#it was even better on a big screen and thE MUSIC

[icewindandboringhorror]

I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...

Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner

*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)

And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -

TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows

This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).

So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.

Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.

Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.

Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).

But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).

In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.

Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.

Now, doing the same thing for movies-

Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)

That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).

116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.

So, a for broader summary stuff..

I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.

If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.

ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.

I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0

[starpros-sunshine]

"You just need to lower your expectations" No you don't, actually. Don't let them hand you mediocrity under the excuse that your standards are just too high. Demand more.

[ms-demeanor]

So You Need To Buy A Computer But You Don't Know What Specs Are Good These Days

Hi.

This is literally my job.

Lots of people are buying computers for school right now or are replacing computers as their five-year-old college laptop craps out so here's the standard specs you should be looking for in a (windows) computer purchase in August 2023.

PROCESSOR

Intel i5 (no older than 10th Gen)

Ryzen 7

You can get away with a Ryzen 5 but an intel i3 should be an absolute last resort. You want at least an intel i5 or a Ryzen 7 processor. The current generation of intel processors is 13, but anything 10 or newer is perfectly fine. DO NOT get a higher performance line with an older generation; a 13th gen i5 is better than an 8th gen i7. (Unfortunately I don't know enough about ryzens to tell you which generation is the earliest you should get, but staying within 3 generations is a good rule of thumb)

RAM

8GB absolute minimum

If you don't have at least 8GB RAM on a modern computer it's going to be very, very slow. Ideally you want a computer with at least 16GB, and it's a good idea to get a computer that will let you add or swap RAM down the line (nearly all desktops will let you do this, for laptops you need to check the specs for Memory and see how many slots there are and how many slots are available; laptops with soldered RAM cannot have the memory upgraded - this is common in very slim laptops)

STORAGE

256GB SSD

Computers mostly come with SSDs these days; SSDs are faster than HDDs but typically have lower storage for the same price. That being said: SSDs are coming down in price and if you're installing your own drive you can easily upgrade the size for a low cost. Unfortunately that doesn't do anything for you for the initial purchase.

A lot of cheaper laptops will have a 128GB SSD and, because a lot of stuff is stored in the cloud these days, that can be functional. I still recommend getting a bit more storage than that because it's nice if you can store your music and documents and photos on your device instead of on the cloud. You want to be able to access your files even if you don't have internet access.

But don't get a computer with a big HDD instead of getting a computer with a small SSD. The difference in speed is noticeable.

SCREEN (laptop specific)

Personally I find that touchscreens have a negative impact on battery life and are easier to fuck up than standard screens. They are also harder to replace if they get broken. I do not recommend getting a touch screen unless you absolutely have to.

A lot of college students especially tend to look for the biggest laptop screen possible; don't do that. It's a pain in the ass to carry a 17" laptop around campus and with the way that everything is so thin these days it's easier to damage a 17" screen than a 14" screen.

On the other end of that: laptops with 13" screens tend to be very slim devices that are glued shut and impossible to work on or upgrade.

Your best bet (for both functionality and price) is either a 14" or a 15.6" screen. If you absolutely positively need to have a 10-key keyboard on your laptop, get the 15.6". If you need something portable more than you need 10-key, get a 14"

FORM FACTOR (desktop specific)

If you purchase an all-in-one desktop computer I will begin manifesting in your house physically. All-in-ones take away every advantage desktops have in terms of upgradeability and maintenance; they are expensive and difficult to repair and usually not worth the cost of disassembling to upgrade.

There are about four standard sizes of desktop PC: All-in-One (the size of a monitor with no other footprint), Tower (Big! probably at least two feet long in two directions), Small Form Factor Tower (Very moderate - about the size of a large shoebox), and Mini/Micro/Tiny (Small! about the size of a small hardcover book).

If you are concerned about space you are much better off getting a MicroPC and a bracket to put it on your monitor than you are getting an all-in-one. This will be about a million percent easier to work on than an all-in-one and this way if your monitor dies your computer is still functional.

Small form factor towers and towers are the easiest to work on and upgrade; if you need a burly graphics card you need to get a full size tower, but for everything else a small form factor tower will be fine. Most of our business sales are SFF towers and MicroPCs, the only time we get something larger is if we have to put a $700 graphics card in it. SFF towers will accept small graphics cards and can handle upgrades to the power supply; MicroPCs can only have the RAM and SSD upgraded and don't have room for any other components or their own internal power supply.

WARRANTY

Most desktops come with either a 1 or 3 year warranty; either of these is fine and if you want to upgrade a 1 year to a 3 year that is also fine. I've generally found that if something is going to do a warranty failure on desktop it's going to do it the first year, so you don't get a hell of a lot of added mileage out of an extended warranty but it doesn't hurt and sometimes pays off to do a 3-year.

Laptops are a different story. Laptops mostly come with a 1-year warranty and what I recommend everyone does for every laptop that will allow it is to upgrade that to the longest warranty you can get with added drop/damage protection. The most common question our customers have about laptops is if we can replace a screen and the answer is usually "yes, but it's going to be expensive." If you're purchasing a low-end laptop, the parts and labor for replacing a screen can easily cost more than half the price of a new laptop. HOWEVER, the way that most screens get broken is by getting dropped. So if you have a warranty with drop protection, you just send that sucker back to the factory and they fix it for you.

So, if it is at all possible, check if the manufacturer of a laptop you're looking at has a warranty option with drop protection. Then, within 30 days (though ideally on the first day you get it) of owning your laptop, go to the manufacturer site, register your serial number, and upgrade the warranty. If you can't afford a 3-year upgrade at once set a reminder for yourself to annually renew. But get that drop protection, especially if you are a college student or if you've got kids.

And never, ever put pens or pencils on your laptop keyboard. I've seen people ruin thousand dollar, brand-new laptops that they can't afford to fix because they closed the screen on a ten cent pencil. Keep liquids away from them too.

LIFESPAN

There's a reasonable chance that any computer you buy today will still be able to turn on and run a program or two in ten years. That does not mean that it is "functional."

At my office we estimate that the functional lifespan of desktops is 5-7 years and the functional lifespan of laptops is 3-5 years. Laptops get more wear and tear than desktops and desktops are easier to upgrade to keep them running. At 5 years for desktops and 3 years for laptops you should look at upgrading the RAM in the device and possibly consider replacing the SSD with a new (possibly larger) model, because SSDs and HDDs don't last forever.

COST

This means that you should think of your computers as an annual investment rather than as a one-time purchase. It is more worthwhile to pay $700 for a laptop that will work well for five years than it is to pay $300 for a laptop that will be outdated and slow in one year (which is what will happen if you get an 8th gen i3 with 8GB RAM). If you are going to get a $300 laptop try to get specs as close as possible to the minimums I've laid out here.

If you have to compromise on these specs, the one that is least fixable is the processor. If you get a laptop with an i3 processor you aren't going to be able to upgrade it even if you can add more RAM or a bigger SSD. If you have to get lower specs in order to afford the device put your money into the processor and make sure that the computer has available slots for upgrade and that neither the RAM nor the SSD is soldered to the motherboard. (one easy way to check this is to search "[computer model] RAM upgrade" on youtube and see if anyone has made a video showing what the inside of the laptop looks like and how much effort it takes to replace parts)

Computers are expensive right now. This is frustrating, because historically consumer computer prices have been on a downward trend but since 2020 that trend has been all over the place. Desktop computers are quite expensive at the moment (August 2023) and decent laptops are extremely variably priced.

If you are looking for a decent, upgradeable laptop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

14" Lenovo - $670 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 512GB SSD

15.6" HP - $540 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

14" Dell - $710 - 12th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

If you are looking for a decent, affordable desktop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

SFF HP - $620 - 10th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, 1TB SSD

SFF Lenovo - $560 - Ryzen 7 5000 series, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

Dell Tower - $800 - 10th-gen i7, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

If I were going to buy any of these I'd probably get the HP laptop or the Dell Tower. The HP Laptop is actually a really good price for what it is.

Anyway happy computering.

[casualnearenjoyer]

so apparently, all those people who say excercising and going outside improves your mental health might be right? I'm not well enough to overcome the depression to exercise, but sunlight helps. Even just sitting by a big window that the sun is shining through seems to work

all my other mentally unwell mutuals, go try sitting by a window or some of the simpler mental health advice

[vaor]

things i wish i had known when i escaped my family household and couldn't ask my parents for help

invest in a good mattress early on. there are many other ends you can save on - sleep is not one of them. this is key to how much energy you'll have throughout the day

you don't need a bedframe but you do need a slatted bed base (even if it's just pallets)

opening a bank account is easy

there's youtube tutorials for everything. how to install your washing machine, how to use tools, fixing stuff around the place. channels like dad, how do i? are a godsend

change energy provider as soon as your old deal runs out. you'll get better offers elsewhere and avoid price gouging

assemble a basic first aid kid at home: painkillers, probiotics, alcohol wipes, bandages, tweezers, antihistamine tablets - anything you might need in a pinch

and an emergency toolkit: flashlight, extra batteries, a utility knife, an adjustable wrench, multi-tool, duct tape

set your fridge to the lowest temperature it can go. the energy consumption is minimal in difference and it'll give you +4/7 days on most foods

off-brand products are almost always the same in quality and taste, if not better, for half the price

coupons will save you a lot of money in the long run

there's no reason to be shy around employees at the bank/laundromat/store; most people will be happy to help

vegetarian diets are generally cheap if you make food from scratch

breakfast is as important as they say

keep track of your budget in a notebook or excel file - e.g. rent, phone and internet bills, food, leisure so you'll have an overlook on your spending over the months

don't gamble

piracy is okay

stealing from big stores and chains is also ethically okay

keep medical bills and pharmacy receipts for tax returns

also, file your tax returns early

take up a hobby that isn't in front of a screen. pottery, music, going for a run every now and then, stuff that'll keep you busy and sane

and most importantly... you're allowed to get the stuff you want. treat yourself to the occasional mundane thing. a good scented candle. a bath bomb. that body lotion that makes you feel like royalty. the good coffee beans.

you're free and you deserve to be happy.

[bi-writes]

Your MOB au gives me so many butterflies 🥴 I hear the key to a long and happy marriage is to be with someone you think is funny. How do you think Simon and his wife make each other laugh? I can see them being the couple that gossips while people watching or MOB wrangles Simon in bed to show him funny cat videos on her phone.

mail-order bride

simon likes spending time with you without screens. he does love watching a movie with you, but one of his favorite ways to spend time with you is to open a little closet of board games and play one of them with you. he'll put on a little music, spread out the game, and you usually spend the evening sitting in his lap and playing either on the couch or on the floor using the coffee table or at the dining table.

"simon, what would you do if i was a worm?"

simon raises a brow, fitting a corner piece of the puzzle into place. he snorts a bit.

"wot are y'on, love?"

"i'm serious!" you laugh. "what would you do if i was a worm?"

"step on you, baby. you'd be a fuckin' worm. gross."

you pout a little, dramatically, and simon winks at you.

"olright, love. i'd put ya in a little box and cherish ya foreva. tha' wot y'wanna hear?"

you giggle, settling in his lap, picking up an edge piece and putting it in its spot.

"yeah. that's what i wanna hear."

"simon, look."

you hold out your phone in bed, shoving it in his face. he grunts a little, squinting at the bright screen, and he raises a brow as he watches a compilation of orange cat videos put together. he chuckles a little when he sees it, leaning over the bed and planting a kiss on your cheek. he rolls over onto his side, curling a big arm around your waist and pulling you back into his chest. he tucks his face over your shoulder, leaning over you, and you spend the better part of an hour giggling to yourself as you show simon the collection of videos on your feed.

the next morning, your phone pings while simon is away on base. you hurry out of the kitchen, wiping your floury hands on the apron you wear before seeing a request for a new follower.

you open the app, raising a brow when you look at the account without a profile picture asking to follow your private account.

pumpkin__eater141 wants to follow you.

you click on the profile, rolling your eyes when you see the only picture on the account a very grainy, filtered photo of two sergeants sticking their tongues out and holding up bunny ears behind each other. in the background, very blurry, you can see a glimpse of a skeleton-bone painted glove holding up a middle finger. the caption reads wankerzzz!!!!

the account has 1 follower (sudz_n_budz141), and it follows none, and you can't help but smile when you see the profile has nothing but a cherry emoji as the description.

you accept the follow request, and you follow them back. the whole day, every so often, you get a new video as a direct message. when you finish with the sourdough and leave it to rise, you start to scroll through the intermittent messages you've already gotten.

more cat videos. crazy dashcam footage with the comment "fuckin' mad." some woman who makes crockpot meals with every kind of bagged cheese you can get at the store on high for five hours.

you can't stop smiling. and when you pull out a pot to make dinner later, you and simon make eye contact before laughing.

"olright, baby, which one ya want?" simon murmurs, nuzzling his mask against your cheek. you giggle, looking up at the display. there's stuffed bears, big squishmallows, pillows. you reach a hand up behind you and caress the back of his neck, biting your lip until you point up at the big cherry squishmallow hanging by the top.

"gotta hit all the glasses to get that one, mate," the attendant says, and you look over your shoulder up at him.

"ooooo...not sure if you can hit all your targets, lieutenant riley?" you ask, and simon snorts, kissing your jaw through the mask before making his way towards the game counter. he picks up the toy rifle, adjusting it in his grip before holding the sight up and taking his stance. you bite your lip watching him. he looks incredibly sexy with that thing in his arms, even if its a fake. it's even sexier hearing the bell ring and watching your husband with terrifying precision knock every glass bottle down. one after the other, each glass falls, and you squeeze your legs together slightly as he goes for a bonus round and knocks them all over again, even quicker.

he turns around when he has your prize in his hands, a big fluffy cherry with a little smile and a little green leaf hat. you squeeze it to your chest before standing on your toes, and simon leans down to peck your lips through the mask. he wraps a big arm around your waist, and when you both pull back, you can't help your big smile, the laughter, that sweet, pretty shine in your eyes.

simon laughs, too.

it's easy when you're this happy.

[authorhjk1]

Public punishment

(Yujin X Wonyoung X Male Reader)

Your face remains expressionless as you pause the video.

"See, daddy? I told you she is such a slut."

You ignore Wonyoung as you stare at the woman on the screen.

Yujin really is a slut. Which you already knew from the first time you met her. Same as Wonyoung. The difference between those two is, that Wonyoung isn't as slutty as the older girl. Yujin shows off her body way more.

The three of you are all in a purely sexual relationship. But it seems like Yujin forgets that from time to time.

"You need to punish her."

You finally take a look at Wonyoung, who is sitting next to you. She's sitting straight, her hands resting on her thighs. You catch the small smile around her lips. She's loving this. She'd gladly throw Yujin under the bus, just so you can see her as the better of the two.

"I really should."

You think out loud, making Wonyoung scoot closer.

"She will be home in two hours."

"And?"

Wonyoung's eyes look up at you.

"Don't I get a reward?"

"For what?"

She pouts.

"Come on, daddy."

You sigh, knowing it'll be hard to resist her. But you try to keep your head clear. You need to find a fitting punishment for Yujin.

"At-At least let me suck it."

She looks up at you with those big eyes of hers, her lips still sporting that cute pout.

"Fine."

"Yes!"

Wonyoung exclaims. But before she can unbuckle your belt, you grap her wrists.

"But not like this."

You gesture at the oversized hoodie and sweatpants she is wearing.

"I'll go change. Just a minute."

Like an excited little bunny, Wonyoung runs towards her room in record speed.

You unpause the video of Yujin dancing in that little skimpy outfit of hers. She winks at the camera, plays with her pigtails...

All the fans seem to love her. Of course they do. Who wouldn't?

An idea slowly blossoms inside your mind. So many people. And all of them love her. Not just for her music, but her body and face as well.

You hear the door to Wonyoung's room open. You're not being paid badly, being one of Ive's managers and all. But you could certainly make a few extra bucks, if you play your cards right. A mischievous smirk plays around your lips as you finally plan out Yujin's proper punishment.

Wonyoung wordlessly kneels down in front of you, a satisfied smile on her face. She knows you like it when you can hold onto something. That's why she often wears pigtails or a ponytail.

While you keep watching Yujin's performance, Wonyoung finally gets her reward. You feel her lips close around your shaft. Her head begins to bob soon after, her lips gliding along your length.

While you watch the older woman dance on screen, you reach down and hold onto Wonyoung's pigtails with both hands. She gladly gives up control as you wrap her hair around your hands. You start to pull her back and forth, using her mouth like a fleshlight.

The young woman in front of you stays silent, expect for a couple of gags here and there. She tries to look up at you, although your eyes are glued to the screen. Wonyoung is wondering what you're thinking about. And even more importantly, why aren't you thinking about her?

She'd be completely satisfied with giving you head, if you were focused on her. But that's not the case right now. Wonyoung craves your attention. After all, that's why she told you about Yujin. You've been on vacation for the last two weeks, so you didn't even meet the two of them often during that time. And now that Wonyoung finally has you to herself, you can't stop thinking about Yujin.

But she can't complain either, because her mouth is completely stuffed with your cock. Unable to say a word, Wonyoung lets you use her mouth in what ever way you see fit. Even if you aren't even looking at her.

"What exactly are we doing here?"

Despite her annoying questions, Yujin still follows you into the mall.

"Wait and see."

You say, almost to yourself, as you look around.

"Are you just returning something? What's in there?"

For the nth time, Yujin is trying to sneak a peak inside the big bag you brought with you.

You take her hand and lead her towards a Chinese restaurant inside the mall. Right next to it is a sign that shows the way to a public restroom. The left one for women, the right one for men.

"Isn't it too early for lunch?"

Rolling your eyes at her questions, you drag her inside the men's room.

"Oppa, I shouldn't-"

Yujin finally stops talking when the two of you almost run into a guy who is just putting his pants back on.

"What the-"

"Relax, mate."

You pat his shoulder and lead Yujin towards the stall that is the furthest away from the door.

"What are you doing here?"

The guy, who seems to be a little older than you, is washing his hands while watching the two of you.

"Don't get any funny ideas. The two of you can go have fun at home."

He shakes his head as he dries off his hands.

"Young people theses days..."

You catch him taking a good look at Yujin.

"Although it's not like I can't blame you. If my wife was this pretty..."

Yujin feels a little uncomfortable as she feels him looking her up and down.

You told her to wear the same outfit, which she wore during her last performance. She thought you did so, because you liked it.

Small denim shorts, a white and black top with blue letters on it, a necklace, a choker and her hair in pigtails.

"You wanna have a go?"

Your question makes Yujin look at you, her mouth open. The guy raises an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Well, I didn't put the butt plug in yet, so her ass might be too tight right now. But her mouth and her pussy are amazing."

Yujin gasped when you first mentioned a butt plug. And now she stares at you in horror. How could you just offer her body, her holes, to someone the both of you don't even know?

"Oppa-"

"I do have a wife..."

She gets interrupted by the guy thinking aloud.

"But I guess a blowjob isn't cheating."

"Of course it's not."

You assure him, while Yujin just stands there, flabbergasted.

What the hell is going on? Why are you doing this? You were always a little possessive, wanting to make sure you're the only one Yujin and Wonyoung sleep with. So why are you offering her up to someone else? Especially without asking her first?

"Oppa, coud we maybe talk for a second?"

She's about to give you a death stare, but you ignore her, while pulling out something from your bag. A collar. With a chain on it.

"What is that?"

An unnecessary question. Yujin has worn this collar a lot of times before.

She leans away, but knows she won't be able to stop you from putting it on her. A moment later, the leather is secure around her neck.

"Would you at least tell me the reason?"

"Because of this."

You gesture at her clothes.

Yujin rolls her eyes.

"This is part of my job, you know? Being an idol?"

"Did you choose the outfit, or did the stylist choose it?"

Your question makes Yujin look down.

"I-I did."

"Thought so."

You pull at her chain, making Yujin stumble into the stall. Before she can react, you tie the chain around the hook that is attached to the wall. Usually people would hang their jackets there. Now it's a way for you to keep Yujin in place. She watches with big eyes as you take out a lock and secure the chain with it. She sees the key disappearing in your pocket.

"Stop this prank, you made your point."

Yujin tries to think positively. There's no way you'd actually do this, right? Letting another man use her mouth?

"We can go home and you can punish me there."

"This fic is called public punishment for a reason."

You walk out of the stall.

"Have fun."

The man looks at Yujin.

"Oppa?"

Yujin calls for you again, while her eyes are focused on the man's crotch. She watches how he pulls down his pants. The young woman can see the outlines of his cock underneath his boxers. She can't help but swallow hard.

He might be a stranger, but that doesn't mean she can't give him head just once, right? She might be an idol, but the guy doesn't seem to know her. And obviously there aren't any cameras here. So why not? You set this up, so Yujin might as well use this opportunity.

She closes her eyes when the man pulls his underwear off. Yujin licks her lips, wanting to get surprised. She smiles, before opening her mouth wide. How many people are you gonna send in here anyway? Three? Not much of a punishment, is it?

Her eyes shoot open when the man fills her whole mouth with one thrust. She didn't expect him to go all in from the beginning. Yujin quickly becomes a toy for this stranger as he uses her pigtails as handlebars. He's fucking her face, while also pulling her head onto his cock.

Yujin was prepared for a couple of lazy blowjobs. The butt plug stuff you mentioned seemed exaggerated to her at that time. Not anymore though. Are you really gonna let random guys have their way with her?

Yujin closes her eyes, letting the man use her mouth however he sees fit.

You feel a little weird as the first guy gives you 5000₩. You put the bill in your wallet and gesture towards the door next to you. He seems to be as old as you. When he opens the door, you hear Yujin gag inside the men's room.

You set up a chair, which people usually use for camping, next to the door. A cardboard sign is standing next to it.

"Mouth 5000₩"

"Pussy 10000₩"

"Ass 20000₩"

As you watch a guy, who barely looks like he is twenty, walk in your direction, you wonder how much money you might be able to make with Yujin today. If only 20 people pay for a blowjob, you'd make 100 000₩ in one day.

As he takes out his wallet to pay you, you hear the door open. The man, whom you met when you went inside with Yujin, is now stepping out of the restroom.

"That was amazing. She is perfect."

"Thanks."

You smile as you receive more money from the younger guy.

Yujin uses her finger to scoop up the rest of the man's cum. He shot his load all over her face and in her mouth without even asking. She was surprised, almost mad, at first. But for some reason Yujin is really starting to get off on this. The idea of more men walking in and just using her like a whore makes her feel warm and fuzzy. She could've sworn the door opened and closed a moment ago, while he was about to cum on her. Does that mean....?

Yujin can barely contain her excitement. Who comes next? When the next man steps into the stall, Yujin smiles up at him. She's aware that the first man probably messed up her face a little bit already. But the guy in front of her now is already taking off his belt. Seems like she doesn't look too bad yet. Yujin's mouth opens as she watches him undress. She doesn't close her eyes this time, wanting to have the full experience.

When he puts his cock in her mouth, Yujin immediately starts to suck him off. It didn't take her long to accept her new role fully. Her lips move along his shaft, making sure not to miss an inch.

"Damn, you're a whore."

Yujin's cheeks turn red as she hears him groan. Was that a compliment? Is she doing a good job?

She decides to do her best, not wanting to disappoint. Soon, the man's hands hold onto her pigtails too. Just like the first man, he begins to fuck her face as well. Yujin looks up at him, giving him her sexiest look, wanting to feel his load down her throat as soon as possible.

It still feels a little awkward to her. Twenty minutes ago, she never thought this would ever happen. Of course she has fantasies. And some of them include more than just one man, no doubt. But now being able to experience this is something different.

As the second man keeps fucking her face, Yujin hears the door open and close again. Her pussy gets even wetter at the thought of more men coming in to use her mouth. She does her best to use her tongue as much as possible, trying to meet the new guy quickly.

"Gosh, you're amazing."

