#muscle memory is a hell of a drug

[elizabethrobertajones]

this seems........... unfair

[fiddlin-across-faerun]

J: *playing as per usual*

A: *groaning* "More? Gods, you can wake the dead with that noise."

J: "If you can do so much better'n prove it." *handles his fiddle to Astarion*

A: "Fine, I will!" *hesitates for a moment, but then begins playing decently*

Camp: *Just as bewildered as Astarion*

J: "...that's jus' a load a horseshit." *crossing his arms*

[joeloverture]

flesh currency | j.m. x disabled!f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog | on palestine

pairing: qz!joel miller x disabled!f!reader summary: you have an arrangement with joel. pleasure as currency for your painkillers. but what happens when he tires of the same old song and dance? warnings: (18+ mdni) reader has chronic pain/uses a cane*, sexual favors for painkillers, dubcon but reader is fully comfortable even with the headspace she's in, drugs (reader takes illegal painkillers, the kind is not described), elements of both game and show joel, ableism (cr*pple), mean!joel, slight intox (reader takes 1 pill before the act but is in her right mind during), smut, degradation, underwear sniffing/musk kink, ass eating/rimming (m!receiving), instructions, humiliation, slight praise, thigh riding/leg humping, tit & ass grabbing, cumplay [no use of y/n] word count: 6.2k author's note: stimky joel. yeah. this is my grossest fic to date but it's also kind of my favorite. there's regressive language packed in here (junkie, etc) but that doesn't align with my perspective on the use of opiods when it comes to patients in pain. hell, im one of them. i hope this speaks to you as much as this is hot for you. thank u @lovesickonmybed for being my rock as always. pics in moodboard arent mine. *don't let this put you off, please. being disabled in the apocalypse is not as far fetched as fungal zombies. it's always useful to read experiences that aren't yours.

“You need to go home, lady.”

The FEDRA fuck glowering down at you is bulky and glistening with sweat. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, chapped lips twisted into a snarl. The hustle and bustle of the mess hall is persistent, a thrum of chatter and scraping utensils that batters your skull. A rag hangs limp from your hands — saturated with dirty water and diluted cleaner.

You lean heavier against your cane and wince as the handle digs deeper into the calloused heel of your palm. “Why?” you ask, tilting your head up.

“Can’t have any fucking cripples slowing us down. You knocked over that spray bottle five separate times. Been counting.” Cripple. The word hurts almost as much as the burning, burning, burning in your legs and arms. Almost.

He gestures vaguely towards the busted spray bottle of cleaner. You hadn’t noticed it fall down on the bench as you were tying yourself into knots just trying to wipe it down.

“But I need rati-”

“Don’t care what you need. You’re slowing people down. Got more suitable workers lined up outside the door. Get going, or I’ll have you removed.”

The spray bottle is capsized much like you, tilted and leaking onto the bench. A needling sensation pedals itself into the back of your knee and you can’t stop yourself from wincing.

You squeeze the rag in your hands and chuck it onto the table before you limp out of there.

Pain isn’t something that happens to you anymore.

It’s inextricable from yourself. Sewn into your muscles, bone marrow, and tissue. Stabbed into the pincushions of your fleshy joints. You’ve become the pain scale, the same one that hang in the FEDRA-installed medical tents.

Usually, your pain is a bearable backdrop to the show that is trying to survive in the QZ. Lately, though, it’s become the centerpiece. Just as inescapable as this hellhole you’re stuck in.

You weren’t always like this. There are flickers in your memory of sob stories on the news. Kids in wheelchairs or dragging themselves along with arm crutches before they even got their braces. Something happened to you after the world ended. Something that derailed you, sent you scattered into a thousand pieces and left you in the shrapnel spray of your own making.

You try not to think about it.

It’s hard not to on days like this, though. There’s books in the semi-refurbished libraries and abandoned bookstores that talk about how people like you used to live. They’d have benefits programs (laden with flaws, of course) that kept them afloat. Caretakers, sometimes. Elevators used to work without generator power. You envy them.

There are endless more in this QZ just like you. Limping, shambling, flailing. Drowning in the black sea of FEDRA suits.

Right now, you’re crawling.

Up the stairs of a derelict apartment building. Trash lines the sides of the stairs, crumpled and mashed into the ground by heavy-footed boots. You tangle your hand in a cobweb and wipe it on your jacket, cane thunking against the stairs as you haul yourself up. When your knee bashes against the edge of a stair, your hands grapple against the air as you fight an invisible entity. A frustrated, exhausted noise crumbles in the back of your throat.

Floorboards creak behind you, and you cringe.

“Fuck are you doin’?”

You roll over and muster a rueful smile. “Hi, Joel.”

The first time you went to Joel, he was your last resort.

“I need something for pain. Anything.”

He’d looked at you like he saw right through you. Now, knowing what you do about him, you’re sure that he did. Like a pane of stained glass that he’d held up to the sun.

He’d rifled through his mattress for a couple minutes. “Got you for sixty.”

You couldn’t do sixty.

When you told him that, he’d only shrugged at you. “Ain’t my problem, kid. Either scrounge it up or quit wastin’ my time.”

“I– I–”

You were never very seductive. Not even before your body turned into… this. This cataclysmic, living horror that disorients you in every waking moment.

You settled for unzipping your jacket. Tugging down your tank top. Showing your tits.

A wordless ordeal, one where your cheeks flamed hot and you felt like he’d taken a scalpel to your skin. But you always felt like that, at least.

“Ah, now we’re talking.” The chair scraped against the floor as he stood, meeting you in two strides. He’d looked at you with heat in his dark eyes, so dark that you could see yourself leaving your dignity in a pile at his feet. He’d reached across the empty space between the two of you and grabbed a handful of your tit, thumbing at your peaking nipple. “A junkie and a whore. You’re cute, I’ll give you that.”

You hadn’t been scared to spread your legs. To let him into the warmth festering in your core. It hurt, all of it did, it always does. But for a brief, blistering moment, when he was balls deep inside of you, the pleasure swelling in your stomach had been enough to dim the lights of the pain.

Since then, you just kept going back. A leech he just couldn’t shake.

“Jesus, girl. C’mon, up on your feet.” He patted you on the shoulder, grabbing your cane for you. He holds his hand out. You swallow your pride and accept the help, letting him drag you up. You wrap your arm around his shoulders and your free hand around the banister, letting him pull most of the legwork. “Stumblin’ around like a goddamn stalker.”

You grumble under your breath, a jumble of words too incoherent to mean anything sufficient. At the top of the stairs, he thrusts your cane back into your hand and heads down the hall without you. You glare at his shoulders before limping after him. One dragging step after another. The tread of your boot dips into a greasy looking puddle.

Joel fumbles for the key into his apartment, and you lean against the wall while he sorts himself out. At least he’s not covered in blood today. There’ve been times where you’ve shown up when he’s fresh off of a supply run, smoking gun sticking out of his waistband.

You use your cane to knock the door shut behind you.

“You’re lookin’...” He surveys you. “worse for wear.”

“Fuck you, too,” you say. A pause, punctuated by casual crossfire outside. “I need more.”

Joel huffs a laugh. “‘Course you do.”

He’s never given you that sort of attitude before. You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Please, I–”

“I ain’t a one man Salvation Army. Everyone’s got needs.”

“I’ll… I can…”

“What? Suck me off? You got a pretty mouth, baby, but I got about twelve girls who can do the same thing.”

“FEDRA won’t let me work,” you blurt out. Sympathy with Joel isn’t even a one way street. It’s a path that hasn’t been foot trodden. “They… they kicked me out when I tried, I’m trying, Joel, I swear I a–”

“Deep breaths,” he says. He folds his arms over his chest and jerks his head toward the slouching couch in the room. “Sit down. Can’t talk to ya if you’re fuckin’ hyperventilating.”

You prop your cane up against the armrest and drop yourself into the cushions. You dig your palms into your eye sockets and suppress a scream.

“I’m working at a deficit with you.”

“I know,” you grit out.

“I put up with a lot, but you’re drainin’ me dry here.”

“You’re right,” you relent. “I’ll find someone else. Sorry… for the trouble.” You reach for your cane again, but then he’s tugging it out of your reach.

“You’re waddling around like a fuckin’ fool flingin’ your legs open for any guy whose got what you need, gonna get yourself killed out there. Lotsa guys have less of a tolerance for girls like you than I do. I’m not runnin’ you out the door.”

“Then what are you doing, Joel?” you ask, hand still hanging in the open, wrapped around the empty air where your cane should be.

He sets the cane in your hand, and you deposit it at your side again. “Givin’ you a wake up call,” he says. “What’re you willing to do for your fix?”

“I…” Just three short months ago, before you’d sought out the much-feared Joel Miller, you would’ve said nothing. Just three months ago, your pain was bearable, livable, mere tinnitus. Now it is a bonfire. Roaring in the kindling of your ribcage. “Anything.” You swallow, worrying your tongue against your teeth. “I just want to feel normal.”

“Tough shit,” he says.

You have nothing to say to that. You only sit there, biting into the inside of your cheek. Knives sink into your skin with each breath. It hurts to be alive, it is anguish to be alive, and you just want to swallow a pill down dry. Enough to dull the edge, enough to make things tolerable. You stare at your feet as the room swirls.

“Alright,” Joel says after a moment. “You look beat, and I’d be a worse man than I already am if I ‘took payment’ now. I’ll give you one.”

Your eyes light up.

“You’re gonna take a quick nap in my room while I pull some strings, yeah? Let it kick in. Then we’ll see about what you can do to earn the rest if you’re up for it.”

Maybe sympathy can be a two way street. You’ve heard everything about him. Seen the occasional wanted poster floating through the street before FEDRA moved on to the Firefly of the week. Likely heard gunshots fired from the barrel of his gun.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he plucks one from a baggie. He drops it in your hand and you can’t help but wrap it in your fist. The inherent value of what he has given you.

He sees you eyeing it, sees you thinking, and says, “Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

And you do wake in an hour, scar-serrated, gun-hardened hand on your cheek. It’s instinctive to roll away, or at least it should be with someone who’s as bloodstained as Joel. Instead, you find yourself nuzzling into his palm before you’re even fully awake, when the walls of his apartment are only a border of the shapeless dream you’d been having.

“Rise ‘n shine, sleepyhead,” Joel says. He taps you on the apple of your cheek, and you find yourself blinking the crust from your eyes. Your fists go to rub at them. “Feeling any better?”

It’s not entirely gone — it never entirely is. It’s always the sand dollar nestled in the sand. The grain of sand lodged inside of the crevices. The clutch of your high is less of a clutch than it is a hangnail caught on a thread. It’s only a fracturing lightheadedness instead of a backslide into euphoria. You feel perfectly grounded, body taken off of the perpetual razor blade edge it rests on and airlifted onto a sturdy mattress.

“Yeah,” you croak, clearing your throat of any trace of grogginess. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says. “I got twelve slow release tablets for you. Should be enough to get you strong enough to work the ration lines for a couple days.”

“I promise I’ll make this worth your while– agh.” You say, whimpering as you try to sit up. 

Joel keeps you down with a hand on your shoulder. “Oh yeah? And what exactly are you offerin’ me this time, huh? More of those pretty tits? A taste of that leaky little cunt?”

“Anything you want,” you blurt out. A hefty statement with even heftier implications. But just one pill has shredded your pain from glass sticking out of your skin into little pinpricks. A miracle confined to a little circular pill.

Joel cocks his head at you. “Anything, huh? You’d sell your soul for a hit, wouldn’t you? Let me do whatever the fuck I wanted to that pretty ‘lil body of yours?”

A better person, the upstanding salt of the earth, would’ve walked away long ago. But you can scarcely walk on a good day, so all you can do is bob your head at him.

A smirk slices across his face. Joel reaches out to you to grip your chin, thumb pressing into bone. It’s satisfying in a twisted sort of way. Your eyes go all glassy and your lips form a picturesque pout. “Well ain’t that just precious,” he croons at you. “You think you’re the first desperate junkie to offer me the world for a cheap high?”

“No,” you mumble. “But that’s not… that’s not what this is. I have a good reason —”

Joel snorts at you. “Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that. Might not be the first one to come crawlin’ — literally — to me, but you might be the most pathetic. Tits and ass, that’s all you got to trade. Tell me sweetheart, how long ‘fore those goods wear thin?”

“According to you, they already have,” you fire back.

“Oh, they definitely have,” he says, voice so stony that it’s on the verge of being a leer. “But that don’t mean I can’t squeeze a little more outta you. You see, kid, I got a special request today. Something that requires a… different kinda payment.”

You worry your lip, teeth scraping over skin. You’re already in this deep. There’s so little you have to lose, pride included. Eventually, you take a deep breath and steel yourself. “Please, Joel. Just… just tell me what I can do.”

He leans in close, breath hot against your ear as he hangs onto your chin. “You’re gonna eat my ass, baby. And you’re gonna do it with a smile on your face, you understand?”

You stare, blinking once and then twice. He– you– what? “Excuse me?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“You heard me right, sweetheart. I want to see that pretty little mouth wrapped around my asshole, suckin’ and slurpin’.” He squeezes your chin. “That make enough sense to get through your drug-addled head?”

You squirm under his scrutiny, face heating up as if you’ve been held over an open flame. He’s looking at you as if he’s got you all figured out. Knowing him, he does. After you’re certain his handprint has started to stain your jaw, you say, “...Why?”

He shrugs. “Why not? ‘Cause I can pull any crackhead off the street and shove ‘er down on my cock until snot’s runnin’ out of her nose and her belly’s full of my cum. Can’t just find any girl who’s willing to knock on my backdoor. Takes a real nasty degenerate bitch to do that. And you’re a desperate little druggie willin’ to do anythin’ for a fix. You said it yourself.” He chuckles under his breath. “Seems like a match made in heaven to me.”

You swallow. Work the saliva in your mouth. “I… I’ve never, um–”

Joel’s head goes back with a grating, harsh laugh. “Never ate any ass before? Oh, you’re a dainty ‘lil thing, ain’t ya? Don’t worry your pretty head, sweetheart. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

“I didn’t think you’d be the type to… want that sort of treatment.” Joel’s rough in bed, yes. Probably less rough with you than the other girls he sees, considering your predicament. You just hadn’t marked him as the type to want anyone near his ass.

Joel laughs. “I sure as hell ain’t. But here’s the thing, sweetheart. I don’t just want your tongue proddin’ around between my legs. I want to see your slutty little face smushed between my cheeks while you debase yourself for your hit.”

And that… makes more sense. This isn’t about his pleasure. It sure as hell isn’t about yours. It’s about him getting off on making you suffer, making you do something uncomfortable, something many would dub unpleasant.

Maybe you are a nasty fucked up degenerate bitch, because slick leaks into the gusset of your panties.

“Think you wanna do that for me?” he asks, dragging his hand from your chin, down your side, to where he gives your hip a light squeeze. “For you?”

“Yeah,” you say, a little breathless and plenty dizzy. Then, when you gather your wits, you nod firmly and speak louder. “Yeah.”

“Attagirl. Knew you were an obedient little pill chaser.” He gives your hip a tiny little smack. “C’mon, strip for me. Show me what we’re workin’ with.”

This part, you’ve done.

You fiddle with the hem of your tank top and lure it over your head before dropping it on the floor. You wriggle out of your bra, letting your tits fall loose. Joel nods his approval as you kick off your boots. You move on to your jeans, flicking the button. Dragging them down your thighs, savoring the hitch of denim on blemished skin. You have no problem showing off for him in this way, heels knocking your waistband down and leaving the pants in a lump on the floor. You’re left in your panties, the wet spot with the evidence of your slick shining through.

“Oh, baby,” Joel laughs. You shiver. “Ain’t even done anything to you… fuck, maybe you were meant to be a little ass eating slut. Filthy thing.”

You avert your eyes, face flaming, body boiling from the inside out. He’s standing hip-level with you, his semi visible in the stretch of his jeans. “Hey,” he says, hand gliding up your side. He taps your cheek with a bent knuckle. “No reason t’ be scared. First time for everything, yeah? Not gonna bite ya.”

You’re not scared. Just demeaned and humbled — exactly where he wants you to be.

He undoes his jeans, zipper snarling as it loosens, and knocks them and his boots off in a pile next to yours. He makes no move to take off his briefs or shirt, just taps your thigh. “Scoot,” he says. You shuffle over. “Gonna lay on my back. Figure that’ll be comfiest for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Um, thanks.”

Despite his reputation, despite how he treats you like a fucking cum rag, and despite this being a business transaction, he never neglects your own comfort. He never blocks the door. He never traps you in this situation.

Joel climbs onto the bed, sprawls out among the flattened pillow below. You go back on your haunches before adjusting yourself onto your stomach. You look at him and his rising bulge as he gets comfortable.

“I, uh, what do I–” You’re bumbling, and you know it. Seduction, even after a few transactions with Joel, still isn’t your domain.

“Alright, you little ass kisser in training. Gonna ease you into this. First thing you gotta do is get comfortable with the smell,” he says.

You give him a look.

