #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #the darkling #alina x aleksander #judethefics

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thedeviltohisangel · 9 months ago

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Spook and John have my 🫶🏼. Maybe for a prompt “who did this to you” John asking Spook? I just think with her background as a spy and his protective nature, it fits them!! Can’t wait for more 🙌🏻

All The Things I Did (Interlude): I'm Such a Fool

a/n: broke my own heart with this one. introduced a very curious dynamic with harding, a little bit of solo cass and a few little fluff crumbs so you all don't hate me too much. send romance/fluff/ post-war spook and bucky??? prompts to ease my soul. i'll be waiting to chat...

The moment Colonel Harding was the one behind her office door and there was no smile on his face or flirtatious joke on his tongue, Cass knew.

“Anyone?”

“Rosenthal’s crew just landed. I was on my way to interrogation.” Her heart was struggling to know what to do. Seize with sadness over the loss. Hammer in her chest to keep her mind moving. Slow down so she could have a moment to think.

“I’m coming with you.”

----

She sat silently while they went through each plane until they got to the one John had been on. The tapping of her toes only sped up when the navigator announced he saw ten chutes. “About where was that drop, Lieutenant?” The men looked over at her, Colonel Harding already gathering his breath to tell her to stand down.

“Somewhere over Westphalia, maybe, ma’am. It was…I’m sorry I don’t have anything more specific.”

“It will do just fine, Lieutenant. Thank you.” Cass tucked her notebook, she hadn’t even opened it, under her arm and barely made it out the door when Harding started calling after her.

“Cassandra! Lieutenant!” She kept walking, knowing exactly what he was going to say and knowing with certainty she was not going to listen. “Lieutenant Egan!” That made her pause.

“Who told you that?” She kept her back to him. She wasn’t sure quite yet what game he was playing.

“You don’t think your counterparts were keeping an eye on you over there?” She rolled her eyes. Men and their egos.

“Your feelings about the situation are irrelevant, Colonel. I have work to do.” Cass was going to grab her bag and go get John.

“You’re grounded, Lieutenant. You try to leave this base and I’ll have you shipped back to the States on the next available flight.”

“Then good thing the OSS answers directly to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Colonel.”

----

“You shouldn’t be here so soon, Ingrid.” Cass had spent the night in an emergency safe house close to her drop site before setting off to the nearest town where Peter lived, her contact she paid to help get around Germany. Ingrid was the name he knew her by.

“I wouldn’t if it wasn’t for a good reason.” She looked around the beer hall, empty at this time of day. “I’m looking for a pilot. American. Dropped over here a day or two ago.” Peter got quiet and stopped moving the rag over the bartop.

“Ingrid, asking about American pilots is very dangerous around here.” Her fingers flexed tightly around the glass of untouched beer she had politely paid him for. Tipped double.

“You don’t need to take me to him. I just need to know how to find him on the way to Stalag Luft.”

“Two men were here this morning on their way to pick up bodies.”

“Bodies?”

“They have a spot in the middle of the woods where they bury them.” Cass closed her eyes and fought to maintain composure. There was no chance John was dead. She would have felt it. She would know in her soul.

And when she rode the horse Peter lent her to that clearing and she saw a lifeless body lying directly in the sun like God himself wanted her to find it, she almost started to think he was gone.

“John?” She practically fell from the horse as she realized it was him. Dropping to her knees, she grunted as she rolled him over. Her breath stopped when she got a good look at his face. Cass felt around frantically for a pulse and almost cried when she felt one thrumming against her fingertips. “Baby, you got to wake up.” She deduced he had run away from the men that were here to bury a pile of American bodies. It meant that it was only a matter of time before they either found them or sent for German soldiers.

John thinks he heard her voice. Thinks he felt her presence above him. Thinks that meant he was dead.

“Cass,” he moaned. His head wasn’t supposed to hurt this bad if he was dead. “Please.” Please just take me away from here, he was asking. Take me somewhere where I can be with you again.

“It’s me. You’re going to be okay. I’m going to get you out of here.” There was no chance she was going to be able to get him on the horse without his help. She draped his arm over her shoulder, his head lolling weightlessly into the crook of her neck.

“You’re real.”

“We have to get you up, okay? Can you help me, Johnny?” Her arm wrapped securely around his waist, steadying herself to lift. With a grunt she pushed up but only made it a few steps before she collapsed under his dead weight and hit the forest floor. She rubbed her knuckles as hard as she could against his chest in an attempt to wake him back up. “Come on, come on.” He coughed a little and his eyes fluttered open completely.

“Cass…you can’t…be here.” She ignored him, propping him up into a sitting position and readying herself to lift him once again. “Cass, please. Go.”

“Not without you.” She had him. They were so close. She couldn’t go back now.

“I love you, Cassandra Ann Egan.” He was saying it like it was goodbye. She wanted to respond. She wanted to cry and scream. Wanted to burn the entire world down for getting her here but not letting her have it. Have him. But the sound of a gun cocking and a cold barrel placed to the back of her head made her freeze.

“Get away from the prisoner.” Cass willed herself to think of a way out of this. There was no way this could be the end.

“You want to point a gun at someone, point it at me.” John was sitting up straighter now. Adrenaline reaching all parts of his body. His instinct to protect simmering inside him. He reached for Cass’ arm in an attempt to drag her behind him.

“I found him bleeding while riding out to the market. Was only trying to help.” She slowly stood with her hands up, the gun lowered when the officer heard the German words coming out of her mouth. Keep talking, keep diffusing, keep distracting.

“He’s coming with us, no need for your help.” For his part, John was using the tree he had been leaning against to pull himself up. He got his wish, the guns right back up and in his direction.

“You get on that horse and you get somewhere safe.” He was pleading with her. Have never asked her for anything since he met her but was asking her for this. To give him the peace of mind that she was safe.

“Ingrid, there you are!” Cass looked in horror as Peter entered into the clearing. “You’ll have to pardon her, sirs. She gets lost sometimes.” The two men from the carriage had returned to the beer hall to radio the local security forces. Unable to stop his curiosity, he had followed them to make sure she was alright.

“Enough!” One of the soldiers drew back his gun and brought it down on John’s back, his legs giving out and causing him to drop to his knees. She lurched forward with a scream, Peter grabbing her and pulling her back.

“Stop! Let me go!”

“Get your hands off of her you son of a-” Another blow, the wind knocked out from him this time. She kicked at Peter’s legs but his grip only tightened as he began to drag her away.

“John! John!” she screamed as tears flowed down her face.

“Let her go! Don’t fucking touch her-Cass!” He crawled a few feet in the direction she was being dragged, kicking and screaming and writhing with the pain of leaving him behind. The next blow knocked him out cold.

----

He was certain she was dead. Certain that that was the last he would ever see of her. John had wanted to ask the interrogator. He had shown a grainy image of Cass, called her The Little Sparrow, and asked if he knew her. Knew her real name. Location. He had only smirked. That was his girl. John knows she would have been all too happy to know just how far under their skin she was. He had half a mind to ask the guards to kill him too on his way to the cell. What was the point if she wasn’t there to get home to? To fulfill the life they were foolish enough to let themselves dream about.

Seeing Buck and the boys numbed him for a little bit. But then Buck asked about London. Asked if John had finally told Cass he loved her. If they had made plans for when this was all over. The words were lodged in John’s throat. He wanted to tell Buck he had told her he loved her over and over again. That she had finally said she loved him back. Endlessly. That they had felt in their guts they were running out of time so they had found their way to a bombed out Abbey and made it all official. But he couldn’t bring himself to talk about the good times.

“Major John Egan.” A guard appeared in the doorway. “You’ve been called back to interrogation.” He had been here a couple of days but knew enough it didn’t sound like a positive. Cass had told him of her encounters with the Gestapo. Maybe they had learned of his connection to her. Maybe that were going to try and torture the truth out of him.

The guard led him out into the yard, passed the nicer huts where the Germans stayed and toward the remote corner where more housing was being built. It was starting to look more like a good spot for an execution. At least he would see her again.

“Do I get my last rites?” he asked as he was ordered to stop. There was not a single other soul in sight.

“Five minutes.” The guard walked away and John looked around in confusion. Maybe he could try and climb the fence. Maybe he could-

“Excuse me, but I’m looking for my husband.” Oh.

“What kind of husband leaves a wife as ethereal as you all by her lonesome?” There was a chain link fence separating them but she was there. She was alive and she was there. “I thought I’d lost you.” Cass’ fingers curled into the fence and resting her head on the cool metal, his skin finding hers in one of the openings.

“Me too. But we’ve been fucking with all plans the Germans have for us, haven’t we?” He smiled and wished he could touch her more fully. Wished he could kiss her and twirl her hair around his finger and feel the rise and fall of her breath against his chest.

“We should never have left London,” he whispered.

“We’ll get back there-” Her words paused as she sucked in a breath of pain. John gripped the fence tighter. She lifted her shirt and John noticed a deep purple bruise along her ribcage. “Definitely broken,” she wheezed.

“Someone do that to you?”

“You’re not supposed to be worrying about me, John.”

“Who did this to you?”

“I had a run in with a guard on my way in. He propositioned me and didn’t like that I turned him down.”

“Would you be mad if I killed him?” There was no humor in his tone. His request for her permission was actual.

“I don’t want you in here any longer than you already are. We made a lot of plans we have to follow through on.” Cass couldn’t help the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes.

“I owe you a real wedding,” she hummed in agreement, “some little Bucky’s and little Spook’s,” she leaned in as close as she could, “and that house by the ocean.” She had talked about a house she walked by every summer as a little girl. Thought it was a castle and dreamt of living there with her books and her farm dogs and her own family. Bucky was going to buy it for her if it was the last thing he ever did.

“I’m going to visit as much as I can. I’ll write to you everyday.” She had noticed the guard approaching again. Their time together was coming to a close. “I love you more than anything else in the entire world,” she said the words as if they were the most sacred. After John had jumped the gun with his feelings weeks ago, she had made him work for the words to be echoed back. He was more addicted to her love than cigarettes.

“I love you, too, Cass. Promise me you’ll always know that. No matter how long it takes for me to get back to you.”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you. I promise.” Their lips met in one of the diamond gaps, both of them trying to portray everything they felt in the soul.

“Time’s up.”

“Let me look at you. Just one more minute.” He wanted to be sure he was able to commit her to memory. Every little detail. Didn’t want to forget a single beauty mark. A single scar. The curve of her top lip or the way her eyelashes looked when they fluttered closed.

“Now, Major.” The grip on his arm was firm, John practically being dragged away as Cass just pressed herself closer and closer into the fence. He never took his eyes off of her, silently mouthing his love for her one last time before he was around the corner and she was out of his sight.

“Do me a favor, sir?” The guard stopped and looked at him. “Point me in the direction of the guard that put his hands on my wife.”

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfiction #john egan fanfic #callum turner fanfiction #callum turner fanfic

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lost-in-time-marie · 3 months ago

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I find myself thinking tonight about human touch. There’s something written in the biology of a human to want touch, to need it, to be healed by it. The infants in the NICU that get held, a gentle hand placed on the head, one finger too large for them to even grasp, get better faster, grow bigger. You’d think I get some personal pleasure in making a mockery of biology the way I insist upon breaking its rules. But like so many biological behaviors and inherent drives, this too has become a twisted and corrupt thing for me.

I don’t like to be touched. I don’t remember anymore a time if I did. When some blaring catastrophic alarm wouldn’t go off under my skin at an unexpected grasp, a tap on the shoulder, a graze in passing. Even if I wanted the touch, or thought I did, if I had a crush, if I loved them, even if in a relationship with them. I would still feel the wrongness of it like a weight sinking in my chest.

I’ve learned to grow accustomed to certain touches. The familiar ones, akin to me or some effect of time and depth with me. Of course, the most difficult always remains with romantic love. There’s people I’ve loved with my whole heart and it didn’t stop the ants that live under my skin that can’t stand the feel of theirs. I’ve only known three men in ten days shy of 27 years that could touch me. That I didn’t have to bear, that I didn’t have to hide the grimacing, that didn’t cause that jarring screech to a halt. So far, I’ve lived to see two of them wither away and turn into something foul and rotten, until the skin shrinks away once more.

I can’t figure out what causes it, where the pattern is, what rules it follows. I’ve wanted to be in a loving relationship with people, but I couldn’t stand for them to touch me, and I could never grow accustomed. The three men that cause the anomaly couldn’t be more different, maybe a certain type or set of features here and there, but nothing significant. When I first meet them, there is something inherently familiar, comfortable, easy.

I’ve only met the third recently. I only met him for the first time less than a week ago. That was my worst fear, my biggest risk on this trip. I didn’t care about navigating the airports and all the flights and connections. I didn’t know if when I got there he would feel like a stranger, something foreign, something wrong. I didn’t really have a plan for what I would do if he did, maybe just pretend or run home early. I was hedging a bet, putting a lot of faith in that feeling in my chest when we would talk on the phone. It’s the first time I hear his voice and yet I’ve known this sound.

I look up to see him for the very first time in the airport. I’m staring down at my phone on purpose, because I don’t know what to do with my searching eyes, barely balancing the teeter-totter of unease and excitement inside me. He says something about finding me. I look up and I smile. And he is so familiar. I know him, I recognize him. And relief pours down in a rainfall from the crown of my head, soaking all the way to my toes. I feel self conscious, nervousness falls a blush on my cheek, but not because of a wrongness or strangeness. There’s a touch of something familiar, a curiosity at the yet unknown, excitement about all the possibility. And there is nothing wrong about it.