The man, who's cock is in her mouth, groans once more. Yujin feels him throb and just two thrusts later, he buries himself as deep in her as possible. His cum shoots into her mouth and throat, almost leaving her gagging as he pulls out.

"Might come back later again."

"Yes,...."

Yujin coughs due to the cum in her throat.

"Please come again."

She waves after him as he leaves her stall, eager to see who's next. Her eyes widen in surprise when she sees you.

"Oppa?"

"Having fun?"

Your mischievous smile makes her carefully nod her head. Once more shame colours her cheeks red. She shouldn't be enjoying this, it's a punishment after all. But she can't help it.

"Now that more people seem to be interested, I'm afraid we'll have to raise the stakes."

You walk closer and help Yujin to her feet.

"What do you mean?"

"Turn around."

You ignore her question and make her lean face first against the wall of the stall. Yujin feels how you reach around her and unbutton her shorts.

"Wait, oppa. You're not going to let strangers fuck me, right? Right?"

When you don't answer, a shiver runs through Yujin's body. Giving blowjobs to strangers in a random restroom is one thing. But offering her pussy too? Should she really go this far?

Yujin hesitates, thinking about telling you to stop. The sound of someone stepping closer makes her turn her head. She sees another man, who's now looking into the stall. Is he the one who gets to fuck her? Yujin can't help but notice that he is definitely younger than the other two men. Around her age. And undeniably handsome. Maybe just this once is okay?

The man watches as you start to pull down Yujin's shorts. The way she looks at him at the same time, even slowly biting her lip, makes him reach for his crotch. He slowly cups it through his jeans as you let Yujin's shorts drop to the floor.

The young woman is wearing a light blue lace thong. She's naturally arching her back a little, showing off her plump ass. You reach into your pocket and take out the butt plug and a small bottle of lube. After pulling down her panties as well, you coat the metal with the transparent liquid.

"Oppa, what are you doing?"

Yujin expected you to leave again as soon as you took off her panties. Wasn't that what you're here for? Yujin is quickly proven wrong when she feels the slightly cold metal poke at her rear entrance. You free hand pushes one of her cheeks to the side, making it easier for you to slowly work the plug inside of her.

"Just relax."

You whisper into her ear, giving Yujin goosebumps.

This isn't the first time she's wearing a butt plug. You and her have already experimented a couple of times. But quickly it dawns on her, why you're doing this. So you're not just offering her mouth and pussy to strangers, but also her ass?

Yujin expects fear or anger to bubble up inside of her. Instead, she's surprised when she catches herself thinking about someone, who's not you, taking her ass. In the end, it doesn't matter who fucks her as long as she feels good.

Yujin gasps as you finally push the butt plug completely inside of her. You give her ass a playful slap.

"Have fun."

As you place the bottle of lube on the sink before leaving the restroom, you hear Yujin moan.

"Oh, god..."

Yujin sighs as she feels another man shoot his load deep inside her pussy. How many guys have already used her by now? Yujin tries to count. Two came in her mouth, one on her face and three inside her pussy. Makes six. A dumb smile plays around Yujin's lips at that realization. Six guys within what? An hour? Two hours? She doesn't know what time it is.

When she hears the next guy unzip his pants behind her, Yujin feels her pussy getting wet at the sound. The last three guys all fucked her, so she is still standing the way you left her. Body against the wall of the stall. Cheek pressed up against the surface. She is holding onto the wall and the chain that keeps her in place for support. Yujin's legs are growing weak with every pounding she is taking.

"Fuck, you're tight."

The man behind her groans as he slowly pushes into Yujin's cum filled pussy. She lets out a moan herself, not prepared for his size. He lets her get accustomed to it, once he is fully inside of her.

But soon he fucks Yujin hard against the wall, making her eyes roll to the back of her head. Her moans echo through the restroom with every one of his thrusts. She felt his hands on her waist at the beginning. But now he is holding onto and pulling at her pigtails.

Yujin's back arches further, separating her a little from the wall. Which only means the man behind her fucks her harder. Her ass looks way better when she's slightly bent over. Her cheeks clap loudly against his body. Her own moans grow louder.

"Your cheap pussy feels amazing."

He growls into Yujin's ear as he fucks her as hard as he can. The young woman feels a wave of shame and arousal rush through her. Are you charging theses guys money so they can fuck her? And how much is her pussy worth?

Her deepest fantasies come to light once more as Yujin thinks about that. This whole situation is slowly turning her into a pleasure craving whore. Yujin can feel what a slut she's become. Getting used by strangers again and again in the men's bathroom. And you even take money for it as if she is some cheap play thing.

"Please breed my cheap pussy."

Yujin moans when she finally accepts her place. It's the first time she's said something to one of these men.

The man behind her was about to climax anyway. Yujin cries out as she gets cream pied for the fourth thime today. The man behind her groans into her ear, pressing her against the wall as he leans against her.

When he finally recovers from his orgasm, he pulls out of Yujin and gets dressed. She can feel how his cum slowly starts to leak out of her freshly fucked pussy. He slaps one of her ass cheeks one last time and then leaves the stall. Yujin is left alone, cum now running down her legs.

"Just go inside. She's in the last stall."

You collect the money from the 13th man, who is now entering the restroom. You're surprised that it's going so well. It's been barely two hours and you already made more money than you thought you would. Although you did notice that no one has tried Yujin's ass yet. You wonder if most guys are just not into anal, or if you set the price too high.

"Hi, daddy."

Wonyoung's familiar voice makes you look up. She is standing in front of you in a cute white dress, holding a matching purse. Her left hand is holding onto something that looks like a stick, wrapped in a plastic bag.

"I have a present for Yujin unnie. You don't mind if I bring it to her, do you?"

You shake your head, not without noticing how good Wonyoung looks in that dress.

As the younger girl steps into the men's room, she hears Yujin's moans echo off the walls. She hesitates, thinking about waiting for the man to leave. She saw him go inside as she walked towards you. But to her surprise, she hears him groaning already.

"Oh yes, fill that slutty pussy up."

Wonyoung almost laughs at Yujin's words. She did the right thing by telling you what Yujin did during their last performance. She's a cheap slut after all. The complete opposite of Wonyoung. If she can finally make you see that, Wonyoung will have you all to herself. It's just a matter of time.

"That was amazing."

The man praises Yujin, still catching his breath as he pulls his pants back up. Yujin is slightly disappointed that he didn't last long, but she decides to take it as a compliment. It seems like there will be more than enough dicks for her today anyway.

But when the next person steps into the stall, Yujin's eyes become big.

"W-Wonyoung?"

"Hi, unnie."

"What are you doing here?"

Her shakey voice reveals how embarrassed she feels right now. She was completely fine with being used like a slut while she was alone. But now that Wonyoung can see her, she feels ashamed.

And Wonyoung examines Yujin closely. By now, Yujin doesn't look as put together as before. Her pigtails are a little loose and her clothes are lying in a pile in one of the corners of the stall. Her face is mostly clean. There's still some makeup on it, but most has been washed away by now.

"I have an early Christmas present for you."

Yujin narrows her eyes in suspicion at Wonyoung's cheeky smile. She bites her lip when she sees the younger girl holding something that looks like a rod in her hand.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Wonyoung nods.

"Just for you, unnie."

Yujin holds her breath as Wonyoung takes out the mysterious object. It's almost as long as Yujin's entire torso. One end has a hook on it, the other ends in the same shape as the plug inside her ass.

"I don't think this is a good idea, I-"

"But daddy is okay with it."

Wonyoung steps closer. Yujin feels shame rush through her system once more. She is still feeling a little uncomfortable thinking about strangers being inside her most intimate place. So she was glad to some degree that no one seemed to be massively interested in her ass yet. But the anal hook, might have some men change their mind.

"Why are you even doing this? Did I do something wrong?"

Wonyoung chuckles as she stands behind Yujin.

"You know daddy is a little possessive. And acting like that on stage was a little too desperate, if you ask me. He would've found out at some point anyway."

"Wait."

Yujin can feel anger bubbling up inside of her.

"Did you tell on me?"

A sharp hiss escapes her mouth, when she feels Wonyoung carefully pull at the butt plug. She feels the ring of her muscles stretch around the widest part of it, until she is finally left empty.

"Of course I did. I'm a good girl after all."

The younger girl's triumphant tone makes Yujin curse her silently. Of course she did.

Wonyoung looks down on Yujin's gaping hole. She places the anal hook at her leader's rear entrance and starts to push it inside of her.

The older girl's eyes roll to the back of her head as she gets filled once more. She could swear that this one feels bigger than the one before. She's almost left breathless. As she tries to get accustomed to her asshole being stretched out even further, Wonyoung is already using the other end to secure it on Yujin's collar.

"There you go, unnie. You look so beautiful."

"Oh, please. Stop mocking me and leave."

Wonyoung laughs.

"You think I'm done already?"

She shakes her head.

"I'm already here, so why don't I make this visit a special memory for the both of us?"

Her mischievous tone has Yujin sweating. What else is this brat up to?

Wonyoung takes out her phone.

"Smile, unnie."

"What?"

Wonyoung makes a peace sign with her fingers, smiles into the camera and a flash lights up the stall.

"What the hell, Wonyoung? Delete that."

"Oh, unnie. You still think you can order me around?"

The younger girl looks straight at her.

"Now I'm the one in control."

A smile plays around her lips.

"Why don't you kneel down? I'll get a better picture that way."

Yunin rolls her eyes. She could put up a fight if she wanted to. But would you punish her for that as well? Probably. Wonyoung is right. In this moment, Wonyoung is the good girl. But Yujin has still some fight left in her. She just doesn't move.

Wonyoung waits for a couple of moments, but then tugs at Yujin's collar. It's enough for the object inside her ass to move. Yujin gasps. Then bites her lip. The younger girl does it again, a smile still on her lips.

"Come on, unnie. Just one more picture, hmm?"

After hesitating, Yujin finally gives up. She is convinced it's better to let Wonyoung take a picture of her, instead of letting her watch Yujin getting used.

"There you go. You look amazing."

Wonyoung takes the picture and shows it to her.

"See?"

Yujin's cheeks burn red.

There she is. Kneeling on the floor of some restroom stall. A collar around her neck, a chain keeping her in place. The anal hook is visible as well, making the fact that she is naked even worse. Her face doesn't look as good as she has hoped. One can definitely tell that she took a couple of facials today.

"Oh, we got company."

Wonyoung remarks excitedly as the door to the restroom opens.

"Don't be shy, come over here."

She motions the man to walk over to her.

"Hello."

He gives her a quick bow and then his eyes meet Yujin's. She can tell he's hesitating, not having expected to see someone else here.

"Oh, don't mind me. Just enjoy yourself."

The man glances at Wonyoung, before looking back at Yujin. His eyes roam her body for a couple of seconds. Eventually, he undoes the button and the zipper of his jeans.

Yujin's eyes are fixated on his cock as he pulls it out. Definitely one of the biggest she's had so far today.

"Is it okay if I... If I put it in your mouth?"

His words are dirty, but he looks almost innocent. Yujin nods, a small smile playing around her lips. He's cute.

When the man steps closer, Yujin opens her mouth. She wraps her lips around his cock, sucking on his tip. The guy instinctively puts his hand on the back of her head and slowly pushes his length inside of her further.

"Yes, that's it. Make her take it all."

Yujin almost forgot Wonyoung was still there. But now her eyes stare right at Wonyoung's phone, which is obviously recording. Yujin closes her eyes. It's not like Wonyoung will stop if she asks nicely.

"Try to fuck her face. It feels amazing, trust me."

Yujin is cursing Wonyoung silently once more. The man hesitates, but eventually takes a hold of both her pigtails. His first thrust is shallow, almost weak. The next one barely makes her take half his shaft. Yujin opens her eyes to look up at him. She winks playfully and then forces herself further down his cock. If Wonyoung wants a show, so be it. It's not like Yujin will ever recover from this anyway. Might as well make the best out of it.

"Oh, there you go. My unnie is such a cock drunk slut."

Under Wonyoung's dirty commentary, Yujin continues the combination of blowjob and face fuck. The man in front of her has gained a little more confidence and has started thrusting into her mouth a little harder and faster. His grip on her pigtails has tightened. Committed to delivering Wonyoung the most dirtiest video possible, Yujin decides to become sloppy.

She leaves her mouth open a little wider, stops swallowing her own spit and just starts to let it naturally escape her mouth. Soon the man's whole cock is drenched in her saliva. Her knees and the already wet tiles underneath her get hit as well.

Wonyoung bites her lip when she sees Yujin look directly into the camera. She just looks so sexy while getting her face fucked. The younger girl can't help but rub her thighs together. How much she is now longing for your cock using her mouth just like that. She keeps recording as she continues to think about exactly that. How you used her mouth like a toy last night, barely even looking at her, while your eyes were glued to Yujin on screen.

"I-I think I'm gonna finish."

The man who's fucking Yujin's face clearly hesitates, his grip on her pigtails softening. But Yujin just shakes her head and lets her tongue roam his cock.

"Give her your cum, she wants it."

Wonyoung catches the man's red cheeks, but her focus is on making sure that the camera is capturing Yujin, who's doing her best to make him climax.

With a loud groan from the man, she finally achieves her goal. She quickly moves back, letting his cock pop out of her mouth. With closed eyes, Yujin takes his cum like a pro. He paints her face, coating her cheeks, nose and lips in his semen.

"You look amazing, unnie."

Wonyoung has to hold back a laugh after stopping the recording. She takes one last picture of her leader covered in cum for good measure, before deciding to head out.

"Have fun in here. Daddy promised to buy me lunch."

With a provocative wave of her hand, Wonyoung strides towards the exit.

Yujin lets out a weak groan as the man behind her closes his pants again. She's bent over the closed toilet, her ass at the perfect height for anyone who would come in.

The man who just came inside her ass is now putting the anal hook back into place. Yujin grimaces as she feels his cum getting pushed deeper into her guts and the cold metal stretches her out again.

Her assumption was right. After Wonyoung came by, a lot of people started to use her ass. By now, Yujin can't even count anymore how many men have used her throughout the day. Definitely more than twenty. Maybe fifty? Or more than that?

Her weak body has made her feel tired and exhausted. As she hears the door open again, just after the last man closed it, she just sighs in defeat. It's not like she didn't enjoy her punishment. In fact, she's still enjoying it. But a break once in a while would've been nice.

As you walk past the sink, you grab the almost empty bottle of lube. You hold your sign in the other hand, smiling as you check the back. You made a mark for every guy who paid you. You almost earned a month's salary within a day.

"Oppa?"

Yujin looks at you when you walk inside her stall.

"It's time to go home, the mall closes in half an hour."

"Is-Is my punishment over?"

Yujin has slid off the toilet seat and is now kneeling on the floor again.

"Almost."

"Are there still more people, who want to use me?"

She looks tired and worn out, but you catch the small glint in her eyes, when she think there are more men yet to come.

"Well, one to be exact."

Realization hits her immediately.

"You're going to use me too, oppa?"

A grateful smile makes its way onto her lips.

"Yeah."

You put down the sign and undo your belt.

"Why don't you get my cock wet first?"

"Yes, oppa."

Yujin quickly takes her place right in front of you. As soon as your pants hit the floor, her mouth closes around your length. Just like the dozens of times before today, Yujin's head bobs up and down on your cock. Her tongue pressed flat against your shaft, her lips forming an airtight seal.

"That's right."

You encourage her as you take a hold of her pigtails.

"This is all you're good for. Offering up your holes like a public slut."

Yujin moans with your cock in her mouth, sending vibrations through your body.

You soon take over, fucking her face like so many men before you today. The young woman's makeup is completely gone and there are still dried up drops of cum here and there.

Wanting to ruin her face even further, you eventually pull out. Yujin looks up at you, mouth still open. You use your cock to smear her own spit all over her face, making her close her eyes.

"Now you look perfect."

"Thank you, oppa."

Her voice sounds a little dry after getting her throat used so often today.

You reach for her collar and pull Yujin to her feet. She moans loudly, feeling the anal hook move inside her ass, stretching her out even more.

"You like it when people use your ass, don't you?"

Yujin weakly nods.

You finally unlock the lock that kept her in place. Pulling at her chain, you guide Yujin towards the sink.

"There we go. It's time for you to enjoy your reward."

Your calm voice had it's desired effect on Yujin. She looks at you through the mirror at the prospect of a reward.

"Which is my cock in your ass."

Yujin doesn't have time to protest. You start to pull the anal hook out of her hole, making her moan and groan once again.

She doesn't stay empty for long. It only takes you a moment to use up the rest of the remaining lube.

"Oh, god."

She sighs weakly as you fill her up completely with only one stroke. Burying yourself deep inside of her, you lean over her body, whispering in her ear.

"I hope you learned your lesson. If not, this will be the new way of spending your free weekends."

"Yes, oppa. I did."

Her reply is cut short as Yujin feels you moving inside of her.

You're amazed at how tight she still is. For how long was her ass totally filled? Probably longer than five hours or something. It still feels as good as if you just pushed into her for the very first time. The tight ring of her muscles grips onto your cock as you thrust into her again and again.

Yujin can't do anything but look at herself through the mirror as her ass takes one last pounding. She's relieved that the day is finally over, that she can rest soon. And yet, she can't help but beg you to fuck her harder.

"Please, oppa. Give it to me hard. One last time."

You hold onto her waist, increasing your pace as you start to properly ruin Yujin's asshole.

She can feel your cock drag along her walls. How your tip reaches the deepest of places, how your hands dig into her flesh.

"Oppa..."

A small, almost lazy, orgasm washes over her.

Yujin doesn't even have enough energy to support her upper body anymore. She's is just lying on top of the sink, enjoying how you use her body for your own pleasure.

"Fuck, Yujin. I'm gonna fill you up."

"Yes, oppa."

Yujin looks at you through the mirror.

"Cum in my ass."

Her weak voice almost tempts you to grab her pigtails and properly ruin her one last time. But you acknowledge that she must be completely dead inside.

You enjoy her tight warmth for a little longer, until you can't hold it back anymore. Leaning over her again, you rest your head on her shoulder. Being buried deep inside her ass, you finally cum, filling her completely.

"Damn, your body is amazing, Yujin."

You don't get answer. Looking through the mirror, you make sure she didn't just fall asleep.

"How many?"

Her voice is barely above a whisper, when she finally speaks up.

"What?"

"How many men used me today?"

You plant a kiss on the back of her head.

"63."

---------

Hi, everyone!

The first story of December is here. I hope you enjoyed the read, there are four more fics to come. The length and quality of the next stories will increase (I hope) so that we have one big final for the last story.

Stay healthy!

[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, obsessive behaviour/thoughts, implied stalking, manipulation

gn reader

Thinking about those yanderes who play the good guy – those yanderes who play it slow and safe – who take their sweet time gaining their your trust…

That calculative yandere who views you as not something to own but to earn – like a sweet-deserved prize he can taste on his tongue right before barreling over the finish line – all eager thrill and heart-blown triumph and such sweet bliss once he's crossed it, out of breath and forgetting everything else in the world.

Oh, and he's been so good – so fucking perfect these last months – the best – all according to plan – and now he’s finally going to get a taste, that victorious taste – allowed to bask in it, to roll it around his tongue, run it through his teeth – finally feel it between his hands, rake and dig his fingers into it and never let it go. 

He’s been sweet and soft and kind – so well-behaved – so boyfriendly – acting like the two of you were slowly getting to know each other even when he already knows you better than you know yourself. You’re so cute – every single squishy detail about you is just so cute.

He can barely hold it together, nearly shaking in vigor as you position yourself on his lap when the credits to the movie you’d been watching started rolling – soft music playing sweetly in the background – black screen throwing the room into an intimate dark, one that calls for certain things you do in the night, and hopefully dark enough to hide what positively red rouge tinted his cheeks as he felt you press down on where something was sleeping beneath the layers of his clothes.

He was beyond ready, beyond starving – hands so very frigid yet still with a practiced touch remained steady and deceptively calm as he placed them on your hips, grabbing onto the ample soft skin found at your waist – suppressing the urge to squeeze and settling for slowly messaging in careful meandering strokes instead. 

Even though he felt like attacking – like pouncing and trapping, like ripping clothes off – he knew that wasn't the way to win. No, he couldn’t let the mask slip – needs to keep playing the role.

His hand stirred again, ascending, perhaps too wantonly – but you didn't seem to mind as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear – feeling his labored finger-pads trace your jaw, swiping over your lips, cupping your chin, pressing into the plump squishy flesh of your cheeks, making you pout. 

He couldn't hold back the impulse that sent his tongue to swipe over his lips but quickly found a way to save himself. Asking, “Are you ready?” as though actually giving you a choice – voice as calm as he could muster, trying to withhold the strained timber of hormones that fought so badly to be satiated.

“I’m ready.” You say weakly – head bowed to look at him with eyes big and glorious.

He tilted his head to the side, pulling you in with a gracious touch when leaning forward to kill the space between your lips – smoothly brushing his stiff lips against your pillowy-soft ones – slightly parting to receive another greeting, and again and again with more and more pressure for every meeting, quite like the increasing drumming of your pulse. 

He pulled away to search your eyes, suddenly realizing his hand had slipped to wrap around your neck – but all that stared back at him were eyes full of trust – a look he couldn't help but want to devour. You’re so cute, so cute, so cute, cute, cute…

He pushed his lips back onto yours, kissing you more earnestly and desperately than before. 

The arm kept around your waist moved, also in favor of rising to head level, gently cupping your cheek as he deepened the kiss. Letting out a rugged groan when prying your mouth open.

You leaned away from the sudden boyish hunger, but his tongue slipped inside your mouth and tangled with yours anyway – making you go still as a statue until you let slip a tiny meager whimper. 

He gently rubbed your cheek at the sound – still holding you close with his words hotly purred on your lips, “Shh, Pumpkin – I won’t bite.” 

There was a look in his eyes you didn’t recognize – pooling with a predatory heat that caused a surprisingly pleasant shiver to slide up your spine, though not withholding the squeal of panic as he spun the two of you around and dropping you carefully on your back.

Now looming above you, with tenfold more control of what he had earlier.

His index finger stroked your chin before raising it for you to look up at him... or maybe for him to look down at you – enjoying the sight of you in all your flushed and bashful glory. 

It’s a different feeling than seeing you smile and laugh, different from looking at you in the hope you’d look back at him – no longer chasing but having his prey caught, ready to sink his teeth in. 

His other hand stroked a wisp of hair behind your ear as the locks had gone wild in the tumble, yet again groping your face as he leaned in closer. 

He pressed his lips against yours again – and though surprised and with a heart beating like a hummingbird, you slid your own hand around his waist, the other tangled in the short hairs at the back of his neck, legs climbing up his back, hooking over his hips and pulling him closer.

You felt his lips curl up into a smirk – before he drew his mouth from yours in favor of kissing a trail of pecks down your jaw, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, drooling with such suppressed lust, he groaned into the dip between your shoulder and neck – unsure if he could hold back once he started feeling the blood rush and pump, causing something to fatten in his slacks – unsure if you were ready to take all that he wanted to give you – unsure if you were willing to give all he wanted to take.

BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Shinso, Dabi, Hawks

JJK – Geto, Gojo, Choso, Yuji, Megumi, Yuuta

HQ – Tsukishima, Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

[lymtw]

The thought of you being with anyone else has always made Satoru sick to his stomach. He can't imagine you loving others more than you love him, and if he ever sees you giggling or smiling at someone else the way you do with him, he'll find a way to include himself or put an end to it overall.

It's understandable that you're at your wits end with his immaturity and his inability to make you feel like he trusts you around others, as his girlfriend, but that doesn't mean he wants you to leave him. He can do better. He can make you feel better. He always does.

You're sitting at the dining room table, working on some slides for an upcoming presentation. You're in your zone, focused, even wearing your big noise cancelling headphones, which blast your calming music playlist into your ears.