“Like I said, you’re drainin’ me dry. Soap’s not the cheapest find, baby. Gotta make due. Besides, who needs bar soap when I’ve got your eager little tongue ready to wash me up?”

“Jooooel,” you whine, nose crunching.

“Nuh uh. No complainin’. I’m doin’ you a solid here, unless you’d rather me shove you face-first between my cheeks?” You shake your head, and he raises his brows at you. “Thought so.”

Joel slowly peels off his briefs, and your mouth can’t help but water at the sight of his mostly-hard cock. You remember the heft of it inside of you, the way he’d made room for himself inside of your body. And then your eyes trail lower to how his bulky thighs branch into the meat of his ass.

He hands you his briefs and gives you an expectant look. “Go ‘head. Sniff ‘em.” 

“I– really?” you ask. They’re heavy in your hand and the exact sort of thing you’d expected him to wear. An off-white color, discolored by years of sitting around in a post apocalyptic world. A little bit stretched out with a hole in the waistband.

“Really. C’mon, kid, I don’t have endless patience.”

You change you grip on them and tentatively bring them to your nose, inhaling the musk that he’s embedded into the fabric from days of wear. It’s sharp and pungent, but underlined with a faint trace of sweetness. His musk is almost sugary, with the way it cloys inside of your lungs. Your hesitant sniffs turn into fuller, deeper breaths.

A cocky grin crosses his face. “And that’s just the appetizer, baby. Wait until you get a real mouthful of me.”

You whimper into the fabric, snuffling against it. Feeling yourself drift into that floaty, cotton-candy state of mind that you nosedive into whenever you’re with him. You watch, enraptured, as he spreads himself apart. His pucker is nestled in a thatch of hair and skin, tanner and darker than the rest of him. “See that?” he asks “That’s where you’re tongue’s headin’ baby.”

You let out a tiny little whimper. Joel laughs at you and a fresh wave of slick saturates your panties.

“This is the real deal, sweetheart. Go ahead. Give it a whiff.” You dip your head lower than it already is, nerves winding around your chest. You take a tiny, halfhearted breath. “How’re you gonna kiss it if you can’t even breathe it in, baby? Just get your nose in there, first. Think of it as an initiation.” He reaches back and gently grabs the back of your neck, tugging you closer. Before you know it, your nostrils are mashed against his hole, and every breath you take is muddied by him. You whine, a keening noise that traps itself in your throat.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Deep breaths, now. Let me defile that pretty nose.” You listen to him, controlling your breaths and drawing them in deep. “You’re gonna learn to love this. Nasty fuckin’ girls always do.”

You pull back when he loosens your grip on his neck, panting and dizzy off of him. You feel cross-eyed, almost. Swooning over the sensation of being buried between his legs. 

“Look at you,” he coos. “Really are just a pathetic ‘lil fucktoy. All worked up and drooling over my ass.”

“I,” you start, but your voice tapers off when you realize you can’t argue that. You are pathetic, damn near slobbering over him just for a chance at pain relief.

“Say it before your mouth gets busy,” he says. “You know what you are, sweetheart. Tell me.”

“I’m your pathetic little fuck toy,” you whisper. You can’t disobey him, not if you want your drugs. But he isn’t wrong. How could he be, when you’re so far underneath him right now?

“And?” he nudges.

“And — I want to eat your ass.” The words come out all stumbling and embarrassed, muffled by your own shame. But they only make you wetter.

He smiles down at you. “Attagirl. Now why don’t you kiss the outside for me. Get used to usin’ that cute little mouth.”

You’re a squeamish person. It’s in your nature; unfortunately a nature that’s contradictory to the nature of the world that you live in. Still, you swallow whatever scraps remain of your dwindling pride and kiss up his sun kissed thighs. You plant your lips above the crook of his knee and poke your tongue out, laying a trail of saliva and heat up to the crease of his thigh. Joel sighs as you draw a spiral with your tongue. You glance up at him through lidded eyes and are almost startled by the unadulterated want that glaze his own eyes.

“Gettin’ closer, baby,” Joel says. His hand goes up to cup the back of your neck, thumb rubbing circles into your neck. “Knew I chose right with you. Got a curious mouth on ya.”

You nuzzle up to his ass cheek, pressing a timid kiss against the swell of it. You bite gently at your lower lip when you separate from him. Your breaths have quickened, now, and he gives the back of your neck a reassuring little squeeze.

“Spread ‘em,” Joel coaxes, so you do. You press your thumbs into supple, fuzzy skin and spread him open for your scrutiny. You can’t help but lick your lips and come to regret it the second he chuckles. “Hungry, aintcha?” And maybe you are. But still, you hesitate when you lean in, taking a deep breath that is entirely steeped in his musk.

“Like a deer in headlights,” Joel mumbles. “Gonna make my hole blink at you or what, baby?”

“You’re crass,” you say, teeth digging into your lower lip.

“What’s crass is how your sloppy cunt is leakin’ waterfalls all over my bedspread.” He smirks at you when you pull a face. “Now go on, baby, I know you wanna eat it right on up.” 

You try to ignore the distinct kickdrum of your throbbing clit where it’s buried between your thighs. Your head dips, and you kiss up his cleft. Occasionally, your tongue flicks out. He tastes how he smells. Like the same sweat and musk that everyone has from living in the QZ with an undercurrent of almost honeyed warmth. You lick up the inside of one of his cheeks, pride rushing through your gut when your tongue at the edge of his asshole makes him moan.

“Quit avoidin’ it, sweetheart. I got places to be. Jus’ pretend it’s a peach ring.” You’re dizzy, head swimming off of the sensation of being this close to him in this way. “Give it a ‘lil kiss. Just a smooch.”

You lean in and press your lips against his pucker, a tiny whine lodging in your throat. Joel grunts above you. It’s humiliating, being this low beneath him, this debased. There’s not much further you can go, so you flatten your tongue against his tight hole and spin it around his skin. You’re drooling all over him, tongue sweeping across wrinkled flesh. “Fuck, attagirl, just like that.”

He tastes good. Savory almost. You lap against him, tongue laving across the furrows of his ass. It’s just as satisfactory as the time he’d shoved his cock down your throat and held you down until you were choking and teary eyed. If not more. Because he was right earlier — fewer girls would do this for a fix. And you’re one of them, on hands and knees while your tongue probes his most private place, licks all the sweat and grime from between his cheeks. You can’t help but moan.

“Told you you’d love it,” he says. “Told ya you fuckin’ would. God, you’re a needy little bitch. For your fix… for me.”

You whine in protest, but it comes out much more pathetic than that with your tongue slipping up and down his crack. Your hand goes up instinctively to play with his balls, squeezing and fondling with each pass of your tongue. Joel groans, hips jumping against you. “Yeah, that’s it. Eager slut… feelin’ me up…”

You whimper into him, muffled with how your face is buried between his cheeks. Your tongue lashes out again, whirling around his entrance. Your eyes flutter in time with your cunt. You want more, you’re just as hooked on him as you are on the sensation of being painless. You flick your tongue, lips peppering him with open-mouthed kisses as you work.

Joel hisses as you lightly test his entrance. “God.” His hips jerk again, sporadic. “Fuck — shit,” he groans. “Natural ass licker, aren’t you? Yeah, you are. Oughta tie you to my backside, have you doin’ this all the time.”

You mewl at the thought, thighs clamping together. Your free hand wriggles down to rub at your bare clit. You get two rubs in before Joel kicks your hand away. “Nuh uh. This ain’t about you.” Joel smirks. “All that bitchin’ about it, but you’re pretty fuckin’ horny for your tongue up my ass.” He hikes his legs under your arms. Confusion spreads across your face until he locks his ankles around your back and tugs you face first into his ass. 

“Mmph!”

“Don’t suffocate. Be out of a pocket pussy if you do.”

Fuck. You clench, leaking all over his sheets. Your eyes can’t help but roll back.

“Look at you… bet you could get high off ‘a doin’ this if you tried hard eno– ungh.” Joel fully convulses when you wrap your lips around his asshole and suck. “Goddamn. Nasty whore really earnin’ them pills,” he grits out. You giggle into him when you see his cock twitch, precum oozing down the side of it. It leaks between his legs and onto your tongue, and you slurp him up eagerly.

You’re so aroused that it hurts, slick spilling in droves down the insides of your legs while you tongue him eagerly. Your hips rock subtly against the bed, and Joel’s head is too thrown back to notice your violation. He rocks his hips up into your mouth as you wriggle your tongue inside of his hole, probing the tightness of him as thoroughly as you can while he twists underneath you. “There you go, fuck me with your slutty tongue, baby. Get it in deep.” He groans as you drag your tongue along his insides. “Bet you’re gonna be sucklin’ on a pillow later. Thinking ‘bout my ass with your hands between your legs, rubbin’ that cock starved cunt.”

“Bet you’re wishing I’d pound that pussy now, huh? Wishing I’d shoot a load up that messy little slit?” You nod, tongue swiping up and down. You fuck your tongue in and out of him, moaning as you get the smallest friction from the sheets bunched up between your legs. His ankles tighten around your shoulders, holding you down with no escape. 

You manage to wriggle in his grasp enough to spat a lob of spit into your hand. You reach up around his waist and wrap your fist around his cock, jerking him. Joel jumps, his hole rubbing against your tongue as he lets out a wrecked moan. Your thumb traces his head. Sounding strangled, he curses, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Goddammit, you were made to eat ass. Wish I could have your tongue up there 24/7…. Show you off, baby. Bet some other smugglers would love to take your tongue for a ride, but no. Your pretty little mouth only opens wide for me, huh? Whenever I say jump, you ask me how high, dontcha?”

You moan in assent, tightening your grip on his cock as you stroke him. Your tongue works even harder, messy as you draw circles of spit around his rim. You suck with your lips locked around him, watch his abdomen twitch as you do, watch precum ooze from the head of his cock. You collect it on your thumb and use it to work him faster. Your tongue runs laps around him, his eyes fully on you. “God, baby, fuck, I’m comin’, I’m, co–”

With your tongue deep in his ass and your hand wrapped around his cock, Joel comes. Spurts of it leak out, some of it landing on your tits. You whimper and work him through it, through each groan and hitch of his hips, through each spasm and aftershock that coils through his body and snaps at him. His chest heaves as he looks at you, damn near starstruck.

“Grand prize ass eater right here. Nasty bitch, salivatin’ on my dirty hol—”

“Joel, please,” you cut him off, starry eyed all on your own.

“What? Already givin’ you your pills, ain’t no need to beg me for ‘em.”

“I–” you say. “I’m really wet.” You’re teary-eyed, maybe from the action of humiliating yourself, but much more likely from arousal, wound tighter than a coiled snake in your stomach. 

Joel groans, and you swear his softening cock gives a mild twitch. “C’mon.” He swings his legs off of your shoulders and jerks his thigh, tapping it with a thick palm. “Get on up here.”

You an hour ago might’ve stood up for yourself, insisting that you at least deserve his fingers, but you right now was just tongue deep in Joel’s ripe asshole. So you scramble to mount his thigh, letting out a choked moan the second your swollen clit makes contact with his sweaty skin. You immediately start grinding yourself on him, feeling your slick squelch between your skin and his.

“Pathetic whore. Bet your tongue still tastes like my asshole, but you like that, don’t you? You like being my disgusting little junkie bitch.” You nod, bunching your hands into the fabric of his cum spattered t-shirt, tugging at it, tugging at him. “God, listen to you,” he says. Your broken-up moans, the sound of your wet pussy leaking and leeching against his leg. Your breaths are charred with the heat of pure, debauched need. It’s lewd, and you can see the shadow of yourself rocking your hips into him.

“Joel, oh God, Joel,” you moan, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you roll your hips. Your clit catches on his skin and he groans. 

“Gonna shove your face in the fuckin’ puddle you’re making,” he says. You clench hard enough that your eyes squeeze shut. His hands, once still at his side, move along to anchor at yours. He yanks you against him, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass cheeks. You’re wobbly and woozy, shaking as you hump him. “C’mon, c’mon. You need it, don’t you? About to cream all over your dealer.”

And you are. You’re so, so close, with pleasure strung so tight through your body that it could snap at any second. It’s coarse and ragged, a sort of friction that stings and catches on your insides. Your tongue’s hanging out, you’re leaking all over him, and you’re pumping your hips even faster. He smacks your ass hard enough that your ears ring.

Your head hangs low and you make a noise akin to a kicked puppy. One of his hands moves to your cumstained chest, rubs his cum into your aching, hardened nipple. “Give it to me, you depraved fuckin’ slut. Little pervert, rubbin’ that cute little clit on me.” He tenses his leg, and you’re done for. 

“Joel!” you whine as you topple over that edge, flailing, kicking, screaming.

Joel grunts. “Attagirl. Soak me.” He keeps rutting you against him through the aftershocks, even after you go limp and slump against his front. You’re both sweat-slick, and you’re still shaking. A giddiness swipes through your body as you clench and clench. You’re out of your own body. This is a pleasure beyond the pleasures you have known.

Your mouth still tastes like him on the comedown.

You heave for air, winded as you look at him through darkened eyes. Joel pats you on the ass and pushes you off of him. “Oomph.” He grabs you by the back of the neck again, and, true to his promise, pushes you face-first against his thigh.

“Look at this,” he snarls. His thigh is glistening with your arousal and release, viscous and slippery. You whimper as you smell yourself on his skin. “Lick it up.”

That makes you clench again. You stick out your lolling tongue and lave over his leg, scooping up your cum with your own tongue. You whimper and pout at him, and find yourself dizzy with need when he laughs at you.

Then, you hit the mattress and the ceiling seems to spin over your head.

Joel gets up and groans. You think you hear his knees pop. A few footsteps later, and you’re all alone in his bedroom, cocooned in sweat-wet sheets. There’s an emptiness inside of you, one that sticks everywhere. The silence crackles along your eardrums.

“Here,” he says, and then you’re back inside of yourself. Your eyes flicker open and you’re watching him from upside down. He props your cane up on his nightstand and chucks a box of tissues at you. You grab a fistful of them and wipe down your chest, then your inner thighs.

He tosses you your clothes, next. You shiver and tug your shirt over your head with only some difficulty. When it comes to your legs, just lifting one makes it crash back down at your side. You bleat, squeezing your eyes shut through the pain. Maybe riding him had been… overzealous. But the painkillers had made you indomitable — or at least feel indomitable.

“Hey,” Joel says. “Let me help.” It’s a foreign tone from him. Softer than what you’re used to. He redresses you, even laces up your boots for you. When all’s said and done, he pats you on the ass. The silence is a blanket, a warmth of sorts.

“Thank you,” you mumble. “I… I’m sorry I don’t have any more to offer you.”

“Kid,” he says. “I agreed to this. I ain’t mad at you. And, hell, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that. I’d say it was worth it, even if you’re robbin’ me blind over here.” 

He pulls out the baggie of pills and folds them in your hand. “Try to stay safe out there.” You nod at him and lean yourself on your cane as you stand. You swing it in time with your steps.

“I will,” you say. It feels like more of a hollow promise, if anything.

As your hand lands on the doorknob, he says, “My door’s open. Come back when you need more.”

Whether he means more pills or more of him, you’re not sure. Maybe he’s not sure, either. But you’re hooked on something, you think. And you pretty sure it’s not the drugs.

[kiwanopie]

Overnight Lovin’

Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

cw: smut, alcohol mention, oral sex(f!receving), dumbification, dirty talk, whipped!Kiyoomi, mutually cumdrunk, PnV sex, creampie. Minors do not interact.

wc: 3.2k

This is not your bedroom.

As much as you’d kill for it to be. Silk cotton stuffed duvet a rich maroon in accordance to equally as soft sheets. Carefully shined mahogany floors checkered in wine colored Persian, a bedroom that’s more fantasy love suite than any commonplace bedroom and fuck if this mattress isn’t like heaven to lay on.

But this isn’t your bedroom.

You point your nose to the oversized shirt flooding a little under your collarbones. It’s just a simple horror tee. Dark colored kanji hovering over an illustration of Jason half obscured by cartoon blood and soft to the cotton touch. It’s big enough to cover a good portion of your thighs that are… not dressed with anything. Huh. Yeah, you are- You feel up your modest covering with a quick pat down of your hands. - Completely naked under this. And honestly a little sore. A certain shift of your hips has your pelvic area throbbing back at you like it’s already tapping out, fingerprint bruises on your thighs that feel tender when you poke them; even your tits are sore - nipples perking under your shirt like they’ve already been prodded and played with. Whoever the hell you went home with last night gave you a run for your money.

Come to think of it, what the hell even happened last night? Last you remember you were twisting your hips against a bar stool while your college buddies raved on ecstasy and coke on the dance floor. — A Shirley temple was enough to start your party high without indulging in any illicit drugs, but you’ve never been much of a drinker. That fizzy cherry vodka already had you buzzing, a few more of those and who knows what’ll happen.

You bite your lip against the grain of new life and newer feelings of lechery. You look too good and too soft not to be bent over a sink somewhere.

“That sweet?” His voice turns your fine hairs into goosebumps. “Looks tasty.”