Funny, how that’s the part that scares me the most. I don’t know when I got so afraid to want things, not exactly anyways. But it is the first reflexive kick of my brain, the stone I turn in my pocket just for the comfort. If I don’t want it, if I don’t hope, it can’t hurt me.

~K.

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ovaryacted · 1 year ago

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Okay I’m home and chilled out, so I’m just gonna ramble about my thoughts/analysis that I keep having about perceiving Leon Kennedy as a sexual being. This might be long. I also want to reiterate that my word is not law, and everyone has their own hcs and stuff and that’s okay!

I know hard dom content is very popular across the erotica/smut medium as a whole. Rough sex has always been popular and trust me, I’m a fan too. But if I can be controversial for like two seconds, I don’t see Leon as a hard dom personally. Closest thing would be a rough daddy dom, but to me Leon always gave me someone who caters to their partner. He’s loving and affectionate, a little rugged and awkward sure, but nonetheless he cares and wants to give a good experience.

He studies his partner, learns about what makes them tick, what makes them moan, how their body responds to different stimuli. Leon is a perceptive human being, he observes things before fully handling them so he can take the best approach that gives him the best results. I think he’d approach sex the same way if he’s with someone that he cares for.

In a weird way, I also don’t think Leon is a sex god of sorts. He’d have to find the time and ability to actually experiment with different dynamics and kinks to figure out what he likes too. It’ll all be a learning process for him, but to me Leon is someone that prioritizes his partner’s pleasure above his own because that’s what gets him off. If you feel good, he feels good. He gets off on getting you off type of deal, that’s who he is.

I also think Leon’s sexual dynamics depend on where he is in his life. When he’s younger, he’s naive, grasping on to whatever makes sense so he’d be more inclined to letting someone else lead and show him things he wouldn’t know at first (hence why a lot of ppl write RE2 Leon as a sub). As he gets older, gets more experience here and there, he’d try building more of his own confidence and autonomy and realize he has the ability to take control. Consider RE4/ID/RE6, he’s smarter, more aged, more mature (it’s the trauma), so he’d be more able to take charge like others paint him out to be but I don’t think he’d be inherently “aggressive”, far from it really. He’s serious about communication and being vocal, because he has to hear whether or not he’s doing the right thing or he needs to tweak something for a better experience. He’s not selfish he’s a sweetheart, that I can stand ten toes on.

The period of time in Vendetta to me is where I would see the rough sex come out because he’ll be using it as a means of self harm. He wouldn’t want to hurt another person, but more so he doesn’t care about himself, so his actions will be considered “reckless” and he won’t realize the consequences of what he does until after it happens. He’s suicidal, depressed, an alcoholic, and exhausted with life…so whatever he does in the bedroom would reflect that. Leon would probably want someone to fuck him instead of the other way around, but what he says he wants vs what he really wants deep down would be considered two things. He says he wants the rough stuff and he’s detached when in reality he wants to be comforted and wants someone to treat him like a human being, not something to be discarded. He just wouldn’t vocalize that because he doesn’t think his wants or needs matter. You’d have to read him and dictate for yourself because he’s too ashamed of saying it out loud. (I will say Vendetta Leon is one of my favorite variations of him and he deserves all the love and safety his other versions get! He’s just an angst magnet lmao).

Now in DI and beyond, he has healthier relationship with things, probably more aware of his alcohol consumption and age, and possibly going to therapy. In a way, I think Leon at this age would be far more inclined to revert back to the way he was at 21, little childish, letting someone else lead because he finds safety in that. Many people believe submission assumes someone loses their power entirely, but the way I perceive it, it’s you being able to trust someone else to make decisions for you in your best interest.

So he would be very switchy as he gets he’s older, liking being submissive because that allows him to turn his brain off and let someone else take charge for him. He won’t have to make the choices for once, and either way so long as his partner feels good, he feels good.

As a dynamic character, this is just how I perceive Leon, and to me he’s more of a pleasure dom, and probably likes being dominated but it’ll take him a while to be comfortable in doing that after everything. Hence, why I want to write for sub Leon more, because I think he deserves to just feel safe in giving up control he never really had in his life.

#ovaryacted thoughts #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #yeah sub Leon supremacy #this is my brand lmao #and I’m gonna do it #watch me

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runwithwolvcs · 11 months ago

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Addicted To You

The Princess and The Wolf

wordcount: 1248

"well, well, well, look who it is." Sulli teased as she tapped Paul on the shoulder. She shouldn’t be surprised, she had spotted Jared first, then knew he couldn’t have been too far. The really do travel like a pack. Though she was disappointed she never received a text he was back in town.

“Sulli, what are you doing here?" A genuine confusion crossed his features.

"having fun," Sulli said vibrantly, putting her hand on his chest as she asked, "want to have fun with me?"

"you’re drunk," Paul mused, watching as she apologized to a girl who had bumped into her.

"barely," She brooded. She wished she was blacked out on the dance floor, but the moody wolf caught her eye. Standing on her toes she whispered in his ear, "missed you,"

"thats how i know you are drunk," He chuckled, “let me get you a taxi,"

She frowned, not understanding why he was acting the way he was. She did miss him. All the time, it felt like she was missing something and when she was with him, that feeling disappeared. Sulli figured out in Seattle that it was him.

"whats wrong?" The older man asked, sliding his arm around her waist to pull her closer as other people moved past them.

“Why are you so mean all the time?" She asked, her lip jutting out like a little kid.

Pauls eyebrows furrowed at her question, “I didn’t do anything,"

“Nows not the time, Paul," A man she vaguely remembered said from behind him

“Back off," Paul snapped at the familiar man before turning back to her. He cupped her cheek, regaining her focus solely on him, “Hm?"

He didn’t get it. Of course he didn’t. Sulli couldn’t help but sneer as she spoke, “I cant believe i was willing to give you a second chance,"

“Hey," He frowned, stroking her cheek softly. She could feel herself wavering, torn between wanted to forgive him or punch him. All from one little touch and his soft brown eyes. She wouldn’t let this go that easily, no fucking way.

Sulli pushed him off, “You said you were going to protect me."

“Sulli,” His eyes widened as he began to try and calm her down as her tone got louder, only to be cut off.

Sulli could practically feel the rage in her veins like she had when she saw him for the first time in ten years, “You never showed up. They called you and you never fucking came!”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, holding her shoulders to keep her from swaying back and forth.

“At the hospital. I told them you would believe me.” Sulli murmured quietly as tears filled her eyes. Her drunk mind bringing her back to when she was a little girl, fighting the nurses as she begged them to call Paul, or Sue. She had just broken her arm after being pushed down a flight of stairs by her foster dad, Larry, and it was her word against her foster parents. She knew Paul would believe and get her out of there but he never showed.

"take her home," Sam ordered, coming up from behind Paul, "now,"

"Sam," Paul started, his eyes hardening again.

"Go, Paul." Sam demanded, not backing down, "you’re too distracted and she’s drunk, it’s not safe."

Paul sighed and tugged her wrist roughly, “come on,"

"no,” Sulli fought back, digging her heels into the ground.

"I’m not asking," He nearly barked at her, only for her to cross her arms in defence. He couldn’t intimidate her. He sighed and before she knew it, she was thrown over his shoulder.

With a small shriek of surprise, she demanded, ”put me down!”

“Paul!” She yelled again as the breeze of fresh air hit her, causing her to wonder how he made it to the door and outside so quickly.

The older man ignored her pleas and profanity as he promptly walked through the parking lot with her over his shoulder, only setting her down once they had reached what she assumed was his car. A old, beaten down Jeep. She remembered it from when she was little.

"I’m gonna be sick," She warned before bolting to the bushes lining the car park. Paul wasn’t far behind her as she felt her hair being gathered and lifted from her shoulders and back. A soothing hand rubbing up and down her spine.

As she finished puking, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood up straight way to fast for her brains liking. The world around her was spinning causing her to stumble backwards and right into Paul who caught her by her waist, keeping her upright and on her feet.

"fuck, Sulli," He looked down at her with concerned eyes as she peered up at him.

"sorry," She mumbled as she let him lead her to his car. He opened the door for her and got her seated before she began to kick off her heels, “ I can just walk home.”

"no, hey, it’s okay." He reassured her as he knelt in front of where she sat with her legs dangling out of the passenger seat of his car, "you feel better? hm?"

She nodded, "are you mad at me?"

"no," He said as he swiped her hair from her face for her, "just worried,"

"you worry about me?" The younger girl asked teasingly. A childish grin on her face as she twisted her body to get a better look at the inside of his car. She had never been inside of it before, holding true to not wanting to be stuck in a moving vehicle with him.

Paul muttered, “everyday for the past ten years,"

"why?" She asked curiously. He sure didn’t act like he was worried about her.

"because..." Paul let out a sigh, as if he was reluctantly telling her something, "you’re my imprint."

"imprint." Sulli repeated.

“Yeah,”

A look of confusion crossed her face as she racked her brain for a definition of the word imprint. She could only come up with one and she doubted thats what he meant so, begrudgingly, she admitted, “I don’t know what that is.”

“I know.” He chuckled before mentioning, “Thats what we need to talk about. Is Kaycee working tonight?”

“Yeah,” She hummed absentmindedly.

“You’re staying with me tonight.” He told her, and from his tone she knew better than to argue. Besides, she didn’t want to be alone anyways, that was the whole reason she went out after work.

A small whine left the girls lips, “Only if rub my back like you did when I was little.”

“I’ll do anything for you, princess.” He murmured, sliding his palm across the length of her bare thigh. The little dress she wore exposed the entire length of her leg and as his hand reached near the hem, she put hers over top of his, holding it in place. The heat radiating from it warmed her body. She smiled at the pet name, remembering how she had, had a nightmare and he told her about a fairytale. Paul had completely made it up, telling her she was princess, and he was the wolf that was going to protect her. She didn’t need a prince because she was strong on her own, but the wolf would always be there to help. If only that were true.

Sulli looked at him with an unamused look before she muttered, “I am a fucking princess.”

#paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #twilight wolf pack #paul lahote x oc #twilight wolves #twilight #paul lahote smut

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 years ago

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DRABBLE: SUNDRESS SEASON (MHA) (for Black!Fem!Readers) (18+)

Writer's Note: I had this idea after seeing so many hot girls in their sundresses this season (including me). Enjoy! -Jazz 💋💋

**********

PRO!KIRI

Kirishima has always been a gentleman.

He respects every woman walking the earth and always keeps in mind that they are people, unlike some other men who treat the opposite sex like walking, talking sex toys. However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to look. After all, he is a man.

And when sundress season comes, he is completely in his element. He thinks that every woman is beautiful in their own way, so to see them walking about in their cute little sundresses, enjoying the warm weather, fills him with joy just as it makes him hard. It’s hard not to pay attention to the legs, titties, and ass bouncing in those thin pieces of fabric.

So when he first saw you in yours, you’d better believe he was dumbfounded. It was one warm night at a rooftop party his longtime mentor Fatgum was throwing for his birthday. There was good music, good company, and, of course, all kinds of good food and delectable desserts. Kiri had just gotten off the dance floor to get himself another one of those fruity, tropical cocktails that Fatgum whipped up, not realizing that your hand was reaching for the same glass.

“O-oh, sorry!” you apologized. “I didn’t see you there.” But Kiri waved you off, laughing. “No, it’s fine! I wasn’t paying attention to…”

His words died in his throat when he finally got a good look at you. It was impossible not to eye you up and down. The bright yellow sundress you wore just hugged your body so right. The hem of it flowed elegantly down your gorgeous legs, stopping right at your knees and letting his mind run wild at the thought of your thighs underneath.

You paired the dress so well with your matching sandals that barely made you any taller than him and your hair piled up in braids at the top of your head. Your choice of hairdo seemed to accentuate your face, increasing your beauty even more. The spaghetti straps to your dress led his eyes toward your neck and collarbone right down to the curve of your breasts. He thought about sticking his face in them pulling the straps down so he could expose your pretty, brown nipples to him and–

“Uh…are you okay?” you asked, looking concerned. Kiri, realizing he was standing there for the past few seconds with his mouth open, quickly recovers by clearing his throat.

‘Just play it cool, Eijiro. Just play it cool.’ “Yeah!” he laughs a little too loudly. “Why do you ask?”

“You just seemed kinda hot,” you giggled but then realized the connotation behind your reply. Your pretty, brown eyes widened, horrified. “I-I meant warm,” you quickly correct yourself. “It’s kinda warm up here and you’re wearin’ that button-down, so…” You awkwardly trailed off, realizing you were rambling, and began fidgeting with the strap of your crossbody bag.

As if you couldn’t get any cuter to Kiri! He practically fell right there for you. He chortled at your awkwardness, unable to stop himself. He was so sure you’d be so stuck up with how fine you were. Did you know how fine you were?

“You should take that,” you said, nodding at the cocktail. “It’s good but I’ve already had about two.” But he shook his head. “Absolutely not! I’m not takin’ a drink from a pretty lady. That’d be totally unmanly of me.” You quirked a bashful smile at his compliment, making him want to bend you over the damn snack table and lift your dress up.