Satoru sits on the other end of the table, straight across from you. He watches the focus and concentration that has silently etched into your features, his hands folded as he, too, focuses. You haven't said a word to him in the past two hours. You let him know that you'd be working on schoolwork, but he knew there was something cold running through you when you told him this. He could tell you were still upset about what had happened earlier.

It was a brief interaction you had with someone who simply laughed at the sight of your keychain. They complimented it because it was a character from one of their favorite shows. This two minute interaction was enough for Satoru to storm over to you and the unfamiliar person. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he stared the stranger down with a smile so sweet, it was obvious that it was fake. You were uncomfortable, the stranger was uncomfortable, and Satoru was radiating possession over you. You managed to chuckle nervously and apologized for the interruption.

You can feel his heavenly eyes on you, and you're trying your hardest not to crack under the tension. He always manages to fluster you so easily when he watches you, making it much more difficult to get things done.

The silence makes him want to create noise. He wants you to make noise with him. He wants to show you that he loves you and that he does things like that because you're wanted by many, but are doomed to be only his. He'll make you forget the incident ever happened. He can make you feel better. He'll discreetly plant his firm custom of only fantasizing about you, through his touch, and he'll remind you of the way his eyes lock onto you whenever you move, while he watches your reaction to him running his hands all over you. For fucks sake, you're the nightly stars in the sky to him. What's wrong with treating you as such?

Satoru slowly rises from his seat. You're unbothered by the movement, not looking up as he makes his way around the table. He stands behind you, silently setting his hands on your shoulders, as he glimpses at the professional looking word vomit on your laptop. He sweeps your hair back, clearing your shoulders.

You finally read a part of the text that can be used as evidence later on in the slides, and immediately jot it down in your notes. You're not giving Satoru the attention he wants, so he carefully removes your headphones. That definitely does the job.

"I need those. I can't focus without them." You put your pencil down and stop scrolling on your laptop, turning to look at him.

"And I need you to take a break. You said that isn't due 'til next week."

You roll your eyes and exhale through your nose, turning to face your screen again. "Guess I can work without them," you grumble.

He puts the headphones down on a counter behind him and his hands go back to your shoulders, this time dragging forward, dipping beneath the neckline of your shirt. The collar will surely be stretched out by the time he removes his hands.

"Did you hear what I said?" He asks, voice low enough to make your heart drop. His hands slide into the cups of your bra from above, allowing him to hold your breasts.

"I did," you respond, feigning nonchalance, when really you've read the same short passage three times now, as a result of his touch.

"Take a break." He squeezes, gently, taking in the quick jolt of your body when he started concentrating on your nipples. "Indulge me," he spoke, against your ear. He dragged his lips down the side of your neck, kissing every inch of it. It was warm and wet, and it was driving you crazy.

"Satoru..." you said, more breathily than expected. "I need to do this." You contradict yourself and tilt your head to give him more room. He's so enticing. He already has you on board with whatever he has planned, but you'll unstably stand your ground for a couple more minutes to deflate his ego a little.

"If you don't come with me..." he murmurs. "...I will go down there and make it impossible for you to keep working," he continued, between kissing and sucking your neck. Your thighs were pressed together, tightly, and you were so turned on by everything he was doing, all for you to throw him a bone.

You sighed. The pressure offered by your thighs was not enough to satisfy your want for the man touching you.

"Let me put your mind at ease. Bet your brain is fried. Why not just finish it off?" His hands slid out of your shirt, settling on your shoulders once more.

You reached for your pencil, only for your hand to be immediately swatted down by Satoru's hand and pinned to the table.

"Really?" His voice brought goosebumps to your skin.

You sighed in defeat and saved your documents before shutting your laptop, allowing him to lead you to the room. He hummed in satisfaction as you walked with his hand tight around yours.

–

"Satoru! Fuck- Holy- Oh... more, please!" Your words jumbled in an attempt to ask him to keep going against the spot he was abusing. His fingers were slowing, and the stimulation wasn't as prominent. "No. N-No! I was gonna-"

"I know," he cuts you off. "Don't want you to cum yet, sweetie," he groans, using every ounce of patience he has. He wants nothing more than for you to cry out for him once he makes you cum, but you're still thinking, meaning you can still think of the situation from earlier.

"'toru, please. I was so close. This is the second time already."

"Once you break, i'll fix you, babe. I swear. I'll make you cum more than you want to, but give me a little longer, 'kay?"

The transparency of his goal was relieving, but knowing that you'd be toyed with a while longer was frustrating.

"Don't worry your pretty head about when you'll get to cum. It could happen aaany minute now. You have to remember our rule." He smiles, watching the way your stomach quivers in anticipation of his fingers touching your cunt.

You closed your eyes and drowned in the feeling of Satoru's touch. He knows you so well. Knows what turns you on, knows exactly how to get you off, and know how to make you cum in just a couple minutes. He uses this against you when he needs to, but for the most part, Satoru is fair. He's good to you.

Eventually a rule had to be introduced in bed because of his ability to make you cum impossibly fast. The rule implied that if there was enough time to drag your pleasure out, you should make use of all that time, even if it means you don't get as many orgasms. You both agreed that Satoru mastering your weaknesses took away parts of the intimacy when he got you to orgasm so quickly, so he doesn't use those methods as much. He prefers to build you up, anyway. You loved and hated the rule. Loved that you would be observed and touched for longer, and hated that the touch fled as soon as you were on the brink of orgasm.

"Satoru!" You gasp. "Please, I... I-I need this!"

His pace slows again, your body trembling as he pulled his fingers out and stopped all contact with you. His coated digits dragged along your thigh, painting you with translucent wetness. You're so sensitive, twitching at when his fingertips ghost your slit.

"You're getting there." He smiles, too kindly at you.

"Satoru," you groan. He didn't deserve to go by ''toru' in this moment. "If I wanted to be edged, I would have stayed at the table, doing my work while you did whatever you wanted to me, had I not followed you."

"Don't be upset, princess. We both know your brain will shut off the second I make you cum. I just need you with me for a little longer." The kind smile fell off his face. "For the record, I wasn't kidding when I said I would stop you from getting any work done at kitchen table. I promise you, you would have made zero progress."

His switch flipped again, and he gave you a loving grin. He looked up at you from between your thighs, his pretty, blue eyes centered on your own. You love when he looks at you like this—like you're his world, and he would do anything to keep you chained to him. It's moments like this that keep you sane around him. He has this intensity to him when he's alone with you. It causes any doubt you have of his love for you to vanish, instantly. You can never stay mad for long enough when he looks at you this way.

He kisses along your inner thigh, his eyes glue to yours as he does so. His hand stays on your hip, softly pressing his fingertips into the skin. You trembled in his hold when you felt his tongue slide through your folds again. His arms hooked around your thighs, holding you in place when you began to squirm.

"Satoru..." you sighed, your hands gripping the sheets tighter.

"Princess." A smile runs across his lips, not interrupting him as he continues to debilitate you with his mouth.

"Can I please... fuck," you moan. "Please... please," you beg, eyes shut as you try to compose yourself before you continue speaking, but he was relentless.

He let his hands take over, his full attention on what you wanted to say. His thumb glided up and down your slit, occasionally sparing attention to your clit, which only drove you closer to insanity.

"Go on. I'm listening." He very much was listening, your little breaths and whimpers so sweet to his ears.

"Can I cum, please?" Your hips rolled against the mattress, chasing the friction of his fingers against your pussy. This brought a satisfied grin to his face.

"Did you finish all your work?" He looks down to where he's working his fingers into you, mesmerized by the way your slick drooled down his reddened knuckles and the back of his hand.

"T-That's not fair. You pulled me away from my work."

He chuckles at the impatience in your tone. "That's not what I asked you, baby. Did you or did you not finish your work?" His index and middle fingers beckon inside your velvety walls.

"N-No, fuck, no. I didn't," you whimper.

"I love you to death, but I never said this would be a fair game. I'm gonna have to say 'no', too, baby."

You looked like you were on the verge of tears. Tears of impatience and frustration.

"Oh..." he coos. "It's okay. You'll be okay." He placed little kisses on your thighs, as if comforting you through this seemingly endless loop you were trapped in because of him. "Honey, you're gonna be fine. I've got you."

—

Your eyes became waterfalls towards the end of Satoru's game. You were ruined and all hope of cumming any time soon fled by the fifth orgasm you were denied of. He showed you all the affection he could to make up for how selfish he was being with your pleasure. There were fresh hickeys as well as purpling ones all over your lower body.

Satoru loved that he had reduced you to a whimpering, sobbing mess, with just his hands and his mouth. Your arousal, as well as his saliva, coated the better part of the bottom of his face.

His fingers entered you one last time brushing every point of weakness within you, repeatedly.

"Fuck- Oh fuck... Sa...toru!" You moaned. This was different. It was better. It was good. So, so good.

His lips attached to your clit, sucking on it mercilessly.

"Holy fuck..." you whined, sitting up, tangling one of your hands into his hair. Your back arched and your face was aimed towards the ceiling as you took every ounce of pleasure he graced you with. The edge was so close, within reach.

"Please, Satoru, oh my god... please."

With one more curl of his fingers and a swirl of his pointed tongue on your clit, you were launched into oblivion— lost to the overwhelming sensation seeping into you. You cried out his name, him being the only thing running through your mind. Your eyes were shut so tightly that tears spilled down your cheeks all over again. You were panting, cracked whimpers leaving you as you rolled your hips against the mattress. Your grip on his hair tightened even more.

All Satoru could do was watch with marvel, completely ignoring the pain in his scalp. You had the prettiest blush, and like a crystal glaze, your tears decorated your face so stunningly. Your eyes fluttered open again and you looked at him through wet lashes, the most flustered expression on your face as you continued to release small puffs of air. It's then that the constant thoughts of you that echo through Satoru's mind come forward. No one is enough like you are. No one deserves you.

In all the loving thoughts Satoru got caught up in, he was unintentionally starting to overstimulate you. He wouldn't let up, too mesmerized by the way you said his name so sweetly. His arms prevented you from shutting your legs. He couldn't deny that he loved the little grunting sounds you made, and the shuddered "'toru..." you whimpered out when you couldn't handle everything he was giving you anymore.

He finally let up and patted your thigh, silently praising you for being so good for him. Your eyes were shut and your chest was still heaving as you worked to steady your breathing.

There was no doubt in Satoru's mind that you weren't thinking of his little display of possession from earlier, anymore. Just as planned, but just to be completely certain, he would repeat the process a few more times.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Santa, Baby

Santa!Art the Clown x F!Reader SMUT

Summary: There’s a Christmas Party at the club the reader works at. After bumping into a strange man in the streets, she spreads the word of the party.

cw: isn’t art his own warning??, choking, fingering, mentions of blood, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, mentions of kidnapping, biting, violence, p in v, hair pulling, scratching, blood play, overstimulation, creampie,