You gaze up at him with doey eyes so filled with mirth that it makes his palms sweat. “It is.”

You slide your bottom lip through your teeth. Voice as pretty as you are. “You want a sip?”

He’s the smell of Dior and vetiver as he lifts the glass cuplet out of your hands. “Sure.”

You don’t remember who he was or what he looked like but just the memory of his raspy voice turns your sore throbbing into a needy ache. — If the way the sink in his bathroom abruptly stops with a moment of sluggish shuffling, you’re about to find out who exactly it was that rocked your world last night.

You’re already looking up at him when the door opens with a neat click, his muscled limbs stretch his boxers in a way that can only be described as appetizing.

And then you get a good look at his face.

Oh. Holy shit.

There’s… That’s-… How? He looks exactly like he does on his team’s magazine covers. JSM’s top ten lists, Bungeishunjū, and news outlets that brandish his face for a chance at watchability. He’s even more handsome in person. Trademark resting bitch face does little to dilute how painfully attractive he is and if anything the intimidation factor is a bonus. As well as the fame, the money, and of course his position as one of the top most well known athletes in all of Asia.

His name precedes him, the renowned Olympic volleyball player feels even taller than the humble 6’4 his Wikipedia pages cite him as,

He’s Sakusa Kiyoomi.

If it weren’t for the disorienting confusion you may have screamed. This is the guy who fucked you last night within an inch of your life.

Your voice is a little raspy which is expected, but when you open your mouth your jaw is sore. “Ohayō Gozaimasu-“

He clears the floor from the bathroom to the bed in just a few footsteps, you can barely react when he’s grabbing you by the jaw and tilting your head up for a better angle.

And then he’s kissing you.

The kiss is slow and sensual, so sultry that you moan a little in his mouth and he breathes into it with a deep hum. He’s kissing you like he loves you, like he’s crazy about you and like he just can’t get enough. The current of the kiss follows a savory kind of spit swapping that turns your inner thighs misty, and he pulls away with a soft smack that all but leaves a gossamer trail.

His thumb rubs circles on the soft of your cheek. “Ohayō.”

Your heart skips at the little peck he leaves on your lips before finally pulling away.

He runs a large hand through his tousled hair as he moves for a dresser near the vanity. “I ordered us some breakfast that should be here within the hour,”

He pulls out a shirt. “I’d make you some breakfast from scratch but,” Sakusa tugs it over his head. “I figured it’d be cruel to subject you to my cooking this early on.”

You blow a humored breath out of your nose. “I appreciate the sentiment regardless,”

He approaches the bed again and sits himself down across from you, there are love bites on his neck that probably match yours. “I hope you slept well.” He hums. “I slept like a rock because of you, actually.”

Oh god, you don’t even wanna know what kind of raunchy shit you were up to last night.

“I slept like the dead.” You crawl up to him, he’s already opening his arms for you. “Whatever you did put me out like a light.”

You fit in his arms so well it’s almost scary, he wraps his arms around you like he might never let you go. “Uh, Sakusa-san?”

He furrows. “Last name?”

You smile apologetically. “Kiyoomi,” You correct yourself. “I don’t… remember a lot of last night. We came back here from the club, right?”

“You…?” Kiyoomi’s eyebrows shoot up incredulously. “You don’t remember?”

“Not a lot.” You shake your head.

He frowns.

But even still his hand rubs fond lines up and down your back, still holding you just as faithfully, and looking up at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. “We marathoned a few drinks and then I had us dropped off at my place. I think… we started in the car, and then in my living room, and then the kitchen, the hallway, my bedroom finally; and then after a few hours we finished each other off in the shower. Around five we kissed until you eventually fell asleep.”

Kiyoomi traces the curves of your lips as he gazes fondly. “Last night was the best night of my life, I think. I don’t know if I’ve ever been with someone who could make me feel so good.” He proclaims. “I hope it’ll all come to you eventually, it was really something special.”

Well with the way he’s been treating you up to this point, it’s not like you’ll have a hard time believing that. Every earnest caress and look of adoration, the way his voice timbres into a loving hum, so smooth it makes you shiver. Hopefully those memories do come back at some point. You’ll never live it down if you actually missed the best night of your life.

You muse it with a little pout at the thought of that, Kiyoomi debates leaning forward and sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. “Hopefully I do remember then. It sounds like we had a lot of fun,”

Your pout drops after a short moment of consideration and you lean in even closer. The soft tip of your nose grazes in feather strokes as you skim it over his and slowly ease your lips down the path way to his, tasting his shuddering breaths as you hover there for a few painful seconds. But he all but melts when you finally meet. A chaste lingering kiss at first, a few sensuous short ones; you do him the courtesy and suck his bottom lip in your mouth instead. — Letting it snap back before you’re starting a trail down his cheek and kissing up until you're nosing under his jaw, using your loving hand to tilt his head up and give you the access that you seek.

He could buy you a ring right now, he wouldn’t even regret it. You don't even remember what you two got up to last night and still you’re caressing him in a way that gives him goosebumps. If you keep this up, he might wind up funding your entire life.

You bring your head up again and pull him into another kiss. Slow and open mouthed, and he damn near purrs when you start pushing your fingers through his hair. “Regardless, you feel amazing.” You whisper against his lips.

God, you might be trying to kill him. “I wouldn’t mind a refresher if you’re up for it.”

He sighs through his nose as he ducks his head to burrow himself into the crevasse over your shoulder, already peppering in searing kisses down your throat. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

Kiyoomi sucks in a love bite that makes you whimper so pretty. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good you can’t take it.”

With the way you’re already making a mess in his lap, you believe him.

—

He’s a good kisser.

Regardless of where his lips end up. He’s a little messy, a little heavy with tongue, slow when it matters and firm when it counts. He’s great with his mouth. Surprising since he’s known for being somewhat of a recluse in the opinion of the public eye. Some call him aloof, others call him cold, the majority call him intimidating, but right now what comes to your mind is giving.

The way he spits on your already messy pussy makes your eyes roll.

You inadvertently hump into his face as the combination of his tongue and fingers set the pit in your stomach ablaze. He’s fucking you with his mouth so thoroughly that the skewlch of your building arousal reverbates throughout the room. You almost feel bad about how much your thighs are all but compressing the sides of his head, but every effort to lighten up on him has him tightening his hold on you to keep him locked against your sloppy cunt.

You hiss through your teeth as your fingers card through his hair. “F-Fuck… Omi…!”

Kiyoomi moans against your clit at the wanton sound of your pitched voice. Airy, and breathy, and intoxicating. He’s grinding himself so desperately into the mattress that he’s sure he’s gone sticky.

The veins in his arms pop as he persistently fucks his fingers into your tight little hole, sloppily sucking your swollen clit as the way you roll your hips into his face drives him crazy. “You’re gonna make me cum…!” You whimper. “Fuck, Kiyoomi!”

That crude mixture of his spit and your cum is starting to form a little puddle under your backside, every bit of you he doesn’t get to swallow he doubles his efforts to drink you up sprucely.

Hearing you teeter over the edge makes him feel like he’s following close behind. Your moans are so astonishingly pretty that it’s turning his brain all fuzzy. “Ffffuck! Oh fuck. Oh my god, baby! Fuck-! I-I’m…I’m cumming…!”

Kiyoomi groans drunkenly into your cunt as it suckles on his fingers, he’s so determined to drink every last drop of your cum that he almost comes off as depraved. Lewdly slurping you up as the way he desperately sucks on your clit makes you whine into the air. Still indulging himself in your mess even as you whimper from overstimulation.

He only pulls away because the way you’re begging for him to fuck you is sending him into a frenzy. “Wan’ it so bad, Omi. Please? Do whatever you want to me. U-Use me up!”

“Yeah?” Kiyoomi hums into your mouth as you suck yourself off of his tongue. “Want me to use you? I’ll fuck you till you cry, you know.”

Your misty eyes make his heart skip, the way the head of his cock catches your entrance feels like stepping into heaven all over again. “Please, baby? Give it to me. ‘Wanna feel you inside!”

He gapes a little as he presses himself in, so overwhelmed that his head falls into your shoulder and it’s an effort for him not to outright cry out at how fucking unreal you feel.

He thinks he might just be falling in love with you. Having a pussy like this may just be a hazard for his mental health, there’s no way he’s letting this slip throughout his fingers. “Oh my god,” Kiyoomi chokes. “O-Oh my fucking god.”

“You feel… unbelievable, angel,” He starts his pace. God, fucking you is actually pushing him to the brink of insanity. “…oh my fucking-… s-so tight! So fucking wet for me, angel… holy shit…- you’re so good to me, baby.”

His breathless praises are sending you alight. He’s so deep in your guts that you’re sure you’d find a bulge if you looked down at where your bodies meet. “So good…! So, so good!”

The way you hold each other is so desperate and devoted that it feels biblical. “I can feel you in my stomach, Omi… So deep…! Y-You’re… too deep!”

Kiyoomi grunts as he pushes himself in to the hilt and holds himself there for a blissful second. Grinding his hips in shallow circles that make you choke on your tongue, but you barely know the half of until he’s lifting up one of your legs.

And then the other, lifting on his knees till he’s hovering over your pretty face, - and then he starts pistoning.

The way your face contorts from a flustered glimmer of welling tears to a blissed out gape that cutens as your tears fall is enough to make his balls feel tight enough to burst. Never mind how fucking amazing this new angle is, watching you lose your mind under him as those pretty tits move to the current of his thrusts is making his brain feel all cloudy. — He’s sure the eye contact he’s keeping is transparent in the fact that he’s turned a little love drunk. Ducking his head to press tempered kisses on your throat, but he can’t help himself from the way his lips skim up to your ear and his mouth moves without him really thinking about it.

It’s a pleasure induced haze, he’s sure. But he can’t be forgiven for the absolute filthy things he’s saying to you.

“You hear that?” He drags in a few particularly forceful thrusts that make you sob so prettily for him. “You’re really soaking me up, huh.”

“Is it that good? You feel me deep in your tummy?” Kiyoomi swivels his hips. “S-Shit. What a pretty fucking noise that just was. Fuck, baby. - Oh, are you crying?”

“Too much?” But even still he presses more of his weight on you until every thrust is hitting you to the hilt. So deep that every other press of his hips forces a yip out of you that makes his face hot. — He’s really starting to think he might be ruined for anyone else at this point.

“You’re g’nna take it for me anyway though, huh? Slutty baby… You’re gonna let me fuck you brain dead? Fuck you till you’re all stupid for me?”

You sound as far gone as he is. “Y- Yes! Yes!”

“Yeah, that’s it, angel. Such a… fuck… good fucking girl for me.”

You must be close to cumming cause you’re really starting to milk him for all he’s worth. Sucking him back in every time he pulls away and every moment he continues to fuck into you you only get tighter.

He’s losing his mind. “Ohhh fuck. Fuck! I swear to god I’m gonna break you. G’nna - shit - gonna fuck you till you’re all mine, yeah? H-Holy shit-“

Kiyoomi groans at the way your fingernails start to dig groves into his back. “Mhm. Mark me up, angel. Wanna see you all over me when we’re done.”

You grab a helping of his hair and hold on to it for dear life, you’re drooling at this point. “Oh my god… oh m’ god, Kiyoomi… I’m- I’m gonna make a mess!”

“Yeah?” Which obviously means he’s reaching down to rub messy circles on your clit. “Gonna make a mess? Wanna soak me in your pretty cum?”

“Give it to me then, baby. I’ll fill you up so good when you do.”

You croon in his ear and it sounds like gospel.

And then you’re soaking the bed with your cum.

Kiyoomi doesn’t let up even as your juices wet down his pelvis and legs. He doesn’t stop his punishing thrusts or the rhythm he’s keeping on your clit, still whispering words of filth and praise in your ear, — and it looks like you’ve completely lost yourself to the pleasure at this point. The way his name is clipping so desperately off your tongue is making his eyes roll into his head. And it’s just a few more moments of fucking into your spasming pussy till he’s following you off the edge.

“Oh god. Oh my god.” He hisses. “Mmmh - Oh fuck, baby. I’m cumming… f-fuck! I’m cumming. I’m cumming.”

Oh god, even after last night there’s still so much of it. So much and so hot. Just the feeling of clenching on his hot cum as he continues to fuck into you is sending you over the edge again. God, the sounds you’re both making. Thank goodness his penthouse is big enough to not worry about disturbing any of his neighbors, reinforced flooring probably snuffing out the sound of your debauched love making. He’s never been the most vocal in bed but you’re making him whine into your ear like a cheap whore. And the sounds you’re making - Fuck, the sounds you’re making, he wouldn’t be surprised if he turned his head and found the decorative plants near his terrace sprouting flowers. It shouldn’t even be possible to sound that fucking good and feel this fucking amazing all at once.

Kiyoomi doesn’t even realize that bed making firm clicks into the wall until he starts to slow up his thrusts. Gradually coming down from his high until his desperate movements become slow and sensuous grinding, still rocking into you even as you settle again in his arms.

He lifts his head to bring you into a lazy kiss, a little sloppy, a little butterfly inducing.

You sigh into his lips. “…Holy shit.”

Kiyoomi pulls away to press a few slow kisses into your jaw. “I think I just might be addicted to you.”

“You’re telling me…” You cross your legs over his back. “Is it too early to suggest we go steady?”

He snorts a little. “As if I’m letting you go anywhere after that.”

Kiyoomi raises his back to gingerly kiss you on the lips, so tender it feels loving. Even as he pulls away he seems ailed by it. He is ailed by it. He can’t even imagine how he’ll fare when he has to get up eventually.

His breath is warm against your lips. The way he speaks to you feels reverent. “You’re stuck with me now.”

You smile. And he goosebumps. “Aren’t I lucky then?”

reblog uwu?

[youryanderedaddy]

Yandere! Crazy ex boyfriend

tw: female reader, non - con, heavy degradation, slut-shaming, abuse/violence, mockery of depression, suicidal ideation, obsessive behavior, death threats, dark

It's 2 a.m. and you can't sleep - you keep turning and burying your head into the soft, warm pillow, but something is off. The moon is too bright, coming in from the gap between your heavy curtains. The crickets outside are too loud, playing around and singing the same old melody over and over again. The static silence of the old radio tucked under the drawers is too repetitive, too predictable. All in all, you can feel it in your bones; something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

You hear the steps next. That sinister laughter - getting louder and louder, someone screaming at the top of their lungs, the echo flooding through the thin walls of your small shared flat. Someone's fist is gripping the lock with uneccessary cruelty as if trying to knock it out of the handle. The key falls down in one sharp motion, and your heart stops completely once the door opens with a squeaky, familiar bang - it still makes you jump even after all those months.

"Aww, baby!" The man exclaims, leaning against the door. You're not sure if you are hallucinating due to the countless hours of lost sleep, or there is actually smoke coming out of his old black trenchcoat. You're not even sure if he's trully here, or if this is yet another nightmare. "You didn't bother with locks this time!" He continues, smiling with childlike glee - but you know him too well. He's never peaceful. He's never cheerful. Any indication of happiness the monster exhibits is meant to confuse and trick his prey, and you're not falling for his tricks again. You already got burnt one too many times.

"Does that mean you missed me?" He tilts his head, almost pouting at you. He's all disheveled - a total wreck. The curly, unruly hair you once loved to caress and play with now just seems shaggy and unkept, sticking out like an explosion. His eyes are dark, well, darker, bloodshot, barely recognizable from the warm pots of honey that used to make you melt against him. He's lost weight, yet weirdly enough seems to have gained some muscle. You can't help, but think that it simply looks weird, unnatural even. Adam, the one you remember, was never strong - he was never threatening, never even raised his voice at you. But that was years ago in the sweet, distant dreams of the past, and that boy had died the moment you two moved in together. That's when your hell trully began.

"Were you trying to give me easy access, baby? Hm?" He smirks, interrupting your stream of consciousness. If you were unsure of his physicallity, of his existence, it's bright clear now - because you can never mistake that taunting, humiliating curve to his voice, the one he only uses when he's mad. Really, really mad. "Knew I would be back?"

You take a deep breath, slowly nodding along - maybe if you play nice, he'd just go away. Maybe this time you won't end up in cuts and bruises, all memories, good or bad, completely wiped off your drugged out hazy brain.

"Of course you did." Your ex boyfriend humms in satisfaction, taking a single step towards you - and it makes you tremble all over, no matter how much you wish you could remain calm and collected at the face of Death himself. "Because I told you so, no?" He clenches his teeth, raising his head so his eyes would meet yours. You feel like a deer caught before a trigger guard with an unstable trigger, one second away from being shot in the heart. "I told you-" He steps closer. "That I'll be back-" Another step. "Didn't I, princess?"

You nod again, unable to produce a sound. You almost wish he brought his gun so this little torture session would end quicker. Almost.

"Aww, look at you trying so hard to please me. It's adorable, baby." The man coos, his knee sliding across the edge of your bed. Fear takes a hold of your lungs, squeezing them in until you feel like you're seeing stars - and then Adam climbs on top of you. It all happens so quickly - one moment he's far away, and then he's towering over you, his hot breath ghosting over your sweaty neck, baby hairs sticking out with shivers. You can't shake the terrifying, unescapable feeling that you've been here before. That you somehow always end up underneath him, begging for your life - for mercy he won't ever grant you.