“It’s fine, really!” you laughed. “You got here first anyway.” But Kiri stood ten toes on his decision, even crossing his arms over his broad chest covered by the red fabric of his button-down. “I’m not takin’ no for an answer,” he said in a mockingly serious tone. “Take it, miss.”

“It’s Y/N,” you said with a gorgeous smile lighting up your face. “No formalities, please. You’ll make me feel weird.” Kiri felt his heart flutter at your personality. “Y/N, then. I’m Eijiro but my friends call me Kiri.” He stuck his hand out for yours and you shook on your introduction. Your hand was so soft and so much smaller than his, the hot pink nail polish adorning your nails making your skin and yellow dress pop.

“Well, it seems we’re at a crossroads here, Kiri,” you sighed, putting your hands on your hips. “We’ll be here arguin’ over this drink all night if neither one of us decides to take it.”

Standing with you under the tiki lights hanging above the snack table as the music shifted to a 90s jam that he adored, Kiri got the best idea he’s ever gotten in his life.

“Well, I’ve got an answer to that,” he hummed, taking the glass from the table. “We can share the drink but only if you agree to dance with me.” He was acting cool but really, the man was shitting bricks anticipating your answer.

However, the big, bright smile that grew on your pretty face gave him all the answers he needed. “I think I can agree to that,” you giggled. You took his hand in yours, making his heart thumb, and walked him over to the dance floor with the drink in tow.

You danced the whole night away with him, ending up pressed against him and giving him a raging hard-on, and with your number in his phone by the end of the night.

PRO!BAKUGOU

Sundress season?

Da fuck was that?

Katsuki had no idea and had no time to know because of his very busy schedule as a pro hero. Meetings; patrols; missions; filming photoshoots and commercials for brand deals, etc. He was a very busy man.

This also meant he had no time for dating. He didn’t see the need for it anyway. He had enough trouble caring for himself, so now he had to care for somebody else? Plus, constantly shuttling out money for dates, birthdays, and holidays in fear of losing that someone would become too much of a hassle. That’s why he always settled on hookups.

Bakugou loved himself a good hookup if not a one-night stand. No romance; no strings; no feelings attached. Just sex. It wasn’t hard for him to pick someone up from a bar or a club due to his status as a pro and celebrity.

Not to mention his looks. He barely had to flirt with a woman and they were ready to drop their panties for him. He’d admit, it stroked his ego heavily. And when he first laid eyes on you, he would admit that he had every intention of getting you in his bed.

He was in the club one hot Friday night. His friends had dragged him out for a night out dancing and drinking even though he wanted to stay home. “You always stay home unless it’s for business!” Mina had complained. “C’mon, ‘Suki! Have some fun with us!” And after being coaxed by his friends’ constant pleas and endless shots on Denki’s tab, he went.

After seeing you, he was glad he did. He sat at the bar with a whiskey smash when his eyes laid on you strutting into the place in the damnest sundress he’s ever seen. It was sleek and red, filling out your curves in the best possible way, making you look like a modern Jessica Rabbit. You were with your friends and immediately headed to the dance floor, laughing as you did. He watched as you moved to the music, his eyes drinking in the way your hips swayed and your ass bounced beneath the thin fabric of the dress.

Instantly, he felt himself getting hard at the sight of you, picturing himself hiking up that dress, bending you over his bed, and watching that ass bounce against his cock. He turned away from you to think of a way to approach you. The last thing he wanted was to interrupt your time with your crew and cause a fight.

But while he was thinking of a good way to catch you off guard, you had beaten him to it. You were suddenly sitting beside him and asking him, “Is this seat taken?” He nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked and saw you standing there up close, in the flesh. You looked so damn good! You smelled even better–like the sweetest candy.

Wordlessly, he nodded, afraid of fucking this up. You gave him a thankful smile and took a seat on the stool next to him. Your knee slightly brushed against his, sending his dick into a frenzy. Not to mention his heart.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ he thought. He never had a woman make him feel this weird. He couldn’t even speak to you. “Bartender!” you shouted, waving him down. “A fuzzy navel for me, please!”

After you ordered, there was a lull between you that was filled by the music blasting from above. Bakugou still felt nervous and didn’t know what to say to you. Your perfume and closeness were bothering him. ‘Just talk to her, idiot!’ he criticized himself. ‘You’ve spit game to plenty of girls before. What’s the difference here?’

He got his answer when you suddenly turned to him out of the blue and spoke. “So are you gonna say anything or just act like I’m not here?” you asked, a giggle in your voice. “I mean, you’ve been starin’ at me since I walked in.”

Confident. You were the definition of it.

He turned to stare at you, trying to hide his shock. “What?” he dumbly asked in his raspy voice.

You barely batted an eye at him as you cocked your head to the side. “You think I didn’t see you over here starin’ me down?” you giggled. “I thought you’d come over and talk to me but you never did. What? Am I not pretty enough for Dynamight?”

Though it was a joke, Bakugou took it very seriously and felt stupid for not approaching you sooner. Though your boldness leaves him dumbfounded, a woman as confident and sure of herself as you should never feel that you’re not the finest thing in here. But he didn’t get serious. He decided to play into your game.

“So you were watchin’ me watch you?” he asked, turning to fully face you. As he did, his thigh brushed against yours. “Why didn’t you come over first?”

He saw your smile fade a bit at being caught. Shy looked good on you too. “Guess I didn’t want you to see me as someone tryna hit,” you sheepishly chuckled, tapping your nails against the bar.

“So you don’t?” he asked, giving you a crooked smirk. He then saw a twinkle appear in your eye, bashful yet bold. “Maybe,” you replied with a passive shrug. “Maybe we could find out over a drink?” Your other hand glided down your lap to smoothen out your dress, brushing against Bakugou’s hand that was placed on his knee.

As his heart lept with glee, Bakugou smirked happily and nodded at the bartender. “Put her drink on me!” he hollered before his attention was on you for the rest of the night…including in the bedroom as a nightcap when your sundress ended up on his bedroom floor.

He’d never been so overjoyed to have a woman’s number in his phone until he got yours.

PRO!KAMINARI

Denki fucking lived for this time of year: nothing but legs and ass as far as the eye could see. Especially on his block.

He lived in a pretty nice neighborhood. Nothing but dog walkers, joggers, ice cream trucks, and kids’ screams filling the air from the park up the street. No crime, no bullshit, and certainly no villains. It was the perfect place for the girls to walk about and not worry about shit…well, except for Denki being a perv from his balcony.

He just couldn’t help it! These girls should’ve known better than to be so damn pretty and sexy, especially in warm weather. They were just asking for Denki to ogle at them during patrols and flirt with them on his breaks. He wouldn’t have minded having someone he could ogle and flirt with all the time in her little sundress. Not to mention hug and squeeze and grope and f–

Ding-dong!

Denki was startled on his balcony and scowled at his door. Who the hell was ringing his doorbell in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday and his day off? “Hold up!” he shouted before hurrying back into his apartment, shirtless and in his Nike shorts. He didn’t have time to put on a shirt.

“It better not be a damn solicitor,” he growled, reaching for the door. “I already told you people–”

He opened the door, not expecting to see you in the thinnest little dress he’s ever seen on a girl. It was pink, the color of bubblegum, and brought out your glowing skin that Denki pictured himself kissing and touching for hours. It stopped right at your thighs, giving him a peek at the delectable flesh, and the spaghetti straps allowed him to drink in your collarbone and shoulder blades. Goddamn, you were fine!

He was so enthralled by you that he barely noticed the suitcase you held. “Um…hi,” you awkwardly said. “Sorry. Is this 56J?”

Denki blinked at you, almost not hearing a word you said because he was too busy picturing himself fucking you against the wall. He shook his head, blushing wildly. “Uh, no,” he replied. “This is 56G.”

Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “Fuck!” you hissed. “I’m so sorry. I just moved in this morning and the stupid guy at the front desk gave me the information for the wrong floor.” Your eyes flickered down to Denki’s naked torso before looking away, appearing nervous.

Denki leaned against the wall with a smirk, fully aware that you were eyeing him down and it made him feel better about checking you out earlier.

“You just moved in?” he asked curiously. “Well, that explains why I haven’t seen you around here before.” He put his hand out for yours. “I’m Denki Kaminari.”

“I know,” you giggled, shaking his head. “You’re pro hero Chargebolt. I’ve heard a lot about you.” When your hands left each other’s, you nervously nibbled on your bottom lip. Denki pictured himself doing that. “Well, lemme not take up more of your time. I need to hurry before the moving truck gets here.”

You began to leave but Denki stopped you. “You need any help?” he asked. “I mean, you got any boxes you need carryin’ or furniture you need movin’? I can handle some hard labor.” He flexed one of his arms, earning a smile.

“You sure?” you asked, sounding unsure. “I have some probably already set outside my apartment door but the Uhaul guys are bringin’ the rest later.”

Denki nodded, already settling. “It’s no problem,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you ruinin’ that pretty dress you’ve got on.” He gave you a flirty smile that earned him a shy one on your pouty, soft lips.

“Well…if you’re sure,” you laughed. “How can I repay you, Denki?” Your name sounded like music on your lips. He tapped a finger against his chin, making a show of thinking it over. “I know a good ramen place near here. I’d be happy with you joinin’ me for dinner as payment.”

He gave you a flirtatious wink, hoping that would work. Surprisingly, it did. You gave him a smirk that had him wanting to lift up your dress and eat you out right there in the hallway. “You caught me on a good day,” you giggled. “Fine then…but for that, you’ll have to carry the boxes.”

“You got it!” he practically cheered. “Just give me a minute and I’ll be right up.”

You nodded and strutted off while he hurried to get dressed, whistling happily to himself as he did, his mind filled with nothing but your body, face, and the way that pretty pink dress brought out your skin.

PRO!HANTA

Sero loves whatever you put on but there is something about how you looked in a sundress that just makes him so fucking ready for you.

If you happen to be wearing one of those colorful little numbers that clung to your ass and were loose at the bottom when you were together, he is touching on you.

No matter where you are: the movie theatre; a public restaurant; a park; at home chilling on the couch. He doesn't care who was around and who happened to see him. His hand is either on that ass or on your thighs, squeezing the flesh to his delight.

You can blame yourself for his behavior. You should know better than to wear that shit around him. You should’ve known damn well than to have chosen a sundress as an outfit for Deku’s birthday party. You had shown him while he was busy ironing his shirt for the occasion. “Baby!” you called from down the hall.

“Yeah?” he hollered back, concerned with ironing out his polo. He had about an hour until the party started but you were going early to help set up decorations. “I want your opinion on my outfit,” you said, already coming down the hall. “I bought it last week but I’m not sure if I look good.”

Sero smiled to himself, already picturing you looking like a snack. You always did to him. “I’ll be the judge of that, mama,” he chuckled, stepping away from the ironing board after putting the iron up. “So let’s see what you…” His words die in his throat when he turns towards the door and sees you standing in the doorway.

The sundress you picked out for Deku’s party is like a wet dream to Sero. The flowing hem of the dress stops at the tops of your knees, exposing your gorgeous legs that are shiny with coconut oil that tickles Sero’s nostrils. The dress is the color of the ripest tangerine, making your skin and the brown of your eyes pop as well as the pink polish on your fingers and cute little toes in your wedges.

You paired the outfit with gold jewelry, just enough to not make you look naked, and your braids are styled down across your back. Sero’s eyes immediately fall to your chest, noticing the push-up bra you’re wearing that makes your breasts look extra plump and appetizing. He can only imagine how you look around the back.

You fiddled with the hem of your dress, appearing nervous. “I got it from Macy’s when I was out with Mina and Uraraka,” you nervously explained. “They made me buy it thinkin’ it was my color. I think it’s too short though. It’s way shorter than my other dresses.”

You pulled at the hem but it didn’t do much to cover the slip of thigh Sero kept catching. It wasn’t enough to be inappropriate but it was enough to make his cock stir in his dress slacks. “Does it look okay?” you timidly asked as if afraid to know the answer.

Sero’s brain was shortcircuiting. His thought process wasn’t working properly. He was too gone in the thoughts of you on the bed, your dress hiked up and his cock plunged deep in your sobbing, wet pussy, his fingers working at your clit and telling you how pretty you are.

He pictured himself whisking you away from the party, taking you somewhere private–maybe an empty bathroom or a broom closet–, fucking you silly, and cumming deep inside of you so you were forced to walk around with his nut dripping down your thighs in your little sundress.

He must’ve been staring for too long because you pulled a face at him, alarmed and confused. “Uh…Sero?” you questioned, confused at his silence. “Are you okay?”

He blinked, abruptly closing his mouth and clearing his throat. “Sorry, I just pictured some naughty shit just now,” he chuckled, running a hand down his face. “The girls must really want you to get fucked tonight. By me, that is.”

Your confused expression softened, replaced with one of joy. “So I take it you like it?” you giggled.

Sero walked over to you, unable to keep his hands to himself any longer. He slid his hands down your hips, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Like it?” he scoffed. “Baby, I love it. Look at you! C’mere; over here by the mirror.”

He practically draghed you over to the mirror in front of your walk-in closet and stood you right in front of it. He stood behind you, hands on your hips and his lips caressing the sensitive parts of your neck.