a/n: imma be real with yall, if you can’t handle watching the Terrifier movies don’t read fanfiction about Art bc tagging all this stuff in the warning was CRAZY lmao

~~~

It was the Saturday before Christmas.

Some people were out shopping, other’s having festive dinner with their loved ones. And then there was you. Getting dressed up in a slutty, red Santa-dress. It sat high upon your thighs, if you even attempted to bend over your matching red lacy underwear would be on full display.

Hoping the outfit would get you better tips. Maybe even a cute guy for you to play around with. Twirling Round in the mirror before leaving your house.

The weather was nice, so you opted to walk. You did not live that far away from work, sometimes the car was easier. But you could not lie that the thought of you turning heads on the street sent a thrill through you.

As you walked down the street, you bumped into a pale man wearing a Santa outfit. Knocking his black trash bag out of his grasp. White wig, red hat and jumpsuit, and big black shoes. Noticing his crooked nose and clown-like face paint. Rather peculiar for this time of year. Almost a mix of Halloween and Christmas.

His mouth formed an ‘O’ when your eyes met. Brows quickly furrowing down at you.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” you quickly apologized. Leaning down to pick up the bag for him. Your breasts peaking through the top of your tight dress. His eyes found themselves looking down your dress. Unable to deny his mind wandering to a perverted place. Not usually the type to feel this type of thing for people. Only desire he had being to kill and be covered in their blood. But something about you made a different part of him crave you.

“I like your costume,” you complimented, “There’s this Christmas Party down at the club if you’re interested.” You dug in your purse for one of the flyers. Giving it to him. Silently examining the pamphlet, his brows raised as he nodded. You both awkwardly stood on the sidewalk. Creepy smile never leaving the clown’s face. You continued to smile back at him, eyes looking around. “Silent type? How mysterious, I like it,” you tapped your fingers against his chest, “Hopefully I’ll see you there tonight, I’ve gotta get going. Bye!” You waved him off as you walked past him. His stiff body following you until he was facing the same direction. Eyes never leaving you. Peering at how your hips swayed and ass bounced in the dress.

What was wrong with him?

You headed down to the street the club was on. Waving at the bouncer, unable to stop himself from eye-fucking you in that dress. Booping him on the nose as you entered.

The club was decorated in all Christmas lights. A handful of fake trees placed along the floor. Everyone dressed up as different holiday characters. Elves, Snowmen, Reindeer, the whole nine yards. You were greeted by your happy coworkers as you took your place behind the bar. Preparing for the night of heavy drinkers ahead. Unable to get that clown out of your mind.

The Club was booming. Extremely loud Christmas remixes, people singing along and grinding together filled the scene. Strobing lights decorated the walls as the big projected screen behind the DJ showed clips of old Christmas movies without sound. It was difficult to hear your customers like this, good thing you could read lips.

There was finally a dry spell at the bar. Giving you time to stretch your neck and legs. Rolling your shoulders as you softly bobbed your head to the music. Taking a drink of water from your bottle. Almost every seat at the bar was taken. People hitting on each other, drinking away their sorrows, and some groups filled the seats. When a familiar face sat on your side of the bar. Loud garbage bag clanged against the floor. Causing you to jump out of your skin. Eyes peered over to the source.

White and Black face paint. It was the guy from the street. Your expression beamed at him. “Hey! You came by,” you reached a hand out to him in excitement. Wide smile painted across his face as he nodded at you. Still as silent as ever.

“I’m so glad you decided to come by. Still looking good in that Santa outfit I see,” you flirted. He snickered as he tucked his face into his shoulder, pretending that your words were embarrassing him. Hands coming up to wave off your compliment. Gesturing to your body, silently complimenting you.

You walked around the bar, hands tip-toeing up his arm, “Think you’re looking for a Mrs. Claus?”

The Clown tilted his head to the side. Eyes scanning your entire body, resting on your breasts with a devious smile. Looking up at you through his lashes, nodding slowly. You smiled at him.

“Can you cover me?” You called out to your coworker behind the bar. She gave a thumbs up as she poured a shot for a customer. You smiled giddily at him. His brows raising as he returned the look. He stood from his seat, towering over you. He was so tall. Long fingers wrapped around your wrist as he dragged you down a dark hallway. Garbage bag occasionally scraping the wall. He led you around as if he knew the place. Familiar with the proper hiding spots. Arousal pooled deep in your bones. Where his hand held your wrist ignited throughout your body.

He stopped in front of a dingy door to an abandoned bathroom. Opening it and allowing you in first. It was dark in the old bathroom. You never used this one, reserved for occasional hookups and doing lines for your coworkers. The mysterious clown flicked on the dimly yellow bulb. Pointing excitedly towards the old stained mirror. The words “Art Was Here” was written in some type of red. Assuming it was some lipstick.

“Is that your name?”

Art nodded happily. Jumping up and down and clapping. You leaned against the cold brick wall. Arms folded over your chest as you stared at him. Examining his tall figure. His loosely fitting Santa costume leaving most of him up to your imagination. Except for those hands. Long, strong fingers. Barely peaking out of the fingerless gloves he wore.

His expression dropped suddenly. Brows falling in a straight line over his eyes. Mouth sealed with a hint of a frown. You felt your heartbeat speed up. A small amount of fear taking over at his sudden mood change. His head tilted slightly, eyes tracing your body. Your eyes darted around the dark room unsure of what his next move was. Was he going to fuck you? Kill you? Maybe nothing at all.

Before you could open your mouth he lunged at you. Thick fingers wrapped around your throat. Strong grasp around your windpipe. Pulling every bit of air out of you. Your eyes widened at him. A smirk of mischief painting the corner of his mouth. Leaning forward as if he was going to kiss you, turning into a long stripe licked up your face. Shoulders bounced with silent laughter. Fingers tightening around your jugular. You could feel yourself struggling to breathe. Vision growing slightly blurry with each passing minute. Art’s fingers traced down your body, squeezing your breasts along the way. Hooked up under your dress. Raising his eyebrows in surprise when he felt your lacy panties soaking wet. Wagging his finger at you, partially shaming you for your arousal.

You gasped for air that you did not receive. Feeling woozy. Art’s finger going back down to your aching core, circling your clit with two fingers. A broken moan escaped your throat. Dark eyes stared at your face. Watching how it contorted when he would hit the spot you liked. Feeling his cock growing with the pathetic noises you made.

Just as you felt yourself about to faint, Art removed his hand from your neck. Your own hand replaced his as you began heaving for air. Sliding slightly down the wall, firmer against his fingers. He puckered his lip out mocking the tears that stained the corners of your eyes. Your moans were far louder now. Being able to fully express yourself and the harder feeling of his fingers. His dark eyes watched how your chest bounced with each moan you let out.

Art slipped his middle finger under your panties, sliding it into your soaked folds. Causing your body to buckle forward against him. Grabbing his shoulder for support as your legs grew shaky and weak. Emotionless eyes met yours. Face still and unmoving as you pleaded up at him with your doe eyes. Curling his finger while the others continue circling your clit. His name fell from you in a cry as you felt that familiar tightening in your lower abdomen.

He knew his way around the human body, that was for sure. Knowing all the right places to inflict pain or pleasure. Usually he enjoyed seeing the way people would desperately run from him, crying out in pain when he would strike them down. Loving the way blood and guts warmed up his hands. But here he was, keeping you in tact while still feeling your insides. Adoring the way your sensitive insides clamped around his finger. How your body begged for him to please it. Walls pulling him deeper into you. Still getting that same pleasure as he watched you cry out and cling to him. The way tears stained under your eyes and fingers dug into his skin pooling inside him. Feeling his own arousal begin growing in his oversized pants.

You began thrusting up and down on his fingers. Widening his eyes as he watched you chase your high with his fingers. Opting to slide another into you, curling and scraping against your insides. Grazing that spongey spot that sent electricity through you. Curiosity painted his expression now. With one final curl of fingers, you came undone around him. Walls fluttering and sucking in his fingers. Arousal leaking down his digits as he continued pumping into you. Your entire body began shaking as you dug your fingers into his shoulders, having to hold them both to stabilize yourself. Your face curled into the crook of his neck. Skin smelling of sweat and iron.

Art pushed you against the wall. Standing stiffly in front of you as you panted. Face red with post orgasm glow. Feeling your walls clamp around nothing now. Craving something more. A closed mouth smile morphed into a wicked grin, baring his stained teeth. Examining his fingers that had been inside you. Pulling them apart while they were still connected by your arousal, a slimey rope connecting them. Taking his fingers into his mouth, sucking the taste of you off them. Eyes rolling into the back of his head. Sucking them off with a pop.

Unable to deny that that did something for you. Your chest was tight as you looked his body up and down. Landing on the faint tent pitched in his pants.

The tall clown fell to his knees in front of you. Crawling over and throwing the front of your dress up. Staring at your ruined panties. Soaked lace sticking to your lips. His hand rubbed up your leg, with a tug of brute force ripping your panties off in one go. Cold air hitting your heated mound. He suddenly licked up into your pussy. Tongue dancing down the slit, lapping at the remainder of you. He took one of your legs and threw it over his shoulder, giving him better access to you.

Art ate you out like it was going to be his last meal. Sloppily, his tongue spread your folds while his hands held tightly into your thighs. His crooked nose bumping against your throbbing clit. Still overstimulated from your first orgasm. Knowing it would not take long for him to take you there again at this rate.

“Art, I’m going to cum again,” your voice was shaken.

He nodded aggressively, refusing to remove from your opening. He had found a new favorite taste. Unable to get enough of you. If he could, he would bottle your taste up and take it home with him. Or maybe even take you away with him. Lock you up in his warehouse so he could taste you whenever he wanted. He knew you would taste especially good when your period would come around. His two favorite flavors combined.

You began grinding down onto his face. Pushing his nose against your clit over and over. Chasing your secondary high, unsure how many more he would have you endure. Not really caring. If they all felt this good you would let him have you however he wanted. Unwinding on his face. Art pressed his tongue between your folds wanting to feel them contort against his it. You slid down the wall loosing yourself. Art held you up like it was no problem. A strange strength coming from him. Your eyes squinted shut momentarily trying to catch your breath.

Art continued licking until you subsided. Standing, his face covered in your juices. Oddly none of his makeup smudged. You had to find out where he bought his foundation. Hooded eyes gazed down at you. You looked so pathetic sliding into the floor in front of him. Tits rising as you panted. He pictured how your lungs looked expanding in your chest. Desire to rip you open filling his thoughts. Fading when he felt his cock throbbing.

Long digits reached out to help you to your feet. Releasing you and letting you tumble back, head hitting the cold brick. You winced when it started to ache. Silently he laughed and pointed at you. Miming you hitting your head. You scowled up at him. He definitely enjoyed your pain. Something you were too overstimulated to care about. He rolled his eyes at you when you did not laugh along with him, reaching his hand out again. Swirling his finger in a circle gesturing for you to try again.

Art pulled you flush against his chest. Stronger than anyone else you had ever been in contact with. Acting as if you weighed nothing. You fluttered your lashes up at him. Mouth hung open as you continued taking deep breaths in. Abruptly he turned you around, forcing you against the sink. Staring at him through the mirror. Watching how his hands massaged and stroked your torso in the reflection. His nose traveled from your shoulder up to your neck. Tongue coming out to lick at your throat. Pulling skin between his teeth as he sucked a deep purple bruise there. You moaned for him, loving the attention he gave to your skin. His hands gripped your chest, pulling your breasts out of your top. Cold fingertips pinched at your hardening bulbs. His eyes fixated on your chest in the mirror. Tongue traveling further up your neck until it ended behind your ear.

He was entranced by your body. Not ever taking the time to see how things changed when someone was sexually aroused. Being all too familiar with how the body acted with pure terror. Your fastening heart rate thumped against his hands. Feeling your pulse against his lips had his desires in overdrive. He could have devoured you right there. Smeared your blood all over the walls of this shit-hole bathroom. Fucked your bloodied mouth while you fought within an inch of your life to survive.

But that would not satisfy him.

Sure, your flesh ripped between his teeth would be nice. But hearing all the pathetic cries and moans you made for him was even better. The way you would whine his name was like music to his ears.

Art reached down, freeing his length from the confides of his red pants. He was swollen and leaking pre-cum. Pushing your back forward forcing you to bend over the sink. Holding yourself up with your hands as you held eye contact in the mirror. He kicked your legs apart further, making sure he could get into you. Grabbing his cock by the base and swirling it around your slick. Coating himself with you, testing the waters of how far he was willing to go. You were so warm and welcoming. He could always leave you out to dry. Just play around and never fuck you. But he needed his own release. And the way you whined his name when he dipped a little deeper his mind was made up.

Art slammed himself into you. Hands gripping your skirt upon your lower back. Watching the way your ass bounced against his cock. Wickedly grinning at the sight of him penetrating you. Tongue coming out to glaze his rotten teeth. Sound of your skin smacking mixed with your screaming moans was like music to his ears. He was relentless. Length hitting deep inside you. One of his hands tangled in your hair, arching your neck back to force you to watch in the mirror.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you called to him like a prayer each time he would sheath inside you. His long shaft stretched your entrance perfectly. You scrunched your face up and rolled your eyes back as he continued pounding into you. Mouth forming an ‘O’. Your insides spasmed around his cock as it filled you up. Art’s brows twitched with pleasure. His toothy grin was unwieldy.

His other hand gripped your ass. Nails breaking the skin as he clawed at your soft flesh. Loving how your crimson red painted your cheek. Collecting the blood on his finger tips and pressing them against your aching nub once again. Circling the sensitivity. Breath hitched in your throat as he leaned further into his grasp on your hair. Closing your eyes and screaming loudly for him. Feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly.

Art’s pace was brutal. Snapping his hips up into you. With each circle of fingers and flick of hips, you were seeing stars. Almost too drunk on cock to form sentences. Never imagining when you got dressed today your night would go like this. Lost in ecstasy of pleasure. Coil winding tighter and tighter in your stomach.

Fingers taking you to a place of pure hormonal bliss. Insides quaking and pulling him deeper. Art’s mouth shaped into an ‘O’ realizing you were cumming around his cock. Nodding with satisfaction as his dark eyes pierced into yours. Watching how drool fell out of your mouth and sweat rolled down your body.

Art pulled his fingers up, seeing the crimson red was now a softer pink. Shoving the combination of you into his mouth. Licking between his fingers like something from a porno. His shoulders relaxed as he continued fucking into you. Your entire body was shaking. Legs wobbled like they would give out on you any second.

His wet fingers rubbed at your chest. Tracing up and curling between your lips. Forcing their way into your mouth. Taking them like he wanted. He released his grip on your hair, planting the hand against your hip instead. Pinning you with his hips. Clearing chasing his own high now. Continuing to watch as he pumped his fingers into your mouth. Loving the sound of you gagging and slobbering. Feeling himself twitch inside you. His breathing picking up as he focused where he punctured you.

Watching how perfectly you sucked him in. Wanting to cum all inside you. Wanted you so filled with him you could barely walk. Knowing it would make you crave him forever. Addicted to the feeling of his seed inside you.

Hips pressed flush against yours. Shooting his white hot inside you. Coating your walls with his cum. Holding still so he could feel you milk him. He rolled his neck and leaned his head back, never having felt something this good. His chest pounded as he begged for air. Deep breaths filling his desperate lungs.

You slumped against the sink. Quivering arms and legs fighting to hold you up. Resting your head on your arms. Your cunt having been worked to its limit.

Art stood up straighter behind you. Flattening his suit down with his hands. Smiling at you in the mirror as he tucked his member back away. Waving his fingers at you.

You were unsure who this man was, but you never wanted to be apart from him.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! This is only my second time writing for Art, but I sure do love writing him. Expressing his mannerisms is so fun. If you have any requests for him, please send them my way! I look forward to future Fics! //

{tags}

@l0sercat ~ @tedi28 ~ @hyperfixated-clown ~ @papispam ~ @melaninatedhorrorqueen ~ @lcvsanaa ~ @dilfismz ~ @knoepfl ~ @tuttifuckinfruttifriday ~ @spookysquids

[harrysfolklore]

growing family - verstappen!yn

pairing: verstappen!yn x boyfriend!charles, best fiend!oscar x verstappen!yn

verstappen!yn smau | masterlist | my patreon

You hummed along to the music coming from the speakers of your boyfriend's Monaco home as you stirred some pasta sauce for dinner.

Despite being to Monaco countless of times before, there was something different about being there with Charles for his home race week.

You enjoyed being alone in his apartment while he ran some errands or spent some time training, you felt at home and the company of Leo, the puppy you adopted together made everything better.

However, your time to yourself cooking dinner for you and your boyfriend was interrupted by your phone ringing.

oscar pastry 🥐 FaceTime Video

Frowning because you weren't quite expecting a call from your best friend, you answered.

"Hello mum," he said once his face popped up on screen.

"Mum?" you asked confused, "What are you even talking about?"

"Have you not seen twitter? I'm your kid now, Charles adopted me," he shrugged, "Where's my brother Leo?"

"Oscar are you drunk or something," you laughed at your best friend, "I haven't been on twitter since like, last year."

"Well log in, dumbass," he rolled his eyes and you flipped him off, "Hey! That's not the way to treat your son."

"Gosh stop saying that, we've been best friends since we were 15 it's weird," you shook your head as you opened the twitter app, luckily you weren't logged out because you certainly didn't remember your password.

And the first thing you saw pop up in your timeline was the banter between your boyfriend and your best friend.

"You guys are so annoying," you threw your head back in laughter as you read the tweets, "And you're both serious about it too."

"Of course, I'm a Leclerc-Verstappen now," he laughed along, "Shit, does that make Max my uncle?"

"It does," your eyes widened, "Are you sure you want that?"

"Well I wanted you guys to adopt me so you give me back the attention your boyfriend stole from me, I never consider Max would become my uncle," he teased, making you laugh.

"Come on pastry, we've talked about this," you gave him a serious look, "You'll always be my best friend and me being with Charles now would never change that."

"I know, I'm just messing around," a small smile played on his face, "You guys seem so happy and I love that for you."

As if on cue, you heard the front door open and your boyfriend's voice calling for you, Leo instantly barking and running to the door when he noticed his presence.

"Mon ange, I'm back," he said as he entered the kitchen, Leo cradled on his arm, "Missed you."

He pulled you closer y the waist and kissed the side of your head, making you smile and lean into him.

"Yikes, I didn't need to see that," Oscar's voice was heard from the phone screen, making you laugh.

"Oh hey son," Charles said to him, "How's my new favorite adopted child doing?"

"Hey dad, just calling to check in on my amazing parents and my little brother," he said, glancing at Leo who was now comfortably settled in Charles' arms.

"This is so weird, stop it," you cringed, making both of them laugh and Charles pull you to him again as you covered your face.

"We're a big happy family, mon amour. Ollie, Leo and now Oscar, the Leclerc-Verstappen family."

You smiled at him, pecking his lips a couple of times.

"Okay that's my cue, I don't want to see you guys making out," Oscar said shaking his head, "Good night, mum and dad, see you this weekend."

"Say bye to your brother too," Charles said, moving Leo closer to the camera.

"Bye Leo!"

As Oscar hung up, you couldn't help but laugh at the entire interaction, "So he's our son now?"

"Yes, and he seems to be enjoying it a lot," Charles chuckled, setting Leo down on the floor, "Who would've thought we'd have an adopted son before getting married or having our own kids?"

"Don't get any ideas, Leclerc," you playfully swatted his chest, "We're not adopting every one of my friends who jokes about it."

"Why not? We could build a whole team," Charles teased, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder and kissing it chastely, "We'd be the coolest family ever."

"It's your secret plan to make everyone on the grid your family? Dating Max's sister and now adopting Oscar, you're something else, Leclerc."

Charles laughed loudly at your words, throwing his head back and making you laugh along.

"Well, what can I say," he shrugged, "I'm charming and people love me."

"That you are," you smiled, kissing him gently.

That you are," you smiled, kissing him gently.

"Now, let me help with dinner," Charles offered, moving to the stove and checking the sauce. "It smells amazing, just like you."

"Smooth talker," you teased, handing him a spoon to stir. "Just make sure it doesn’t burn."

[astonmartinii]

day nine: christmas on screen | carlos sainz social media au

pairing: carlos sainz x fem musician reader

what's better than being a super famous singer that's dating a formula one driver? being a super famous singer that's dating a formula one driver that is willing to dress up in silly outfits for your chirstmas special

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 4,231,893 others

tagged: chappellroan & netflix

yourusername: yoohoo! i'm excited to announce my christmas special is coming to you via netflix on december sixth!

view all comments

user1: i have never been more sat, my parents are telling me it's not out yet but i am SO sat on our couch

user2: this is about to be my entire personality for the next two months

user3: TWO MONTHS? weak.

oscarpiastri: CHAPPELL???

yourusername: i know right !!!

carlossainz55: why are you here?

oscarpiastri: i may not like YOU but i like y/n and i LOVE chappell

yourusername: so true of you

carlossainz55: no. not true of you

oscarpiastri: you have a problem with me streaming your girlfriend's music? supporting her career?

yourusername: i appreciate it oscar

carlossainz55: YES.

carlossainz55: you're only doing it to bother ME

oscarpiastri: listen here buddy i've been here since the disney days just because you're an OLD MAN doesn't mean i am

yourusername: i think you guys should maybe settle this on track and not in my comments lol

carlossainz55: i'm on it

oscarpiastri: if you can get close enough next season :P

user4: carcar beef even in the offseason we're being FED

user5: can't deal with oscar reminding me that carlos will be in the williams next year

user6: but oscar is also real as fuck for being a disney girl

charles_leclerc: do you need a piano man at all?

carlossainz55: if there's going to be a ferrari driver in this special it would be ME not YOU

charles_leclerc: well you're not really a ferrari driver anymore so.... it's still open?

yourusername: charlie... it's already been filmed... how did you think we made the trailer?

charles_leclerc: oh - BORING!

user7: so that's basically confirmation that carlos will be in the special right?

user8: i mean although his only talents outside of an f1 car seem to be golf, football and liking shady tweets - he does have a face card that demands to be on tv

user9: i wouldn't put it past y/n and carlos to somehow shoehorn smooth operator in there somewhere

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, fernandoalo_oficial and 652,494 others

tagged: yourusername

carlossainz55: making my netflix debut with my love this winter - check it out december sixth!

view all comments

user13: CONFIRMATION !!!!

user14: tbf as soon as this project was announced there was no way he wouldn't be in it in some shape or form

yourusername: it took a LOT of pleading... had to use the netflix card in the end

user15: thank you for your service

yourusername: seeing your face on a big screen? do tell me more

carlossainz55: i'm just happy you let me on the same screen as you

yourusername: but we're always on the same screen together?

landonorris: not this gatekeeping...

yourusername: i don't think you'd want to see it lando

landonorris: why wouldn't i want to see my two best friends ???

carlossainz55: IT'S NOT SUITABLE FOR YOUR EYES STOP ASKING

landonorris: IS IT YALL FUCKING???

yourusername: my lawyer said i shouldn't answer that question

user16: netflix debut? bro said drive to survive? i don't know her

user17: i mean that show is a complete farce

user18: can't wait for the three episode run all about stake and no mention of max vs george

fernandoalo_oficial: wowee chilli you have outdone yourself this time!

carlossainz55: thank you nando :) i hope you will be watching

fernandoalo_oficial: i will be sitting pretty on the sixth no worries, but only if you and y/n come to my new years bash ...

yourusername: WE WILL BE THERE

fernandoalo_oficial: loving the enthusiasm!

carlossainz55: it's because she has a huge crush on you :(

yourusername: welp can you blame me?

carlossainz55: that's a surrogate father to me i will not be agreeing with you

yourusername: snooze

user19: y/n crush on fernando? she's even more relatable

user20: this makes the whole fernando x taylor swift thing even funnier

yourusername: i won't say it was me whole told taylor about that.... buttttt

user21: queen

netflix

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 2,893,099 others

tagged: yourusername, obx & f1

netflix: what will you be watching this christmas break?

view all comments

user22: me and my girls will be streaming drive to survive and then will be using a nonsense christmas as a palate cleanser

user23: REAL

user24: @netflix please do better with the next season xxx

carlossainz55: a nonsense christmas. over and over again. until it's all that is in my brain and tattooed on the inside of my eyelids

yourusername: omg you do that too???

yourusername: no living soul should ever see my 'baby' folder on tiktok LOL

carlossainz55: well SNAP

user25: really yall save the tiktok edits of each other?

yourusername: ummm yeah? some of you are VERY talented

carlossainz55: also we're apart more than we're together so something must tide us over

charles_leclerc: is that why you keep looking for cameras, smizing and pouring water on yourself

yourusername: don't forget the backwards cap!

carlossainz55: i gotta give them the material to keep my girl happy

carlossainz55: also who do you think suggested the juno position...

user25: thank you for your service

landonorris: wait so that cute fanservice moment was actually just the y/nlos KARMA SUTRA ???

user26: i need a significant other who does this much just for tiktok edits

user27: is this the 21st century romance we were promised?

user28: it's the best we're getting, poetry is dead i fear

yourusername: so i wrote juno for nothing?

maxverstappen1: i will be conducting a full dexter rewatch

carlossainz55: excuse you?

maxverstappen1: well why would i watch drive to survive? i lived it and i already watched a nonsense christmas - amazing work @yourusername

yourusername: thanks max!

carlossainz55: how have yOU watched it? i haven't even watched it yet?

maxverstappen1: i wouldn't have that if i were you y/n, that guy is meant to be your biggest fan?

carlossainz55: i AM

maxverstappen1: oh and i just bribed netflix lol - they had to make up with me at some point ;)

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, landonorris and 3,834,033 others

tagged: carlossainz55

yourusername: christmas was on screen for me this year, but i get to live my hallmark romance everyday

view all comments

user30: chat do we wanna put bets on how long it takes for them to get their own btec hallmark christmas movie like taylor and travis?

user31: next christmas for sure if they're still together

user32: 'if they're still together' kill yourself

liked by carlossainz55

user33: i will be sat for their awful attempt to film the racing scenes

carlossainz55: you're my fairytale ending princess

yourusername: as if you're not the biggest prize of all

carlossainz55: nope that would be you :P

yourusername: whatever you say beautiful

carlossainz55: no i'm being so serious, you being mine is the best gift of all and one i intend to keep for life

yourusername: well it's your lucky day, i want to be yours forever too

yourusername: but the y/ln name will live on

carlossainz55: i'm ready to take yours

charles_leclerc: it's true i caught him practising a new signature with carlos y/ln

yourusername: that's so fucking hot

user34: so that ended abruptly ...

user35: do we think?

user36: yep. it's defo what we think

user37: i mean i'd also climb my boyf like a tree if he said he wanted to be my life partner and take MY last name

taylorswift: we loved your special !!! see you soon xx

yourusername: thank you mama

carlossainz55: so are we all going to the super bowl orrrrrr

yourusername: let's get through christmas first babe

carlossainz55: ACTUALLY who do i talk to about getting you the super bowl halftime show

user38: boyfriend or agent? why not both!

carlossainz55