"I wonder where all that enthusiasm was when you decided to run on me." The white part of his eyes suddenly illuminates, brows raised together - he looks deranged. "Huh?" He looks at you, expecting an answer, yet you can't think of one. Your brain is turning to mush, consumed by raw panic - but why does it matter? Whatever you say he'll find a way to use against you. "Answer me, you fucking bitch!" He hisses, voice dropping to a diabolical whisper as his fist snaps around your throat like a metal collar. This seems to break off your stupor, and you open your mouth, ready to yell at whoever is still awake.

"Don't you dare fucking scream, cunt." Adam grips your jaw with one hand, crushing your cheeks into each other. "If I hear a single word come out of that filthy little mouth of yours, I am going to slit your fucking throat." His lips twist in a big sadistic grin you would have wanted to punch had you had the strength to move your arm around. Instead you whimper, defeated. Even after everything, your stupid self preservation instinct won't let you die - so it sacrifices the only thing you have left, your dignity. "And then in the morning your little friends will find you drowning in your own blood." He lowers his face, cold dead lips tracing the rough lines of your collarbone.

"A pretty picture for sure." He bites his lower lip, imagining it for just a second. "Bu-ut I know that even a depressed, suicidal little attention whore like you wouldn't want her friends to be sad." The man adds teasingly, and you can feel the bile back up into your stomach, burning and acidic. You may actually throw up all over him if you're not careful. And then he'd kill you for sure. "I mean, you seem to care for these pesky bugs oh-so much. It'd be a pity to force them to clean up your remains-"

"N-no, that's not true. I don't care about them, I only care about you!" You lie through your teeth, hot, salty tears pricking your eyes as you deny the love you have for the only people who care about you - the ones who basically saved you from a life of abuse and suffering. But apparently nothing good lasts, not when it comes to you. "Adam, I only love y-"

He backhands you - the slap echoes through the roof. Ouch.

"Don't say-" Your ex boyfriend grunts, roughly shoving you down. You take a shallow breath, letting the sting settle in. It's going to leave a red ugly handprint all over your cheek - and yet you stupidly thought your little confession was going to make him happy. Your anchors, the straws that used to buy you time, howerer rare and far in between, are all gone now. You used them up. You've run out of time, out of trick, out of will to keep fighting.

But you know he'll never make good on his threats. He'd never actually kill you - he doesn't love you enough to rid you of this miserable obsession that ties you together. And yet you tremble every time you feel the graze of his knife against your skin - you cower whenever he raises his hand. And you break down when he holds you close, hoping, praying that this time his embrace would prove just suffocating enough for you to stop breathing all together. It never does.

"Don't say you love me. You don't love me." Adam hisses in your ear, venom dripping off each word. "And I don't even care if you love me." He turns you around, pushing your face into your pillow - muffling your cries into weak, hiccuping sobs. "You're nothing." He swallows, averting his gaze to your lower body - yanking your shorts down with little concern as to whether they'd rip or not. "You amount to nothing, you're lower than dirt. You're just a fucked up little bitch." The man keeps mouthing off, and you can't decide what hurts more - his nails digging into your hips, or the razor sharp insults. " I never want you to forget that you deserve everything I give you."

You cry out as his massive length enters you with absolutely no preparation. It hurts - you're dry and it chaffs against your walls with nothing to make it slide freely, bruising your cervix. Your muscles are trying to push the foregin object out, but it keeps pushing in and out of you in forceful uniform thrusts. Between the waves of sharp and stinging-hot pain you manage to form a coherent thought - and you're surprised. Surprised that the man is even able to stay hard when all he feels right now is anger. Not love or affection, not even lust. Just anger. Surprised your body is still going even after your mind has given up. Surprised that, even despite all your protests and agony, you are growing used to this.

"I gave you everything." Adam start off again, picking up the pace of his thrusts. "Everything - but you're too much of a selfish whore to see." He pulls your hair back so you'd face him from beneath - then he slaps you with all force. "I want to mess up that pretty little face of yours." His hand connects to your cheek once again. You know you'll wake up all puffy and blue tomorrow morning - if you even wake up. "I want you so goddamn ugly no one wants you anymore." He pulls you in by your shirt, smashing his lips against yours with a brutal force - as if he's trying to become one with you, and break your face at the same time. "I want you so ruined-" He kisses you again, teeth running into teeth - yet he's the one to bite you first. "And lonely that you have no one else to turn to."

"I want you broken." He pulls away just to stare into your empty eyes, voice now back to a whisper. "As broken as me."

[nadvs]

cam girl (part seven)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe’s hands are immediately all over you.

The front door shuts behind him and his teeth are nipping at the crook of your neck, his fingers digging into your waist, making you melt beneath him.

He pushes you backwards, your butt hitting the hard edge of your kitchen table. You breathe in the smell of his sharp cologne, having it committed to memory by now.

He couldn’t get through a minute of you on camera before rushing over to your apartment. The feeling of the power you have over him is like a drug.

He’s hard against you and you feel like even though the bra and panties you’re wearing for him are the skimpiest things you own, there’s too much fabric on your body. You want to be entirely naked for him.

The legs of the table rock and you hear one of your textbooks fall and slam onto the tile floor as you both clamber towards your bedroom.

You’re on your back in your bed when you watch Rafe feverishly pull off his shirt and jeans, acting like he can’t move fast enough, stripping down to his briefs.

You drink him in, how big and commanding he is, how taut the muscles that line his body are. This man could have any girl. But he’s in your bedroom.

Rafe’s rough when he kneels down and puts his hands below your knees, pushing your thighs against your chest. You’re curled into the tight position, short of breath.

“Don’t pull that shit with me again,” he mutters the first words between you since he arrived, his mouth inches away from yours. “Don’t…” Rafe shakes his head like he can’t find the words. “It wasn’t funny.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, quickly grasping that he’s referring to your spat last night. You nod, your mind replaying the way he stormed out.

Don’t tease him when he shows any sort of concern for you. Got it.

You know better than to think that it actually messed with him to think something happened to you. He was pissed because you didn’t obey him. You’re his property. He doesn’t actually care.

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, looking down at you. “You already made a mess.”

You follow his gaze, seeing the moisture on your pink underwear.

You’re grateful the moment of confrontation was so short, brushed away so quickly. You don’t want to fight with him. You just want to fuck.

“All I had to do was think about you,” you tell him.

“You get that wet for me only, huh, baby?” he taunts. “I don’t think you should wear panties anymore if this is what I do to you.”

“Whatever you want,” you say, completely submissive to him.

“That’s fucking right, whatever I want,” he states. “Is this pussy gonna squirt for me tonight?”

“Yes.” You promise yourself you’ll do whatever the hell it takes to do it for him. His eyes are on you as his thumb rubs over your clit.

“Every time you get close to cumming, tell me,” he orders you. He shifts to put his hand on your face to force you to look at him, squeezing your cheeks like he did last night. “I want you to be so desperate to cum that once I let you, it fucking spills out of you, understand?”

You can only nod, at a loss for words. Every time you think he can’t get any hotter, he proves you wrong.

“Understand?” Rafe repeats sternly.

“Yes.”

“Where’s that toy I bought you?”

You wordlessly point to the nightstand’s drawer. He moves off the bed, digging into his jeans to pull out his phone first. He remotely turns on the vibrator, tossing his phone on your bed.

When he presses the toy against your clit over your panties, you shudder.

“Fuck,” you groan, your voice weak. He hovers over you, watching you writhe.

“I put it on the highest setting, princess,” he drawls. “Feels good, huh? You like when I buy you shit like this? You like whoring yourself out for me?”

“I fucking love it,” you say. “I’m your slut.”

“Say that again,” Rafe demands.

“I’m your slut.”

“Yeah, you fucking are.” The sound of his deep voice mixed with the buzzing toy is perfection.

The vibrations make your hips involuntarily buck and you groan. Your body tenses.

“I’m close,” you whisper. He moves the toy off of you.

“Already?” Rafe’s tone is mocking. He snaps your bra strap against your collarbone. “Take this shit off.”

You obey and he slips his fingers beneath the thin band of your panties and drags them off, leaving you entirely naked.

He pushes the backs of your thighs down hard again, putting you into the same curled position he started with. Your knees are almost next to your ears and the way he’s contorting you is blissfully painful.

He taps his dick over your pussy before he shoves into you with a long exhale, filling you entirely, sliding in so damn easily.

“Whatever happened to liking it slow?” you provoke him, thinking back to your first cam session.

“I’m…” Rafe’s smile is lazy. “I’m fucking addicted to you now. I’m not taking anything slow anymore.”

His words make you feel high. His gaze is focused on where his body is meeting yours, and you take in the sight of him sitting up on his knees and thrusting into you, his stomach muscles flexing.

Rafe’s lips are parted and turned up into a smile while he watches your pussy take him in.

“Goddamn,” he says. He pulls out of you and reaches for his phone. You realize he wants to record you as he points the camera at your pussy, then buries his cock into you again.

You watch as he uses his thumb to push up past your clit, stretching you so his camera captures every part of you.

Rafe pulls out, then pushes in again, watching his screen with his bottom lip trapped under his teeth. He’s so fucking dazed right now, savoring the way you take all of him, entertained by how he can use you.

He withdraws, leaving your cunt empty again. With his phone lowered to film you closer, he curls two fingers into you, making you moan as he twists his wrist to feel you at a different angle, knuckles nudging against your walls.

Rafe is playing with you like the toy that you are and you can’t help but feel satisfied that he’s so fucking enamored by you. You think back to when he called you his dream girl and you know he wasn’t just saying that. He looks like he’s under a spell.

After he pulls his fingers out, he stretches your lips apart with his forefinger and middle finger, displaying you like you’re a work of art.

Blue eyes trail up to meet yours and Rafe looks nothing short of captivated. It almost makes you shy that he’s gazing at you like this. You realize how odd it is to feel that way after everything you’ve done together.

“What?” you laugh. He only tosses his phone back onto your bed before pushing down on your hamstrings, positioning himself to enter you again.

“Fuck,” you shudder at his force. “That’s so fucking good.”

“I can use this pussy whenever I want, huh?” he groans, his tip hitting your cervix.

“Mhm, baby,” you promise, your breath growing faster.

Rafe leans over you, putting even more weight on your legs, forcing them tighter against your chest. It makes it even harder to breathe, but you love when he’s rough.

His balls hit your ass with every solid pummel, your mattress springs digging into your back from the way he has you folded over yourself.

The familiar sensation builds up in you and you groan, wishing you didn’t have to stop him.

“Cl-close,” you whisper, putting a hand on his chest. Rafe pulls out quickly, rubbing his slick cock.

He aggressively pulls your legs down and shifts to hover over you, his knees framing your face.

To your sick delight, he reaches for his phone again. You look up at the camera pointed at you through low lids, your lips parting when he puts the tip of his dick against your chin.

“What’d you call yourself, baby?” Rafe asks behind the phone, recording you. You truly feel like his personal pornstar now, the sinfulness of what he’s doing turning you on even more.

“Your slut,” you groan. “I’m your whore.”

“Fuck,” he chuckles, pushing his dick into your mouth. You keep your eyes trained on the camera as you take him in.

His hand rests on your cheek, the ring on his forefinger cold against your skin. His thumb strokes over your temple as he pushes his dick into your mouth, only going halfway.

“You live for this cock, hmm?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you say, muffled.

“I fucking own you.” He taps his fingers against your cheek, giving you three gentle slaps, making you shut your eyes and smile with your mouth full.

“Stick out your tongue,” he orders you. When you do, he chuckles darkly, rubbing the curve of his cock up and down on it.

Rafe tosses his phone to the side again, putting his hands on the bed to bend over you and guide his entire length inside your mouth.

“Stay still,” he orders you. You feel him push slowly until he hits the back of your throat. He pulls out agonizingly slow, then pushes himself in and out over and over.

“Never get tired of fucking this mouth,” he groans over the sounds of you gagging on him.

You moan, feeling your feet plant onto the bed as you buck your hips up, wishing he would just fuck you again.

When Rafe shifts back down, he grabs you by the roots of your hair.

“You’re gonna ride my face,” he tells you. You nod desperately, letting him pull you into a seated position.

Rafe flips onto his back and you straddle his face, groaning at the feeling of his hot breath against your pussy.

You’re holding yourself up on your knees, hovering over him, and he digs his fingers into your asscheeks.

You look down, writhing over him, rubbing yourself on his open mouth. Your movements turn into harder grinds, and you put your fingers through his soft hair, keeping his head steady.

His eyes roll back and the arousing image makes you smile. Maybe he likes being used a little bit, too.

You feel his hand curl around your butt, his finger pressing against your asshole. The stimulation makes you tremble.

Rafe captures your clit, sucking hard. You feel the same tightening again.

“Almost…” you breathily warn and he pulls you off of him.

With his big hands on your waist, he pushes you onto your back again. His hands find your tits and he roughly squeezes as he sits over you.

It’s all so transfixing, the way he’s rapidly changing through positions, so sure of what he wants to do to you next.

“I know you wanna cum so bad, princess,” he coaxes. “You’re doing such a good job.”

“Thank you, baby,” you whimper, arching your back as he fondles your tits. He bends low, putting his mouth on your chest.

You’re overwhelmed as he bites and sucks and pinches and plays, and you tightly shut your eyes, feeling the throb between your legs.

Rafe gives you enough time to come down from the near orgasm, then shifts to sit up against your bed frame.

He beckons you to him with his hands, his cock swollen and leaking.

“Bounce on it,” he tells you.

You mount him, sinking down onto his hard length. Rafe grabs the toy, pushing the vibrator against your clit. You tremble and start to bob up and down, pussy wrapped around his firm cock, the feeling absolutely fucking electrifying.

Your hands are on his firm shoulders, your eyes locked on his, your clit stimulated and your cunt full.

You keep bouncing and riding and writhing and moaning. You’re sweating and you notice Rafe is too, both of you breathless from fucking so hard.

“I’m…” You can’t even tell him you’re close because the rising orgasm silences you, taking you prisoner.

Your veins are hot, every nerve tightening, and the greatest orgasm you’ve ever had begins to tear through you. It’s hard to keep your eyes open, but you force yourself to look down, feeling yourself clench and convulse.

You can’t believe your body’s doing it, but your cum squirts out of you, splashing in different directions on his stomach.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” Rafe groans, tossing the toy to the side and rubbing your clit feverishly to make you spatter in every direction. “Oh, my fucking God. That’s my good fucking girl.”

Your pussy is almost numb from pleasure, as if your body can’t handle feeling this damn good. Rafe takes over the pace, hands clutching your hips, penetrating your wet cunt hard until your body releases everything it has.

Your sigh is strained, your limbs loose. You lose all your strength, limp on top of him, but he continues to fuck you, his cock reaching deep inside you.

“Keep bouncing for me,” Rafe tells you. “Keep fucking bouncing.”

You obey, thighs burning, and he tilts his head back, Adam’s apple prominent, as he reaches his peak. He finishes inside you through hot, fast throbs.

You’re flushed and breathless, tilting forward. You’re quivering with your cheek against his temple, his damp skin on yours.

His hands move up and down your back in slow strokes, making your tits press over his chest.

“You did so good, baby,” Rafe says, panting.

“Yeah?” you whisper, gently convulsing. He chuckles at the way you’re trembling on top of him, his cock still stuffed inside you.

“You like when my cock stays inside, hmm?” he rasps. “You deserve it. Sit like this as long as you want.”

You tighten your arms around him, sitting on him and panting, your nose in his hair. You smell his shampoo, listen to his breaths.

Nobody has ever done this to you. Pushed you past every limit. Excited you this much. You had no idea this was who Rafe was.

He continues to hold you silently. You know you can’t like him, and you won’t, but you allow yourself to pretend you’re more than just fuck buddies in this small, sweet moment.

Then you pull yourself back into reality and know you should just appreciate it for what it is.

You find the strength to raise yourself off of Rafe, his dick slipping out of you, your mixed cum dribbling out onto him, your bed soaked.

“Fuck,” you whisper with a laugh. You’ll have to change your sheets tonight.

It reminds you that you’re working at his house tomorrow. How will you manage to see him and not want to rip his clothes off?

You spot Rafe’s phone on your pillow and pick it up, meeting his eyes when you hand it to him.

“You still want private shows now that you have those videos?” you ask playfully, your voice weak.

“Yeah,” he nods, a smirk on his lips. “I’ll always want them.”

“I’ll make you go broke.”

Rafe looks up in mock annoyance, but his laugh gives him away.

“Worth it,” he finally says. You giggle and swing your leg off of him, your pulse slowly going back to its regular pace.

Rafe gets out of bed and starts to put his clothes on as you grab a towel and get ready for a much-needed shower. You’re glad he’s not staying the night. Being cuddled to sleep by him even just one more time would confuse you all over again.

You follow him out of your room, bending down to pick up the heavy, torn up textbook the two of you had knocked over.