“Look at how pretty you look,” he cooed into your neck. “I’m almost afraid to take you out of the house.” One of his hands snaked down to teasingly slide underneath your dress and caress your thigh.

You giggled, winding an arm around his head to pull him closer. “Stop,” you laughed. “I don’t know…it still seems kinda short, don’t you think?” You still wore that uncertain expression on your face, your pouty lips pursed and your eyes nervous.

Sero’s hand squeezed your ass, making you gasp. “It ain’t short enough,” he softly growled. He laughed when you began to smack him on his chest. “Alright, alright! Just don’t bend over too much…”

He slowly moved your dress up on your thighs, revealing the cute little panties you wore underneath that made your ass look immaculate. “Or else every guy at the party will get an eyeful of what’s mine.”

His fingers slid between your inner thighs and he groaned at how warm they felt squeezing against his hand. “And I ain’t just talkin’ ‘bout your ass, baby,” he murmured into your hair as his hand began to work against your panty-covered pussy. Your sweet moans began to fill the air, your knees buckling slightly and your hand gripping his hair.

“But if you’re still unsure, you want me to show you how amazing you look, mama?” He turned you around and pressed a wet, passionate kiss to your lips, leading to a hot makeout session that had his cock growing in his pants.

You didn’t stop him when his hands looped through the waistband of your panties but you didn’t sound happy about it either. “Sero,” you mewled. “W-We can’t. We have to leave in an hour to help with the party.”

Sero gave you a wolfish grin as he slid your panties down your naked thighs, leaving you underwearless in your sundress. That only made him harder. “I’ll be quick,” he chuckled, leading you over to the bed. “And even if I’m not, they can handle the decorations, can’t they?”

You didn’t protest or respond but the spank he gave you that echoed against the bedroom walls emitted a soft, needy moan from your lips. Sero grinned, standing behind you and already thinking of a good excuse to tell Deku that didn’t involve fucking you out of your clothes.

“Now shut the fuck up and bend over,” he demanded, and like a good girl, you did.

Y’all did leave the apartment in an hour, by the way.

#bnha drabble #my works #my fic shit #black reader #black fanfic writer #black coded reader #kirishima x black!reader #bakugou x black!reader #sero x black!reader #denki x black!reader

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sykesandskittles · 4 months ago

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CHAPTER TWO

Harlow

AT NINE-THIRTY ON THE DOT, Talia is at my door, and she looks incredible, as always. She’s wearing a black strapless dress that shows off the butterfly tattoo right below her collarbone, and a pair of high-heels that make her at least two inches taller. She’s carrying a sequined clutch that only looks big enough to hold her phone.

She frowns at me. “You’re not wearing that.”

I glance down at myself and shrug. I’m wearing jeans, my cleanest pair of tennis shoes, and a sweater that’s kinda cute. It’s not as fancy as her dress, but it’s not as casual as my usual outfits, at least.

“There wasn’t a dress code on the invitation,” I point out.

With a sigh, Talia pushes into my room. “Hi Emily,” she says, waving at my roommate, who is sitting on her bed with her laptop, headphones covering her ears. Emily waves, then goes back to whatever she was doing.

Talia goes straight to my tiny closet, tearing through it like a woman on a mission. She pulls several things out, looks at them, then puts them back with a huff—until, finally, she finds something. She holds a short, maroon dress up to me, eyeing it critically. “Are your legs shaved?”

“Yeah. I shaved them yesterday before we went to the beach.”

“Good.” She pushes the dress into my chest. “Put this on while I find some shoes.”

I take the dress. “This dress is two years old. It’s way too small for me now.”

In the past two years, I’ve gained about fifteen or twenty pounds. And I don’t hate it, honestly. I know you’re supposed to want to be skinny, but I’ve always liked my curves, and the extra weight has never bothered me.

But shoving that twenty extra pounds into this dress is like asking me to stuff a rolled sleeping bag back into its sack. Some things are just impossible.

“Perfect,” Talia says. “It’ll show off your assets. Now, hurry. We’ve got to go.”

With a sigh, I tug the dress on just to prove how wrong Talia 's vision is. But once the dress settles into place, it actually doesn’t look too bad. It’s tight, but it props my breasts up nicely, making them look far more perky than they actually are. The only downside is that the dress is really short, so half my ass is hanging out. But whatever. It’ll work for a couple of hours.

Talia steps back, and looks me over, head to toe. “Minimal makeup, but you can get away with that. You look gorgeous.” She shoves a pair of black strappy kitten heels at me. “Now let’s go. It’s going to take at least ten minutes to get across campus.”

Thankfully, the residence halls here don’t have curfews, otherwise, we’d be fucked. We make it across campus in record time, but that’s because I’m practically running. The campus is dead at night and darkness seeps into every corner, so the unease I feel is pretty intense.

I’m so anxious, I barely notice the cold wind coming off the ocean. I’m just determined to get to Rush House, clutching my pocket-sized stun gun the entire way. I only shove it into my small purse once we see the spire of the old house jutting up over the student affairs building.

The house is just as dark and mysterious as I remember, and a shiver rolls down my spine as we walk past two gnarled gargoyles that flank the walkway leading up to the porch.

As we get closer, I can see there’s someone dressed in a tux standing at the door. He eyes us as we walk up. “This is a private event,” he says just as we mount the top step.

I pull out my invite and hand him both pieces. He glances down at them, then looks up at me. “Name?”

I hesitate, and Talia nudges me. “Harlow Anderson and Talia Langley.” His gaze shifts to Talia , and there’s a second when I think he’s going to turn us away. But instead, he holds out a basket that has a pile of cell

phones inside. “Phones aren’t allowed,” he says by way of explanation.

Talia pops forward, dropping her cell phone into the basket, then snatches mine and puts it in the basket, too. I open my mouth to say something—namely how ridiculous there is no cell phone rule is—but the guy opens the giant oak door, and Talia is already pulling me inside.

The second I step over the threshold, into the foyer, I suck in a breath. The outside of the house is creepy as fuck, but the inside isn’t much better. It’s giving…Haunted Mansion. Wide sweeping staircase, dark hallways, oversized portraits. Wealth practically drips from every antique surface. I’m betting the vase in the foyer alone would fetch a fortune on Marketplace.

Talia and I are guided to the right, and into a large room, where everyone is gathered. Right outside the doorway, there’s a sign on a pedestal that reads, “Silence past this point.”

I grab Talia 's arm, and make a face, like what the fuck? She just shrugs and continues walking deeper into the room. Someone with a tray hands us each a glass of champagne, which I tip back and drain immediately, grabbing a fresh glass before the guy can walk away.

Talia gives me a look, but whatever. If I’m going to make it through the next couple of hours, then I’ll need to be comfortably numb. It’s the only way.

We stop at the edge of the room, and I scan the large, elegant space. Expensive-looking paintings hang on the walls in gold frames, and there’s a crystal chandelier suspended in the center of the room. Everything about this ancient house screams wealth, privilege, and the elite.

My gaze shifts to the faces surrounding me, and the first thing I notice is the fact that there are so few guys here. This room is filled with girls, probably all ExU students, each more stunning than the last. They’re all wearing designer dresses paired with chunky jewelry, and Gucci purses slung over their bony shoulders. I feel like I’ve tumbled down the rabbit hole and landed in some kind of couture ad.

Heels clack on the hardwood floor as the girls walk around, completely silent, sipping their drinks. Some stand in groups, while others look like they’re making an effort to be seen–strutting elegantly, champagne in hand, chins tilted upward.

Thump. Thump. Thump .

I can’t see where the sound is coming from, but on the other side of the room, four cloaked figures emerge, filing into the room—the same mysterious figures from last night. But this time, they’re not wearing the gold masks.

The second they enter, there’s a renewed energy in the air. The cloaked figures fan out, dispersing into the crowd–and as they pass each girl, their gazes linger, like they’re assessing each person individually.

Um.

I lean into Talia .“What’s happening?”

She shrugs without looking at me, her eyes glued to this odd thing unfolding in front of us.

I try to make out the stranger from last night—the one with wintery brown eyes. But I never saw his face, and these guys all look similar—huge, broad-shouldered, and they all walk with the confidence that comes with being born into wealth and privilege.

I wonder if these are The Omens that the website mentioned.

I take two large gulps of my champagne, tilting my head back, and closing my eyes as the bubbles slide down my throat. I’m already feeling a bit lightheaded from the first glass, so things are moving along nicely. A couple more drinks and I may even forget why I’m here.

One can only hope.

I hold up my empty glass and lean over to Talia . She’s barely even touched her drink. “I’m going to hunt down more champagne,” I say a little louder than I intend.

Talia elbows me. “Shhh. My God, Harlow , are you trying to get us kicked out? Go and come back quickly.”

With a nod, I scan the immediate area and spot a guy with a tray moving toward the center of the room. Nice. I start after him, like a lioness stalking a gazelle on the Serengeti. Wobbling a little on my heels, I weave my way through the patches of fellow college girls, keeping those tall champagne flutes squarely in my line of vision.

I��m halfway to my fresh glass when a wall of muscle appears in front of me. A wall that’s encased in a long, navy blue robe. Up close, I can see the hood is separate and made of a velvety black material–no idea why I fixate on that small detail.

Glancing up, up, up, I gulp audibly when I catch a glimpse of the Wall’s face—classically handsome with a cut jawline, straight nose, dark, wavy hair, and those light brown eyes that cut into me with such raw intensity, it makes my heart skip a beat. Or maybe it just stops completely. Either way, I feel a bit faint.

This is the guy from last night. I know it instinctively.

I take a step back to give him room to pass, but in the process, I teeter on my heel and start to go down. He catches me by the arms, and steadys me, his long fingers gripping me tightly, almost painfully.

“Um, t-thanks,” I say. But his hands linger on me, and his eyes are narrowed, his lips pressed into a hard line. He looks…angry, almost like he doesn’t want me here.

Before I can even feel a twinge of embarrassment, though, someone bumps into me from behind, shoving me into the angry stranger, my front pressed into his rock-hard chest. He barely moves, so it’s like being pinned against a slab of granite. A warm slab of granite that smells faintly like the ocean.

I push against his chest to separate us. “S-sorry.”

With a quirk of his full lips, he dips his head and speaks directly in my ear, “You’d better watch your step, Little Rabbit. In this house, there are vipers everywhere.”

I swallow a wisp of air .

Little Rabbit? Vipers?

My mind works overtime trying to figure out what he could mean, but I come up blank. So I open my mouth to ask him, but he’s already walking away, being swallowed up by a bunch of girls trying to get his attention.

I manage to grab the champagne I was after, but as I make my way back to Talia , I notice everyone in the room is looking at me, their gazes following me from under a sea of fake lashes. The distinct vibe of disapproval trails my every step.

When I get back to Talia , she’s standing next to another girl, talking in low tones behind her glass—I’m guessing so she isn’t seen breaking the rules. The other girl is wearing a satin navy-blue dress that falls mid-thigh and shows off her long, gold-tinted legs. She has an easy smile, and it looks like Talia and her have already made friends. Talia has always been that way. She could make a life-long friend while standing in line at the post office.

The girl smiles at me, flashing a row of perfectly white teeth.

Talia leans into me. “This is Wyn. She was just explaining all of this to me.”

I nod and force a smile at Wyn, still a little shaken by my encounter with the angry guy. I ball my hand into a fist to stop it from trembling.

Wyn comes over to stand next to me, so I’m sandwiched between her and Talia . We huddle a little, holding our glasses up to our mouths so that we can whisper.

“Hey,” Wyn says. “Welcome.”

“Thanks,” I responded, my voice barely audible. “I’m Harlow . ”

“Oh, wow, that’s a unique name,” she says. “Don’t worry. If they catch us talking they’ll just come over and tell us to stop. They won’t kick us out.”

Bummer. Getting kicked out is the best-case scenario at this point.

Wyn lifts her perfectly manicured brows. “We saw you talking to Noah Sabastian a minute ago.”

Noah. So that’s his name.

“Yeah, I almost trampled his foot.”

“He’s one of the four Omen boys, and every girl in this room is after him,” she says.

Well, that explains the tsunami of dirty looks that came roaring at me a few minutes ago.

I scrunch my nose. “Not sure why they’re after him, but whatever. To each their own, I guess.”

Wyn smiles. “I mean, aside from his fuck-me face, he’s insanely rich. He owns this house, and he has more power at this school than the fucking Dean. So, yeah…”

Damn.

I’m not sure what to say to that, but thankfully, I’m saved from having to reply. A young guy in a suit walks to the center of the room, and thumps

on the floor with a carved stick, re-creating the same thump, thump, thump

from before.

The silence in the room grows thicker, expectant.

“The Omens will now make their selections,” he intones, his deep voice echoing off the dark, wood-paneled walls. Excited chatter ripples like little waves throughout the room, breaking the spell of silence. No one says it explicitly, but I guess we can talk now.

“Oh, shit,” Talia squeaks. “It’s happening.”

I take a sip of my champagne and turn to Wyn. “What are they selecting? ”

“They’ll each choose a consort for the upcoming academic year.” She spreads her hands, gesturing to the room. “That’s what this whole Preference Ceremony is.”

I blink. Did he just say consort?

What in the middle ages is happening here?

If they start sacrificing people, I’m leaving. Period.