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, landonorris and 782,309 others

tagged: yourusername

carlossainz55: thank you netflix for allowing to broadcast how hot and amazing my girlfriend is and how absolutely off limits she is

view all comments

user39: bro used a NETFLIX special to tell people to back off his girl

user40: i need a boyf like this

user41: i think i speak for most men that we don't have the budget for this

user42: i mean y/n and netflix mostly paid for the special

user41: did or did carlos not ride in on his 'sleigh' that was a WHOLE FERRARI F1 CAR ???

yourusername: i want everyone to know your mine too

yourusername: why do you think i wear so much red?

lewishamilton: right, this is my seat now you people do know this right?

yourusername: RED CAN BE FOR SPAIN TOO

yourusername: DUMBASSES PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE TO THIRST OVER MY BOYF AND WEAR HIS COLOURS

carlossainz55: you do look otherworldly in red 🫶

yourusername: why thank you xx

yourusername: @williamsf1 any chance we can do a one off red livery - perhaps in spain pretty please

williamsf1: i don't think the social media admin has control over it

yourusername: okay i'll just dm james personally

carlossainz55: babe ???

yourusername: you look almost as good as me in red babe i'm doing it for the greater good

yourusername: @alexalbon you'd look okay too i guess?

alexalbon: i'll take it (and i'll take some tickets as well please)

user43: i love how y/n has just become the ticket plug

user44: and for both sides like why was she the one to get travis in touch with alpine but also giving charles the tickets to taylor in italy

landonorris: ugh we get it you're happy

carlossainz55: you doing okay buddy

landonorris: it's a lonely time of year and you guys aren't helping

yourusername: i have a song about this!

landonorris: what do you think has been on blast the last couple of days?

yourusername: i'll take the streams thanks buddy

f1

liked by danielricciardo, oscarpiastri and 1,209,483 others

tagged: carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, yourusername & landonorris

f1: so how do we get y/n on OUR netflix show?

view all comments

user45: i ask myself this everyday

user46: i'll deal with all the fake drive to survive drama if we get a whole episode of y/n and carlos just existing

user47: i need a y/n hot lap while we're at it as well

carlossainz55: why are you posting such sexy photos of my girlfriend 🤨

f1: ummmmmmm... all photos of her are?

carlossainz55: WRONG ANSWER

carlossainz55: ONLY I'M ALLOWED TO SAY THAT ABOUT HER

f1: i didn't even say the word ???

francocolapinto: take me to jail then

carlossainz55: ugh i don't have the time to fight all of you

francocolapinto: weak

carlossainz55: i have a tight schedule which includes driving in the car you thought you would get and loving the girl YOU WISH YOU COULD BE WITH

francocolapinto: oop

user48: bro is crazy

user49: crazy in LOVE

liked by carlossainz55

yourusername: i guess you'll just have to ask nicely

f1: carlos won't fight us if we do right?

carlossainz55: no... for now

f1: COOL PLEASE COME TO A RACE

yourusername: i can't say much, but i do look just as cute in red as i do i blue :P

user50: YES QUEEN!!!!

user51: and when we get a y/n performance at a race and then we get a juno position at a grand prix weekend...

carlossainz55: that will be my onstage debut

carlossainz55: i know how outrageously horny all you lonely f1 guys are

user52: spill

yourusername: so not just as much as you babe?

carlossainz55: well i actually get to have you sooooooo

yourusername: true :P

user53: LEAVE US ALONE

fin.

note: woah this is like the first time i've written for carlos in like a year. oh and even though this is nice to him... the guilty as sin finale will come in the new year xx

[777nicetits]

let’s make a video for our future selfs.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ❄︎ just pure fluff. talks of having kids. established relationship. not proof read. english is not my first language.

You were laying down on the bed, wire headphones plugged in on your phone as you listened to one of the hundreds of playlists you’ve created, mindlessly scrolling through pinterest when Schlatt walks in, camcorder in hand.

“And here- Oh look, it’s mommy!”

You frown, looking up from your phone immediately in pure confusion. “Mommy?”

He chuckles. “I’m recording a video for our future kids.”

Three days ago, on Christmas, you gifted Schlatt the exact same camcorder model his parents had when he was a child, and apparently the year ending nostalgia really got to him since he’s been recording little home videos for your future selfs basically every day.

You sat up on the bed to try and look a little more presentable for your imaginary kids. You wave at the camera, “Hey kids! Mommy loves you already, even though I’m still taking birth control!”

Schlatt snorts, the little wrinkles in his eyes making a sweet appearance as the corners of his mouth moved up.

“Show them what you’re listening to!”

You turn your phone screen to the camera, the song title and album cover showing up in your lock screen.

“See, kids? Ya mama’s music taste is trash,” he teased, moving the camera up to film your face. You roll your eyes at him, a big smile plastered on your face. “Don’t end up like this, I’ll kick y’all out!”

“Sorry guys, y’all are only allowed to listen to your father’s christmas album until you’re 18.” You teased back, earning an earnest laugh from Schlatt.

“That’d be a good way to punish them, tho.”

You just laugh at him, shaking your head as you took your headphones off, moving away from the center of the bed and a little over to the left, giving your boyfriend space to lay down with you, and he did. He laid down right next to you, using your chest as pillows, turning the camera around to get you both in frame.

“Look how cute we are,” You said, pointing over to the viewfinder. “We definitely should procreate. Our genes are too good to gatekeep like that.”

It was Schlatt’s turn to laugh and shake his head at your antics. “That’s a wrap. Bye kids, love ya!”

With that, he stopped recording, carefully placing the heavy camera on his nightstand before coming back to lay next to you, pulling you into his arms, both your bodies tangled together.

“Ya know toots, hate to say it but now we really have to get married and have kids, because if one day you ever break up with me, I’m gonna kill myself and leave that video as my suicide note.”

You threw your head back, loud laugh echoing through the apartment, quickly joined by Schlatt’s low, little giggles.

omg don’t look at me!! wrote this in one go because i have two other wips that have been a huge pain in the ass for me and wanted to post something before the year ends :( hope y’all had the best holidays ever, and an even better new years 🫶🫶🫶

[luveline]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel assumes you're mad when you stop initiating kisses and tries to get back on your good side —featuring grumpy but lovelorn miguel and his head-in-the-clouds spider-girl. requested here. fem!reader, 3k.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Gàn de piàoliang!" cheers the puppy at the bottom of your screen. Well done.

You smile at him and slide your finger across a lilac candy to make another three-match. 

The music playing from your phone quietens as a text lines the top of the screen. You click it as soon as you recognise the contact picture beside it, your handsome Miguel with a filter over his face that paints rosy pink hearts over his high cheeks. 

Finished. his text says. 

Miguel is a man of little words. Over the phone he talks even less, easier to draw blood from stone than harness a conversation with him that isn't in person. His text demarcates the wall of messages you sent him earlier, not wanting for a reply but bursting to tell him things as they happened. 

You put your phone down carefully. It's one of your most treasured possessions, shimmering and high tech, you can fold it down the middle to fit in your little spider suit pockets, though the amount of charms and beads hanging from it now impedes that particular functionality.

Miguel gave it to you as a gift without any fanfare around the time you started staying in his apartment in the society, and while your bunking with him was supposed to be temporary, the phone is for keeps. You've decorated it accordingly.

The best charm is a beaded translucent jellyfish, and not solely because it's beautiful: Miguel has a matching one that he showcases shamelessly. 

You rush into his neat bathroom and lean heavily on the counter, propping your hand on the faucet to hold your weight as you assess your reflection in the mirror. When you turn your face, your nose shines in the light. 

You decide it's best to wash up. Miguel will be back soon enough. 

You get distracted by skincare, toner pads resting on your cheeks when you hear the door opening. A waste to take them off prematurely, you pat them flat to your skin and meet Miguel in his bedroom half ready. 

"I can see why you didn't text me back," he says, giving you a quick glance from the corner of his eye as he walks past the bed and your waiting phone. He beelines for the kitchenette and disappears around the corner. "What do they do, the squares?" 

"They're calming, I think," you say, following his path from the bathroom to the small kitchen. 

His apartment is big but not huge. The main room is his bedroom, with enough space for a couch and a TV he never uses that comes out of the wall. To the right is a utility closet for storage and a walk-in wardrobe, and to the left lies the kitchen and the bathroom. It takes you all of ten seconds to be by his side. 

Bottles rattle as Miguel opens the fridge. He grabs sparkling water for himself and a fruit tea concoction for you. You hadn't followed him for that, but you accept it anyway. 

He looks tired. Tilting his head back to drink, you eye the stiff set to his shoulders and the way he rolls his arm out, orchestrating an offer for a massage in your head. 

Miguel squints at you. "What?" 

"What?" you ask back. 

He doesn't explain. He screws the lid back on to his water and closes the fridge. 

With his empty hand, Miguel reaches for your face. You stay very still in anticipation of his touch, imagining how he might take your cheek in his hand and pull you close, or perhaps curl thick, long fingers behind your neck and guide your chin up. He can be rough in odd ways, as though he's unaware of his strength. 

"It's slimy," he says in disgust, pulling a toner pad from your left cheek. 

"It's going to make my skin clearer." 

"There's nothing wrong with your skin." True or not, you know it's Miguel's way of being sweet. He takes the second toner pad too, tossing them in the trash with a huff. "That's better. You look normal. Or, as normal as possible." 

"Jerk!" you say through a smile, thinking now's the moment. 

But Miguel hasn't peeled away your skincare to kiss you. He pats a spot of dampness on your cheek away with the back of his hand and turns on his heel, gunning for a change of clothes and a shower, if you know him. "Drink your tea. Did you eat? Me preocupo por ti." 

You sigh and trail after him. "I was waiting for you to come back. It's Vietnamese week in the cafeteria, they're making cá kho tộ. Do you like that? It's sweeter than hake." 

"It's fish?" 

"Catfish. Caramelised catfish." You sit down on the bed, flipping your phone open to play your game while he decides. 

That, and to ignore the inkling of doubt blossoming like mould under heat in your chest. An achy sort of worry… 

Does Miguel not want to kiss you? 

"What's the other option? I don't like sweet foods." 

You knew that already. "You could make pasta?" you suggest. 

"You'd love that." 

"Are you teasing me?" 

Miguel pokes his head out of the wardrobe, and with it comes his naked chest. His muscles are insane, lean tanned stretches of cord pulled taut as he grabs a shirt. "I'm making an observation. You like carbs." 

"Everyone likes carbs, Miguel, especially Spiders." 

"I know, but I don't make anyone else dinner." He's definitely flirting now, his voice playful and soft. "I'll make you pasta if you want." 

Why hasn't he kissed you? Offering to make you dinner, smiling at you just as soon as his face has been pulled through his t-shirt. He's acting as affectionate as a man who'd like to kiss you without pulling through. 

Well, maybe you kiss him too much. Come to think of it, you initiate the vast, vast majority of kisses, and you must kiss him twice a day at least. Miguel clearly favours you, but it's possible he isn't interested in as much physicality as you and hasn't had the heart to say. He likes watching vintage movies at night and half the time you're not interested in those. You haven't said a word about it because things between you are new and you like his being happy watching the things he enjoys. Miguel could be doing the same, allowing hugs and kisses he doesn't necessarily want in order to avoid hurting your feelings. 

A favourite phrase of his cuts through your thinking, "¿Alguien en casa?" Anyone home?

"Oh, sorry, were you not getting enough attention?" you ask him, pretending to be more nonchalant than you are as you open the match game on your phone. 

The puppy barks hello. 

"Ah, you're a cómico now." Miguel sits on the bed beside you in sweatpants, reaching across the sheets to give your arm a shake. "I said, I'll make you pasta if you want pasta." 

"I want what you want," you say honestly. 

He stares at you. You're not sure what he's confused about. "Alright. Did you want it now?" he asks. 

"Yes, serf," you say, laughing when he knocks your phone out of your hand and stands in a dramatised annoyance. 

You play a couple levels of your game to give him space. He's quiet as he washes his hands and gets out the cookware, but he appears curious in the door, rag between his hands. "You're not gonna come and sit with me? I really am your maid." 

Eager for an invitation, you join him in the kitchen. You brace yourself behind you to hop onto the counter and find his hands on your hips, helping you up. 

Miguel meets your eyes as he does, not close but enough to beckon down for a kiss. You think about doing it. He might let you, his straight lashes pointed with his gaze, his eyes a heavy weight where they trace your features unhurried. 

"How come you didn't text me back earlier?" he asks. 

"Oh, I didn't know you were expecting me to. I'm sorry, handsome, I was kind of grody–"

"Grody? I doubt that–" 

"–I figured I'd wash up before you got back." 

"So you were busy?" he asks, returning to the chopping board at the left of the stove. He picks up a glinting-sharp knife. "Not something else?" 

"No, why? Was I supposed to do something today?" 

Miguel begins slicing into a tomato, red skin splitting to reveal greener insides. "No. No, just wondering." 

You lean back against the wall, crossing a leg over your thigh. He's being kind of off. Your first impulse is to try and kiss it better but that directly fights your new theory. Being nice physically is far from your only weapon. 

"Did you have a good day?" you ask, and here's where you'd pull him close or sidle up behind him and twist his hair around your finger. "I was thinking about you a lot. Did the strike mission go okay?" 

"Fine. You didn't come see me, but it was fine." 

You eye him from the corner of your vision. He's still cutting up tomatoes, a pan of olive oil and minced garlic simmering between you. 

"I sent you all those photos," you say. 

One of the Peter's you hang around with got his arm stuck in a window after he said, "Is that a bad idea, do you think? I really wanna try," and Hobie said, "They can't stop you." 

The 'they' being unknown, Hobie was right. No one could stop Peter once he started climbing, but the window could certainly stop him from getting down. You'd sent Miguel pictures of his dangling body up in the atrium like a dark splodge, as well as a blurry photo of your face when you'd accidentally turned the camera. He responded to that one with a heart but the rest he didn't touch. 

"They got him down eventually," you continue, "but I had to stay for moral support! And to feed him popcorn so he didn't starve. Was it peaceful without me?"

"You know I like when you visit me, right?" he asks carefully. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah?" he mimics, waving his hand at you. "Can't deal with you. Get the cream from the fridge." 

You eat dinner as you and Miguel tend to do —you talk your way through it happily, smiling and joking, and he puts extra helpings on your plate when you aren't looking. 

The alien quality of what you're doing rears its head briefly. He's trying to stop the quasi apocalypse. You're willing to help, though you'd been more interested in Miguel and getting to know his enigma than your responsibilities. Weird how love makes you want to be better. 

"What was your course like?" Miguel asks, when the dishes have been set aside for washing and you've showered for the night. 

He's talkative tonight. 

"They taught us how to wield a baton," you say, climbing into his bed with a tired sigh. "One girl was crazy about it. She kind of looked like me…" You yawn, looking for his waist as he settles in the sheets and pillows next to you. "You're lucky I got my claws into you when I did. At least I'm not murderous. Much." 

Miguel covers your hand on his ribs. He squeezes your fingers together gently like he's collecting them under his palm for borrowing. 

"You didn't get your claws in me. I'm not easily led." 

"Course not," you snort. You actually agree with him, but he said it too seriously for bedtime. 

Miguel abandons your hand to pull you in, encouraging your head and upper chest onto his, hand coasting up and down the length of your arm lovingly. Firmly, like a massage, but adoring nonetheless. You languish in his touches and rub your lips, still tingling from spearmint, against the collar of his shirt gently. As indirect a kiss as you can manage, practically sick with longing after a day unkissed. 

"Are you mad at me?" he asks into the quiet.

You pause, fingers with a mind of their own as you take a long strand of hair that curls under his ear between them, combing it flat. "Why, have you done something?" you ask, hiding your confusion with a delighted lilt. 

"I've been trying to work that out." Frustration seeps into his voice, roughened syllables drawn tight, "But you're evasive." 

"I'm evasive," you say softly, tilting your head back to meet his eye. "Miguel, why do you think I'm mad at you? I'm not mad." 

Miguel glares at you. Brows furrowed, an especially formidable downturn to an otherwise pretty mouth, he looks as though he wants to start a fight with you, and as though he doesn't believe it. 

"I'm not mad," you insist, sitting up a little. 

"Then…" 

You scrunch your brows at him. "You've been thinking I was mad at you all day? Why didn't you say something, handsome?" 

He might roll his eyes at your pet name if he weren't knee deep in relief. You didn't know being mad at him was something he'd be sad with, and yet there he is lying beneath you, blowing a big enough exhale to ruffle the hair from his forehead. 

Miguel takes your face into one hand. Your eyelashes flutter against his palm like a shuddering butterfly wing as you lean into his touch, more than happy to offer him whatever relief it is he needs while enjoying in the feeling of being close to him. 

"You haven't kissed me all day," he says quietly. "I thought I must've pissed you off, 'cos you're more piranha than girl sometimes, but you weren't acting any weirder than usual beyond that." 

You roll your eyes and hide your face in his hand. He's kidding around, and his thumb rubs over your skin tenderly to prove it. 

"You're not mad?" he asks again. 

You kiss his palm. You kiss his wrist, happy when he knows the moves like a well practised dance, his fingers sliding behind your ear to steady you as you dip down for a kiss. 

It's a good kiss. Warm mouths vying for one another but trying not to seem desperate, Miguel's hand behind your ear growing harsher as you pull a breath against his lips. You press your hand into his pec too hard. 

"Sorry," you murmur, stealing another fast kiss and pulling away. 

You barely feel how uncomfortably you're skewed, you're that happy. 

"Is there a reason you wouldn't kiss me?" he asks. 

"I'm, like, always the first one to initiate and I kinda got it in my head maybe you didn't want me kissing you that much…" You grin at him. "The whole time you're playing twenty questions with me wishing I'd lay one on you. You know you have a voice for more than yelling at people, right?" 

Miguel gets this look in his eyes then, rolling his jaw a touch at the supposed audacity of what you've said. The tip of his tongue works at his canine tooth, his eyebrows rising as he asks, "Oh, is that how you're talking to me tonight?" 

"How else should I talk to you, Miguel?" 

He doesn't bother with swiftness nor a show of strength as he rolls you onto your back. He settles above you with measured movements, a pleased smirk playing on his lips now. His eyes are dark, pupils wide as dimes.

"With compassion, mi cielo," he says.

"Have some sympathy for me," you implore him, wrapping your arms around his waist. It diffuses the tension, though neither party minds, evidenced by Miguel's easy relaxation and your ecstatic mood. Happiness bubbles up like carbonated bubbles, your chest awake with a fizzing excitement. "You really thought I was mad 'cos I wasn't kissing you?" 

He avoids the question. "You think you're the only one who initiates?" he asks genuinely. 

"Why didn't you kiss me, then? When you came home?" 

"Your face was wet." 

"And after when we were eating dinner?" 

Miguel smiles at you. No sarcasm, no stress. He leans down to kiss you chastely, pulling away to say, "I thought you were definitely mad at that point." 

"A kiss would've made me feel better." 

You realise how quiet your bubble of the world really is for that handful of seconds, Miguel holding himself above you, your hands loose behind the broad stretch of his back. 

"You know you can just ask me, yeah? You don't have to worry and wonder how I'm feeling. I'll tell you how I'm feeling if you want to know." 

"Cariño, I always want to know," he says. 

You breathe out slowly. Miguel takes your face into his hand for another kiss, or so you think —he pinches your cheek. 

"And I always want to kiss you," he says quickly, climbing off of you. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I need a drink." 

A break from sincerity. You don't mind that he needs to walk it off as long as he comes back. You stretch out on your back and cover your face with your hands. 

"People think I'm the weird one," you say into them.

A hand clamps around your ankle and tugs you down. You shriek with startled laughter and climb away from him as he lands on top of you, a cold water bottle held to your bare neck. 

"No!" you laugh. 

Miguel laughs in tandem and presses it further down. 

"I really am going to be mad at you if you don't quit!" You yelp as condensation wets your collar. "Miguel!"

"You're a wimp," he says with a bright smile. 

You push him with some enhanced super strength and manage to get the water bottle off of your neck, but Miguel makes up for any differences in strength with enthusiasm and muscle alike, shoving you down. 

You're laughing and pleading at the same time, "Please, Miguel, stop, it's sooooo cold." 

Miguel laughs, dropping the bottle somewhere above your head, covering the cooled stripe of your skin with his big hand. The sound is warming enough, but you let him sweat for a second, content to be doted on. 

He gives you a once over. "I'll kiss you first more," he promises. 

"Starting now, please, handsome. Mi cielo." 

Miguel groans and digs his arms under your back. You don't fight it as he drags you back to the top of the bed. In fact, you quite enjoy it. You lay back to receive his sorry pecks and his all encompassing hug, forgetting what you'd been worried about one damp crescent moon of a kiss at a time.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!

[therealcocoshady]

Hi coco!

Can you do a one shot about a younger actress reader?

There is a tiktok going viral about her saying that she likes older men and another where she is looking at marshall at an event with "fuck me eyes"?

Reader freaks out when marshall just slides into her dms but later they are spotted together at the paparazzi?

I just find it cute and awkward 💀

DADDY’S SPAGHETTI 🍝

Eminem x Young Actress Reader

Synopsis : You are a young actress whose crush on Eminem becomes public. You are mortified about it… until he slides in your DMs.

Author’s Note : I absolutely LOVED this request, I had to give it a go ❤️. I was inspired and I swear I never wrote anything that quickly. It is short and sweet and I hope you enjoy it. ☺️

You thought you were done being publicly embarrassed. Yet, life was proving you wrong. As an actress who had her start in her teenage years, you weren’t a stranger to embarrassment. From awkward casting calls to stupid deaths on TV, it was practically part of the job. However, as your career evolved, you thought it would go away. After all, you were now in a better position, able to choose the projects you were involved in and you had garnered the respect from your peers and the industry. Even the media had become more kind towards you. In a matter of years, you had gone from the awkward teen movie star to well-respected actress, and you were able to look back fondly to your early years. You even joked about how awkward you were, back then. The last thing you expected was for it to start all over again. 

You were walking the red carpet for the premiere of your latest movie, your biggest project to date. It was truly the highlight of your career : a role created specifically for you, a movie directed by someone you admired, a beautiful story told on the big screen… You had gotten your fair share of praise in the past, but you knew this was going to be your « big break ». Behind the scenes, everyone had praised your performance and told you it was « Oscars material ». You didn’t know if that was true or not, but you were on cloud nine nonetheless. When you walked the red carpet at the premiere, in a custom Elie Saab gown, everything felt right and you weren’t even stressed out when you answered the questions of a few journalists present. 

You look truly amazing, tonight, one commented. Who are you wearing ? 

Thank you ! This is a custom Elie Saab, I feel like a princess. I sort of had to dress up for this beautiful event, you replied as you tried to shift the focus on the movie. 

This is your biggest role to date, another said. How do you feel about the movie ? Have you seen it ? 

I’ve seen bits and pieces. But I’m going to discover the whole thing tonight, you said with excitement. I’m very confident. Filming with such a director was an honor and I know that the result will be great. I can’t wait for everyone to see it ! 

One thing that everybody is really excited about is the soundtrack, too, a third journalist chimed in. Eminem was involved. Have you heard the theme song yet ? 

I haven’t, you said. But it’s Eminem so I know it’s going to be absolutely fantastic ! I can’t wait to hear it ! 

You sound like you like his work. Have the two of you met ? They asked. 

Oh, I’m his biggest fan, you said with a huge smile. His music’s the soundtrack to my life ! But no, I haven’t met him… 

Tonight’s your chance, they joked. He is over there. 

They pointed to him and Eminem was, indeed, a few feet away from you. He had been a celebrity crush of yours for years and you were absolutely starstruck. He was even more attractive than in pictures ! You couldn’t help but stare. This man was oozing charisma and commanding attention. You didn’t even notice that you were looking at him with « fuck me » eyes and licking your lips. For a brief instant, you completely forgot where you were, until you heard your name being called, signaling that you had to keep walking and enter the screening room. That night, you didn’t get a chance to meet your idol, though. As the lead of the movie, people kept on coming over to you and talking to you. It was probably for the best, too. You had been starstruck enough on the red carpet ad you did not trust yourself to have a pleasant exchange with him. 

Of course, the video of you thirsting over Eminem went viral. It would have been kind of cute if other clips hadn’t surfaced. There were videos from years ago, of you talking about having a crush on him - God, you really didn’t have a filter, back then - and especially one interview where you were candid about being attracted by older men. 

What’s your type when it comes to men and dating ? The journalist asked. 

I like mature, older men, you said candidly. I’m not really attracted to people my age. 

Any physical features you’re attracted to ? 

Oh, it’s typical, you know, you giggled. Dark hair, blue eyes… I like a nice beard, too. 

So basically… Eminem ? The interviewer playfully asked. 

Oooof… You have no idea, you replied with a grin. 

Isn’t he… Old enough to be your Dad, though ? 

Let’s just say I wouldn’t mind calling Marshall Mathers Daddy, you giggled. 

At the time, this interview didn’t make much noise. It was for an indie podcast and, seeing as you weren’t too famous at the time, it sort of flew under the radar. It was kind of a harmless joke and a nod to your thirst for him, which all your friends were very much aware of. However, the video resurfaced after the viral red carpet clip, and people were quick to make edits, soberly titled « Y/N thirsting over Eminem over the years ». Your friends jokingly forwarded them to you and you know they were being playful, but to you, it was everything but fun. You were absolutely mortified. Having a crush on him was one thing, but there was a literal video of you staring at him like you were in heat. So much for being a classy movie star… 

The nail in the coffin came when Marshall was interviewed and asked to react to the video of you thirsting over him. He seemed genuinely surprised, leading to think that he wasn’t aware of the clip before the interview. All in all, he didn’t say much, he just described the whole thing as « flattering » and quickly went on to praise your performance in the movie : « We didn’t actually meet, but I saw the movie, which I worked on the soundtrack for, and she is really amazing in it. Really talented. ». Thank God, he didn’t add to your embarrassment. Your friends were going crazy over this « Come on, Y/N, he said he was flattered and that you’re talented ! That’s cute ! You should DM him or something », they encouraged you. However, you didn’t. He was clearly just being classy and not publicly embarrassing you - you did that on your own anyway. 

A few days later, however, you had the biggest surprise of your life : a DM from him on Instagram. At first, you thought it was a fake account and didn’t pay it much attention but it was clearly him, verified account, blue tick and everything. You were nervous to open it and you almost didn’t want to. What would he say to you ? Most likely something along the lines of « Please don’t mention me ever again, that’s awkward, you’re awkward and your filmography is trash anyway». It actually took you a couple of days to muster the courage of opening it. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything horrible. Quite the contrary, actually. He was in LA for the week and wanted to know if you’d have dinner with him. You were terrified and freaking out, but also excited. At first, you were reluctant - what if you embarrassed yourself ? But ultimately, curiosity got the best of you and you accepted. Surely, if he asked you to have dinner with him, it couldn’t be that bad, right ? 