Rafe notices and looks at the cover.

“Jesus, what’d you do to that book?” he asks.

“Shut up, it was like this when I bought it, okay?” you say. “Used copy.”

“For school?” You realize just how little he knows about you.

“Yeah. I’m actually kind of smart,” you joke.

“I could tell,” he says. You figure he’s being sarcastic and trail him as he opens the front door, shutting it behind him and letting out a big breath.

You make it to the Cameron estate right on time the next morning. Your stomach is in a knot as you clean, wondering when Rafe will walk by and tempt you to risk your job by fucking him during work hours.

After cleaning the kitchen floors and surfaces, you open the cupboard below the sink to take out the trash. You tie the top of the bag, but when you try to pull it out, it’s too heavy.

You grunt as you try again but you’re unsuccessful. And honestly, you blame Rafe for making you so weak. Your body is still recovering from last night.

You spot one of the gardeners through the kitchen window and decide to ask for his help instead of straining yourself any further.

You can’t remember his name, but you open the nearby patio door leading out to the backyard and wave him over.

“Hey, sorry, could you help me with the garbage? It’s too heavy,” you ask the man. He’s a little taller than you, maybe a few years older, and is wearing a smile.

“Sure,” he says.

You both step into the kitchen and you point him to the cupboard. He takes off his gloves and yanks at the knot you tied. Finally, the bag wiggles free.

“I saved the day,” he jokes. “Where does this go?”

“Out there,” you say, leading him through the kitchen and right outside the door to the bin. “Thanks.”

“Better wash my hands,” he replies. You both walk back into the kitchen and you replace the garbage bag while he turns on the faucet.

You wait for him to move out of the way so you can close the cupboard, wash your hands, and tend to your next task.

“They treating you nice in here?” he asks quietly, looking over at you.

You try not to smile as blood rushes to your cheeks. If only the other staff around here knew what you were up to with Rafe.

“Yup,” you simply answer.

“Can’t lie, I’m glad I’m outside all day,” he says. “Nobody bothers me.”

You politely laugh, silently wishing he’d hurry up and let you go on with your day.

“I bet,” is all you can say.

He turns off the faucet and smiles at you.

“Back to it, huh?” he says, patting your shoulder. “Let me know if I can help with anything else.”

Your eyebrows draw together, feeling awkward that someone who’s not Rafe is touching you, even though it’s a friendly, innocent gesture.

He steps away and you hear the door to the backyard close behind you as you start to wash your hands.

When you shift to find a tea towel, you see Rafe standing on the other side of the big room.

You’re excited to see him, until you take in how he’s looking at you.

Even from here, you can see the anger in his gaze. You stare at him wordlessly, wondering what he’s thinking.

“What the fuck was that?” he snaps.

You quickly pace towards him so he doesn’t speak so loudly. You can’t risk anyone hearing. You could lose this job if anyone found out about you two.

Rafe crosses his arms, biceps jutting out his t-shirt, eyes lowering when you reach him.

“What?” you say, tone hushed.

“What. The fuck. Was that,” he repeats sternly. Is he seriously angry about your exchange with the gardener?

“Rafe, someone could hear you,” you say quietly.

He steps back, head titling, a look of disgust on his face.

“You think I give a shit?”

You brush past him to head somewhere private, knowing he’ll follow you.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he orders, his deep voice thundering through you.

You rush, heart pounding from anticipation, and hear him stalking behind you. When you reach the dark and empty laundry room, you turn to face Rafe and he’s suddenly pushing you back against a closet door.

He’s towering over you, fingers wrapped around your wrist, his jaw clenched.

“Why’d he touch you?” he mutters. “Why the fuck did you let him touch you? Why were you laughing with him? Are you fucking him, too?”

He’s pissed. Jealous as hell. And it sends a ripple of arousal through you. He’s seething over someone simply tapping your shoulder.

“I don’t even know his name,” you say with amusement, your heart skipping a beat. He’s unhinged. You’re with him every night. When would you even have time to hook up with someone else?

You feel yourself get wetter as Rafe pushes up against you.

“Do you need to be reminded of who you belong to?” he threatens.

And even though you definitely don’t need to be, you nod, desperate for him to have his way with you.

{ read part eight here }

[inknopewetrust]

𝐁𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

Summary: The BAU finds themselves in the slammer with no memory of the night before and unbelieving cops not realizing that you all are truly FBI Agents… not just hungover liars looking for bail.

[BAU Team & Reader; slight implications of Hotch x Reader, Reid x Reader] [WC: 2k]

Warnings: questioning on drugs, not to be taken too seriously. It’s a fluff piece—fluff!! This is just a lil fic.

Quick Links: Masterlist

You’re not really sure how you ended up there.

Sitting, knees pulled to your chest and head in your hands, the concrete floor of the jail cell was much more rough than you anticipated it being. Jail.

Your head pounded at the thought but it could have been the flickering light above or the incessant task your friends had taken on—attempting to convince the officers that this was one giant, completely absurd, mistake.

“Oh, officer, please,” Penelope’s distressed whine carried farther the longer the hangover sat. “I really want to go home.”

“We were just at the bar. We didn’t have anything to do with that—“

“Christ,” the officer mumbled and cut off Emily’s supportive inclusion on Penelope’s behalf. “You are the chattiest people I’ve ever had in the box.”

You wished they just stop doing that, chatting. There was a rave happening every time you lifted your head; a consistent thrum of a heartbeat stressing the sides of your temples and you’d kill, hypothetically, for an Advil or two right about now.

And against your better judgement, your kept on thinking: how the hell did you end up here?

There was no real remembering the situation. All you really knew is that it started early, after a case in Utah had brought you all back at a reasonable hour but also wore each soul thin. The break was suggested by Derek in an attempt to lighten the mood and the only one who decided against it had been Rossi because he said he had “better things to do then spend extra time with all of you.”

He meant it affectionately, you thought.

But that break had led you all to a hole-in-the-wall bar on the southwest side of Arlington not far from the airport and it had quickly devolved from memory to imagination when you drank your second vodka soda of the night.

And maybe everything wouldn’t be a big deal if it was just a few of you; some variation of Penelope, Emily, JJ, Derek, or Spencer but the kicker lay with Hotch. He made all of you realize that this wasn’t some late night rouse to forget woes, but probably something a little worse. But hey, at least you all experienced it together, right?

It was the leader’s disheveled appearance that raised the flags high. No sign of a tie, his jacket’s pocket square ripped to the point where it hung downwards, and Aaron Hotchner was missing a shoe. A shoe.

“Listen,” he was as calm as he always was. “You’ve got the wrong people. We’re FBI, not criminals.”

It sounded so unconvincing. Yet you’d heard it all night. Reid tried it, Penelope tried it, and none of the officers even budged to go to a computer and check it out. To make matters worse, there were no sign of your badges because as you’d been frisked outside of the bar, the arresting officers had taken them as “fake identification and possible impersonation of federal employees.”

You weren’t under the belief that all types of law enforcement were brainless but these cops were.

After one last plead, Aaron backed away from the bars and sighed with his hands on his hips. You lifted your head with a squint.

“Shit,” Derek mumbled from his spot beside Penelope on the cot. “You look like shit.”

You gave him a forced, dazzling smile. “Thank you. You’re a real charmer, you know that, Morgan?”

“Muscles doesn’t know what he’s saying.” Penelope brushed off his commentary.

Derek laughed and winced as the contraction of his stomach reminded him of the food he needed and the drinks his body wished to reject. “Goddamn.”

“I’ll try Rossi again,” Aaron informed. “It’s almost five-thirty.”

“Maybe he had a hot date.” JJ smiled from beside you on the floor and Emily sat next to her. Spencer was situated at the end of the cot with his head resting cooly on two of the metal cell bars.

“I don’t want to think about Dave on a hot date,” you scoffed. “I don’t want to think about anything other than what the hell happened. I can’t… I can’t piece any of it together.”

“Then let’s backtrack.” Aaron, still amusingly unorganized, tried his best to help retrace steps. “What’s the first thing we remember?”

“When we landed, I asked if we could get drinks. We took two cars—Spencer should’ve had the keys.” Derek looked down at Spencer’s mop of a head.

“I did have the keys.”

“When we got there, Emily found us a table in the back… near that… stage, thing, that the bar had. It had a good view of the bar and everyone in it,” Penelope informed.

“Hotch and JJ got the first round. It was… three vodka sodas, two whiskey’s, and a mojito.”

“That’s only six drinks?” You told Emily who was racking her brain for the other beverage.

“I didn’t drink at first,” Spencer said. “I had a stomach ache, remember?” No. “From that Korean place we stopped at before we left.”

“I told you the tuna was a bad idea,” you muttered.

“At some point, Penelope and Derek got up to go dance and I went with you to the bar to get round two.” Aaron looked at you expectantly.

“That’s where it goes… fuzzy for me.”

“I thought you went to the bar with Spencer,” JJ turned her head to look at you. “I think you were flirting with each other because lover boy couldn’t stop blushing so hard. You were as red as a balloon.”

Spencer’s body went rigid and eyes had gone wide. Your mouth dropped open slightly; a shake of your head told her that maybe she was wrong.

“No,” Penelope pointed accusingly. “I think it was Hotch. I swear I remember looking away because I didn’t want to be talked to by HR. He had his hand in her back pocket! It was something out of a book!”

Aaron shook his head, eyes closing and a hand wiping over this face in confusion.

“I think,” he clarified, “that that’s all besides the point.”

“I barely remember any of it. Maybe a fight?” Emily tried. “I can hear the sounds of broken glass and yelling but their faces are blank.”

“The cut on Derek’s face might be a testament to that.”

“I don’t know why they’d keep us in here together if we’re the culprits,” Spencer concluded.

You all hummed in agreement.

It was a poor tactic on the departments behalf. If you were the causes of the disturbance, whatever it had been, then keeping you all together in the same holding cell would have allowed you plentiful time to corroborate an alibi.

“Do you think…” Penelope gasped dramatically. “Do you think we were drugged? You know, like they were in those Hangover movies?”

“Garcia, you do know that happens in real life too?” Spencer asked her.

“Yeah, I mean… but this is kind of like the movie? Seven friends all livin’ it up,” you would not consider going out for drinks on a Thursday night ‘livin’ it up.’ “And then bam! Someone slipped us a little something.”

“Or we just got really fucking drunk,” Emily laughed. “Why does everything have to be so dramatic?”

“I’m just saying it could be that. It doesn’t mean it is.”

A part of you thinks Penelope was a little excited to live out a a Hangover fantasy.

“Can you try Rossi again?” Derek implored Aaron and laid back on the firm non-mattress.

Aaron went to the bars and signaled for the officer who begrudgingly walked over again. He let Aaron out and without his shoe, he went to the phone and dialed the one emergency contact everyone had.

And the one who certainly had the money to bail everyone out.

“Rossi” Dave’s voice was static.

“It’s Hotch.”

“What do you want? It’s like, five.”

“It’s five-thirty,” Aaron corrected him. “And we have a situation.”

“Where?”

“Arlington Police Station.”

“I’ll meet up there in twenty.”

Dave barely pulled the receiver from his ear when he heard Aaron’s voice call out: “we need bail money.”

In the darkness of his bedroom, Dave scowled. “What do you mean ‘bail money’? Who needs it? You?”

“All of us—we’re all here.”

“What’s you do?”

Aaron sighed. “That’s the problem. We can’t seem to place anything after eight. There might have been a fight, we don’t know. But they took our badges and have us on impersonating federal employee suspicion—but they haven’t booked us yet.”

“Jesus.”

There was a lull and then, “we’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dave dismissed. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

The team sat in a long silence while the clock ticked toward Rossi’s arrival.

The evening’s events hadn’t unveiled themselves completely but it rose an awkward air around the few of you who were the subjects of a line crossing, or blurring, without realizing it. It was too gawky for the prying eyes of gossipers who simply loved to get under the skin of the people they loved most.

You caught Spencer and Aaron’s eyes one too many times in the twenty minutes that passed by.

The officer who initially locked you up had been the one to raise his keys to the cell doors and a hefty bag landed at the closest set of feet which happened to be Spencer’s.

“You’re free to go.”

“Finally,” Penelope shouted. “So you do believe us then? That are badges aren’t fake?”

The cop shrugged. “You met bail. Doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. We took pictures of your badges and we will be checking them with the database.”

“You do that,” Aaron grabbed the bag from the door and pushed by the officer.

The others were quick to follow but JJ linked arms with you as you exited.

“So,” she drew out. “Spencer… Hotch… that must be a story there.”

“Oh God,” you laughed at her grin. “Maybe I don’t even want to know.” The two of you walked to the doors and became blinded by the sunlight beginning to break the early air.

Dave stood like a father angry at his children. But he wavered briefly, eying his entire squad in disappointment as each lined up along the sidewalk outside the station. The state you were all in made the anger subside into amusement.

The ripped clothes, the missing shoe, the mascara trails, chipped nails and a missing earring.

“So,” he breathed out. “We might have a case on our hands.”

A/N: I literally just needed to get this off my chest so I can write my more angsty fics 😂 but you CANNOT tell me that the only person that’d be able to bail any of them out isn’t Rossi. He’s the only one.

Also, I didn’t proof it yet.

[sageivyreads]

doe eyed and ready to kill

Ghoap x street kitty!hybrid fem!reader

introduction: ok ok the tension is finally building people!! and the beef between reader and ghost begins 😓 as much as i like this part it’s definitely kind of a filler chapter so i can move on to the next main plot point (smut coming soon 😋). tysm for 200 followers! masterlist here

contains/warnings: 2.6k words (un)consensual kidnapping, ‘rough but he means well’ ghost, allusions to drugging, manipulative & pushy ghoap, noncon touching but no sa, reader is awkward & insecure, slight unreliable narrator, brief mentions of piss but nothing sexual about it, slightest of angst & mildest of comforts, quick description of gagging & fingers in mouth, r eats toast & jelly.

“How long d’you think she’ll be out for?” Johnny asks, watching as Simon pets over your hair like a beloved dog. Simon’s gaze is downturned towards you, blinking slowly as he watches your eyelids flutter and close.

“I gave ‘er enough to last ‘till tomorrow morning.”

Johnny whistles quietly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his gray sweatpants. “Talk about a hell of a hangover, huh?”

Your mouth is dry as you wake. There’s something slightly scratchy around you. Under you. You’re warm. It takes all of your energy, and multiple seconds, to pry your tired eyes open.

You’re in a room. A small table stands beside the bed you’re on. A plain, dark wood. Blueish grey sheets. A door to the left and a double closet to the right. You’re trying to conjure some sort of memory, but nothing is coming immediately.

Your arm doesn’t ache so bad. In fact, it feels kind of numb.

A blanket is draped over you. A few, you think. The warmth you feel is from something- someone hot pressed against your back. A naked chest tight against you. You feel a chin on your shoulder, breath against your neck. This feels familiar.

You blink. Your fingers spasm. Your ears flick.

“Mm.. you awake, love?”

Johnny.

Your breath shakes as you feel a crooked nose run up your neck and nuzzle along the edge of your jaw. Your heart beats louder in your ears than his voice does.

You’re still wearing clothes. You can feel his boxers against the back of your thighs.

You know he knows you’re awake, so you hesitantly nod. You can feel your hair is combed and clean. The fur on your ears and tail is brushed. Soft. For the first time in a while.

He peels himself from you, and you can hear him sit against the headboard. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, turning you towards him, and lugging you up against the bed frame with him.

He pulls your limp body into the crook of his arm, pressing his nose against your hair and breathing in before he presses a small kiss to the top of your head. The flesh of your cheek is smushed against the muscle of his shoulder. You smell men’s shampoo. You don’t know if you can move or not. You haven’t tried.

You slowly flex your fingers, then curl them into a fist. You’re tired, but you’re okay. You shift to sit up a little, subconsciously leaning away from him a little.

“Are ya feeling okay?” he asks, “Took quite a tumble yesterday. Still ain’t sure if ya hit yr’head or not.”

Why is he holding you like this? You broke into their home. And aren’t they together? You swear you thought Simon and Johnny were in a relationship before, but now you can’t remember much.

“Tumble…?” you question, lips sticking together as you part them to speak.

“Oh, yeah. You don’t remember? Yesterday morning, when ye were about to leave. You collapsed.” Johnny tells you, squeezing you a little closer. You can’t tell if that was his response to you scooting away, or if he really is clueless.

“..Oh.”

“Yeah, but we got ya all fixed up, didn’t we, Si?”

You frown in confusion, eyes flicking to the doorway where you find Simon lurking, one hand gripping the doorframe. He hadn’t made a sound. Not even the creaking of a floorboard or squealing of shoes. He’s dressed in casual athletic wear as if he might’ve come home from a jog an hour or two ago. You’ve learned he does that every morning, usually around seven.

Simon just grunts like the caveman he is, eyes running over the picture of the two of you.

“Get up. I’m making breakfast.” he huffs, turning and walking down the hall just as quietly as he came.

Johnny sighs next to you, his free hand flipping the covers off the two of you. “Well, let’s not make him wait any longer than we need to.”