I half-turn to Talia and pull a face, like, did you just hear what I just heard? But she doesn’t even see me. Her gaze is fixed on what’s happening with this guy thumping his stick, trying to bring everyone to attention. She’s always been really into this kind of thing. Cliques. Groups. Clubs. You name it, and if it’s considered cool, she wants to be a part of it.

I’ve clearly lost Talia , so I turn back to Wyn. “So what happens after they make their selections?” I practically gag on that last part, because you’d think we were talking about lobsters in a tank. Not actual people.

Wyn doesn’t have a chance to answer, though, because immediately after the guy makes that announcement, all the girls assemble themselves, gathering in the middle of the room. Wyn directs us to join as well, even though we’re not really a part of whatever this is.

The four Omen boys step up onto a wooden platform and stand in a line, shoulder to shoulder, hands clasped behind their backs. Masters of the universe. Kings of their domain.

Noah snags my attention first, and I can’t help but replay our last interaction in my head—the warmth of his breath brushing across my cheek, his hand squeezing my arm just a fraction too tight. I swallow, and suck in a long pull of perfumed air, trying to calm the anxiety pooling in my stomach .

Talia homes in on my discomfort. “What’s wrong, babe?”

I blow out a breath and drum up a reason, pulled from the plethora of my insecurities. “I don’t know, I guess I just feel out of place here.”

“Why?” Talia scoffs. “Because these people are rich? Who cares? You’re cooler than anyone here. You know, you really need to start that positive affirmation journal I gave you.”

Journals have never really been my thing. Why write my emotions down when I can just bottle them up inside, and wait for them to ferment? Drunk on my own pain. Sounds perfect. I doubt my therapist would agree, though. I can practically hear him in my mind.

This is a new beginning, Harlow . Put the past aside, and be brave.

I thread my arm through Talia 's. If I’m brave, it’s because she’s here with me. No matter the situation, she’s always on my side, always encouraging me. She’s the one person in my life—besides my grandmother

—who truly loves me.

I glance back up at the platform, shifting my gaze to the two guys to Noah’s right. They have similar features, so they must be brothers— Dark, classically handsome, both with long hair that falls to their shoulders

Then there’s the guy to Noah’s left—incredibly tall, with dark hair and an expression that looks like a permanent scowl, and if the breadth of his shoulders is any indication, then he must be built like a brick house under that robe.

One thing they have in common, though—they all look like trust fund kids. Like they all have kidnap insurance and throw beer cans off their yachts.

“So, who are these guys?” I ask Wyn.

“Noah Sabastian ,Nick folio, and those two are fraternal twins— Nicholas and Jolly Karlsson. They rule the Burning Crown.”

I nod, shocked that Wyn is being so forthcoming. Maybe she figures our presence here is approval enough to let us in on the basics. Whatever her reason, I’m just happy someone is explaining things.

My eyes shift back to the guys, and I study them. “They look douchey.” Sexy, undoubtedly toned under those robes, with faces like that? Yeah, no thanks. Guys like that are always more trouble than they’re worth. Universally.

“You’re not wrong,” Wyn laughs. “but they’re also worshiped around here. Their families practically own the school. Their last names are on

every building on campus.”

It’s meant to make them sound impressive, but somehow it just makes them even more douchey. College guys being worshiped? Ugh.

Wyn continues, “Noah is the oldest, so he’ll choose first.”

And almost like Wyn had summoned him, Noah steps forward. I watch with curiosity as he recites something—in Latin maybe—looking down into the sea of girls. There’s a buzz of excitement, like they’re all waiting with their breaths held, hoping to be chosen as prom queen.

Wow.

But as I look around, I realize how important this ceremony is to everyone here, and I feel bad for judging this whole thing so harshly. This ceremony is a crazy concept to me, but hey, it takes all kinds, right?

With a less critical eye, I study the faces of the girls surrounding me. We all have our weird things, right? And everyone wants to be the chosen one, singled out amid an ocean of beautiful faces. Plucked from the shadows.

Well, everyone, except me.

I’ve been there, done that, and have the emotional scars to prove it. I’m perfectly content in the shadows.

But I shouldn’t color everything with my own experiences.

I’m contemplating that when everything suddenly goes still, and the room falls back into silence. A hundred pairs of eyes slowly turn in my direction. I just blink back at them, confused. What’s happening? It isn’t until Talia nudges me that I realize why they’re all staring. Noah is still standing on the platform, his Dark Brown eyes locked on one target.

Me.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian smut #jolly karlsson #nick ruffilo #bad omens smut #nick folio #nick folio smut #noah x reader

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panandinpain0 · 11 months ago

Note

Ravenclaw quidditch player flirts with reader (the granger if ever 👁️👁️) = possessive ron???

(and mione backup 👀👀)

Alternative Motives

So sorry for how long it took me to write this, I hope you enjoy it (or read it at all).

Series Masterlist

@@@

Requested by: @mailmango

Ron Weasley x Male!Ravenclaw!Granger!Reader

Ron is a proud person, but he can admit that he’s also a jealous one. Finding out that (Y/N) has been hanging out with a fellow Ravenclaw didn’t rub him right, and that feeling only grew after meeting him.

(Y/N) had been meeting up with his fellow Ravenclaw, Joshua Hendley, and at first it was to study. But soon Josh was asking (Y/N) to go to Hogsmeade or sneak out at night from the dorms. Sometimes (Y/N) would reject his invitations and other times he would go with him, and he hadn’t really noticed just how upset Josh would get when (Y/N) turned him down.

Not until now.

“I did it! I did it, (Y/N)! I won the game!” Josh had run up to (Y/N), who’d been standing with his sister and friends.

“Good job, Josh! Your team did great, you worked hard for it,” (Y/N) congratulated, patting Josh on the back after he was pulled into a hug.

“Who’s this?” Ron asked, sizing Josh up. Who was this random classmate that was forcing his boyfriend into a hug? His usual grimace overtook his face as he glared at Josh, and (Y/N) picked up on it.

“This is Joshua Hendley, he’s in Ravenclaw with me. We’ve been hanging out together for the past couple of weeks. He was the friend I mentioned to you.” (Y/N) took a step away from Josh after the hug and he didn’t seem to like that, his brow creasing at the word ‘friend’.

“Right… the one that’s been taking you to Hogsmeade?” Ron recalled a conversation they had over dinner the other day.

“Yes. Josh, this is my boyfriend Ron.”

Ron nodded stiffly at Josh, but he didn’t return the gesture. Instead he scoffed, looking at (Y/N) with an anger that (Y/N) hadn’t noticed before.

“Him? Really?” he raised an eyebrow at (Y/N).

Blinking in confusion, (Y/N) linked his hand with Ron’s, “What do you mean?”

“Ronald Weasley. You’re really going to settle for him?”

“Josh, I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Don’t you realize why I’ve been spending so much time with you?”

(Y/N) took a hesitant step back at the tone in Josh’s voice, and Ron immediately stood at attention, ready to do something he’d probably regret.

“It wasn’t because I wanted to be your friend, cupcake.” The last word was dripping with venom. “I have feelings for you but you’re too dense to see it.”

“I’m sorry, Josh, but-”

“Yes, yes- you’re with this idiot.”

Harry glanced away from his best friend to Hermione, but not soon enough to stop her from standing between the three in front of them.

“Say that again,” she threatened, pulling her wand from her sleeve. She was closest to Josh, weight in the tips of her toes as she almost fully blocked her brother and his boyfriend from Josh’s view.

“Get out of the way, Granger. This isn’t your fight.”

“The hell it is, that’s my little brother you’re shouting at. And Ronald Weasley is ten times the man you’ll ever be. My brother is lucky to have him, and the same goes for Ron.”

Ron seemed taken aback at this, smiling at the back of Hermione’s head. (Y/N) rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb, sharing the smile with him.

Josh snorted, rolling his eyes, “Like you can say anything. What do you know about relationships, Granger?”

(Y/N) went to take a step forward, but if Hermione seemed hurt by this she didn’t let it show. She raised her wand closer to Josh’s face, and her glare became even more intense.

“You will leave my brother and Ron alone. You will not see them or talk to them, am I understood?”

It was now that Josh seemed to realize the severity of his situation, especially when he looked over at Harry who was looking at him with a half-pity, half-anger filled gaze. Putting up his hands in surrender he backed up, glaring at Ron and (Y/N) as he went.

“And keep the Granger’s names out of your mouth!” Ron shouted after him, his arm around (Y/N)’s waist.

“Are you lot alright?” Harry asked as they started to walk towards the castle. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more help.”

“Nonsense, Harry. If you’d tried ‘Mione probably would’ve cursed you,” (Y/N) teased, nudging her arm as she tucked her wand away again.

“I didn’t know you felt that way about me, Hermione,” Ron went further, smirking at her as they climbed the hill, quickly dodging Hermione’s punch.

“I never said it,” she insisted, sticking her nose up as she went ahead.

“Thank you, Ron,” (Y/N) whispered, catching his hand again.

“Anytime, love.” He smiled with a wink.

Ta-da!!!

-Author Max <3

Harry Potter Taglist: @mailmango

#fanfiction #x reader #writer #fluff #x he/him reader #x male!reader #fandoms #harry potter #x male reader #ron weasley #ron x reader #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x male!reader #ronald weasley #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x male!reader

96 notes · View notes

endthedream · 1 year ago

Text

three sins to hell

pairing: devil!chenle x human!reader

summary: the devil, a creature so sinister he seduces humans into sins so he can have their souls in hell.But if you’re his next target, what would you do? Would you even notice that the devil is standing right in front of you?

words: 10k

story colour: orange

warnings: vulgar language, toxicity, manipulation, heavy makeout/almost smut (nothing happens tho)

note: I hate this story with a passion, but I didn't have the nerve yet the time to rewrite it again. I hope you can still somewhat enjoy it. It's my halloween story (a few days too early). I will try to get something out on Halloween as well, but I can't make any promises. Hope you guys are doing well! Feel hugged~

masterlist of ‘nct dream as supernatural creatures‘

You have known of the existence of the devil, have heard stories about him when you grew up. Warnings, wherever you go. ‘Don’t go near the devil. He will suck out your soul and bane you to an eternity of hell and misery.’ People would tell you stories about him, how he seduces men and women to doing sins, how he hides among the common folk, how easily he gets into your head. They called him the fallen angel, who was banned to ruling over hell for his sins. Some say he is a frightening, red creature with three heads and a mouth with teeth so sharp they can break through any bones. Some say he is a demon with wings and horns, and a tail so long and sharp he will pierce through your heart. But some also say he is a man, a very handsome one. He was once an angel graced with an eternity of beauty; hell couldn’t change that as well. They say the reason why he is able to seduce so many people is because of his piercing beauty, his sharp features and hypnotizing eyes. They say that one look from him and you’re gone, fallen into a pit of longing, no matter how pure you swear to be.

You heard so many stories, got told so many warnings and still you found yourself not believing those words. You found yourself thinking it was all just a tale, trying to make you scared to keep you in control. But you were never one to believe in fairy tales, never one to look for the truth in them.

But all this changed. All this changed when you looked the devil right into his eyes.

There is something in the air this morning, something different. You can feel it filling up your body, clouding your senses. You take a deep breath of the fresh morning air, before grabbing the straps of your backpack and beginning your walk to school. It isn’t far from your home, just about six minutes, but you like to take those few moments to be grateful for everything you have. You go over it, over and over again, in your head. ‘I’m grateful for the roof over my head, the food in my stomach, the friends that I have, the clothes that I wear, all the luxury items I have at home and every single day that I live on this planet, protected and healthy.’

It is something you like to do to remind you that nothing in this life is given, nothing in life is permanent. Some people don’t have a house, or food, or clothes. It keeps you on your toes, never lets you stray away or complain about unimportant things. It keeps you down to earth.

“Y/n.”, you can hear your best friend Jisung, calling your name and see him sprinting in your direction. “There you are. I was starting to get worried about you. You are always on time.”

“On time?”, you ask confused as you look at the time on your watch. It’s five minutes before class starts. Five minutes? Normally you are always here ten minutes before it starts, never five. But you walked the same path you always do every single morning, you left at the same time you always do. How come you arrived five minutes later than normally? Something is weird, you felt it this morning when you left your house. Something is definitely weird.

You almost fell asleep three times in class today, which isn’t like you. You are a straight A student, with a perfect attendance record. You don’t sleep in class; you pay attention and write notes. You ask questions and answer the teachers’ questions. You don’t fall asleep, that is not like you.

“Ms. Lee.”, your teacher says, a sympathetic look on her face. “I have seen you doze off three times today and I must say this genuinely surprised me. You are my ace student, Miss. I have never seen you like this, so I wanted to tell you if you have anything in your heart, or if there is anything that is bothering you, private or in school, you can always talk to me, okay? You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“Wait so she really offered you therapy hours?”, Jisung says, amusement lingering in his voice. You shake your head at the boy, opening the main doors and walking out of the school. All you want to do now is to get home as fast as possible and forget all about this awful day. You want to drown yourself in your books and studies and wake up the next morning to your normal routine again.

“You are so funny, Jisung.” Said boy ignores the roll of your eyes and the annoyance in your tone, and bumps your shoulder with his, showing you a sheepish grin.

“Come on, princess. I didn’t mean it like that. Everyone has a bad day every once in a while, even you little Miss perfect.”