A couple of days later, the two of you went for dinner and joined at SoHo House in West Hollywood. Due to both of your fame, a members-only social club was a safe pace that allowed for privacy. You were nervous, at first, and some paranoid part of your brain was scared that it would be a complete disaster, but it was the contrary. He introduced himself as Marshall and was an absolute gentleman and a sweetheart. He mentioned he had seen a lot of your movies and described himself as an admirer of your work. The whole evening, conversation flowed easily between the two of you. He put you at ease and was one of the most interesting persons you had ever met, knowledgeable on a lot of subjects and funny as hell, too. You weren’t too sure, but it also seemed like he was subtly flirting with you, though you didn’t want to get in your own head and make assumptions. He was so chill that you weren’t star struck anymore, but you were still reasonably impressed and too scared to flirt, so you simply enjoyed conversation with him. You were usually scared to meet people you admired, afraid that you’d have a terrible interaction with them that would taint your perception of their work, but the whole dinner was heavenly and you were so glad he DMed you. In his company, time seemed like a foreign concept, so much so that you had to be kicked out of the club’s restaurant, since you were the only customers left and it was 2 in the morning. 

I can’t believe we’ve been here for six hours already, you giggled. Time really flew by. 

It did, he said with a smile. I’m really glad we did this, Y/N. 

Me too, you said shyly. 

You were in the lobby, about to part ways, and your heart was beating fast. The way he spoke your name had you feeling all the feels and you didn’t really want the moment to end. He was staring at you intently while you were nervously biting your lip, trying not to say something awkward that could ruin the night. « Don’t be that person, Y/N », you thought to yourself. 

Thank you for coming, he said. When you didn’t reply to my DM, I thought you didn’t really want to meet. But I had a really great time tonight. 

Yeah, sorry I… I actually took a few days to open your message because I was scared, you confessed. I mean, we haven’t addressed the elephant in the room tonight, but I did kind of make a fool of myself on the red carpet. And when you wrote, I was kind of nervous. 

You didn’t make a fool of yourself, he said reassuringly. Nothing to be embarrassed about. It was kind of adorable. 

No need to sugarcoat it, you said nervously. You’ve seen that video of me thirsting over you… 

I have, he said as he got closer to you. I’m pretty lucky… 

A-Are you ? You asked nervously. 

Yeah… Thank God they didn’t catch me staring at you the whole night of the premiere, he continued. Because I literally couldn’t take my eyes off you. You’re gorgeous. 

Oh ? Uhm… I mean… The glam team really did a good job, you babbled. And the stylists, too. 

They really did, he said with a smile as he got even closer. You were stunning. 

I mean, it was a lot of work for me to look good, you know ? I mean I normally look like tra-… I mean, not trash but you know it’s… 

There you were. Embarrassing yourself. There was only so much time you could spend in his intoxicating presence without making a fool of yourself and, apparently, it was six hours. He was smiling and you nerves were getting the best of you. You didn’t drink too much at dinner and you couldn’t even blame it on the cocktails. Just your dumb brain making interactions awkward. Thank God the lobby was dimly lit, otherwise, he would have seen your face turn bright red. You cheeks were burning from embarrassment. 

I-I’m sorry, you said. I’m not good at talking to hot people. I mean you’re… Oh my God, why can’t I shut up ? I’m sorry, it’s late and -

I’ll help you, he chuckled as he cupped your face and kissed you. 

The kiss was soft and romantic and you could feel him smile into it. He had one hand stroking your cheek while the other one was on your waist, pulling you close to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and fully leaned into the kiss as your lips parted ways, allowing his tongue to caress yours. Thank God it was late and you were the only people there, having some sense of privacy while the kiss got more and more passionate. When he broke the embrace, Marshall grabbed your hand and pressed his forehead to yours. 

Would you like to come to my room ? He asked with a smile. 

Ok, you nodded - still a bit dizzy from the kiss. 

In the elevator, you kissed hungrily and there was absolutely no doubt as to where this was headed. You usually weren’t the kind of girl to sleep on the first date, but your five-date policy was thrown to the fire. Marshall was way too hot, way too charismatic. Also, you’d fantasized about him long enough to make an exception. If every wet dream of yours he had inhabited over the years counted as a date, this was actually overdue. You made it to the room and quickly ended up on the bed with him on top of you, nipping at the sweet spot in your neck. 

Marshall, you moaned. 

You meant « Daddy », right ? He asked with a smirk. 

You stared at him with your mouth open, almost embarrassed as you remembered your comment about how you wouldn’t mind calling him Daddy. Your shocked expression made him laugh and he didn’t give you time to reply. Instead, he captured your lips and ran his hands under your blouse. That night, you did end up calling him « Daddy », as well as screaming his name while he ravished you in every way possible until the both of you passed out from exhaustion. 

The next morning, as you woke up in his arms, you weren’t too sure what to do or say, wondering if that was a one time thing or not. However, you weren’t confused for too long as Marshall asked you on another dinner date. You saw each other as much as possible for the remainder of his stay in California. It was meant to be casual, at first, but it quickly became more and, even though the two of you were busy, you tried to make it work. Whenever he came to LA to work with Dre, he would stay at your place and, as soon as you had free time, you flew to Michigan to spend time with him. It was only a matter of time until rumors started to emerge about the two of you, though you were careful not to be spotted together. 

DADDY’S SPAGHETTI : Y/N SPOTTED IN DETROIT. 

Oscar-nominated actress Y/N was spotted in Detroit last week. She was seen grabbing a takeout order from Mom’s Spaghetti on Woodward Avenue. Through the years, Y/N has been quite vocal about her love of Eminem, but it seems like she’s doing more than supporting the Rap God’s business venture. The hoodie she was wearing does look a lot like the one Eminem was wearing a few days earlier when he was spotted attending the Lions game. Last time she walked the red carpet, Y/N was seen thirsting over the Detroit rapper. Is there a chance they could appear at the Oscars together ?

[elikajinnie]

The Frequency Of A Killer - S.J

P: Killer!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suspense, Teasing, Murder, Attempted Murder, Stalking, Mind Games, Obsessive Behaviour kinda?

Wordcount: + 20k words

Synopsis: After moving to a small town as a horror talk show host, you uncover a deadly cover-up tied to a masked killer. As the bodies pile up, the killer becomes fixated on you. Can you unravel the truth?

a/n: her we go! another killer au but this time its not Heeseung or Ni-ki! We got Jake :) so this is inspired by my fave horror game; killer frequency - 1000% recommend.

---

You were used to the rush, the buzz, and the endless opportunities of the big city. The noise didn’t bother you. Networking came naturally, jobs were abundant, and you’d found your niche in the chaos: hosting a podcast about horror and true crime in a way that set your listeners on edge while keeping them hooked. Your show had skyrocketed to fame, and you’d connected with an entire community of enthusiasts who lived for the thrill, just like you. Life was good. Stable. Yours.

Until your company decided you weren’t “it” anymore.

The justification was laughable—“gender diversity,” they’d said. They wanted to swap you out for some guy, as if trading a seasoned, beloved host for an inexperienced one would make everything magically better. You weren’t buying it, but their minds were made up. No amount of protest or proof of your success could change their decision. And so, you left, refusing to stick around and watch them hand your hard work over to someone who didn’t earn it.

That’s how you found yourself in this small, sleepy town, working for a much smaller company that was trying its hand at podcasts. They hired you on the spot, practically drooling over your experience, and offered you a spot as the host of their horror and true crime segment. It was meant to be a temporary gig, a placeholder until—surely—your old company would come crawling back, begging for you to return.

But a month had passed. One whole, quiet month, and they hadn’t reached out. Not even a courtesy email.

At least this place wasn’t half bad. You had your own little booth, tucked away in the back of the building, with soundproof walls and just enough space to feel like your own world. The show was entirely yours to run—aside from the occasional ad spot they made you slip in—and you had free rein to do what you did best. Even the people weren’t bad.

Especially Beomgyu.

Beomgyu was technically your producer, though most of his job seemed to involve screening calls and chatting with you during breaks. He sat in the booth just across from yours, separated by a thin pane of glass, and had this habit of pulling faces at you whenever you got too serious. At first, you thought he was annoying—this twenty-something with a mop of messy hair and a perpetual smirk—but over time, he’d grown on you.

Tonight was no different. You leaned back in your chair, headphones snug over your ears as you wrapped up the last caller. A woman with a trembling voice had called in to share a local ghost story about the old mill at the edge of town, and you’d expertly guided her through the tale, adding just the right amount of suspense and curiosity to keep your listeners hooked.

When the call ended, you glanced over at Beomgyu through the glass. He was grinning, spinning lazily in his chair, and holding up a piece of paper with “9/10” scrawled on it in bold, black ink.

You rolled your eyes and flicked him off with a smirk. He just laughed, pointing to the mic to remind you you were still live.

“Alright,” you said smoothly, turning back to the soundboard. “That’s all the time we have for tonight. Thanks for tuning in, and as always—lock your doors, check under your bed, and don’t trust the shadows.”

The outro music played, and you switched off your mic with a satisfied sigh.

“Not bad,” Beomgyu teased as you stood up, stretching your arms. “But you totally rushed the ending on that last one. Where was the suspense?”

“Where was the suspense?” you echoed mockingly, grabbing a cup of coffee off the table and taking a sip. “How about I’m the professional, and you’re just the guy who answers phones?”

Beomgyu snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. One day, I’m gonna take over your job and show you how it’s really done.”

“Please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “You’d last five minutes before you started talking about aliens or some weird conspiracy theory.”

He grinned. “You know me so well.”

--

The night started off normal enough. You sat at the small desk in the break area, sipping on a lukewarm coffee Beomgyu had somehow convinced you to grab for him before realizing you needed one for yourself too. He lounged across from you, feet propped up on the edge of the table like he owned the place, spinning a pen between his fingers.

“So,” he started casually, tilting his head with that usual lopsided grin of his, “what’s it like being a big-shot city person stuck in our little backwater town?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “First of all, you act like I came here voluntarily. Second, backwater’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “I call it like I see it. You’ve been here a month and you still can’t hide the ‘get me out of here’ look on your face.”

“Maybe because I’m waiting for my old company to realize they made the worst mistake of their lives.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And when they don’t? What’s Plan B?”

“Plan B?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “There’s no Plan B, because Plan A is going to work. They’ll come crawling back. Trust me.”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a doubtful look. “Sure, sure. But admit it—this place isn’t so bad. It’s quiet, no traffic, and the rent is dirt cheap. I bet your apartment here is, like, three times bigger than whatever shoebox you had back in the city.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll give you that,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “The cost of living here is nice. And I don’t hate the peace and quiet. But the thing about big cities? There’s always something happening. People, events, opportunities. It’s like… the energy keeps you alive, you know?”

Beomgyu chuckled, twirling the pen like he was in some kind of drumline. “Sounds exhausting. You city people thrive on chaos. Meanwhile, out here, we’ve got… cows. And maybe a parade if you’re lucky.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not that bad here. I just… I’m not used to it yet.”

“Give it time,” he said, leaning forward like he was about to share a secret. “Pretty soon, you’ll be one of us. Walking slow, waving at strangers, knowing everyone’s business…”

You grimaced. “That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

Beomgyu laughed so hard he nearly knocked over his coffee. He was still grinning when he asked, “So what was it like, though? Your old job, I mean. The fancy podcast thing.”

For a moment, you hesitated. You could still remember it clearly—the studio, the buzz of the city outside, the adrenaline rush of knowing your audience was hanging on to your every word.

“It was…” you began, searching for the right word. “It was everything I wanted, for a while. I worked my way up, you know? Started small, built an audience, found my voice. It was a grind, but it was worth it.”

Beomgyu nodded, his expression more serious now. “So what went wrong?”

You sighed, tracing your finger along the rim of your cup. “They wanted to ‘freshen things up.’ Change the direction of the show. Apparently, a guy hosting would bring in a ‘different perspective.’”

“That’s bullshit,” Beomgyu said immediately, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, well, tell that to them.” You shrugged, masking the sting with a bitter smile. “They thought it was a good idea. I didn’t.”

“Idiots,” Beomgyu muttered, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this than some random guy.”

“Thanks,” you said, a small smile creeping onto your face. “I’ll remind them of that when they come groveling.”

Then the clock on the wall chimed, reminding you it was time to start the show.

“Alright, back to work,” you said, standing up and stretching. “Don’t let me catch you slacking, Beomgyu.”

“Me? Slack? Never,” he replied, mock-offended as he followed you toward the booth.

The show started as usual—smooth, easy, familiar. The first few callers were locals sharing urban legends, strange encounters, and the occasional eerie coincidence. Beomgyu stayed in his booth across from you, laughing silently at your quips and holding up cards with goofy doodles to make you break character mid-recording.

But then, midway through the second hour, a call came through that made your stomach drop.

Beomgyu patched it through with his usual nonchalance, giving you a thumbs-up from the other side of the glass. “Line three,” he mouthed.

“Hello,” you said into the mic, your voice steady despite the sudden shift in the air. “You’re on the air. What’s your name, and what story do you have for us tonight?”

There was a long pause. Too long. Static crackled faintly on the other end.

Then, a voice you didn’t recognize—low, and far too calm—spoke.

“Do you ever wonder if someone’s watching you right now?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You forced a laugh, playing it off for your listeners. “Well, I guess I should hope so—otherwise, what’s the point of doing a live show?”

The voice didn’t laugh. “No,” it said. “I mean really watching you. Right now.”

Goosebumps rose on your arms. You glanced toward Beomgyu, who raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure where this was going.

“I think that’s a little too vague to count as a story,” you said, keeping your tone light. “Care to elaborate?”

The line went silent for a moment, then the voice spoke again, quieter this time.

“Check your window.”

Your blood ran cold. You turned instinctively to the window beside your booth. It was dark outside, the glass reflecting nothing but the dim glow of your equipment.

Nothing was there.

But the voice on the other end of the line chuckled softly, sending a chill down your spine.

“Gotcha,” it said, before the call abruptly disconnected.

Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headphones, pulling you out of the eerie fog left by the last caller.

“That was… weird,” he said, leaning closer to his mic in the booth across from you. You could see his reflection in the glass, brow furrowed in confusion. “I mean, what window? We’re on the second floor. Unless there’s some really tall guy with a ladder out there, what the hell was that supposed to mean?”

A nervous laugh escaped you as you reached for your cup of water, trying to shake off the chill creeping up your spine. “Right? Probably some wannabe prank caller. People love to act spooky when they know they’re live.”

“Yeah, but that voice?” Beomgyu leaned back, tapping his fingers against his desk. “It didn’t sound like someone joking. It sounded… I don’t know. Off.”

“Let’s not overthink it,” you said, though you couldn’t deny the unease settling in your chest. “Weird calls are part of the job, right? It’s probably nothing.”

Beomgyu nodded slowly, but his usual playful grin didn’t return. His eyes flickered to the window behind you, then back to his desk as if trying to distract himself.

Before either of you could dwell on it further, the phone lit up again. Another call.

“Line two,” Beomgyu said, pressing the button to patch it through.

You straightened in your seat, slipping your headphones back on. “You’re on the air. What’s your name, and what story do you have for us tonight?”

This time, the voice on the other end was hurried, shaky, and unmistakably real.

“This is Officer Park from the Greenfield Police Department,” a woman said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I—God, I don’t even know who else to call right now. I just got back to the station—was out getting donuts for the night shift—and when I walked in, I found…”

She stopped, her voice catching on a sob. Your stomach twisted.

“You found what?” you asked gently, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with Beomgyu through the glass.

“Two of the officers—two of my coworkers,” the woman stammered. “They’ve been stabbed. One of them… one of them’s already gone. The other one is still alive, barely. I called for backup, but closest units are at least five hours away, and I don’t know what to do.”

Beomgyu’s jaw dropped as he mouthed, Is this for real?

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your desk. “Okay, Officer Park, take a deep breath,” you said, your tone steady even though your heart was racing. “Are you somewhere safe right now?”

“Yes,” she said, her breath hitching. “I locked myself in the back office. But whoever did this—they could still be here. I didn’t see anyone when I came in, but… Oh, God, what if they’re still inside?”

You leaned closer to your mic, your voice low but firm. “Okay, listen to me. First, you did the right thing by calling for backup. Stay where you are, keep the door locked, and don’t make any noise. Do you have your weapon on you?”

“Yes,” she said quickly.

“Good,” you said. “And the officer who’s still alive—do you know if they’re in immediate danger? Can you hear or see them from where you are?”

“They’re out in the main lobby,” she replied, her voice trembling. “I can hear them—barely. They’re trying to say something, but I can’t make it out. I think they’re losing consciousness.”

Your pulse quickened as you considered the situation. This wasn’t just some urban legend or creepy caller—this was real, and someone’s life was on the line.

“Okay, Officer Park, here’s what we’re going to do,” you said, keeping your tone as calm as possible. “Do you have anything with you—first aid supplies, even a jacket—anything you can use to stabilize them if you go out there?”

“There’s a med kit in the office,” she said.

“Good. Grab it. But listen—only go out there if you’re sure it’s safe. Move quickly, quietly, and keep your weapon ready. Check the corners, and don’t let your guard down. If you hear or see anything suspicious, you come right back to the office and lock the door. Do you understand?”

There was a long pause. Then she whispered, “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Stay on the line with us,” you said, glancing at Beomgyu, who was already typing furiously on his laptop, probably trying to look up news reports or police scanner updates. “We’re not going anywhere.”

You could hear her moving, her breathing shaky but determined as she whispered, “I’m opening the door.”

Your own breath hitched as you listened to the faint creak of a door opening on her end.

“I don’t hear anything,” she said softly. “I’m stepping out now.”

The seconds dragged on like hours as you listened to her footsteps, the faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzing in the background.

“I see him,” she whispered. “He’s—oh, God, he’s bleeding so much. I’m going to try to stop it.”

You could hear her fumbling with the med kit, her voice barely audible as she muttered, “Stay with me, okay? Stay with me. Help is on the way.”

Your pulse pounded as Officer Park’s frantic movements came through the line. You forced yourself to keep your voice steady, trying to calm both her and yourself.

"Officer Park," you said firmly, leaning closer to the mic. "Listen to me. You need to arm yourself before doing anything else. Do you have access to any weapons right now?"

She hesitated for a moment, her breathing quick. "There’s a weapons locker in the office, but the keys are… they’re on one of the officers."

“Okay. You need to get those keys from the officer who…” You paused, forcing yourself to stay calm. “The officer who’s gone. You’ll need them if you’re going to get out of there alive. And when backup arrives, they’ll need you armed.”

“I already told you,” she whispered sharply. “Backup isn’t coming anytime soon. This is a small town. The nearest station is in the next county over—at least five hours away.”

The weight of her words settled like a stone in your chest. “Then you need to leave now,” you said. “You’ll have to meet them halfway, but you can’t just stay there. Take the surviving officer and get out of the station. Use the police cruiser. Are the keys to the car with the officers too?”

“Probably,” she said, voice shaking.

“Then get them,” you urged. “Check the pockets of the officer who…” You hesitated again, but there wasn’t time for gentleness. “Who’s already gone.”

There was a long pause, followed by a shaky exhale. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”

You could hear her moving again, her footsteps echoing faintly. Then, muffled rustling as she moved the officer’s body.

“I’ve got them,” she said after a moment, her voice tight. “The car keys. And…” She paused, the sound of a locker creaking open coming through the line. “Weapons. I’ve got pepper spray, a taser, and a baton. Which one should I take?”

You exchanged a glance with Beomgyu, who shrugged helplessly. “The taser,” you said decisively. “It’s your best option for close combat if the killer comes back. You’ll still have the element of surprise.”

“Alright,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I’m taking the taser. And the med kit. I’m going to try to move Officer Kim to the car.”

“Be careful,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “Check your surroundings constantly. Keep the taser in your hand. And whatever you do, stay quiet.”

You listened in tense silence as she dragged the injured officer toward the car, her breaths labored but determined. The sound of a car door opening reached your ears, followed by the faint groans of the wounded officer being carefully placed in the back seat.

“I’ve got him in the car,” Officer Park said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m about to start it.”

“Good,” you said. “Start it quietly and get out of there as fast as you can.”

But just as the engine sputtered to life, a haunting whistle cut through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. It was distant but unmistakable—low and drawn out, carrying an almost mocking tone.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, panic creeping back into her voice. “They’re here. The killer’s here.”

You leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk. “Stay calm,” you said. “Lock the doors. Don’t move until you know it’s safe. If they come close, use the taser.”

Through the line, you heard faint footsteps and the sound of shouts—angry, guttural, and close. Then a scuffle broke out.

“They’re trying to break into the car!” Officer Park shouted, her voice shaking with fear and adrenaline.

“Use the taser!” you yelled. “Now!”

There was a loud crackling sound, followed by a strangled scream.

“It worked!” she cried out, her voice bursting with relief. “The taser worked! They’re down!”

A second later, the engine roared to life, and the sound of the car speeding away filled the line.

“Are you okay?” you asked breathlessly.

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “We’re leaving. I’m heading to the next town over to meet the backup units. It’s about five hours from here—less if I push it.”

“Good,” you said, exhaling slowly. “Just stay safe and focus on the road.”

“One more thing,” she added, her tone suddenly serious. “The emergency police line—it’s been rerouted to you. I couldn’t risk leaving the station unattended, so if anyone in town calls for help, it’ll go to your line instead.”

You froze, glancing at Beomgyu, who stared back at you with wide eyes.

“Wait,” you said, your stomach sinking. “What are we supposed to do if the killer targets someone else?”

“You’re going to have to help them,” she said grimly. “Until we can get backup to the town, you’re the only ones who can.”

The line went dead, leaving you and Beomgyu sitting in stunned silence, the weight of her words settling over you like a storm cloud.

“Uh… what the hell just happened?” Beomgyu finally said, his voice cracking slightly.

You didn’t answer, your mind racing as you stared at the blinking lights on the phone.

Somewhere out there, the killer was still on the loose. And now, the entire town was counting on you.

After a while the familiar ring of the phone jolted you from your thoughts, the sudden sound piercing the tense silence that had settled in the booth. Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headphones.

“Line three,” he said.

You nodded to Beomgyu, signaling for him to patch it through.

“You’re on the air,” you said, adjusting your mic.

“I—oh, no, no, I think I called the wrong number,” a woman stammered, her voice trembling. “I was trying to call the police. There’s—there’s someone after me.”

Your heart sank as you exchanged a quick glance with Beomgyu through the glass. “You didn’t call the wrong number,” you explained quickly. “The emergency line is being rerouted to us temporarily. But you’re not alone—we’re here to help. Just tell us where you are and what’s happening.”

The woman hesitated for a moment, her breath audible over the line. “I just left the gym. I’m trying to get to my car, but there’s this… man. He’s following me. He has a knife, I’m sure of it.”

A faint whistle echoed in the background of the call, making the hairs on your arms stand on end. The woman gasped, her voice rising in panic.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I should’ve stayed home. Why didn’t I stay home?”

You leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk tightly. “Listen to me,” you said, keeping your voice calm and steady despite the anxiety bubbling in your chest. “Don’t stop. Keep moving toward your car. You can do this.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice breaking.

“I know,” you said softly. “But you’re doing great. Just keep going. Focus on your breathing and keep moving. We’re not going anywhere—we’ve got you.”

The sound of her hurried footsteps came through the line, along with her ragged breathing.

“I see my car,” she said, relief creeping into her voice. “I’m almost there.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Good. Get in and lock the doors immediately. Don’t worry about starting it until you’re inside and safe.”

A moment later, there was the faint sound of a car door opening and slamming shut.

“I made it,” she said, exhaling shakily. “I’m in.”

“Great job,” you said, feeling a small surge of relief. “Now start the car and drive somewhere safe—”

“Oh, no,” she interrupted, her voice rising in panic again. “No, no, no! I—I forgot my keys. They’re still in the gym!”

Your stomach dropped.

Beomgyu’s voice came through your headphones before you could respond. “Wait,” he said, leaning closer to his mic. “One guy—one who works here. I’ve seen him reading magazines about car maintenance in the breakroom. He might’ve had something about starting a car without keys.”

You blinked at him, hope flickering. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Beomgyu said. “I saw him reading one earlier this week.”

You muted the line to the woman briefly, turning back to Beomgyu. “Where did he leave it?”

“Probably in his office,” Beomgyu said with a shrug. “You’ll have to look for it.”

With a deep breath, you stood up. “Keep her talking. Keep her calm until I get back,” you said, pulling off your headphones.

Beomgyu gave you a thumbs up as you left the booth, closing the door behind you.

You made your way toward the offices, your footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floor. The darkened corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, but you finally reached the office. The door creaked as you pushed it open.

The room was cluttered, papers and other stuff scattered across the desks. You rifled through the mess, searching for the magazine Beomgyu had mentioned, but it was nowhere to be found.

Sighing, you were about to give up when a folded piece of paper caught your eye on the desk. Curious, you unfolded it.

Borrowed the car magazine for some light reading. Left it in the bathroom. -J

You frowned, squinting at the note. The bathroom? Of course.

Taking a deep breath, you headed toward the men’s bathroom, the unease in your chest growing with each step. Standing outside the door, you hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.

The air inside was still, the lights flickering slightly. You scanned the room, your eyes landing on the floor of one of the stalls. Sure enough, there it was—a magazine, its glossy cover faintly reflecting the dim light.

Bracing yourself, you stepped into the stall and grabbed it. Clutching the magazine, you made your way back to the booth as quickly as possible, the tension in your chest finally easing as the familiar glow of the studio came into view.

Sliding back into your seat, you slipped on your headphones. “Got it,” you said, flipping through the pages.

“About time,” Beomgyu muttered, relief in his voice. “She’s still in the car. Freaking out, but holding it together.”

“Alright,” you said, scanning the pages for anything useful. “Let’s get her out of there.”

You flipped quickly through the magazine, scanning each page for something useful. Beomgyu, still connected to the call, was murmuring reassurances to the woman, keeping her calm as best as he could. Finally, near the back of the magazine, you spotted a section titled: “How to Start a Car Without Keys—In Emergencies Only!”

Bingo.

You unmuted the call, speaking quickly. “Okay, I’ve got instructions here. It’s a little complicated, but we’re going to get you out of there. Are you ready to listen?”

“Y-yeah,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “Please, just tell me what to do.”

“Alright. First, do you see the steering column? You’ll need to take off the plastic cover underneath it.”

“The plastic cover?” she repeated, her voice filled with uncertainty.

“Yes. There should be a seam where it comes apart. Can you find it?”

There was a rustling sound, followed by a faint click. “I—I see it. I think I can pry it open.”

“Good. Use anything sharp—a nail file, a keychain, anything to pop it off,” you instructed.