He stands, your eyes trailing down his back as he bends over. You watch as he tugs some gray sweatpants over his hips, grabs a shirt from the floor to pull over his head.

“After y’finish eatin’, I figure I’ll rewrap that nasty wound o’ yours, and you can tell me all about how ya ended up that way, yeah?”

You don’t speak, but he doesn’t seem to be looking for a response, anyway. He straightens and turns back toward you, your eyes fixing on his thick fingers tying the strings of his sweats, on the imprint of something against his upper thigh-

You blink heavily, eyes swiftly flashing up to his. He’s smiling at you, but not smugly. More… gentle, than anything. Your voice quakes when you speak.

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

He sighs, reaching a hand up to shove some overgrown strands of hair out of his face. “Alrigh’. How about you go on ahead an’ join Simon? ah’m gonna take a piss.”

He turns and trudges over to the connected bathroom before you can respond. You slowly nod to yourself. You feel tired. So tired. You shouldn’t, considering this is the first time you’d slept on a mattress, let alone a bedframe, in years.

You pull yourself to the edge of the bed, legs shaking as you push to stand. The floor is cool against your warm skin. You take a quick scan of your surroundings and don’t find much more than what you’d expect from them. A single, golden brown dresser. Two bedside tables. Not much decor besides a little clutter. Everything’s a little mismatch.

Your feet move as if they don’t belong to you. They seem to know the choreography of their kitchen more than your consciousness does.

Your vision is fuzzy. Your body feels like a rusty engine of a car. Just barely rumbling back to life each time you twist the key, sluggish and old.

Your sense of smell stirs to life before anything else. Slightly burnt toast, you think. Strawberry jam. You sniffle as cold air pinches at your nose, shivering and hugging your arms with the opposite hands.

You flinch and hiss when you make contact with the sore skin beneath the bandage on your upper right arm, shifting your grip lower as you wince. Your slow walk has finally brought you to the kitchen.

Your eyes trail over his face as he slides three pieces of toast on a plate, two on another, and a single slice on the last one.

“Mornin’.” He vaguely gestured around the stools at the kitchen bar. “Sit.”

And once more, your feet guide you before your thoughts do. The backs of your thighs meet a stool as he spreads a vibrant red jam across the piece of toasted bread, most of it golden brown with the crust a little black. He slides the plate with a single slice in front of you.

You prefer raspberry jelly. You don’t like the crust on your toast. You also can’t imagine he’d care if you told him either of those things.

Your fingers shake as they reach in front of you, skin feeling fragile as it touches the brittle corners of the bread. Sharp canines pierce the texture easily, teeth tearing off a chunk and chewing as your tongue slips out to swipe the remnants off of your lips.

He’s staring at you. Has been since you picked up the piece of toast. His gaze fixes on your tongue so vehemently, that you’d think he was waiting for you to open your mouth just to catch a glimpse.

A shiver runs down your back and you shudder, spine curling inward slightly to keep you looking small. Even if you weren’t physically.

“‘ave you brushed your teeth?”

Your face twitches into some expression of confusion, and your hand comes to cover your mouth not so subtly as you place the toast back on it’s plate.

One of the many luxuries you didn’t have being homeless.

“N-no, I haven’t h-“

You’re stunned into silence by the view of him abruptly standing, lips parting in surprise as he curves around the corner of the counter.

“C’mere.”

His hand is on your nape, grip just a little too tight. Again, you feel a sense of deja vu. He pulls you out of the chair and your hands jerk up to commit some sort of action, just to fall flat at your sides. You feel like a snail in comparison to his heavy footsteps.

He walks you to his bedroom and opens the attached bathroom, ignoring the way you nearly flinch at the sight of Johnny- his boxers and sweats tugged down to where you can see the beginnings of a pale appendage. There’s still a toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth. His head pops up when the door opens but he doesn’t seem surprised to see you.

You swallow thickly, throat suddenly feeling tiny and clogged as Simon pushes you to the counter. You cast your gaze downwards.

His big fingers seem to randomly grab a green toothbrush from a cup on the marble. It’s clearly been used, has to be one of theirs. You nearly gag at the thought.

He shoves the plastic object into your mouth, his lips twitching at your gurgled grunts as he roughly pushes the bristles back and forth against your teeth.

Your hands jolt up to his offending digits and wrist, halfhearted claws digging into the firm muscle beneath his sleeve.

You try to turn your head away and his grip slips to the front of your throat. Light pressure. Thumb just under your jaw to keep your chin propped up while he listens to the thu-thud of your heartbeat. Your ears flick to the side and lower.

When you finally get a good enough grip to tug yourself away from the toothbrush, neck muscles straining to tear away, he seems amused at the flash of teeth.

“Yeah, bare those pretty teeth at me, love. Let’s see how that goes.”

The expression on your face twists to the closest thing you can get to a scowl. You almost get away when he tightens his grip on the front of your throat enough for you to part your lips in a gasp.

“Enough.” he snaps, so loud you think you can feel your skull vibrate. You nearly choke on the toothpaste, just barely manage to stop yourself from swallowing. Cold fingers tremble in front of you before you lower them to cling to the counter at each side of your hips. Squeezing your eyes shut helps a little and you go still.

“Jeez, Si, didn’t get a good night’s sleep?” Johnny pipes up, and you can hear a rustle of fabric and the groaning of pipes as the toilet flushes. You hear him spit into the sink behind you and the tap run while he rinses his mouth briefly.

Simon ignores him and resumes for a minute or two before he turns and pushes you to bend your upper half over the sink. Gives your tongue an exceptionally harsh scrub before he drops the toothbrush into the sink.

“Spit.”

And when you hesitate, because that’s a weird fucking thing to say, he shoves his salty, meaty fingers down your throat until you gag, nearly retching around his fingers so you expel the toothpaste involuntarily instead of just repeating himself.

Your nose burns.

You’re crying when he releases you, bitterly glaring up at him as he rubs the leftover toothpaste from your lips. He doesn’t let you rinse.

“Way to scare a girl away,” Johnny sighs, shouldering Simon out of the way to stand in front of you.

He cups your cheeks with his warm hands and gently brushes the tears away with his thumbs. “It’s alright, lovely. No need fer the tears. You know he means well, hmm?”

You can’t help the relieved sigh as he touches you, body instinctively relaxing under his heated touch.

You don’t know if it’s your own doing or his when you nod.

“Let’s go finish our breakfast.” he says, moving his hands to your shoulders. He turns you and you pout (frown) the entire time he walks you out of the bathroom. He brings you out to the living area but instead sits you down on the middle cushion before joining Simon in the kitchen.

You huff to no one but yourself, tongue running over your teeth absently. At least you have a clean mouth now. Better than nothing for all the trouble he’s put you through.

Johnny walks back in just as you finish your train of thought, holding your plate and his. He places the one with a half-eaten piece of toast in your lap, sitting beside you and doing the same with his. Your fingers twitch on your thighs.

Johnny slings an arm around your shoulders, bringing you a little closer to him. Just like he’d done a few minutes prior when you’d woke up in his bed.

You’re hungry. You know you are. With the way your stomach aches like a crater, there’s no way you couldn’t be. Why don’t you want to eat?

Maybe it’s the whole situation, the way they’re treating you. Like they don’t plan on you leaving. They’ve already started making space for you in their lives. It feels as if they’ve shoved you into the deep end, not given you a chance to catch your breath or dip your toes in. It’s weird.

“Not hungry?” Johnny’s voice brings you back to the moment, as well as Simon joining the two of you on your other side.

He’s farther than you’d like.

Your eyelashes flutter after a moment, and you shake your head.

“Tired.” You rasp, your voice scratchy and your throat feeling swollen.

“m’sure now you regret wasting all that energy causing a fuss in the bathroom, huh?” Simon unhelpfully adds, voice slurred while he speaks with food in his mouth.

You glare at him from the corner of your eye, but he doesn’t notice with the way he’s shoveling food down his throat.

Johnny releases your shoulders to reach for your plate, ripping off a small piece and getting some jam on his fingers as he brings it up to your mouth.

“Come on, just a bite?”

You don’t respond for a moment.

Eventually, you decide you’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of here fastest.

It only takes a nod before he’s pushing it past your lips, a bit more gently than Simon was with the toothbrush.

He ignores the fact you agreed to a single bite as he continues feeding you. The toast tastes slightly of mint when you take your next bite.

“So, after breakfas’ ah’ll rewrap tha’ wound, Simon’s gotta go to the store, I’ve got a game t’watch, I figure you can rest up on the couch with me. How’s that sound?”

You look over at him, red jam smeared over his lips, free hand stuffing food in his mouth nearly just as quickly as Simon. They’ve both got a bad habit of talking while eating.

It doesn’t feel like have any other choice but to nod. Not that you plan on sticking to that. You drift off to a memory earlier in the day when you were in the kitchen for the first time.

When your eyes naturally flit back to the window you’d climbed in the day before, you noticed the dried blood had been cleaned up.

You also noticed the little nob on the top of the window had been turned, sealing the window shut. Probably just because of the storm.

lHowever, it irks you. Even when it was storming, they kept it open for you. It’s only closed now that you’re inside. You need to say something. Confirm that they know you aren’t staying.

Something inside you hushes your thoughts, telling you to keep quiet, you want this-

You urge your unease to the front of your mind.

“S-So when can I leave?”

Do you really want to?

Your head turns to Simon, and he pauses, before resuming his meal.

You turn to Johnny, and he just smiles at you sympathetically, a speck of red on his cheek.

“Oh, love. You aren’t goin’ anywhere. Not in this weather. Let the storm pass and we’ll talk then, yeah?” he says, reaching forward to wipe a bit of toast from the corner of your lip with his thumb.

For the first time, his smile doesn’t comfort you.

You don’t finish your piece of toast.

notes: that little moment of reader struggling with food was meant to show her unease around them and loss of appetite from the drugs, not an ed btw! i admit i have no idea what foods english people eat so take it easy on me ok? if you’re reading this thinking ‘god i just want them to fuckkkk’ me too 😞 in due time. also at what point do i stop using the ‘new writers on tumblr’ tag?

taglist: @lilana56 @angelic-thingys @sweetnightowl @skullcrawler @kxnnxy @lazystorycollector @pagesfalling @honestlymassivetrash @theyoungeagle

lemme know if i missed anyone it wouldn’t let me tag a few people for some reason

me telling u guys i posted part three:

[thewinter-eden]

Don't Look At Me Like That

images are mine (except middle HH pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

part 4 of the skz crack!horror series (this concludes the Hyung Line).

pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: hitman!Hyunjin’s next target is you, the child of a foreign diplomat. But when he shows up to do the job and finds you ambivalent to the threat upon your life, he can’t help but ask what the hell is wrong with you.

warnings: Terminal illness, smoking, asshole family, political family, angst, unrealistic trust fund, drugs, implications of overdose, implications of involuntary overdose, assault, discussion of surgery, depictions of cysts/tumors, USD instead of Korean Won, Gossip Girl reference, some language, kidnapping.

word count: 6k

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info PART 2 INFO

The first igniting drags of your cigarette feel like a second glass of wine. For a second, you’re lighter than air and the world tips on its axis.

Your family hates your penchant for cigarettes. They call you disgusting; unhygienic; stupid.

Although, In a way, your literal toxic trait has actually strengthened your personal hygiene—a rigorous unskippable skincare routine, to fight the weathering of your face, expensive and regular dental care to prevent the yellowing of teeth, your hands under a constant layer of hand sanitizer and scented perfume to combat the clinging stench of smoke, every surface of your bedroom cleaned daily and your laundry crisply pressed and regularly washed—just because you’re a shameless human chimney doesn’t mean you intend to wear the grime of cigarette smoke as an accessory.

Not that any of that matters anymore.

You take another drag and feel your body settle into the familiar rhythm. In front of you, on the other side of your glass cage (read: bedroom window) the city stretches out in front of you, lights poking holes in the blanket of darkness that covers it.

The clock reads 6 PM.

Lifting one hand, tapping a black-polished nail against the glass, watching your arm tremble, you give a resigned sigh and blow a puff of smoke through the opening. The plume rises and disperses into the atmosphere, vanishing before your eyes.

You finish your cigarette and crush the filter into your ash tray, yanking the curtains closed. The next few minutes are muscle memory—shrugging out of your robe, spritzing it with vodka to remove the smoke smell, exfoliating your hands and arms with a sugar scrub, brushing and whitening your teeth, covering yourself head to toe in moisturizer.

All for the sake of appearances.

When you close yourself into the bathroom to change half an hour later, all you smell is coffee from the sugar scrub and the sickly sweet aroma of your flowery lotion.

“You’re coming, right?” Your best friend Lisa’s voice booms through the phone, the sound of pounding music and raucous laughter filling the background.

You’re already dressed, brushing excess highlighter and powder off your face as you stand before your mirror. “Of course I’m coming, I promised you I would. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” You take a second to check your watch.

Lisa had made plans with you to meet at the party at 8, but she always arrives early enough to be four or five drinks ahead by the time you show up. This inevitably leads to her finding someone to spend an hour in the closest lockable room with and you calling your dad’s driver to take you home.

It’s not that you don’t ever want a hook up or a boyfriend or anything, it’s just that you’re the seventeen-year-old daughter of a politician and you have rules.

You can’t be out after 11, you can’t be seen with mile-deep cleavage or thigh-high hems, and you certainly can’t be drunk in public—especially as a minor. So you smooth the fabric of the just barely appropriate outfit you’ve chosen and check your reflection one last time.

It takes a second to convince yourself that the heaviness of your eyes isn’t because of your dark liner, that the dullness in your expression isn’t obvious.

“Well hurry on over. I’ve found someone you just have to meet.”

When you arrive, you’re wading through a house that’s teeming with high schoolers, the walls reverberating with pounding music. You find Lisa near the kitchen, one arm slung around the neck of one of her friends, the other hand clutching a plastic cup.

When her eyes land on you, she all but screeches your name over the clamor and reaches for you. The girl that she was just leaning on takes the opportunity to pull away and stretch her arms upward, trying to correct the awkward hunch that Lisa had put her in. She shoots you a grateful smile and disappears into the crowd, looking for her boyfriend.

Lisa’s in your face in the next second, her breath already reeking. She catches you in a tight, sloppy hug, the contents of her cup splashing your shoulder as she trips. “I’m so glad you’re here,” She says, and if her body language says drunk, her voice certainly doesn’t. Her lipstick is smeared and she’s staggering a little but her voice is crisp and sharp. “I was worried you’d change your mind again.”

She runs a hand up the back of your neck and playfully squeezes the knot of your hair that you’ve taken the time to elegantly pin.

It’s a ritual at this point.

You have the worst habits—smoking and drinking and slipping your curfew after everyone’s asleep—but you don’t go anywhere without a Princess Grace-like appearance. Because it doesn’t matter what you do as long as you’re not shitfaced on the front page the next morning. Even if you’ve snuck out at night to meet a boyfriend, when the cameras catch you on the streets you’re perfectly coiffed and sleekly styled.

Even now, you don’t look like you’re dressed for a high school party so much as a cocktail one, but Lisa tells you it makes you look more like Blair Waldorf than the homeschooler you’re always worried you emulate.

You push her hand out of your hair and check to make sure the pins haven’t come out. “Did you get me one of those?” You nod towards the cup in her hand and her eyes light up.

She nods towards the kitchen. “I got you, babe, come with me.”

You follow her, one hand reaching for her hip to steady her when she falls off one of her high heels, and then you’re in the kitchen and the noise of the party is muffled behind the heavy swinging door.

There’s one other person in the room with you, a tall, slender guy near the sink, shoulders hunched slightly as he gazes out the window. You’re still trailing after Lisa, but your eyes are taking in the long black hair that the guy has pulled back in a half pony, the slim-cut jacket with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows, the ripped jeans that cinch at his small waist and hang loosely around his legs.

When the two of you enter, his head turns, and you see the sharpness of his jaw, the definition of his features. There’s a flutter in your chest when his dark eyes land on you, and you whip your head away, crowding yourself behind Lisa.

She’s crushing something with a spoon, dumping it in the cup she’s just poured for you. Then she spins on one heel—surprisingly stable as she does—and passes it to you. “Here.”

You stare at the powder floating on top, and then back at her. “What did you put in this?”

“Nothing heavy.” She assures you, and knocks back a couple of the tablets herself. “Just something to take the edge off. Go ahead.”

It doesn’t matter anyway.

You drink, sucking in the yeasty beer with fervor, trying your hardest not to taste it as it goes down. Before you can finish the cup, Lisa catches your arm and turns you towards the man at the window. She introduces you without giving you a chance to question her, and tells you his name is Hyunjin—the guy she wanted you to meet.

He turns to you fully, eyes tracing you head to toe. There’s a gentle smile on his full lips as he notices the blush that rushes to your face. “Nice to meet you,” He says kindly. “I think I’ve seen you on TV.”

As the words reach your ears, you feel yourself growing more guarded despite the opposite effects of the alcohol. You’re used to being recognized, you’re used to being used for your dad’s fame and fortune. You’ve been burned before, and you have no intention of using this time to be manipulated again.