“I am not little Miss perfect.”, you protest, crossing your arms and showing Jisung a pout. He just laughs at you, ruffling your hair in an adoring manner.

“Are you sure? Aren’t you the person who follows a strict routine every single morning? Aren’t you the person that volunteers at every event, helping the poor and caring about the ones who are lost? Aren’t you the person who goes over a list of things she is grateful for just to stay down on earth and never take things for granted? Sounds like little Miss perfect to me.”

“First of all, a routine is good for your mental health. It gives you stability, helps you stay organized and clears your head. Second, I like helping people in need and volunteering in places where they need someone. It’s better than playing video games every single day.” Now it’s Jisungs’ time to roll his eyes at your words. “And lastly, I just see so many horrible things every single day. So much agony, pain and suffering, I just want to remind myself that having luxurious things is not a normal thing and that I should always be grateful for being born into a family that doesn’t have to turn every penny twice and fear they won’t make it out alive until next week.”

You can see Jisungs’ mouth open and close a few times, contemplating what to say to your words, but right when he feels ready to answer, someone clearing their throat interrupts you.

“I’m sorry I don’t want to interrupt your nice talk, but I’m looking for someone named Y/n.” Jisung and you turn around almost immediately, looking like dears caught in a headlight. A boy is standing in front of you, hair a bright orange. He is wearing all black, black ripped jeans, black shirt, black leather jacket and black shoes. A smile is present on his lips, well more like a smirk, his posture is straight with his head held high. He is oozing with confidence, oozing with something you can’t name. And he looks, well, breathtaking. He looks like came straight down from heaven, like he was created by God himself. He simply doesn’t look real.

“Uhm, that’s me.”, you speak up, voice breaking with those two words. You have to clear your throat a few times, ignoring the teasing look Jisung is giving you. “How can I help you?”

“I just transferred here, and the principal said you would show me around school tomorrow. I just thought I would search for you and introduce myself already.” The stranger softly takes your hand in his, but instead of shaking it, he places a soft kiss on the back of your hand, showing you a charming smile afterwards. “My name is Chenle. It is very nice to meet you.”

There is something in his aura, something about the way he talks, the way his eyes bore into yours, that makes your heart skip a beat. “It’s, uhm, very nice to meet you too.”

It is like Chenle can sense the effect his simple presence has on you by the way his head cocks to the side and cockiness takes over his whole face. “How about we meet here in our lunch break and then you can tell me all about the school, and you, of course.” You can’t do anything but nod at the suggestion, suddenly losing the ability to form sentences with your mouth. “Wonderful. Till tomorrow then.” And with one last smile in your direction, he walks away, turning his back and leaving you and Jisung alone yet again.

“Well, that was… weird.” Your friend just mutters, shrugging his shoulders before grabbing your arm and pulling you in the other direction. “But as I said, you are way to tedious…”

Chenle is already waiting for you at one of the tables outside of the school. It seems like nothing has changed from yesterday, he is wearing the same clothes. His orange hair stands out in the crowd, earning stares which he just ignores. Because the moment you step out of the door, his eyes are on you, and only you. He doesn’t pay attention to the girls a few tables from him who are giggling and yearning for just one look, he only looks at you.

“Just be careful.”, your best friend says as he walks you out. “I have a bad feeling about him. I mean, he didn’t even look at me once yesterday. He is weird. I heard some rumors about him. They say he was in prison in China and broke out two months ago. Some say his father is in some kind of gang and they earn their money with human trafficking. Some even call him the devil. I just don’t want you to get into whatever weird thing he is in.”

“Jisung.”, you call say his name, looking up at him with stern eyes. “He is new and needs help around school, that’s all. He is not in a gang; he did not escape from prison, and he is definitely not the devil. Stop feeding into cruel rumors and give him a chance. And even if you don’t want to give him a chance because you have a bad feeling about him, then don’t. No one is forcing you to be friends with him, just don’t be one of those judgy people, okay?”

Jisung sighs, throwing his head back with a groan and rubbing his forehead with one hand. “You are right, I know that I’m just worried about you, that’s all. Be careful, okay? And you remember our codeword, right? Just scream it or text it or send an owl, I don’t care.”

You smile at him, wrapping him in a quick hug. “Don’t worry, I will. See you in thirty minutes.” And without one last glance you walk in Chenles’ direction, showing him a small smile and a wave.

“Hey.”, you say as you stop in front of him. “Are you ready to take a tour through the school?” Chenle looks down at you, eyeing you for a few seconds before nodding his head at you and following you into the school.

“I’d rather hear more about you.”, Chenle says as he stands in the middle of the gymnasium. “I don’t care about the boring stories of how this school was founded. Tell me something about you. Something fun.”

“Fun?”, you ask him, playing with the page of the school map between your fingers. “I’m not really fun. I don’t think anything about me would interest you.”

“I beg to differ. What do you do in your free time? How does a pretty girl like you spend her day?” You have to swallow the lump in your throat and hide the evident blush on your cheeks. This hasn’t been the first time Chenle has flirted with you today. He used every opportunity, every small timeframe to throw in a comment that has you blushing and clearing your throat in embarrassment.

“I don’t do much. I read or study after coming home from school. Sometimes I spend the evening with Jisung, but he plays video games most of the time, so I end up reading anyway. Sometimes I volunteer at social events, at the church or for any person that needs help in that moment. I like to help people, makes me feel a bit better for living such a privileged life.”

There it is, Chenle thinks. There it is again; the pureness he felt the moment he laid eyes on you. The innocence, so evident he could smell it from miles away. He wanted you, from the moment he laid his eyes on you, he knew he had to have you. He just has to corrupt you; make you do all the awful things in the world and drain you dry until there is nothing but pure evil running in your veins anymore. He has to destroy you, absolutely and utterly destroy you.

You didn’t expect to run into a familiar face while grocery shopping for your elderly neighbor. But Chenle stands right there, right in front of the apples. One hand picking up a green one, admiring its shine against the shining lamps, the other in his pocket, casually resting there. Normally, you would have turned around, walked to another aisle and ignored the strange boy, if it wasn’t for the bright red ink on the paper sheet in your hand reading ‘green apples’. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath before walking to where the orange-haired boy is standing.

“What a pleasant surprise.”, Chenle says the moment he spots you. “Are you stalking me? Not able to get enough of me, huh?” You show him a pointed look, grabbing one of the apples, inspecting it and softly laying it in your basket.

“No, believe it or not, but I am also grocery shopping.” A sound escapes the boy’s throat, almost sounding like a choked chuckle. He grabs another apple, following your movement before placing it in your basket as well.

“For yourself?”, he asks, ignoring your confused stare.

“No, for my neighbor. She recently had lumbago and is on bed rest. I’m just getting her some things she needs, since her children are out of town until tomorrow.” Chenle feels it again, this need, this heart wrenching need, to break you, to make you do things you would never dream of doing. It overwhelms him for a second, blinds him and consumes his veins. He has to find a way, some way, to fulfill his desires. And it is as if it hits him with a brick on his head, that he got just the right idea to make you carve into him.

Sin 1: Wrath

Jisung talks your ear off as the two of you run side by side in gym class, something about last night’s game and how he lost to a twelve-year-old online player. You try to pay attention, you really do, but the piercing gaze of Chenle sitting on a bench is distracting you. Ever since your encounter at the grocery store something about Chenle has changed. Something about the way he was looking at you. It almost seems like he is craving you like a bloodlust lion craves its prey. It scares you a bit, if you are being honest with yourself, but you can’t help but to be intrigued by him.

You can’t explain it, can’t grasp the concept with your bare hands. It confuses you, plagues you, keeps you up at night. He hasn’t made a move anymore, hasn’t tried talking to you again. It’s like he is waiting for you to come to him, to approach him. It’s like the lion changed his tactic, waiting for his prey to step closer, fascinated by the lion’s presence, before making a move and eating the prey alive.

“Are you even listening?”, Jisung says, voice evident with hurt. “I have been pouring my heart out for the last ten minutes and you don’t even listen to me. What kind of best friend are you?”

“I’m sorry, Jisung.”, you tell him, honestly. “I’m not really concentrated today. Everything is distracting me and it’s like I fell face first to the ground and I can’t get up.”

Upon the whistle of your coach, all of you stop running, walking to your water bottles and hastily taking sips. “I know, I’m sorry. I noticed you were acting kind of off today and I still kept talking about all of my worries without even asking about yours. I’m the bad friend, sorry.”

“No, you’re not, Sungie. I love listening to you and all your stories, don’t apologize for it. Today is just a rough day, and I want it to be over really bad.”

“You’ve been having a lot of bad days lately.”, your best friend remarks, worry lacing his voice. “Are you sure there is nothing wrong at home? Maybe you are just burned out from all your studying, and you need to take a break. How about we drive down to the beach over the weekend. It will help your mind to clear a bit.”

Normally you would hate this idea, not wanting to waste the weekend lying on a beach instead of studying for your upcoming tests, but with everything going on lately, you don’t think it’s a bad idea. You haven’t been feeling like yourself in a while, fog clouding your brain whenever you just try to sit down and read a book. Maybe a little trip away from everything will help you get back on track and be your old self again.

“You know what.”, you say, looking up at the boy in front of you with a bright smile. “I think that is a great idea.”

“Oh yes.”, Jisung jumps up and down a few times, excitement filling the young boys’ body. “This is going to be the best trip you will ever be on; I promise.”

Chenle leans against the hood of his car, waiting for you to come out of school. He has done this a million times, successfully. There wasn’t once that he failed, that he strayed behind. This is his job, his repute. He was born to do this and nothing else. But never once, never once in the years he is alive, has he crossed someone so pure, someone so good. There was a little bad in everyone, a little temptation, a little sin. Everyone did something bad, everyone had that part in them, that longing to commit a sin. But not you. You are so good. There is not one single part of you that seems evil. And that has made you become his most desired hunt.

Chenle doesn’t just want you, he needs you. He craves you. Your soul, your body, everything. He wants to break you, make you become the worst version of yourself. He wants to be the reason why you sin, not only once. Oh, no. It will take a few sins to make up for all the goodness you brought into this world. And he will watch you do them. Every single one of them. And he will thrive in the feeling of all the goodness draining your body, of the evil ruining your soul.

He will enjoy every single second of it.

Chenle watches as you smile at your friends. He watches as you bid goodbyes to every single one of them with a hug. And he decides then and there that it’s the first thing he wants you to lose.

“Chenle. Hi. Is everything okay?”, you ask him as he walks up to you. In his presence you change, he can feel it. Your body goes stiff, your eyes wide and alarming and your heart starts to beat faster than it normally does. And he loves the effect he has on you.

“Actually. No.” As you see the sadness in his eyes, alarms ring inside your brain. You have never seen him like that. You have never seen him express any other emotion than confidence, cockiness. And it immediately worries you. “I have this problem. And I wanted to come and talk to you. You know, you’re the only person I talked to so far and I think I can trust you the most with this issue.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. You can talk to me. I will try to help you with it.” He has you now, he thinks. Of course, he knew you wouldn’t turn down the opportunity of helping someone who desperately needs you. How could you live with yourself knowing you couldn’t help Chenle? You would do anything to help him, right? That’s who you are. That’s what you do.

“There have been some people talking about me behind my back, making up rumors about me. And while I act like I don’t care it actually really gets to me. You know the only thing I want is to fit in. I just came here, and all these rumors are making it hard for me to make friends. Everyone is scared of me, while all I want is for the people to like me.”

He can see it, right there, your face changing. Sympathy overtakes your features, and he can feel it spreading through your whole body. “Oh, Chenle that is awful. How can I help you with it? Do you want me to talk to those people?”

“That’s were it gets a bit tricky.” Chenle stops for a second, looks down at the ground, biting his lower lip nervously. “Your friends started these rumors. They were the ones who said I escaped from prison, and that I am a drug dealer. They were the ones who started calling me the devil.” Tears fill his eyes, and the sight breaks your heart. He sniffles, once, twice, before he continues. “They said I scared my family away, that they left me because I am so terrifying. I don’t get it, Y/n. I really don’t. I am not the most social person, I know that. I have been taking the time observing people more than actually talking to them and I know that can seem a bit scarry, but I am not a bad person. They haven’t even given me a chance to prove myself. They judged me without knowing me.” Chenle wipes one stray tear away from his eye, looking at you with pain in his face. “All I wanted was a chance.”

A feeling you never felt before enters your body. Is it rage? Is it anger? No, you are pretty sure it is wrath. Your friends, the people you trust, the people you grew up with. How could they treat a person like this? You knew about the rumors, all the things’ people were saying about Chenle, but hearing your own friends were the ones making all this up, makes you want to scream at them. Your parents taught you to surround yourself with people like you, kind and honest people, with people that respect others and show love to every soul, even the lost ones. You really thought they were like you, but you were wrong. You were wrong about them.

“Are you okay?”, Chenle asks, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. You look at him and see the tear stain still evident on his cheek. You see his glassy eyes; his slightly trembling lips and you knew you had to do something about this. You had to make them stop.

“Yes.”, you answer him, taking a few calming breaths. “Don’t worry Chenle. I will fix this. I will make them stop saying all these mean things about you.” With that you take off, walking to the back of the school. You know they hang out there after school is over, talking and studying together. And it is where you find them right now as well.