A few tense seconds passed, the sound of fumbling and grunting filling the line.

“Got it!” she said suddenly. “It’s off.”

“Perfect. Now, you should see some wires underneath,” you continued, flipping the magazine around to get a better look at the diagram. “There will be three sets: power, ignition, and ground. Look for the ones connected to the ignition—they’re usually red and yellow. Do you see them?”

“Wait… yes, yes, I see them!” she said, her breathing slightly more controlled now.

“Okay, here’s the tricky part,” you said carefully. “You need to strip the ends of the ignition wires—just the plastic coating—so the metal is exposed. Do you have anything sharp, like a knife or scissors?”

“Uh… I have a nail file,” she said after a moment.

“That works. Carefully scrape the plastic off, but don’t cut the wires. Just expose the metal underneath. Take your time.”

The sound of her scraping at the wires filled the silence, and you exchanged a nervous glance with Beomgyu, who gave you a reassuring nod.

“Alright,” she said finally. “I’ve got the wires stripped. What now?”

“Good. Now you’re going to twist the exposed ends of the ignition wires together. That should create a spark to start the car. But be ready—the second it starts, drive away. Don’t wait around.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m doing it now.”

There was a faint crackling sound, followed by a sputtering noise. Then, suddenly, the low rumble of an engine filled the line.

“It worked!” she cried, her voice breaking with relief. “It actually worked!”

“Great job!” you said, unable to stop the smile forming on your face. “Now get out of there. Drive somewhere safe—somewhere well-lit with other people around. Don’t stop until you’re absolutely sure you’re safe.”

You could hear the roar of the car accelerating, the relief in her voice evident as she spoke. “I’m driving now. Oh, my God, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You’re doing great,” you said, your own voice shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “Just focus on the road. Call us back if anything happens, okay?”

“Okay. I will,” she said. “Thank you again. I—I think I might’ve been dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Just keep driving,” you said softly. “That’s all that matters now.”

The line clicked off, leaving you and Beomgyu alone in the booth. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence.

Beomgyu let out a low whistle. “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

“Me neither,” you admitted, tossing the magazine onto the desk. “But if it hadn’t… I don’t even want to think about it.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply. “So… what do we do if someone else calls?”

You didn’t have an answer, your thoughts already spiraling with what-ifs. All you could do was hope the rest of the night stayed quiet.

The phone rang again, its shrill tone cutting through the uneasy silence that had settled in the booth. You adjusted your mic and nodded to Beomgyu. He patched it through with a flick of a switch, signaling with his finger for you to go ahead.

“You’re on the air,” you said, your voice steady despite the lingering tension from the last call.

“Hey, yeah, uh, is this the emergency line?” a cheery voice on the other end asked.

“Yes, this is the emergency line. What’s your situation?” you asked, leaning forward, bracing yourself for whatever this might be.

“Well,” the man began, his tone casual, “I just wanted to let everyone know that Hanseung’s Pizza is open late tonight, and we’re offering a two-for-one deal on our large pepperoni pies!”

You froze, your hand gripping the edge of the desk. “Are you serious right now?”

“Totally serious! Best pizza in town!”

You groaned audibly and disconnected the call before the man could say another word. Leaning back in your chair, you rubbed your temples as Beomgyu snorted with laughter.

When you glanced at him through the glass, he made a circular gesture next to his temple, miming crazy.

“I swear,” you muttered, pulling your headphones off briefly, “this night is going to kill me.”

Beomgyu gave you a lopsided grin, but before he could say anything, the phone rang again.

“Here we go,” he said, flipping the switch to route the call to you.

You sighed, sliding your headphones back on. “You’re on the air,” you said cautiously.

“H-hello?” a man’s voice came through, low and shaky.

“This is the emergency line,” you said gently. “What’s going on?”

“I—I’m still at work,” the man said, his words trembling as he spoke. “I stayed late to finish up inventory, and I… I saw someone on the cameras. He’s outside. He’s wearing a white mask, and he’s holding a knife. He’s on the first floor now.”

Your heart sank as a chill ran down your spine. “Okay, stay calm,” you said quickly. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m on the second floor,” he said. “In the main office. But… but there’s nowhere to hide. The only room I can lock is the storage closet, and the lock is on the outside. What do I do?”

You frowned, running a hand through your hair as you exchanged a tense glance with Beomgyu. “Alright, listen to me. We’re going to figure this out. Let’s think through this carefully.”

“I don’t have much time,” the man whispered, panic rising in his voice. “He’s coming in. I can see him on the camera feed.”

You flipped through options in your mind, trying to think of anything that could give him a chance. The storage room could work, but locking it from the outside meant he’d be trapping himself unless…

“Wait,” you said suddenly. “Does your office phone system let you call internal lines? Like phones in other rooms?”

“Yes,” the man said quickly. “I can call any phone in the building from here.”

“Perfect,” you said, sitting up straighter. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to distract him. You’re going to call one of the phones on the first floor, and when it rings, he’ll go to investigate. Once he’s distracted, you’re going to quietly make your way down the back staircase and get out of the building. Got it?”

“Okay, okay,” the man said, his breathing quick and shallow. “I can do that. I think.”

“You can do this,” you said firmly. “Now, do you know which phone to call?”

“Yes,” he said. “The one by the front desk. It’s closest to where he is.”

“Good. Call it now,” you instructed. “Once it starts ringing, wait a few seconds to make sure he’s moving toward it. Then make your way out. Go as quietly as you can. Don’t hang up until you’re outside and safe, alright?”

“Okay,” he whispered.

There was a pause as you heard him pressing buttons on the phone. A few seconds later, the faint sound of a phone ringing echoed faintly through his line.

“He’s moving,” the man whispered. “I can see him on the camera. He’s going to the front desk.”

“Perfect,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “Now’s your chance. Go.”

The sound of his shaky breathing filled the line as he moved. You held your breath, listening intently as he made his way down the stairs.

“He’s still at the desk,” the man whispered. “I’m almost at the back door.”

“Keep going,” you urged. “You’re doing great.”

A faint creak came through the line, followed by a quiet click.

“I’m outside,” the man said, his voice trembling with relief. “I’m out.”

You exhaled, the tension in your chest loosening slightly. “Good. Get as far away from the building as you can. Get somewhere safe with other people around.”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking. “Thank you so much.”

“Just stay safe,” you said softly. “That’s all that matters.”

The line disconnected, leaving you staring at the phone for a moment, your mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. “That’s two lives saved tonight,” he said. “Not bad for a couple of radio hosts, huh?”

You gave him a shaky smile, but the thought lingering in your mind was anything but reassuring.

Whoever was out there wasn’t done yet.

The phone rang again. For a moment, you and Beomgyu exchanged wary glances through the glass between your booths. After everything tonight, you’d learned to expect the worst. With a deep breath, you answered.

“You’re on the air,” you said, trying to maintain your composure.

“Bravo,” a smooth, amused voice purred on the other end. “Really. I’m impressed.”

Your brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“The way you’ve been handling these calls tonight,” the man continued, his tone dripping with mock admiration. “Guiding these poor, helpless souls to safety. It’s been a pleasure to listen to. You’re very clever, you know that?”

Something about his voice set you on edge—it wasn’t rushed or panicked like the others you’d spoken to tonight. It was calm. Too calm.

“Who is this?” you asked, your voice tightening.

“Let’s just say I’m… someone who’s been keeping an eye on things,” he replied, his tone playful. “And I have to admit, you’ve made my night much more entertaining than I anticipated.”

Your stomach twisted as realization hit you like a punch to the gut. “It’s you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

A low chuckle came through the line, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice laced with mockery. “Yes, it’s me. The one you’ve been so desperately trying to outsmart all night. And I have to say, you’ve done quite well.”

You clenched your jaw, gripping the edge of the desk so tightly your knuckles turned white. “Why are you calling?”

“To see you squirm,” he teased. “And to thank you, of course. You’ve made this little game so much more fun than I thought it would be. Honestly, you’re much more entertaining than the usual people around here. They’re so… predictable.”

You refused to let him get under your skin, even as his voice sent an unbidden flush to your cheeks. You hated the way his words made your pulse quicken, a reaction you absolutely didn’t want to have.

“Is that all this is to you? A game?” you snapped, trying to focus on your anger rather than the unsettling heat rising in your face.

“Of course it’s a game,” he said smoothly. “But don’t misunderstand me—I’m not underestimating you. In fact, I think you’re the most interesting piece on the board. I wonder… how long can you keep this up? How long before I catch you slipping?”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly forced yourself to focus. You couldn’t let him distract you with his taunting, no matter how strangely… confident and alluring his voice sounded. You hadn’t thought about dating or men since moving to the town—your life had been far too busy. And now here you were, getting flustered by the very man terrorizing the town.

“Do you have anything better to do than terrorize people?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended.

He chuckled again, low and lazy, like you’d just amused him. “You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said, and you nearly choked on your own breath.

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, don’t get so defensive,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “I’m just saying, it’s refreshing. I like a bit of fire in my conversations. The others? They just scream and cry. Boring. But not you. I like that.”

Your grip on the desk tightened further, your mind racing. You couldn’t let him get to you, but the way he spoke—like he was in complete control, like he knew exactly how to unnerve you—it was maddening.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, forcing your voice to stay calm.

“For now? Just to chat,” he said casually. “I thought you deserved some recognition for your efforts. And maybe a little warning…”

Your stomach churned. “A warning?”

“Mhm,” he murmured. “You’re clever, but don’t think you’re untouchable. I’ve been generous so far, letting you play the hero. But don’t get too comfortable. I’m always watching, and if you’re not careful, this little game of ours might get a whole lot more personal.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, but you refused to let your fear show. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“No,” he said simply. “It’s supposed to excite you.”

The line went dead before you could respond, leaving you staring at the phone, your mind a chaotic mess of fear, anger, and, much to your dismay, something else you didn’t want to name.

Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headset. “Uh… what the hell just happened?”

You turned to look at him, your face still flushed. “I think the killer just… flirted with me?”

Beomgyu blinked, his mouth falling open slightly before he shook his head. “This town is actually so messed up.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

The phone rang again, piercing through the tense silence that had settled in the booth. You and Beomgyu exchanged a glance, both of you bracing yourselves for whatever might come next. You adjusted your headphones and gestured for him to patch it through.

“You’re on the air,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease crawling up your spine.

“H-he’s coming,” a woman’s voice stammered, her tone high-pitched and frantic. “Oh God, the dead—they’ve risen! The dead are rising!”

You froze, caught off guard by the sheer hysteria in her voice. “Ma’am, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what’s happening,” you said, keeping your tone calm and firm. “Who’s coming? What do you mean the dead are rising?”

“It’s karma,” she said, her words tumbling out in a panicked rush. “I’ve done bad things. So many bad things. And now he’s coming for me."

“Okay, I need you to slow down,” you urged, sitting forward in your chair. “Where are you right now? Are you safe?”

“I thought I was,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “But he’s here. He’s come back. They know what I’ve done. He knows—”

The line went dead.

“Hello? Ma’am?” you said quickly, checking the call screen. You tried dialing the number back, your heart pounding, but the line just rang and rang before going to voicemail.

Beomgyu leaned forward in his booth, frowning as he studied the call log. “That was Dr. Lee,” he said, his voice low.

“Dr. Lee?” you asked, your mind racing.

“She’s one of the town’s doctors,” Beomgyu explained, crossing his arms. “Well… was a doctor. She retired a couple of years ago, but she still gets called in sometimes when the clinic’s short-staffed. People around here have… mixed feelings about her. Some say she’s a great doctor, but others think she’s shady. There’ve been rumors, but nothing ever proven.”

You sat back in your chair, your mind swirling with questions. “She kept saying ‘karma.’ And something about the dead coming for her.”

Beomgyu shrugged, though his expression was uneasy. “She sounded genuinely freaked out.”

“She did,” you muttered, staring at the dead call screen on your monitor. “And she didn’t give me anything to go on. No location, no details… I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Think we should call the clinic? Maybe someone there knows what’s going on.”

You shook your head, though the idea was tempting. “If she wanted their help, she would’ve called them instead of us. I think… I think whatever’s happening, she doesn’t trust anyone in town. Or maybe she thought calling the emergency line was her only option.”

“Well, what do we do now?” Beomgyu asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “There’s not much we can do. She didn’t give us enough information to help. All we can do is wait and see if she calls back.”

Beomgyu nodded reluctantly, though his frown deepened. “Still, the whole ‘dead are rising’ thing? Sounds like someone’s cracking under pressure. Or maybe she’s just paranoid.”

“Maybe,” you said, though her words kept echoing in your mind. The dead have risen. Karma is coming for me.

It sounded ridiculous, but the sheer terror in her voice had felt real. And in this town, you’d already learned to expect the unexpected.

You leaned back in your chair, staring as a heavy silence settled over the room. You hated this helpless feeling, this sense that something was happening just out of your reach. But until she called back—or someone else did—there was nothing you could do except wait.

And worry.

The phone rang again, and you didn’t hesitate to answer this time, though the tension from the earlier calls still lingered in the air like a bad omen.

“You’re on the air,” you said, trying to sound calm and professional, though the weight of the night was starting to press down on you.

“H-hello?” a young voice stammered. “Is this… is this the emergency line?”

“Yes, it is,” you replied quickly. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Hyein,” she answered, her voice trembling. “I—I need help. Someone’s after me and my friends.”

Your stomach dropped. “Where are you, Hyein? Are you somewhere safe?”

“We’re at… we’re at this old junkyard,” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “We were just hanging out, but now there’s this guy—he’s wearing a white mask, and—”

“Okay, Hyein, listen to me,” you interrupted, keeping your voice steady. “You need to find somewhere safe. Is there a place you can hide? A building, a car, anything?”

“Um, there’s a shed,” she said, her voice shaky. “But—”

Suddenly, a piercing scream erupted through the line, making your heart lurch.

“Hyein? Hyein, what’s happening?”

There was a muffled commotion on the other end, followed by… laughter?

A new voice chimed in, a boy’s voice, cracking as he burst into fits of giggles. “Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face, Hyein!”

“What the hell, Jansoon?!” Hyein shouted, her fear quickly replaced by anger. “You scared the crap out of me!”

You exhaled slowly, feeling your shoulders relax slightly. “Hyein, what’s going on?”

“It’s just Jansoon,” she said, her voice still shaking but now tinged with irritation. “He’s being an idiot, running around with a fake knife and a stupid mask. I thought—”

But before she could finish, another scream cut through the air—this one high-pitched and blood-curdling.

“Jansoon? Jansoon, stop messing around!” Hyein shouted, her voice rising in panic.

Then came the sound of something wet and grotesque—a sickening squelch, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground.

“Oh my God,” Hyein whispered, her voice trembling again. “Run! Everyone, run inside!”

“Hyein! Hyein, what’s happening?” you demanded, gripping the edge of the desk.

“A man,” she whispered, her breath hitching. “A man in a white mask—he just—he just killed Jansoon. He killed him!”

Your stomach churned as Beomgyu’s eyes went wide in the booth across from you.

“Hyein, listen to me,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice steady. “You need to get somewhere safe. Stay with your friends and lock yourselves in. Keep the line open—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice shaky but determined. “We… we’re setting up a plan. We’ll distract him so we can get away. I’ll call you back soon.”

“Hyein, wait—”

The line went dead.

You sat there for a moment, staring at the monitor as your heart hammered in your chest. Slowly, you took off your headset and set it down on the desk, letting out a shaky breath.

“Did that really just happen?” Beomgyu asked, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

“Yeah,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair. “It did.”

Beomgyu ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “This town is insane. First the doctor, now a group of kids in a junkyard? What’s next, a clown at a carnival?”

You couldn’t help but let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Don’t jinx it.”

He sighed, leaning back in his booth and staring at the ceiling. “This is so stressful. I mean, we’re just two people in a radio station. We’re not trained for this.”

“No, we’re not,” you agreed, rubbing your temples. “But we’re all these people have right now.”

Beomgyu nodded, though his expression was grim. “I just hope that girl and her friends make it out. That killer… he’s not messing around.”

The phone rang again, and this time, your heart jumped in anticipation. You quickly signaled to Beomgyu, who patched the call through.

“Hyein?” you asked urgently.

“It’s me,” she whispered, her voice trembling but steadier than before. “We—we’ve got a plan. We’re going to get out of here.”

You exhaled in relief but quickly focused. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

“There are four of us left,” she explained. “Minji’s going to watch him, make sure we know where he is at all times. Jaemin is going to distract him—make noise and lead him away from the van. Doyeon’s going to act as bait, keeping his attention long enough for me to grab Jansoon’s keys and get the van started.”

You felt a mix of pride and fear for these kids. “That’s… brave, Hyein. Really brave. Are you sure you can pull this off?”

“We don’t have a choice,” she replied, her voice tightening. “We can’t just wait for him to find us all. We have to do something.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding even though she couldn’t see you. “Stick to the plan. Be quick, be careful, and don’t hesitate. You can do this.”

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I’ll call you back once we’re out.”

The line disconnected, leaving you and Beomgyu in an anxious silence.

“They’re kids,” Beomgyu muttered, shaking his head. “They shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“I know,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the monitor as if willing Hyein to call back with good news.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, your mind racing with every worst-case scenario. Finally, the phone rang again.

“Hyein?” you answered quickly.

“We did it,” she said, her voice breathless but triumphant. “We did the plan. Minji kept an eye on him while Jaemin distracted him with a bunch of noise. He fell for it—totally chased after Jaemin. Then Doyeon lured him even further away, and I grabbed the keys.”

“That’s incredible,” you said, genuine admiration in your voice. “You’re all so brave.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s not over yet. We got the van started, but there’s a problem. The doors to the junkyard—they’re stuck. Someone has to hold them open so we can drive through.”

Your heart sank. “Who’s going to do it?”

“I volunteered,” she said quietly.

“Hyein—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you back.”

The line went dead again, and you sat frozen, a deep dread settling over you.

Beomgyu leaned forward, his expression tight with worry. “They better not leave her behind.”

You didn’t respond, too focused on the gnawing feeling in your gut.

When the phone rang again, you answered immediately.

“Hyein?”

“I’m still here,” she said, her voice shaking. “I got the doors open, but…”

You heard her inhale sharply, and your stomach dropped.

“But what?” you asked.

“He’s here,” she whispered. “He’s right in front of me.”

Your grip tightened on the desk. “Hyein, listen to me. Don’t run. Don’t make any sudden moves. Just—just stay calm.”

She let out a choked sob. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” you said firmly, though your own voice trembled. “Just keep talking to me, okay? You’re doing great.”

There was a long silence on the other end, broken only by her quiet, panicked breaths.

“Hyein?”

“He’s…” Her voice was barely audible now. “He’s walking away.”

“What?” you asked, your mind reeling.

“He just… turned around and walked off. Into the forest.”

You blinked, trying to process what she was saying. “He left you? Just like that?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice filled with confusion and fear. “Why? Why would he do that?”

You didn’t have an answer. None of this made sense.

“I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “But you’re alive, Hyein. That’s what matters. Get to safety. Get back to your friends.”

“Okay,” she said softly, though her voice was still trembling. “Thank you.”

When the call ended, you sat back in your chair, your mind spinning.

“What the hell was that?” Beomgyu asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, staring at the empty screen. “But I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him.”

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, and the tension in the room hung like a heavy fog. It was 3:17 a.m. when the phone rang again, the sharp sound cutting through the oppressive silence.

You leaned forward and answered, trying to keep the fatigue out of your voice. "You’re on the air."

For a moment, there was just static and the faint sound of someone breathing. Then a male voice, low and shaky, spoke.

"This is... this is so scary," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You straightened in your seat, your exhaustion replaced by unease. "What’s scary? Can you tell me where you are?"

"I’m at home," he said. "But I keep hearing things outside. Footsteps. Whistling. I’ve locked all the doors and windows, but it doesn’t feel like enough. This… this town isn’t supposed to be like this. It’s supposed to be quiet. Safe."

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. "I understand. It’s been a rough night for everyone, but you’ve done the right thing by securing your home. Stay inside. Stay quiet. Do you have anyone you can call to stay with you?"

"No," he muttered. "I live alone."

His voice broke slightly on the last word, and your chest tightened. "Okay. Listen to me. You’re not alone right now, all right? I’m here. If anything happens, you call me back immediately."

There was a long pause before he whispered, "Thanks."

Then the line went dead.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Beomgyu, who had been silently watching you from his booth, gave you a small nod of acknowledgment.

"You’re handling this like a pro," he said.

"I’m just trying to keep people calm," you replied, though the weight of the night was starting to press down on you.

The hours crawled by, the silence in the studio broken only by the occasional hum of equipment and the distant sound of a car passing on the street. It was around 4:30 a.m. when the phone rang again.

Your heart leapt as you quickly picked it up. "You’re on the air."

"It’s me," a familiar voice said.

"Hyein?" you asked, relief flooding your voice.

"Yeah," she said, and you could hear the exhaustion in her tone. "We made it. We’re home. All of us, safe. Thanks to you."

A smile tugged at your lips, the first genuine one of the night. "That’s great to hear, Hyein. I’m so glad you’re all okay."

"You… you really helped us," she continued, her voice soft. "I don’t think we would’ve made it without you. I mean, we were so scared, but you kept us focused. Gave us hope."

"That was all you," you replied. "You and your friends were brave. You came up with a plan and stuck to it. You saved yourselves."

There was a pause, and then she said, "Still… thank you."

"Of course," you said, your voice warm. "Now, get some rest. You’ve earned it."

"I will," she promised. "Goodnight… and be careful, okay? I don’t think this is over."

"Goodnight, Hyein," you said softly before the line went dead.

You set the phone down and leaned back in your chair, exhaling slowly. Beomgyu looked over at you, his expression a mix of relief and exhaustion.

"At least there’s some good news," he said.

"Yeah," you murmured, though Hyein’s parting words echoed in your mind.

I don’t think this is over.

And deep down, you knew she was right.

The phone rang again, cutting through the brief calm. Unknown caller. You knew who it was even before you answered.

"Let me guess," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You’re calling to congratulate me on something, right?"

A soft, mocking chuckle came through the line, chilling and deliberate. "You’re starting to understand how this works," the killer said, his voice smooth, almost amused. "But no congratulations this time. Just a little... advice."

You gripped the phone tighter. "And what kind of advice would that be?"

"Dr. Lee," he drawled, his tone teasing. "She seemed... stressed earlier, didn’t she? Want to know what really happened to her?"

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

He chuckled again. "Pick something up for me, and maybe I’ll give you a clue. Check the alleyway behind your building. I left you a little surprise."

Beomgyu immediately leaned toward his microphone, shaking his head vehemently as he heard the exchange. “Don’t do it,” he mouthed, his face pale.

But the killer wasn’t done. "Go on," he said, his tone turning low and taunting. "Be brave. Or stay in your booth and let the mystery eat away at you. Your choice."

And then the line went dead.

"Don’t even think about it," Beomgyu said, his voice cutting through the silence. "He’s baiting you. It’s a trap."

You turned to him, trying to muster some confidence. "If it’s a trap, then it’s a bad one. He wouldn’t tip his hand like this if he really wanted me dead."

"Or maybe that’s exactly what he wants you to think," Beomgyu countered. "Don’t go."

But you were already getting up. "I’ll be fine. Stay here and keep the phones running."

Beomgyu sighed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “you’re insane.”

You left the booth, stepping into the hallway. The silence of the empty building was oppressive, and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above did little to calm your nerves. Descending the staircase, each step felt louder than the last, echoing in the quiet.

At the bottom, you approached the glass front doors. Outside was nothing but darkness, the alleyway barely illuminated by a single flickering streetlamp in the distance.

You tried the door. Locked.

Frowning, you turned back and made your way behind the reception desk, where the backdoor led to the alleyway. Pushing it open, the cool night air hit you immediately, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and garbage.

The alley was narrow and lined with dumpsters, shadows stretching and shifting in the dim light. You hesitated, the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders.

Then, you saw it.

An old, stained mattress lay discarded against the wall, and on top of it was something that made your stomach drop—a bloodied ID card.

Your hands trembled as you approached, the name and face on the card coming into focus. Dr. Lee.

You bent down, your breath hitching as you picked it up. The blood was dry but unmistakable, the edges of the card sticky.

You turned it over in your hands, a cold dread creeping up your spine. What did this mean? Was she—

A rustling sound.

You froze, your heart hammering in your chest. Slowly, you looked up, scanning the alleyway. There was nothing.

But past the fence, just beyond the edge of the alley, you could feel it—someone was watching you.

The air seemed to thicken, your skin prickling with unease. You couldn’t see anyone, but the presence was unmistakable.

Swallowing hard, you clenched the ID card in your hand and straightened up, forcing your legs to move. You turned and walked back toward the door, refusing to look back, even as the sensation of being watched grew stronger.

You reached for the door handle, only to find it wouldn’t budge. Locked.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, shaking the handle one more time as if sheer willpower could force it open. The sensation of being watched lingered, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

The sound of something faintly rustling outside sent a jolt of panic through you. You turned away from the door, scanning the dimly lit alley for another option. That’s when your eyes landed on the basement access door.

You cursed under your breath, knowing it was your only choice. "Great," you mumbled sarcastically, stepping toward it. Pushing the creaky door open, you descended the narrow staircase. The air grew colder with each step, the faint smell of mildew and rust wrapping around you like a damp blanket.

At the bottom, you reached a landing, the dim glow of an old overhead light flickering ominously. Shadows danced across the walls, making everything feel smaller and more claustrophobic.

Trying the first door, you found it locked. So was the next. You kept moving, your footsteps echoing faintly in the eerie silence. Finally, you reached a door that opened easily.

You stepped inside cautiously, your phone flashlight illuminating what could only be described as the janitor’s office—or, more accurately, a forgotten relic of one. The room was cramped and chaotic, filled with old supplies, broken equipment, and… mannequins?