So you pull yourself up into a respectful posture and prepare to treat him like the occasional politically-conscious “fan” who asks you to take a picture. It doesn’t happen often, but you do tend to be popular amongst the poli-sci students at the local college.

“He’s a senior.” Lisa says, and gives you a nudge towards him. “He’s going to study art.”

Your eyes widen just slightly, and you look over Hyunjin again. At second glance, he does look the type. He’s effortlessly fashionable, quiet, reserved—at least on first impression. You extend your hand politely. “Pleasure to meet you. Are you a practitioner or a history buff?”

At your strictly professional tone, Hyunjin laughs under his breath and steps in to take your hand, enveloping it in the warmth of his own. “A little of both, I suppose. I sketch and paint. Lisa tells me you’re quite the watercolorist?”

You blush a little at the recognition of your most intimate hobby. “I play around with it a little, but it’s just for fun.” When you notice he’s still grasping your palm, you gently pull your hand back.

Lisa grips your arm again, and leans in so close that you can smell the cologne of the last boy she had her hands on. “Why don’t you two hang out a little? You’re both the same about parties, so I figured you’d get along. Cool? I’m going to go find Mingyu.”

There’s nothing you can say to make her stay, even if you could think of the words to try. So you just watch her disappear, the noise of the party warbling strangely as the door swings back and forth behind her.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Your eyes snap back to Hyunjin. “What?”

“When I said I’d seen you on TV.”

“Oh.” You pull another long sip from your drink and wince. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You’re standing like you’re at a press conference.” His eyes are alive with mirth as he watches you subtly try to shuffle your posture, brows lowering.

You’re coming back to yourself, your body acclimatizing to the atmosphere and whatever it was that Lisa put in your drink, your nerves no longer responding to every little glance that Hyunjin gives you. So you just shrug a shoulder and search the kitchen for your drink of choice. “I’m not uncomfortable as long as you’re not interested in some kind of fifteen minutes of fame bullshit.”

There it is.

You drain your beer as Hyunjin chuckles behind you and rinse your cup of the vile liquid, instead filling it with about four ounces of whiskey from a glass cabinet.

Hyunjin watches your movements with an eyebrow cocked. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t meant to be a party favor.”

You nurse the drink slowly, settling into the comfort of the initial burn. “You gonna tell on me?”

He examines you again, shaking his head. “Not if you pour me one.”

You do, and then settle back against the counter. “Why come to a party if you’re going to hide in the kitchen?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Kinda surprised your dad lets you come to something like this.”

You used to be, too. Now you just huff. “As long as I’m not a scandalous headline tomorrow, he doesn’t care where I go or what I do. And I don’t usually hide in the kitchen.” It’s true, you don’t. There’s a handful of people out there that you like to talk to, a couple of them you even like to dance with if the occasion calls for it, but right now you’re not itching to leave where you’re at.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows raise as he looks at you, and he glances towards the door. “Then why—”

“Because I’m talking to you.” The confidence comes with the whiskey. The taste of it in the back of your throat distracts you from the blush you would ordinarily be fighting if you had said those words soberly to someone as attractive as Hyunjin, and right now you’re just enjoying the way his eyes crinkle and the sweet smile explodes across his face.

It’s cute.

He’s cute.

He shuffles his feet beneath him for a second, the air between you comfortable as he lets the effects of your statement fade. When the flustered state is mostly gone from his face, he glances up at you again, almost shyly. “You’re really pretty.” And then, feeling the weight of his own words as they drop off his tongue, his eyes widen and he hastens to soften their impact. “I like your earrings.”

But you just smile, watching the pink in his cheeks as he swallows a regrettably large gulp of whiskey.

“You’re really pretty, too.” You say, and his head snaps around to you.

For a long second, he just stares at you.

It’s not often that you find yourself talking to someone you want to open yourself up to, someone you like to see so flustered, but he’s so completely enchanting that you can’t take your eyes off him and you don’t want to stop saying things that make him look at you like that.

There are only so many things that you can enjoy in a life like yours, and you want to enjoy this.

Hyunjin pours you both another drink.

You’re grateful, especially because there’s a nagging part of you telling you to go outside and smoke a cigarette, so instead you bring your cup to your lips and sip. You move to reach for a bottle of lemon juice and it puts you right next to him, feeling the radiating warmth of his side as you mix your drink into a whiskey sour.

He doesn’t move away.

Out of the corner of your eyes you catch the faintest tremble of his hand, and a smirk curves your lips.

His eyes are on you as you pinch a sprinkle of sugar into the drink and then suck the granules off your thumb.

You turn slightly, so close that you don’t even have to reach to offer him your drink. “Want to try?”

His eyes flick from yours, to the drink, and back to your face. Hyunjin’s tongue appears to swipe across his lower lip, and then he nods, taking the cup from you.

You thoroughly enjoy the swirling in your stomach when his fingers brush yours.

He drinks from your cup, face scrunching slightly as he takes in the taste of it.

At the crumpling of his eyebrows, you frown, suddenly interrupted from the sense of control you feel. “You don’t like it?”

Hyunjin lowers the cup from his lips with a look of surprise, shaking his head. “I love it.” He holds it out to you. “Would you show me how you made it?”

It’s not a complicated drink, the whiskey sour.

You find yourself smirking again, and push the cup back towards him. “Keep it. I’ll make myself another one.” And you take his whiskey from him, turning to fix yourself another drink. When he just stands there, mentally processing how he somehow ended up trading drinks with you, you know you have him.

So when he edges closer, the heat of his body flooding into your skin, you’re not surprised. You keep your hands moving, your eyes on your drink, pretending you don’t notice the way he’s suddenly leaning into your side.

“You smell good,” He says lowly, and your heart does a flip.

But you play it off casually, focused on getting the lid off the lemon juice bottle. “You like it? I’m not so sure yet.”

It’s gotta be the oldest trick in the book, but he takes the opportunity like it’s a written permission slip and then his face is at the junction of your neck and shoulder, the whisper of his breath on your skin.

“I like it,” He murmurs.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him place his cup on the counter next to you, and then both of his hands settle on your arms. His touch is light, gentle, his thumbs smoothing questioning strokes against your sleeves, asking permission.

When you tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him, it’s a yes.

His lips are on your shoulder then, his fingers wrapping firmly around your arms.

Your entire body heats up.

He’s leaning into you, trailing his mouth from your shoulder to your neck, then slowly up your throat until your head is edging back, leaning against his shoulder, giving him access. Hyunjin’s hand slides up one arm, cupping the curve of your neck as he litters wet kisses across your jaw, and his other hand reaches around to cover both of yours where you realize that at some point you abandoned your efforts to make a drink.

He turns you around and you let him, throwing your head back as his mouth leaves a glistening trail across your collarbones and up your throat, moving up to suck gently at the point of your jaw beneath your ear. “I really do like your earrings.” He whispers, and you feel him flick the dangling gemstone with his tongue.

You’re trembling under his hands, and you wish you could say it’s from his highly effective ministrations, but you know it’s not. You peel your eyes open, all but panting as his arm circles your waist, pulling you closer. His forehead drops against yours, and you watch his tongue dart out to lick his lips.

“Can we move this somewhere more private?” He whispers, and then he’s sucking at your jaw on the other side, his fingers gripping the flesh at your hips.

You can’t help a laugh. “More private than the closed kitchen where it’s just us?”

“Please?” He whimpers against your throat.

You have absolutely no reason to protest. You’re nodding, aching, allowing him to push you towards the kitchen door, because this could be it. This could be your last. He’s every fantasy you’ve ever had, the absolute embodiment of beauty and seduction, and even one night with him could be everything.

What do you have to lose?

You stand to lose more by turning him down at this point.

So when his hands guide you through the living room, your ears barraged by music and laughter, your eyes assaulted by the flashes of too much skin and way too much pda, you just lean into his touch around your waist and let him find a room to duck into.

That’s how you find yourself pushed onto your back on someone’s bed, your heart in your ears as Hyunjin straddles you, his face returning to its spot against your throat, kissing his way towards your collar.

You feel his hands trail up your sides, his thumbs sweeping at the swell of your breasts, and for a second, you panic.

You’re not sure what he’ll think of you, how he’ll react to you when he finally gets his hands on you, but you can’t even worry about it for long because he’s nipping at your throat, his hands dragging your arms above your head.

Breathing in gasps, heart hammering as he laces the fingers of one hand through both of yours, trapping your hands above your head, you arch yourself into him as his free hand comes back towards his hip.

“You really are very pretty,” Hyunjin breathes into your ear, and then he presses a surprisingly chaste kiss to your cheek. “I just want you to know that.” Still holding your hands, he settles his weight back on your hips and pulls something out of his pocket.

You frown at him, chest heaving with breathlessness, confused. “What do you mean?”

Hyunjin brings his free hand back into view, now holding something cylindrical. Bringing the end of it to his mouth, prying off a plastic cap with his teeth, you can see the object as it catches the light.

A hypodermic needle, filled with something.

He spits the cap out of his mouth, eyebrows pinched in concentration. “Don’t move, angel, this doesn’t have to hurt.”

But you’re not moving, you’re just staring at the needle, trying desperately to make sense of the complete shift in atmosphere. You’re no longer trapped in a lovers’ embrace, you’re trapped. He has your hands immobilized, your lower body caught beneath his own, completely vulnerable.

He arches his body, reaching to slip the needle into a vein in your arm, and you understand.

You understand.

A deep sigh rushes out of your lungs.

You thought you’d have more time, but at this point, what does it matter?

Just before the needle pricks your flesh, Hyunjin seems to realize that you’re not fighting him at all. His eyes flick down to you, and he finds you blinking solemnly at his shoulder, not a single emotion on your face.

He pauses.

You close your eyes, suck in a deep breath, and let it out.

There’s no fear, no more surprise, no apprehension.

Just exhaustion; resignation.

It doesn’t matter. He leans in towards your arm again, angling the needle to prod your vein. You don’t even flinch as it pricks your skin, sliding into your flesh. His thumb hovers over the plunger, but doesn’t press.

He’s never had a mark just lay there.

They’ve never just…accepted it.

He glances at your face again. “Angel…do you know what’s happening right now?” You had only had a few drinks, and the flush of your face could be from the drugs or the drink or his lips on your throat, but surely you should be a little concerned by the sheer volume of what he’s about to push into your bloodstream.

“I know,” You respond flatly. “He shouldn’t have bothered, honestly, but it’s not like he knew.”

Hyunjin’s brain stutters with confusion. “He?”

“My father,” You say, and your eyes meet his. “He wasted his money, hiring you to kill me.”

Huh.

That’s not at all how he expected this to go.

“I guess he’s paying Lisa, too, since she started with the pills.” It stings, knowing your best friend would accept cash to kill you, but you also know that your father wouldn’t have offered an insignificant sum.

Whatever he’s paying Lisa will set her up for life.

“So they’ll find me, tonight or tomorrow, just another stupid teenager who tried to have too much fun, and the two of you are just the dumb high school friends to corroborate that it was just an accident. Right?”

You don’t cry, you don’t fight, you don’t yell.

He stares at you, shocked. “You don’t sound surprised.”

“You don’t seem apprehensive about killing a girl for money.”

Hyunjin’s jaw tightens. “It’s my job.”

“So you don’t go to this high school, then.” You mutter sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t go to any high school.” Then he catches your gaze again. “But it really is my job. It’s not like it’s personal.”

You take a second, absorbing the reality of what’s happening to you. It’s over.

It’s over.

This is it.

Forget three months.

It’s over now.

You weren’t prepared for this timeframe, but you are prepared. You have coped.

It’s not a new idea.

So you just nod. “Okay.”

It’s like he starts to lean to finish the job, and then pulls himself back. “Why did you say he shouldn’t have bothered?”

You laugh then, a loud, inelegant burst of laughter, almost directly into his chest.

He’s startled, eyes wide, leaning back on your hips to stare down at you. “Angel, I’m literally about to kill you, why the hell are you laughing? There’s no way you’re that drunk.”

And you’re not.

The sheer adrenaline of his lips on your skin burned through that alcohol what seems like hours ago, and now you’re just sinking into oblivion, still laughing.

Finally, tears of irony in your eyes, you wheeze up at him. “Go ahead and finish it, Hyunjin, or whoever you are. It doesn’t make a difference anyway. I’m alright. Finish it.” You nod upwards, towards the direction of your joined hands, and wish that the scent of his skin wasn’t still making your head swim.

It’s really not the time to be attracted to the assassin whom your father hired to murder you.

But he’s stuck, indecisive.

Because you’re laying underneath him, sniffling past a rush of humor—of all things—completely unconcerned and telling him that you’re alright with him killing you. That you’re alright with him subjecting you to a drug overdose that’s going to be painful and terrifying and the end of your life.

At this point, you seem to be more alright with it than he is.

And then you’re smiling at him. “Thanks for being nice about it.”

His heart lurches. “What the hell.” He yanks the needle out of your skin, releases your hands, and sits back on your hips again, eyes wide and unbelieving. “I mean—what the hell? What is wrong with you?”

You roll your eyes. “He must not be paying you much if you’re willing to back out just because I’m pitiful.”

Which isn’t true, he’s supposed to be paid quite a lot for this job, but he just can’t comprehend how you’re reacting.

“Why shouldn’t he have bothered?”

You’re no longer trapped except for the way he’s straddling your hips, so now you’re just laying against an uncomfortable pair of pillows, feeling the pins of your updo poking into your neck. If he’s supposed to kill you, why won’t he just do it? You search his eyes, finding only confusion and concern.

Sighing, you reach for his hand—the empty one that used to be holding both of yours against the headboard.

Oh, how you expected a very different outcome from this situation.

He flinches as he suddenly finds you bringing his hand towards your chest, jerking it back when you lay his palm over your breast.

It’s almost comical the way his face heats up.

Clearly, his earlier show of attraction towards you had been aided by a hurriedly consumed volume of alcohol and a professionally put-on flustered attitude, but now, when you made him touch you, he seems genuinely awkward.

And, for your side of things, you were going to let him feel you up anyway, so what’s the difference now?

You quirk an eyebrow. “I’m not asking you for anything, just give me your hand.”

He doesn’t protest when you catch his hand again, his cheeks flushed pink, until you drag his fingers across the slope of your breast and they trip over a lump of flesh that’s hard as a rock. The flustered color drains from his face, and then he’s frowning, leaning in, moving of his own accord to swipe his fingers over the place once more, as though he wasn’t sure he felt it the first time.

You let him.

When he pulls his hand back into his lap and stares at you, you just smile. “Did you know, in the early days of breast cancer surgery, a woman went in to have a lump removed, and when she came out of anesthesia, she was missing an entire breast, some ribs, and like half of the muscle wall of her chest? And the fuckass doctors were like “we got it!” Like, you don’t burn down the house in order to kill a spider and then say, “Don’t worry, we got it!””

Hyunjin blinks at you, mentally parsing your unexpected rambling. “They’ve, uh…come a long way in terms of cancer surgeries, I think.”

A puff of breath escapes your lips, another sardonic laugh. “It’s too late for that. It’s in my bones, my lymphatic, everywhere. I got to it too late.” You roll your eyes and press a palm to your forehead. “So, yeah, he shouldn’t have bothered. Three months and I would have been out of his hair for free.”

A few seconds pass as you process the words you haven’t yet admitted out loud to anyone, as he processes what you’re telling him.

He’s trying to kill a girl who’s already dying.

No wonder she didn’t care.

“So, how much is he paying you?” You question lightly, eyes searching for the syringe. You assume he’ll finish the job—everybody has to pay the rent, and it’s not like you’ve got your life ahead of you anyway.

Hyunjin scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “Three million.”

You outright scoff at that, shocking him once again. “He’s ripping you off, dude. Did he tell you why he hired you?”

“I don’t ask. I am a professional, you know.” He brings his hand to his chest like he’s offended, and allows the slightest smile to twist his lips when you roll your eyes again.

You wedge your hands under you. “Can I sit up? I need to smoke and you’re killing my back.” You wiggle your hips and try to scoot yourself back. As he lifts his own hips off of you, you raise an eyebrow. “Not that I mind.”

At that, he flushes again.

Laughing softly, you pull yourself up to sit against the headboard, dragging your knees to your chest, and watch as he sits himself in front of you, cross-legged. For the time that it takes you to slide a cigarette from your purse and light it between your lips, he’s silent, watching you.

The syringe is at his side, laying between the wrinkles in the blanket, forgotten.

“My trust fund defaults back to him if I die before I hit eighteen.” You inform him. “And it’s 25 million dollars.”

His mouth falls open. “Why the hell is your trust fund so much money?”

“When my mom was dying, my father promised her he would help her allot her estate into a trust fund for me, plus a hefty sum from his own assets as a romantic gesture. For all his faults, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved her.” You scoff, sucking in a comforting drag of smoke. You’re careful to blow it away from him, to knock your ashes into the ring tray on the bedside table instead of allowing them to fall into the carpet. “But that was fifteen years ago, and I guess he forgot that he loved her once.”