“Hey, Y/N. What are you doing here? I thought you went home already?” Looking at them, hearing them talk and laugh, it makes you sick. How can they sit there and act so nonchalant when they just hurt a person with their made-up rumors? How can act so innocent when they have the devil inside of them?

“Well, I came back because I just had an interesting conversation with someone.” The girls give you an usure look, all confused at the angriness in your voice. You don’t try to hide how you’re feeling, how upset and disappointed you are. You don’t try to hide the obvious wrath on your face.

“Okay? I am a bit confused. Why exactly are you telling us that?” It’s a simple question. A simple sentence. But it makes your blood boil.

“I ran into Chenle, and he told me something about you.” There are a few seconds of silence, and you watch as the girls look at each other, some confused, some with a knowing look. “He told me that you were the ones that made up those rumors about him. You made up lies about a person you don’t even know, a person you didn’t even give a chance to introduce himself. I know that he can seem a bit creepy, and distant, but that doesn’t give you the right to be so cruel to him. That doesn’t give you the right to act like stuck up bitches.”

“Y/n, what are you talking about? That doesn’t sound like you.” You just scoff, anger and frustration filling your body. You have never felt that way before, like you were about to explode, like you couldn’t control yourself anymore. And while it scares you a bit, you also never felt more powerful, more secure.

“Not like me, huh? Well, I thought the same about you. I thought I could trust you, count on you. I thought you were nice girls, raised to treat everyone with kindness. God, I thought you were like me. But, oh, was I wrong. You are all just insecure little girls who gain satisfaction in bringing other people down, in seeing them fall.”, you scream at them, not caring who can hear you. Your hands are shaking, your body is trembling. But you don’t care, you just go on. “You are so pathetic, a disgrace to humanity. You know how much you hurt that poor boy? He cried in front of me, because of you. You were the reason why he couldn’t make friends, why he never had the chance to fit it. People like you are the once that put shame on our society. You are the kind of people my mom always warned me about. Backstabbing, stuck up, insecure little girls. I should have never trusted you, be friends with you. God, I hope one day you will wake up and regret all this. One day you will pay for what you did, for your disgusting behavior. I hope that one day, one day… one day…” Your voice flatters, your vision goes blurry.

You feel two arms wrap around you, panic floods through your body until you hear the familiar voice of your best friend. “Hey, it’s okay. Just relax. It’s all going to be okay.”

The world starts spinning, your head starts throbbing. You can’t take this anymore, this pain, this stress. And shortly before the world goes black you see Chenle, standing on the sidelines with a grin on his lips.

Sin 2: Envy

“You’re sure he wasn’t there?”, you ask Jisung as you watch the waves crash against the shore. The setting sun glows brightly over the ocean, painting your face in a beautiful rosy color. The sand under your feet cools your body from the heat of the day. You watch as a caterpillar moves over the bumpy surface, hurrying back to his home to take a rest during the cold night.

“No, Y/n. Chenle wasn’t there when you passed out. He wasn’t anywhere near, believe me. I watched him walk home two minutes before I caught you in my arms, I swear.” You let out a sigh, closing your eyes as the soft evening breeze hits your hot face. Everything about that day is a blur, a fever dream. You don’t remember a lot. Everything is a haze. You barely remember talking to Chenle or screaming at the girls or fainting shortly after. Everything is blurred memories; no clear picture comes to your mind. But the only thing you remember clearly, like it’s burned into your brain, is seeing Chenle right before your vision went black. You remember his grin, his triumphant grin, like he just won a prize he has always wanted. It makes no sense that he wasn’t there when that is the only thing you can actually remember.

“Are you ready to talk about what happened that day?”, Jisung asks carefully, adjusting his position on the itchy sand. You haven’t avoided that subject, it’s just that you aren’t sure what’s happened. You aren’t sure why you reacted the way you reacted or why you felt the way you felt. This has never happened to you before and you are simply… lost.

You don’t know who that was that screamed at your own friends, but that wasn’t you. And it scares you to know what you are capable to do, scared at the lengths you can go. You barely managed to get the girls to except your apology. They were so shocked and hurt by your words, they didn’t even know if they wanted to forgive you. But they did. They also apologized, explained their side. They told you they didn’t start the rumors, but they also did nothing to stop them. They spread them just like everyone else and for that they’re sorry. But that day will always be hunting your friendship. It will always be there, day after day. And while they forgave you, you don’t know if you will ever forgive yourself for it.

“I told you already Jisung, I don’t know what happened. It’s all a daze, and it’s confusing. And hurts by brain just trying to think about it.”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to think about it, Y/n.” Jisung shows you an encouraging smile, one hand softly taking yours. “It’s all going to be okay again. Let’s just enjoy the rest of our trip and forget about all this for a while.”

Chenle has been sitting with you at lunch for the past couple of days. Jisung is too busy at football practice, and Chenle took the opportunity of catching you alone. It’s mostly silent between you two- which you appreciate a lot- but when you’re talking, the conversation doesn’t seem to stop.

“You are telling me you have not watched the movie Tangled, the best Disney movie to ever exist?” Chenle shakes his head, earning a gasp to escape your lips. “How couldn’t you? I mean it’s such a life changing movie. Wait, tell me you have at least read Romeo and Juliet?” You are met with another shake of Chenles’ head. “Romeo and Juliet? Shakespear? Not ringing any bell? Wow, where do you come from that you don’t know those things?”

Chenle shrugs, taking a bit off his sandwich, chewing it cautiously before answering your question. “Well, we don’t really focus on books or movies where I come from. It’s considered a waste of time. Something that doesn’t bring you far in life.”

“That’s… so wrong. Movies and books teach you so many valuable lessons about life. I mean, Disney movies, for example, shaped me when I was a little girl. And with books you can gather so much knowledge, you can improve your imagination. They give you a chance to forget everything that happens in the world, even if it’s just for a few minutes. It’s really calming, reading I mean.”

“Well, how about I can come over to your place and you can show me that movie and that book, and I can judge for myself how good they really are.”

“I would love to, but my parents don’t allow boys in my room. I mean, not even Jisung is allowed to come into my room, and I’ve known him since I was five.” When you see Chenles’ face after your words, you start feeling bad. You can’t change your parents’ strictness, and you definitely can’t sneak Chenle into your house somehow. That would not end well, and you would break your parents’ rules. You were never one to do that, never one to disobey your parents. You couldn’t live with yourself had you gone behind your parents’ back to do something.

Chenle looks down at his hands in his lap, eyes sad like those of a puppy. It breaks your heart, yet again. It makes you long for him, long to make everything right, to cure all his pain, to change whatever is the reason behind his sadness. You let out a sigh, one hand nervously tucking your hair behind your ear. “But what about we meet at the local bookstore? I can recommend you books and tell you a bit about them. How those that sound?”

Chenle looks up at you, a smile lightening up his features. You can’t help but to match his energy, showing him one of your bright smiles as well. “That would be wonderful, Y/n. I’m picking you up later at 4.”

“But…”, but before you can say anything, Chenle has already packed his things together, hastily walking out the door. You sit there, dumbstruck, heart racing and mind spinning in circles. You ignore the fluttering in your chest, the weird churning in your belly. You ignore the lightheaded feeling, the blush on your cheeks. You simply ignore it, because if you ignore it, it isn’t there. It isn’t real.

But it’s all going according to plan, Chenle thinks. Everything is going according to plan.

Chenle has a book in his one hand and a coffee in another while you explain him the story about the book ‘To kill a Mockingbird’. He’s not listening, nodding when needed and humming when it feels necessary. He spends his time looking around, scanning people for familiar faces, waiting patiently for someone to arrive. Before he spots who he was looking for.

“But I think you should definitely read it. It’s one of the most important books on this planet. I think everyone should read it at least once.” You finish your ramble, placing the book in Chenles’ bag, before looking back at your list. “The next book is Moby-Dick. A classic in my opinion. Another book that everyone should have read at least once. You know I’ve watched a theater play of this book.” You are met by another hum, probably the 20th you received in a matter of seven minutes. “Are you even listening?”

“Yeah, sure, of course I am listening. Moby-Dick. Classic.”

“You know, you were the one who asked me to show you books, but if you’re not going to listen, then I will just leave.” You want to get up, but before you do, your gaze shifts into the direction Chenle is staring at. Lee Nuri is sitting a few tables away from you, a book in her hands. You know her from school, talked to her only a handful of times, but you never paid close attention to her. She is gorgeous, unmistakably, but she doesn’t run in the same circle as you do. “Were you staring at Nuri this whole time?”

“Nuri? That’s her name?”, Chenle asks, eyes not meeting yours even just for a second. And you ignore how upset that makes you feel. “I wondered what beautiful name such beautiful girl could have.”

A scoff threatens to leave your lips, but you swallow it before it comes out your mouth. You pack your bag together, ready to leave Chenle behind in the bookstore before he continues. “I mean look at her, she is glowing. Her skin looks so soft, and her hair so silky, don’t you think?” He looks at you, just for a millisecond, before focusing his gaze again on her. “Her legs are so long and smooth, her short skirt only empathizes that. Her body is perfect, look at her waist, what an hourglass figure. I bet so many girls are jealous of her. And she has such plump and pink lips, I guarantee you she’s a phenomenal kisser. Oh, what she could do with those lips. Her eyes, man, they are so big and round, makes her look so desirable, right? It’s almost like God took his time crafting her to perfection, to create a temptation to every person on this planet.”

Something inside of you shuts off, completely. You don’t work anymore. You can’t speak, can’t feel, can’t breathe. Your mind is blank, wiped clean, empty, expect for the blinking white light behind your eyes. Dizziness takes over your whole body, stops in your head and makes a home there. Everything is a blur, a daze. It’s almost like a déjà-vu, like something hidden deep inside your memory.

“Are you okay? You’re so pale.” You hear a voice, but you don’t know who is talking to you. You don’t know if that person is right in front of you or five feet away. You don’t know anything anymore. “I’m taking you home.”

You stare into the mirror, deep and long, seeing your bare self in front of you. You don’t know how you got home, when you took your clothes off or why you started staring at yourself. But you do it anyway. You observe every single part of your body, judging it. You take the flesh of your skin in your hands, moving it, adjusting it, never being satisfied with how it sits on your body. Your hips could be smaller, your legs longer, your lips fuller, your eyes bigger. You could be taller, skinnier, prettier. You could be so many things, so many things Nuri already is.

You know that this isn’t you. You wouldn’t pick yourself apart. You wouldn’t sink into this envy, into this jealousy. But you haven’t been you in a while now, haven’t felt real in a long time. You feel it sinking in, this need to be her, to have what she has. You let the envy sink it. No longer grateful for what you have, for what you are. You want what makes her so attractive to Chenle. You want her long eyelashes, her red lips, her curves, her long fingers, her clear skin. You don’t care about the things you have, the things that make you beautiful.

There is a scream inside of your head, a voice that repeats itself over and over again. It multiplies, getting louder and louder and louder.

Be grateful.

Be greedy.

Love yourself.

Love what she has more than what you have.

Don’t care about others’ opinions.

Impress Chenle, be what he desires to be.

You want him to look at you the way he looked at Nuri. You need him to want you, crave you, desire you. He can’t find her more attractive than you, he simply can’t. Your jealous of his attention on her, of his gaze wandering off; his thoughts not belonging to you. You’re jealous of her grace, her captivity, her beauty. You need to be her if that’s what it takes. Whatever it costs you, whatever it makes you do.

When you look up again into the mirror, Chenle is standing behind you, a grin on his lips again. It robs your breath, crushes your soul into two. It brings burning tears to your eyes, a broken heart. He doesn’t look at you, not really, not how you want him to. He stares straight into your eyes, his gaze never once straying.

“Am I not enough for you?”, you ask, screaming into the void. “Am I not desirable enough? Sexy enough? Pretty enough? Is my body not good enough for you to look at? Would you rather look at Nuri, huh?” You don’t get an answer, but you wait anyway. You stare back at him, tears uncontrollably streaming down your face. “What can I do, Chenle? Tell me. What can I do to be enough for you? I will do anything. Anything it takes. I want you. I need you. Please don’t look at Nuri anymore, please just look at me.” You watch as Chenles’ grin never leaves his lips. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. He just silently watches you lose yourself. He watches you break, and he seems to enjoy it.

“You’re sick you know that? Watching a girl begging you, crying her heart out and still you say nothing. Still, you choose to be quiet, enjoying this sight. Is that what gets you off, huh?” Your voice gets louder and louder by the second, raw with emotion. “Please, just look at me. Speak to me. Say anything.” Nothing. “I will make you want me, Chenle. You will look at me the way you’re looking at Nuri. I promise, I will become everything you’ve ever dreamt of.”

There is hope glimmering in your eyes, stupid, dangerous, hope. “We belong.”, you say, voice just a bare whisper. “I know that. Because since you’re here, I’m different. You did something to me. I don’t know what it is, but you did something. You have that power and you used it on me. You talked to me first. You stared at me first. You want me, and you know it. You wouldn’t be standing here if you didn’t.” You laugh, hysterically, like you already lost your mind. “You want me.”

Another pause, another silence. You sniffle, lifting your hands to furiously wipe the tears away from your face, rubbing your eyes. And when you open them again, regaining your vision, Chenle is gone. He disappeared, like he was never there in the first place, and you’re fully dressed from head to toe in the same clothes you wore earlier.