You froze for a moment, your light catching the lifeless forms of several mannequins standing in one corner. Their chipped paint and blank expressions made your stomach twist. Who keeps mannequins in a basement office?

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “this is officially creepy.”

Pushing past the eerie sight, your flashlight settled on the far wall, where a corkboard hung. You stepped closer, curiosity outweighing your unease.

The board was covered in newspaper clippings, photographs, and handwritten notes. Your pulse quickened as you scanned the array of items.

The photos were of people—townsfolk, by the looks of it. Some of the faces you recognized, including Dr. Lee. Others were strangers. Some pictures had red X’s drawn across them. Others were circled.

The clippings were just as unsettling. Headlines like “Local Man Disappears Without a Trace” and “Small-Town Tragedy: Young Man Found Dead” leapt out at you, along with handwritten notes like “Knew too much” and “Still watching.”

“Jesus,” you muttered, taking a step back.

You huffed, grabbing the corkboard from the wall and tucking it under your arm. Whatever this was, it wasn’t staying down here. You needed to get it upstairs, show Beomgyu, and figure out what the hell was going on.

The mannequins seemed closer than before as you turned to leave, but you tried to shake off the unease crawling up your spine.

"Don’t think about it," you muttered, stepping back out into the hallway.

With the corkboard in tow, you made your way back toward the stairs, trying not to think about how quiet everything felt.

Back in the booth, you placed the corkboard on the desk, your fingers trembling as you leaned over it. Beomgyu hovered behind you, peering at the chaotic arrangement of photos, clippings, and notes.

"Okay," you muttered, mostly to yourself. "This is a pattern. It has to be."

Your eyes scanned the board feverishly, focusing on the photos of the townsfolk. There were three with red X’s—you recognized two as victims you’d already heard about. The doctor’s photo, Dr. Lee, was circled in red but had no X, at least not yet.

The notes were cryptic but telling: "Knew too much." "Always works late."

Your heart skipped a beat as you landed on a photo of a man you vaguely recognized from a newspaper clipping you’d seen earlier—James Choi, the owner of the general store. His picture was circled too, with a note scribbled beside it: “Stays late, alone.”

You felt your stomach churn. “Beomgyu, who’s James Choi?”

Beomgyu squinted at the board. "James? Oh, he runs that little general store by the gas station. Nice guy, kind of quiet. Why?"

You jabbed your finger at his photo. “He’s next. Look at the notes. It’s all here—he works late, and the killer knows it. We need to call him now.”

Beomgyu grabbed the phone without hesitation, quickly dialing the number written on a post-it note you’d found pinned to the corner of the board. You paced nervously as the phone rang.

"Come on, pick up," Beomgyu muttered.

Finally, a voice answered. “Hello?”

“Mr. Choi?” Beomgyu asked, his voice tight. “This is from the late-night show—listen, we don’t have much time. Are you still at the store?”

James sounded confused. “Uh, yeah? Why? What’s this about?”

You leaned in, speaking quickly. “You’re in danger. You need to leave now. Grab your keys, get in your car, and just drive. Don’t ask questions, don’t wait—just go.”

There was a pause. “Danger? What are you talking about? This some kind of prank?”

“It’s not a prank,” you snapped, your voice rising in urgency. “There’s someone—”

The sound of something crashing interrupted James on the other end of the line, followed by a low, guttural noise that made your blood run cold.

“James?” Beomgyu called, his voice cracking. “James, what’s going on?”

The line went silent for a moment, the faint sound of labored breathing coming through. And then—

“Well, well,” came a familiar, taunting voice.

Your stomach dropped as the killer’s smooth, mocking tone filled the line. “You tried,” he said, almost lazily, like he had all the time in the world. “I’ll give you credit for that. But you’re just not fast enough, are you?”

Your hands clenched into fists. “You son of a—”

“Ah-ah,” the killer interrupted, a smirk evident in his voice. “No need for name-calling. I’m just doing what I do best. And you? Well, you’re doing what you do best—sitting in that little booth, thinking you can save people. How’s that working out for you so far?”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “Why are you doing this?”

He laughed, the sound cold and detached. “You really think I’m going to explain myself? What kind of killer would I be if I gave away all my secrets? Let’s just say… I like keeping you on your toes. It’s fun watching you try so hard.”

Beomgyu’s face was pale, his eyes wide as he stared at the phone. “You’re sick,” he muttered under his breath.

The killer ignored him. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “The game’s far from over.”

And then the line went dead.

You stared at the phone, your heart pounding in your chest. Beomgyu looked at you, his face etched with fear.

“What do we do now?” he asked quietly.

You took a shaky breath, your mind racing. “We keep going. We figure this out.”

Beomgyu nodded, though his hands were trembling. "And what if we can’t?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

--

You sat hunched over the corkboard, piecing through the clues when Beomgyu cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "Hey, maybe you should go back to the janitor’s room. There might be something we missed."

You glanced up at him, skeptical. “Like what? I already grabbed the corkboard.”

He shrugged, fidgeting with his pen. “I don’t know. It just feels like… that place might have more to it. There’s no way someone went through all the effort of pinning up all this stuff and didn’t leave more behind.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. He wasn’t wrong. “Fine,” you said, pushing back from the desk. “I’ll check again. Just… stay here and keep an ear on the phones.”

Beomgyu nodded quickly, relief evident on his face. “Be careful, okay?”

You didn’t bother replying as you headed back downstairs, retracing your steps. The basement was even creepier now, the flickering light above casting strange, shifting shadows along the walls. Pushing the janitor's office door open again, you stepped inside, the stale air immediately making your nose crinkle.

The mannequins were still there, standing motionless in the corner like silent sentinels. You forced yourself to ignore them, focusing instead on the cluttered room. You rummaged through drawers, boxes, and even under the dusty desk, finding nothing but old cleaning supplies and forgotten tools.

Just as you were about to give up, your fingers brushed against something cold and metallic under a pile of papers. You pulled it out—a key, small and rusted, with no label.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, standing up and looking around. “What do you open?”

You left the janitor’s office and started trying the key on every locked door in the hallway. It wasn’t until you reached the very last door—a heavy, steel one with a faded "Storage" sign on it—that the key finally turned.

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit storage room filled with shelves of old files, boxes, and equipment. You stepped inside, the smell of dust and mildew filling your nose.

Grabbing your phone for light, you began rifling through the shelves. Most of it seemed mundane—inventory lists, outdated maintenance logs, and other boring documents. But then you found a box marked “Incident Reports.”

You opened it, pulling out a stack of files. One in particular caught your eye—a report on someone named Sim Jaeyun.

You skimmed the pages, your brow furrowing as you read. According to the report, Sim Jaeyun was a young man who had been found dead in the town’s river. The official cause of death was ruled as reckless behavior, with high levels of alcohol detected in his blood.

But something didn’t add up.

You found another document tucked in the back of the file—a copy of the autopsy report, signed by none other than Dr. Lee. The details in the report were vague, almost suspiciously so. It noted the alcohol levels but didn’t mention any other significant findings.

Flipping through more of the file, you found a handwritten note from a police officer who had initially investigated the scene: “Something doesn’t feel right. Jaeyun was a good swimmer.”

Your stomach churned as you read on. The note went on to mention that Jaeyun had been arguing with someone at a local bar the night he died. The name of the person he argued with was blacked out, but whoever it was, they were never questioned.

Your mind reeled. Something about this was definitely off. Why would Dr. Lee sign off on such a suspicious autopsy? And why had no one followed up on the blacked-out name?

You gathered the files, clutching them tightly as you made your way back upstairs. Your thoughts were racing, pieces of the puzzle slowly starting to fit together.

Beomgyu looked up from his seat as you entered the booth, his eyes widening when he saw the stack of papers in your hands. “What did you find?”

You dropped the files on the desk, flipping them open. “A death report. Sim Jaeyun. Found in the river, officially ruled as reckless behavior and alcohol poisoning. But…”

“But what?” Beomgyu prompted, leaning closer.

You pointed to the autopsy report. “It doesn’t add up. Just alcohol levels that don’t make sense. And guess who signed the autopsy?”

Beomgyu’s eyes widened. “Dr. Lee?”

“Bingo,” you said grimly. “And there’s more—apparently, Jaeyun got into an argument with someone at a bar that night, but the name was blacked out in the report. Whoever it was, they were never questioned.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “So, what are you saying? That Jaeyun didn’t just… fall into the river drunk?”

You nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Someone’s been covering this up. And I think it ties back to everything that’s happening now.”

Beomgyu stared at the files, his face pale. “This just keeps getting worse.”

You didn’t respond, your mind already racing with what to do next.

You tapped your pen against the desk anxiously, the silence between you and Beomgyu growing heavier by the second. Finally, you broke it. “We need to talk to someone who knew Jaeyun. Someone who can tell us more about what happened that night.”

Beomgyu nodded, already pulling up the town directory on his computer. “There were names listed in some of those files,” he muttered, scrolling through the screen. “Here—Kim Jihoon. He was one of Jaeyun’s friends.”

“Call him,” you said firmly, leaning forward.

Beomgyu hesitated for a second but then grabbed the phone, dialing the number. You both waited as the line rang, the sound stretching your nerves thin.

Finally, a groggy voice answered, “Hello? Who’s this?”

“Hi, this is Beomgyu from the town’s late-night talk show,” Beomgyu began cautiously. “We’re trying to get some information about Sim Jaeyun. You were listed as one of his friends. Do you have a moment to talk?”

There was a pause on the other end before Jihoon spoke again, his voice laced with confusion. “Jaeyun? Why are you asking about him? He’s been gone for years.”

You leaned toward the mic, speaking gently but urgently. “We’re trying to piece together what really happened to him, Jihoon. There are some things about his death that don’t make sense. Can you tell us what you remember from that night?”

Another long pause. Then Jihoon let out a sigh. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but… sure. I’ll tell you what I can.”

You exchanged a glance with Beomgyu, who nodded for you to continue. “Okay,” you said. “Start from the beginning. What was that night like?”

“It was supposed to be a fun night,” Jihoon began, his voice tinged with sadness. “We were celebrating Jaeyun. He’d just gotten a big promotion at work, and we all went out to the bar to party. Everything was fine at first—laughing, drinking, just having a good time. But then…”

He trailed off, and you prompted him gently. “But then what?”

Jihoon sighed again. “Jaeyun got into an argument with someone. I didn’t see who it was—I was across the bar at the time, talking to someone else. But I heard voices getting louder, and when I looked over, Jaeyun was face-to-face with this guy. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it looked heated.”

Your grip on the pen tightened. “Did you see what the guy looked like at all? Anything about him?”

“No,” Jihoon admitted. “It was dark, and the bar was crowded. I only saw his back. But… I don’t know, there was something off about the guy. The way he was standing, the way he moved… it gave me a bad feeling.”

“What happened after that?” you asked.

“Jaeyun stormed out of the bar,” Jihoon said. “The guy followed him. I tried to go after them, but by the time I got outside, they were both gone. I looked around, called out for Jaeyun, but… nothing. It was like they’d disappeared.”

“And then?”

“The next day, I heard the news,” Jihoon said, his voice breaking slightly. “Jaeyun was found dead in the river. They said he’d been drinking and must’ve fallen in, but…”

“But you didn’t believe that,” you finished for him.

“No,” Jihoon said firmly. “Jaeyun wasn’t that kind of guy. He could hold his liquor, and he would’ve been careful. It didn’t make sense then, and it doesn’t make sense now.”

You sat back in your chair, your mind racing. Jaeyun had argued with someone—someone who followed him out of the bar. Someone who might have been responsible for his death.

Beomgyu’s voice cut through the static over the intercom, calm but clipped. “The other line’s ringing. I’ll take care of it.”

You nodded to yourself, still holding the phone to your ear. “Alright.”

Turning your attention back to Jihoon, you settled into your chair and tried to ground yourself.

“Jaeyun was just… he was the kind of guy everyone liked, you know? He always made time for people. Even when he was busy, he’d stop to check in. If you were upset about something, he’d notice—he always noticed.” Jihoon’s voice broke slightly, and you could hear him swallow hard.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “He sounds like a really good person. Someone who didn’t deserve what happened.”

“No, he didn’t,” Jihoon agreed softly. “He’d do these little things, you know? Like, one time, I forgot my wallet, and he just covered everything without even saying anything. He didn’t want people to feel bad, didn’t want anyone to feel like a burden. That was just Jaeyun.”

You found yourself smiling faintly, despite the grim topic. “He must’ve been an amazing friend to have.”

“He was,” Jihoon said, his voice thick with emotion. “Losing him… it wasn’t just hard. It was—” He paused, and you could hear him take a deep breath. “It was like losing the glue that held us all together. He was the one who brought us all into the same orbit.”

Your chest tightened as you listened, the weight of Jihoon’s words pressing down on you. Jaeyun had been more than just a name on a file or a tragic story in the town’s history. He’d been a real person, someone loved deeply by those around him.

“I’m sorry, Jihoon,” you said softly. “I wish I could’ve met him. He sounds like he left a mark on everyone he knew.”

“He did,” Jihoon whispered. “And that’s what makes it so hard to believe… what they said about him, that he was drunk and reckless. That’s not him. It never felt right to me, even back then.”

You nodded, the puzzle pieces in your mind continuing to shift and rearrange themselves. “I understand. And I think you’re right to trust your gut. There’s more to this story, and I’m trying to piece it together.”

Jihoon let out a shaky laugh. “Thanks. I don’t know why you care so much—"

The lights in the booth flickered and then abruptly went out, plunging you into darkness. You froze, the silence suddenly suffocating.

A second later, Beomgyu’s voice came over the intercom, slightly muffled but urgent. “Uh… the power just went out in the whole building. I think you’ll need to go down to the basement and reset the breaker. I’d do it, but I’m kinda stuck here monitoring the calls.”

You clicked your flashlight on, its narrow beam cutting through the pitch-black room. “Got it,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Stay up here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I’ll keep an eye on everything,” Beomgyu promised, his voice a little shaky but resolute.

You stood up, your flashlight casting eerie shadows as you moved toward the booth door. The air felt colder now, heavier, as though the power outage had sucked the life out of the building.

Exiting the booth, you walked down the hall toward the staircase. Every creak of the floor beneath your feet made your stomach tighten.

The door to the basement was slightly ajar when you reached it, creaking as you pushed it open. You descended the stairs, each step echoing loudly in the stillness.

The basement smelled of damp concrete and old cardboard. The beam of your flashlight bounced across the walls, revealing cluttered shelves, dusty equipment, and the same door to the janitor's room you’d searched earlier.

Something felt... wrong.

You paused at the bottom of the stairs, your breath catching as the sensation of eyes on you. It was that prickling feeling, the kind that made the hairs on your neck stand up.

You swung the flashlight around again, the beam slicing through the shadows. Nothing. “Get it together,” you muttered under your breath.

Moving cautiously, you made your way to the breaker panel in the corner of the room. The metal door was slightly ajar, as though someone had been there recently. You frowned and reached out, pulling it open.

The switches were all flipped off. You began resetting them, flipping each one back to its original position. As the last switch clicked into place, you heard a faint sound behind you—a scuffling, like a shoe sliding against the concrete floor.

You froze.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice echoing in the stillness.

No response.

Your flashlight beam darted across the room again, settling on nothing but dusty shelves and discarded junk. The sensation of being watched was stronger than ever, the weight of unseen eyes boring into your back.

Swallowing hard, you gripped the flashlight tighter and turned back toward the stairs. “It’s just your imagination,” you told yourself. “Just nerves.”

But as you climbed the stairs, the creak of a floorboard behind you made your blood run cold. You spun around, flashlight trembling in your hand, but there was no one there.

Heart pounding, you hurried up the remaining steps and shoved the door open, stepping back into the main hall. The lights flickered back on, flooding the building with their harsh fluorescent glow.

You walked back toward the booths, your thoughts still caught on Jihoon’s words, and your pulse quickened when you noticed something strange—the door to Beomgyu’s booth was open. Beomgyu never left it open when he was working.

Curiosity and concern flared in equal measure as you stepped inside. “Beomgyu?” you called softly, but the booth was empty.

The faint smell of his cologne lingered in the air, but there was no sign of him. You frowned, glancing around, trying to spot anything out of place. The silence felt oppressive, thick, like the air itself was watching you.

Turning back toward the hallway, you froze.

A figure was walking toward you, their movements deliberate and slow, as if savoring every step. They were dressed in black, a pale white mask covering their face, and in their hand gleamed a knife.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Thinking fast, you slammed the door shut and locked it just as the figure lunged. The door rattled violently as they crashed into it, and you stumbled back, gasping, your chest heaving.

The sound of the knife scraping against the door sent shivers down your spine.

You turned, instinctively seeking safety, only to feel your stomach drop.

Someone was standing in your booth.

On the other side of the glass separating Beomgyu’s booth from yours, the killer stood, their white mask tilted ever so slightly as if they were studying you.

You stared in disbelief, your pulse pounding in your ears as the killer leaned casually against the glass. Slowly, they raised their knife and tapped the blade against the glass, the metallic tink tink tink reverberating in the confined space.

"Hey there," their distorted voice drawled, smug and taunting. “Miss me?”

You didn’t answer, too frozen by the weight of the moment.

They chuckled, the sound muffled but chilling. “C’mon, let’s make this interesting. Open the door for me. I just want to play.”

Your stomach churned, and you shook your head, your voice trembling but firm. “Where’s Beomgyu?”

The killer tilted their head, tapping the knife against the glass again. “Oh, he’s around,” they said, their tone lilting, as if they were enjoying a private joke.

Panic clawed at your insides. “What did you do to him?”

The killer leaned closer to the glass, the mask distorting their features into a sinister blur. “Why so worried? Shouldn’t you be more concerned about yourself?”

You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to hold their gaze despite the fear threatening to crush you. “What do you want?”

They leaned back slightly, tapping the glass once more, their knife dragging a slow, deliberate line down its surface. “For now? I just want to see how long you can last.”

The killer’s mask shifted slightly as he glanced toward your desk, his knife tapping idly against the glass again. “Well, well,” he said, his voice dripping with mock surprise. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

You glanced at the desk, realizing he was looking at the scattered clues you’d been piecing together: the newspaper clippings, the notes, the photo of Jaeyun.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though your hands were trembling at your sides.

The killer tilted his head, almost amused. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been digging, haven’t you? Going through things you shouldn’t, asking questions. Connecting dots. You’re smarter than they gave you credit for.”

You clenched your fists, anger bubbling up beneath your fear. “Why are you doing this?” you demanded, your voice sharper now. “What’s the point of all this? Why terrorize the town? Why kill all these people?”

The killer let out a low, humorless laugh, the sound muffled behind his mask. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

You glared at him, heart pounding. “Then explain it. Make me understand.”

The killer stood straighter, the playful tilt of his head replaced with something colder, darker. His voice dropped, the teasing edge gone. “This isn’t random. This isn’t chaos for the sake of chaos. This is revenge.”

You froze. “Revenge? For what?”

“For Jaeyun,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “For what happened to him. For what they did to his life.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. “You’re doing all of this… because of Jaeyun?”

The killer nodded slowly. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did. Alone. Cast aside. Written off as a reckless drunk when everyone knew that wasn’t who he was.”

You swallowed hard, the pieces clicking together in your mind. “You… you think someone in this town killed him. Don’t you?”

The killer laughed again, but this time it was bitter, full of venom. “Think? Oh, no. I don’t think. I know.”

Your pulse raced as you stared at him, trying to make sense of it all. “Then why target the town? Why not just go after the person responsible?”

The killer leaned closer to the glass, his voice low and menacing. “Because they all played a part. They turned a blind eye. They lied. They covered it up. And now? They’re going to pay.”

You shook your head, panic and disbelief swirling in your chest. “This isn’t justice. This is—this is insanity!”

“Call it whatever you want,” the killer said, stepping back slightly, his knife still glinting in his hand. “But by the time I’m done, everyone will know the truth. And Jaeyun will finally get the justice he deserves.”

You stared at him through the glass, trying to piece everything together. “What connects you to Jaeyun?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly. “Why are you doing this in his name? What was he to you?”

The killer chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through the air like a warning. “Oh, come on,” he said, tilting his head mockingly. “You’ve been working so hard. And yet you haven’t figured it out?”

You frowned, frustration mounting. “Stop playing games and just tell me!”

Before you could say anything else, he suddenly stopped pacing, his hand reaching up to the edge of his mask. “You want answers?” he asked, his tone laced with something dangerous. “Then pay attention.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as his fingers gripped the mask. Slowly, he pulled it off, revealing the face underneath.

Your breath caught in your throat. “No,” you whispered, stumbling back a step. “That’s not possible…”

It was Jaeyun.

His face was unmistakable, though there was something different now—harsher. His features were gaunter, his eyes darker, filled with a cold fire that sent a chill down your spine.

“But—you’re dead,” you stammered, shaking your head in disbelief. “They said you were dead. I saw the reports.”

A grim smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Dead?” he echoed, his voice dripping with venom. “I was supposed to be. The man who killed me certainly thought I was.”

“Then how are you alive?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer to the glass, his expression hard. “Sheer will,” he said, his tone icy. “I wasn’t supposed to survive that night. But I did. Barely. They threw me in the river, thinking they’d silenced me for good. But they didn’t count on me crawling out, broken, bleeding, but alive.”

Your stomach churned as you processed his words. “Who did this to you?”

Jaeyun’s jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with rage. “The man who killed me is now the town’s mayor,” he spat, his voice thick with hatred. “That promotion was supposed to be mine. I earned it. But he couldn’t stand the idea of me taking what he thought was his. So he decided to remove the competition—permanently.”

Your breath hitched. “They covered it up,” you murmured, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“Of course they did,” Jaeyun sneered. “They spun a pretty little story. Made me out to be reckless, irresponsible. A drunk who couldn’t handle himself. And everyone believed it.”

“And no one knew you were alive?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He shook his head, his expression cold. “Not a soul. They all thought they were free of me. That their secret was safe.” He leaned closer to the glass, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “But I’ve been watching. Waiting. And now, I’m back.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “You’re doing all of this… to get revenge?”

Jaeyun smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Revenge? Justice? Call it whatever you want. But this town took everything from me. My life. My future. And now, I’m going to take everything from them.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “This isn’t justice, Jaeyun. This is—this is murder.”

“They murdered me first,” he snapped, his voice sharp as a blade. “They thought they could bury me and move on. But they were wrong. And now, they’re going to pay.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. All you could do was stare at the man in front of you—the man who had risen from the dead, consumed by a need for vengeance.

Jaeyun’s gaze stayed locked on yours, his lips curving into a sly smile. He leaned against the glass, tapping his knife against it rhythmically, the sound unnerving in the silence. “Come on,” he murmured, his tone low and coaxing. “Open the door. Let’s talk properly. Face to face.”

Jaeyun’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing as you stood your ground. He straightened, stepping closer to the glass, and his voice dropped into a darker, more threatening tone. “You think you're safe in there?” He tapped the knife against the glass again, this time with more force, his breath coming faster as his frustration grew. “You really think you can stop me by just hiding?”

When you didn’t respond, he slammed his fist against the glass with a deafening crack. The force rattled the walls, sending a shiver down your spine. He glared at you, his chest heaving, rage and amusement mixed in his expression. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Open the damn door.”

You stiffened, gripping the edge of the desk in front of you as if it could anchor you. “Why would I do that?” you asked, your voice sharper than you felt. “So you can kill me too? No thanks.”

His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes glinted with something almost playful. “Kill you?” he said, feigning offense. “Why would I do that? You’re the only one who’s actually listened to me. The only one who’s tried to understand.”

“Forgive me if I don’t find that comforting,” you shot back, but your voice wavered slightly.

He tilted his head, the knife pausing mid-tap. “You’re scared,” he observed, his voice soft, almost gentle. “But you don’t have to be. I’m not your enemy.”

“Not my enemy?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’ve been terrorizing this town for days. You killed people, Jaeyun.”

“They deserved it,” he said flatly, the warmth in his tone vanishing. “Every single one of them was complicit. They lied. They covered it up. They let him get away with it.”

“And Beomgyu?” you demanded, anger rising in your chest. “What did he ever do to you?”

Jaeyun hesitated, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second. “Collateral damage,” he said eventually, his tone colder now. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“You’re right,” you said, your voice firm despite the fear twisting in your gut. “I don’t. Because what you’re doing isn’t justice—it’s just more bloodshed.”

His expression darkened, but then he sighed, as if trying to calm himself. He stepped back from the glass slightly, sheathing the knife at his side. “You’re different,” he said after a moment, his tone soft again. “You’ve got a brain. You’ve been piecing this together all night. You know I’m not lying about what happened to me. So why not help me? Why not open the door and join me?”

You stared at him, stunned. “Join you?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “You said it yourself—this isn’t justice. But maybe you could help me make it right. Maybe you could keep me… grounded.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“Am I?” he countered, stepping closer to the glass again. “Or am I the only one who’s willing to do what it takes? Think about it—you’ve seen what this town is like. Corrupt, rotten to its core. You’ve been digging up its secrets all night. Do you really think anyone else is going to pay for what they’ve done?”

You hesitated, his words stirring something in you. The town was corrupt. The mayor had gotten away with murder. And Jaeyun… as twisted as his methods were, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Seeing your hesitation, his smile returned, wider now. “That’s it,” he said softly, his voice almost soothing. “You’re starting to see it, aren’t you? This town doesn’t deserve your loyalty. They’ll betray you the first chance they get. But I won’t. You and me, we could fix this. Together.”

Your grip on the desk tightened, your knuckles white. “No,” you said finally, your voice shaking but resolute. “I’m not opening that door. I’m not like you.”

Jaeyun’s expression shifted, his smile fading. “Pity,” he murmured, his tone more disappointed than angry. “You would’ve made a good ally.”

He turned his back to you, walking toward the door to your booth. But before he left, he glanced over his shoulder, a dark smile curling his lips again. “I’ll be seeing you soon,” he said softly. “One way or another.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you trembling in the eerie silence of the room.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Taglist: @ilyunjina @nshmrarki @laylasbunbunny @kiripimaspillow

@wensurr

Wanna be in the perm taglist? Lmk <3