Sin 3: Lust

Heavy eyebags surround your eyes, exhaustion written all over your small quivering frame. But the familiar feeling of determination fills your body as you hold the Halloween Party flyer in your hands with a written note saying ‘Pick you up at five. Dress nicely.’. This could be your chance, your chance to keep the own promises you made.

You have been ignoring Jisung, the girls, Nuri. Everyone, if you’re being honest with yourself. Nothing has been worth your time, not listening to Jisungs’ endless rambles, not watching the girls Cheerleader practice, not reading a book, or studying for all your tests. It’s not important anymore, not worth your thoughts. There is one thing, and one thing only, in your mind written in bold red letters, engraved into your brain. Chenle. Nothing more. Just him and his orange hair, his seductive grin, his black outfits. Just him and his words, replaying over and over and over again inside your mind, reminding you what to fight for, what to live for, or to die for.

“Y/n. Stop walking away from me. What is wrong with you?” There is a voice calling for you, behind you, but you don’t pay any attention to it. You continue your walk home, thoughts of what to wear, how to look the best. “Stop.” A hand grabs your arm, and you flinch, turning around to see your best friend, no Jisung, standing in front of you. He is wearing his practice clothes, sweat dripping down his forehead. He looks frustrated, desperate.

“I don’t have time, Jisung. I have to go home.” You try to walk again, but his grip on your arm doesn’t budge and it irritates you. Why can’t he just let you go? Can’t he see that you have something more important to do, a duty to fulfil?

“No, you’re going to stay and you’re going to tell me what is wrong with you.” And it is then in that moment that you realize what’s wrong. That you know why he looks so desperate. “Y/n, please just tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you in any way? If I did, please tell me. All I want to do is make it up to you again, be friends again. Y/n I don’t want to lose you, please just tell me what’s wrong.”

You look at him, long and deep, before a sigh slips past your lips. There is no other way around this. “God, if I knew you were so clingy, I wouldn’t have become friends with you.” Silence. Long, dreadful silence. Jisungs’ mouth is hung open, his eyes wide. He can’t believe his ears.

“What…? What did you just say?” Jisung already starts talking again before you can repeat your words. “Y/n, that’s not you speaking. I don’t what happened to you, what made you turn into this. But that’s not you. You are loving and sweet and kind. This is not you. For god’s sake, you told me you love it when I’m clingy, that it makes you feel needed. You told me those exact words.”

You sigh, yet again, taking the moment to remove your arm from Jisungs’ grip. “Maybe this is who I always was, not who everyone wanted me to be. I know this is hard for you, Jisung, but you have to accept it. You have to accept the fact that I will never love you the way you love me.”

Jisung chokes on his own spit, eyes almost falling out of his body. “You… you know?”

“I think I’ve always known. But I don’t love you, Jisung. I never will. And I feel honored, really, but this won’t work out. So just accept it, move on. It’s for the better.”

“But I can’t move on, Y/n. Not after everything, not after our trip together. I love you, and I want you to be in my life, even if it is just as my best friend. You can’t do this to me. I won’t let you.” Jisung is trembling, head shaking left and right over and over again, desperation in his eyes. But it doesn’t work. You don’t feel bad for him, you don’t care. You care about one thing only.

“What happened on that trip was a mistake. I never should have kissed you.” But you did, and as nice as it felt, you regret it now. Because now you wish it would have been Chenle. “I don’t want you, Jisung. I want Chenle. Get that inside your head and leave me alone. I don’t want you, never.” And with that you turn around and continue your way home, leaving a heartbroken Jisung behind.

But your thoughts already pushed that away. All you can think about again is the outfit you’re going to wear tonight. All you can think about is how tonight you will make Chenle yours, you will make him desire you.

Devil and angel. That’s what you find yourself wearing as you enter the party. It’s ironic, really. How Chenle decided to wear a devil’s costume, black clothes, red horns and big black wings. And you as an angel, white short dress, big fluffy wings and red lipstick painting your lips. It’s even more ironic that Chenle wants to make the rumors come true, he wants to be who the people paint him to be, he wants to show them that he can play this game as well.

Chenles’ hand hasn’t left your lower back ever since you left your house, sometimes wandering further but never too much. It sends electric shocks through your body every time, something different filling your body. Lust, is what you call it. He hasn’t left your side, keeping you close. Sometimes he leans down, whispering things into your ear that leave you breathless. And sometimes his gaze wanders through the crowd, but you stop him every time, guiding his face back to you, capturing his eyes with yours. You don’t want him to look somewhere else, don’t want him to stray away. You just want him to put all his attention on you, to put everything on you.

Out of the corner of your eyes you can see Jisung, leaning against a wall, drinking a cheap drink out of a red plastic cup. But you ignore him, you ignore everyone in the room. You just keep on grinding your body into Chenles’, dancing until your lungs give out. Chenle has his hands firmly on your hips, guiding your moves, pressing you further into him. It makes your head spin, your vision blur. It makes you want to rip his clothes off, right here, right on this dance floor for everyone to see.

And you would have, you really did, if it wasn’t for Jisung grabbing your hand, pulling you away from Chenle. “What the heck?”, you scream at him over the loud music, struggling to get out of his grip. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere quiet.”, Jisung says, voice unsteady. The kitchen isn’t crowded, expect for one couple making out in the back, but Jisung doesn’t give them any attention. He just looks at you, at your revealing dress, your smeared red lipstick, the sweat dripping down your forehead. “God, I can’t even look at you.”

“Then don’t.”, you shoot back, turning around to leave, but he stops you. Jisung quickly walks in front of you, causing you to bump into his chest. “Jisung.”, you sigh. “I already rejected you. Stop bothering me. I am here with Chenle, I want Chenle. Do you want me to spell it out for you? Want me to scream it to the whole world? Because I will when he fucks me later.”

Jisungs’ breaths are unsteady, tears sting in his eyes and you have to advert your gaze. You can’t look at him like that, and you don’t know why. “Look at me.”, he whispers, one hand softly holding your cheek. “Look at me, please. I’m begging you.” Your eyes meet his, unsure, unsteady. “I love you. I do. Chenle doesn’t. He doesn’t even know you, not the real you anyway. Whatever you are doing, I know it is to impress him. But you don’t have to. You don’t have to be someone you are not. You don’t have to change yourself just so that he will like you. God, if he doesn’t like you for the way you are then he doesn’t deserve you.” He lets a frustrated hand stroke through his hair, tugging on it lightly.

Jisung knows something is wrong. He knows that whatever Chenle did to you to make you this way, it must have been something serious. Ever since he came here, you have changed. You turned into someone you always wished never to be. “Remember when we were eight years old.”, he starts speaking, his other hand never leaving your cheek. “We were friends, barely actually. We knew each other, played every now and then together, but we were both shy. We didn’t know how to talk to each other. That was until I scrapped my knees falling down while playing with a jumping robe. I remember crying so much, not being able to look at my bleeding knee. But you immediately came running to me. You kept on telling me how everything was going to be okay. And you held my hand until my mom came, until she was done cleaning up the wound and until I had a band-aid on my knee. You never once let it go. And that’s when I knew, Y/n. That’s when I knew that I love you, and that I always will. That’s when I knew that you are the kindest person on this planet.”

“Jisung.”, you whisper, one tear falling from your eyes, but he catches it with his thumb. You feel it, all the weight crushing down on you. You feel every single thing, and it destroys you. Jisung looks deeply into your eyes, his other hand coming up to stroke your hair softly. You don’t know what to say, what to feel, what to think. “I’m so sorry.” And he wants to say something, open his mouth to speak, but someone beats him to it.

“There you are.”, Chenle says, leaning against the kitchen doors frame. “I searched for you everywhere, my love.” And it’s like a switch turning inside of you. You slap Jisungs’ hand away, rolling your eyes at his advantages and walking towards Chenle. The moment you are within reach, Chenle pulls you in, wrapping one hand around you. “Hey man, I get that you are in love with her, or whatever, but it’s rude to steal someone else’s date. So, search for someone else to fuck.”

The moment Chenle pulls you into one of the free rooms, his lips are on yours. He kisses you feverishly, devilishly. He kisses you like he wants to leave you dry, like he wants to have you pleading. Chenle has you against the wall, hands all over your body, gripping and groping the sensitive skin, marking you up flesh by flesh. He bites your lower lip hard, only stopping when blood drips down your chin. Only then does he move on to your neck, sucking and biting, slurping and groaning. He presses you further into the wall, presses his whole body against. And you enjoy it. You enjoy his roughness, his possessiveness. You enjoy the way he doesn’t care if he’s going to hurt you, how he only cares about his own pleasure.

“You’re mine, sweetheart. You know that, right?” You nod at his voice, taking a few breaths trying to clear your foggy brain. You lean into him again, searching for his lips with yours but he pulls away, enticing a whimper to come out of your mouth. “I need you to say it, baby. Say you are mine. Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m yours.”, your voice is hoarse, breaking with those two words. “I’m yours.” Chenle grins, evilly almost. But he knows it’s not done yet; he knows that he has to do a little more. Just a tiny bit more and then he can have you, all to himself. He gives you what you crave, leaning down and capturing your mouth with his.

The kiss is messy, spit dripping down your chin, but you don’t care. All you want is to have Chenle closer, feel his skin on you. You want him to make you his, to claim you, to paint you from the inside. You want him to fill you up with all his everything and never let you go again. You want him so much it’s starting to hurt. Deep inside of you the pain starts to immerge, starting in your heart and spreading through your veins, slowly consuming your whole body.

“You feel that.”, Chenle whispers, parting from your lips slightly. You breathe him in, deep and long, but every breath is causing a sharp pain in your lungs. “You can feel the pain? This is your love for me, your want, your lust. It’s consuming you, isn’t it?” You almost can’t hear him through the ringing in your ears, almost can’t see him through the haze in your eyes.

Chenle presses his knee between your legs, enjoying the way you moan in pleasure at the feeling. He lets his hands wander over your body, moving your hips down, pressing you more on his knee. “I can feel you, baby. I can feel how you want me.” You weakly grip his shoulders, trying to stay up right. You feel dizzy, like you are about to pass out. And you don’t know if it’s from the pain in your body or the pleasure clouding your mind. But you know you want more, you need more.

“Please.”, you whimper, hands fumbling to unbutton his shirt. Chenle lets you try, chuckling at your shaking hands and the frustrated frown on your face as you notice your inability to open the buttons.

“Please, what, sweetheart? Use your words.” You sigh, throwing your head back and letting one hand glide down to the hem of his shirt, right before the button of his pants. “I can’t give you what you want, if you don’t tell me.”

“I want you.”, you tell him, voice coming out more stable than you thought it would. “Please, take me, Chenle.” And he knows, right in this moment, that it is time. That his plan has worked. He knows that he succeeded, that he can finally have what he has desired for so long.

“Finally.”, he whispers, face falling, eyes glowing red. “You know how long I waited for this? How long you made me wait? I should punish you, you know? I should destroy you for making me waste so much energy on your small little frame. But you don’t want that, do you? No, I bet you don’t. You just want to be with me, forever. Aren’t I right?” A tiny spark of fear courses through your body, but the lust inside of you makes you ignore that feeling.

“Yes, I want you forever, Chenle.” And it all happens so fast. Chenle takes your hair into his fist, tipping your head back violently. His eyes bore into the skin of your neck, marking it with his gaze. The whole room turns into black smoke, filling your lungs and making it hard for you to catch your breath. He is heaving, licking his blood shot lips with an animalistic manner.

“Oh, my sweet girl. We are going to have so much fun together. Your mind is mine, was mine from the second you looked me in the eyes. I made you mine, and that will stay forever. I broke the sweet innocent girl you were. I broke you and showed you who you really are. You are going to be eternally grateful to me for that. I am your master now. I am the one you’re serving. And don’t worry, I am going to take extra good care of you. I couldn’t waste such a pretty little thing.”

And just like that, in the matter of mere seconds, in the blink of an eye, everything you once knew gets taken away from you. And it is one thought that flashes through your mind, before you the world turns black.

You should have listened to them when they told you the devil exists, and that he is among us. You should have listened to them, before you fell right into his trap, before you looked him in the eyes.

Bonus

Screams of suffering souls are faintly heard in the back, whimpers of pleading ghosts surround you and the burning fire warms the side of your face, but you stay unmoving. Glued to your place right beside the throne of bones and shattered spirits with Chenle sitting on it.

His large wings stay firmly tucked on his back, horns covering the top of his hands and his sharp teeth snarl from time to time.

Hell is worse than anyone imagined it to be, but you got used to it. You got used to the screams of pain, the muttered pleadings, the overwhelming heat. You got used to the suffering around you, inside of you. It never gets easier, never gets less. It stays constant, the suffering. Only when you step out of line, when the begging gets too much, do you die again. You learned to not do that, to behave, to be a statue. You learned that asking Chenle to spare your life isn’t going to help you. Because the devil doesn’t feel remorse, the devil doesn’t feel anything at all. You learned that it will only make him more ruthless, angry, wrathful. And that is not a sight you want to see again. So, you stay a perfect statue, a perfect toy. Because nothing matters anymore, nothing is important anymore, nothing makes any sense anymore. Why?

Because you’re already dead.

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