“So he wants your trust fund.” Hyunjin says, leaning forward to rest his chin on his palm. “Because he forgot he loves you too?”

Your lips pinch. “I’m just a reminder of when he used to be a better man.”

Silence ticks between you, and the smell of your cigarette permeates the air. You can’t care enough to apologize to him for your filthy habit, because if it’s the last cigarette you’re ever going to have, you might as well enjoy it.

But he doesn’t seem put off by it, instead wrapping his hands around your ankles and pulling your feet into the criss-cross of his legs so he can scoot closer to you, resting his hands on your thighs.

You’re surprised, but not displeased with the gentle embrace of your legs.

“I don’t want to kill you, angel,” He says, and rests his chin on your knees.

It’s too much, the doe-eyed boy staring at you through the dim light, holding you close to him and running his hands up and down your thighs, fingers sweeping low enough to run across your hips.

You can’t look at him.

Turning your eyes away, you knock the ash off the end of your cigarette and laugh. “That’s so kind, thanks.” You drop the rest of the butt into the tray and brush your hands together. “Alright. I’m ready. Let’s get you paid.” You scoop up the syringe and hold it out to him, eyes wide and inviting.

He takes it from you, but he doesn’t take your arm again.

In the quiet of his indecision, you can’t help yourself. Your fingers find the soft swoop of his hair falling over his forehead, letting a few strands slide through your fingers before you pull yourself together and extend your arm to him. “Do it, Hyunjin.” You say softly, ignoring the way your movements made him look at you. “If you don’t do it, he’ll hire someone else. His campaign isn’t doing well, he’s facing asset forfeiture—he needs the money. If you don’t kill me, someone else will.”

Hyunjin’s hand finds yours, his fingertips smoothing up the underside of your forearm towards that vein that he found earlier. A drop of blood has gathered where he pricked you, the trail where it dripped dry and crusted.

You’re not scared, you’re not worried.

You’re a little relieved, actually, that you don’t have to pretend anymore. Because you’ve known for months that your time is running out. You’ve known for months that no one would care even if you told them.

The pounding of the music outside the door fills the space, reminding you that you were supposed to come in here to have the night of your life, and now, instead, the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen is going to inject poison into your bloodstream and leave you to die on a stranger’s bed.

That does dishearten you a little bit.

He presses his thumb against the vein. His eyes flick up to yours. “When is your birthday?”

You cock your head curiously, wondering. “Next month.”

Hyunjin lets the vein go and sets the syringe down near his hip. “I’ll make you a deal.” He takes your other hand, too, peering into your face with sincerity. “If I keep you alive until your birthday, we split the trust fund, 70-30. Then at least you don’t let your dad win, and maybe you can see if there’s some super expensive doctor who can help you. Or something. What do you think?”

You blink. “You’re going to trade being an assassin for being a bodyguard just for eight million dollars?”

He smirks, a flash of teeth in the dark. “Seven and a half, actually. And it’s a better gig than killing a dying seventeen-year-old just so her asshole father can take her trust fund. So, what do you say?”

You’re almost a hundred percent sure there’s no doctor or surgeon in the world who can fix your cancer at this point. All the ones you’ve spoken to so far won’t even recommend radiation or chemo, because there’s no point. They keep saying things like “quality of life” and “keep you comfortable,” not, “if only you had more money.”

But it’s interesting, this deal he’s put forward.

Die tonight or spend a month with a gorgeous young assassin?

Is it even a choice?

“We split it 50-50.” You say. “All I want to do with my half is give it to cancer research.”

He’s surprised again, his mind now struggling to grasp an influx of almost thirteen million dollars, and he nods slowly. “Okay. So we have a deal?”

He’s already holding your hands, so you can’t exactly shake on it, but you nod with a shrug. “Deal.”

You’ve never seen a smile as sweet as the one he gives you after that. “Good. Get your coat, angel—you’re coming home with me.”

Eyebrows skyrocketing, you follow his movements as he bounds off the bed and scoops up your purse. “So you’re going to kidnap me instead of murdering me?”

He holds out a hand and waits for you to take it. “Are you arguing?”

You let him haul you off the bed and find yourself laughing as his arm circles your waist and he hurries you out of the room. “Not in the slightest.”

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PART 2 INFO

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[hellfirecvnt]

Don't Piss Me Off (Pt. 1)

John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader

Warnings: DRUG USE!! Y/N smokes weed and does coke. Don't do drugs, it's for the bit. Drugs are bad. Don't be stupid. This is self indulgent as fuck. Simon is mean, obvs. Y/N is also mean.

Summary: You're back in your hometown for a few weeks to house sit for your parents. A rivalry dating back to your high school years makes an appearance, but this time, he's met his match.

Notes: I finally found someone angry and hot to fill the Billy Hargrove shaped hole in my fanfic writing heart. Fuck ST. Free Palestine.

You invited everyone to this party. An absolute rager while you're house sitting for your parents. Their home is huge compared to your humble two bedroom house, states away. You've reached out to everyone you can remember from your hometown, and it's surprisingly a lot. The house is packed by the time all the guests arrive. A feeling of accomplishment straightens your shoulders as the music surges through the house. Your pride is promptly diminished when a familiar face you specifically didn't invite steps through the door. Simon.

"Why is he here?" You whisper to the nearest person, but somehow, through the music and loud conversation, he hears you as if you whispered it directly to him.

"I heard there was a party. I followed the clientele." He winks, patting a pocket on his dirty bomber jacket.

"Are you selling drugs inside my parents' house?" You ask, acting mortified. He just smirks, basking in the idea of setting you off like he used to, years ago. Long before you left this town. "Let me get an eighth of smoke and a gram of whatever I can put up my nose." The request visibly caught him off guard. He stares at you with a raised eyebrow as he rummages in his pocket for your order.

"Y'know I don't really-"

"What? You stop selling weed?"

"No, it's just," he tilts his head before shoving the illegal contents into your hand. "You seem different."

"Different?"

"Yeah, like you're not a whiny fuckin' kid blowing up my spot anymore." He chuckles as he slips past you, and dissolves into the party. That's right, years ago, when the two of you were in high school, he was expelled when administration seemingly randomly brought in drug dogs, and his locker was raided. To everyone's surprise, he still graduated from the alternative school and even went on to college, but apparently his pursuit of education stopped there when his well-known temper earned him the boot.

Sure, you were a bit of a late bloomer. A classic loser amongst your classmates. The poster child of people who took D.A.R.E extremely seriously, even though you'd never once given a shit about it. You knew he always blamed you for his getting caught, he made your life hell in college before you moved. You forgot all about him before he stepped through your parents' door.

He's already here, so you decide to let him make his money and spice up your party. It's not like you'll run into him again with the way people keep showing up. A bored town, a boring town seeking any kind of thrill outside the two bars that close at 11 PM.

You're not much of a drinker, so your eighth and blow do exactly what you need them to. The coke keeps you chatty and energetic, while the weed mellows that swinging jaw you'd have. Coke is a special occasion drug, your tolerance isn't something to brag about. You sneak off to the bathroom every once in a while, and no one seems to notice, so you get a little brave, slipping away on the empty back patio to cut out a quick line on your mother's hand mirror.

Your technique is swift, muscle memory from your harder partying days in college. The entire time, Simon watches through a window. He'd caught you in passing, and watched in curiosity as the girl he knew with big, innocent eyes and a loud mouth rails a sizable line of hard drugs. He's dumbfounded, laughing lightly to himself. You clean the glass of the remaining powder with your index finger and rub it against your gums, lifting the mirror to check your nose for evidence of your patio soiree. Just as your eyes meet your own, the patio door slides open, and you're no longer alone in the safety of darkness. "Not your first time with that shit." It's not a question, but it sounds like it was supposed to be.

"Far from it," you sigh, relieved. You don't mind smoking with others, but the coke is something you'd prefer to keep to yourself.

"Could'a fooled me," he strikes a lighter, cherrying the end of his cigarette. "You used to be a fucking bitch." He wraps his lips around those last two words, really annunciating each syllable. It's dark, but there's enough moonlight to see the dark circles around his eyes as he displays that same threatening look he used to shoot at you in college between shoulder checks and vulgar insults.

"This 'fucking bitch' will beat your ass now, Kenny. Watch ya' fuckin' mouth," you mock his accent, as yours thinned out after being away for so long.

"Who the fuck is Kenny?" He looks genuinely thrown off.

"No fuckin' poise. Stay focused. Don't insult me on my own patio, I'll fuck us both up." You're speaking almost gibberish, but the only way to knock him down is to throw him off.

"Who the fuck are you?" Simon chuckles, taking a drag of his cig.

"It's been a long time. I'm surprisingly not 16 anymore. You don't seem very young yourself."

He takes a drag, eyes widening as if he's watching a TV show that caught him pleasantly off guard. "Yeah, okay."

"How are sales?" You ask, running your tongue across your teeth to disperse the numbing of the bitter substance.

"Not bad. You just invite everyone whose name you could remember?"

"Everyone but you, Simon." You sigh.

"Well, I hate it for you, Queen Bitch. But I've gotta make money somehow."

"You could try a job," you say, but after you look him up and down, you change your mind. "Nevermind." He releases a genuine laugh, puffing plooms of smoke from his lips with each heave of his chest. "You still doing that band thing?"

"'Band thing?'" he huffs. "Yes. I'm still doing the... Band thing."

"Yikes, soft spot, huh? Not going great?" Years ago you took his verbal beatings with a cowering stance, and often, tears. Today you're giving it all back to him. The reason for your vitriol is not lost on him, so he takes every blow.

"It's going fine. You should come to a show. Get out of your little rich kid bubble for two seconds." Clocked. You've been clocked. Your stunted social skills stemmed directly from how sheltered and spoiled you were until the age of 18 when you finally realized what your life was, compared to others. You worked and saved your own money and moved away at 20. Away from your shelter, away from your helicopter parents, and realistically, away from Simon.

"Yeah, that'll be the day," you're laughing until you notice something going south right inside the door. A fight seems to have broken out. You burst through the entryway, shoving yourself between the two men. One of them, a tall, broad man steps back, acknowledging the escalation at hand. While the other, shorter, almost shorter than you, seems to only get more angry. "You need to calm the fuck down!" You yell, only trying to be heard over his own volume.

"Get the fuck out of my face, bitch!" The short man spits like venom. You look at him with a raised eyebrow, and something takes hold. Before you know it, your own fist is connecting with his jaw. The crowd is rallying you on, but your hit wasn't enough to knock him out. You're aware that your swing warrants a swing back, but God, you know it's about to hurt even with this dude being the size he is. He swings his fist under and hooks you in the stomach. It's painful, but you can't help but heave a wheezing, breathless laugh at the idea that he swung low because he might not have properly reached your face. He's not even that short, but you can't stop the laughter. That only pisses him off more, and he swings again, this time catching your cheek.

By now, you've both been separated as the spectators realize it was kinda strange to watch a man fight a woman, regardless of how it started. You're still laughing, breathless from the hit and sweating from the cocaine. When you're finally released, the laughing returns to anger and you run half of the party off.

"Party's over, fuck outta here!" You call, harshly pushing the power button on the stereo. "Short stack ruined it for all of you. Get out of my house!" You leave the passed out guests alone, they're safer here anyways. Once you return to the patio, you take your same seat and return to the conversation as if nothing happened. "As I was saying, no. I won't be at a Psycho's show."

"It's Psyops and you fuckin' know that." He speaks harshly before reeling it in, and clearing his throat. "What the hell was that?" He gestures to the door with his thumb.

"I told you I'll beat your ass now, Kenny."

"Was that Kenny? Who the fuck is Kenny?" It's clear he hasn't stopped thinking about "Kenny" since the first time you said it.

"I don't know who that guy was," you shrug. "Can I have a smoke?" You rub your sore cheek.

"Whatever," he tosses a cigarette your way. "What was with the laughing? You just fuckin' insane or something? You been in the asylums this whole time?" He looks almost serious with his inquiry. Like he wouldn't be surprised.

"No, I just-" you start to laugh again. "I imagined him punching me in the gut because he couldn't reach my face." You graze your fingers over your cheek again. "But clearly I was unaware of his lengthy arms or something. He seemed shorter from far away," you chuckle.

"Fuckin' ridiculous," Simon laughs with you, shaking his head.

"Yeah, thanks for jumping in, by the way." You joke, cutting out another line on the small silver mirror.

"Jumping in? For you? A fuckin' snitch?" He raises his eyebrows, as if he's been waiting to address this.

"Oh, fuck off. I didn't fucking snitch on you," you announce before inhaling the line.

"Y/N, it's been years. Just fuckin-"

"Simon, I didn't snitch on you. I didn't know you sold drugs at school. I thought they searched our lockers daily, I didn't think anyone would be able to sell drugs that easily at school." As you're explaining, you realize you never denied telling on him, you just silently took his punishment, hoping it'd eventually stop.

"Are you a god damn idiot? You thought they searched all those lockers every fuckin' day?" He's in disbelief.

"That's what my parents told me," you shrug, rubbing the powder from the mirror on your gums again.

"I ain't buying that shit," he mumbles like a growl. "You got that Mickey kid expelled too. Year before." He's staring you down like he's got you cornered.

"Yeah, because he pushed me down the fucking stairs, Simon. I was in the hospital for a week. He broke my arm." You're shocked that it wasn't common knowledge why Mickey was expelled. "He's in jail right now for the armed robbery of a church."

"Wait, seriously?" Simon huffs a chuckle as he pieces it all together and finally, finally considers the fact that you weren't the snitch.

"Have you ever considered that maybe you weren't very good at it? Selling drugs at school, I mean." You tilt your head, awaiting an answer.

"You really didn't do it," he exhales a cloud of smoke from the cigarette he'd just lit.

"No, I didn't. And you made every single day hell for me. You ran me out of town." You're laughing as you say it, looking down and focusing on rolling a joint, but he keeps his eyes on you. A glint of guilt flashes in his pupils, but you'd never know. He used to wonder if he had a hand in your running off, and today it was finally confirmed. Your laugh carries the weight of everything you were getting away from. A man that feels anger as deeply as Simon does, incidentally, comes with the ability to empathize with pain.

"Alright. Next time, I'll jump in." He relaxes, leaning back into the chair.

"Sounds good." You spark up your joint and take a long drag before passing it to Simon. An olive branch. A silent truce. Forgiveness that he didn't deserve. He takes it from your hand and takes a hit. The usually smooth smoke scrapes into his lungs from the guilt. The feeling quickly dissipates as the two of you get stoned.

You both stay there in those seats all night. You hardly realize the passing of time until the sky begins to light up a pale morning blue. "Holy shit, how long have we been out here?" Simon asks, noticing his empty pack of cigarettes. You throw a five dollar bill toward him.

"I owe you. I smoked over half of those." He stuffs the money in his pocket with a nod. "You can stay here, but if you knock on my door at any point after I go to sleep I will fight you like the little guy." Simon looks around and shakes his head.

"No thanks." He nods and heads towards the door.

"See ya' around, Simon." As he closes your door behind him, something sends a tingle down his spine when he hears you say his name again. A softness directed towards him that he's not used to. It's uncomfortable and new and the sensation of craving more pisses him off. He shrugs his shoulders, physically shaking the feeling from his body before heading off on foot. To where? Who fuckin' knows.

The next day, or that same day, way later when you wake up, you're already planning your next get together as you clean up from last night. It's not as bad as usual, but probably because it got cut a few hours short after the altercation. A feat that you had forgotten about until you caught your reflection while brushing your teeth. A small bruise has formed under your eye where you were hit. "Ha, what a pussy." You lift your shirt to examine your stomach and there's not even a semblance of a hit. "Pussy!" You repeat, louder.

After getting ready for the day, you head to the store to replenish the stock for your next shindig. Your parents always leave their credit card when you house sit. It's the only time in your adult life you don't mind using their money. They hardly notice it anyways.

As you're strolling the aisles of the bodega, you spot Simon. Something in you feels awkward about last night, so you hang back until he leaves. He looks tired and disheveled. More so than usual. And he's a little out of breath like he'd been running. He buys a pack of smokes with the five you gave him and disappears out the door. You make your purchase and tote two 30 packs to your rickety, old van. A vehicle you were proud to buy yourself before you moved out. Simon watches you from the corner of the store, having a smoke before continuing his trek across town. He furrows his eyebrows, trying to remember when he saw you drink anything at all at the party. "She can't seriously be throwing another shit show," he mumbles.

He bolts when police pull into the lot, no doubt still in pursuit of him. They pull up to your van and you stand outside, defensively. Unsure of what in your van could get you in trouble at this moment. "Have you seen this guy?" They hold up a picture of Simon. The way he looked in college, anyways. He's shaved his head now.

"No, I can't say I have." You shrug.

"Take this and let us know if you see anyone suspicious." The cop hands you the paper and you take it with a flat smile. Once they leave the lot, you crumple the paper into a ball and toss it in your van.

Simon just can't shake the image of you he's had in his mind all these years. Shy and afraid. Avoiding eye contact and clutching your books to your chest when he'd loom over you and whisper vicious cruelties. Now you walk with your back straight. You look him in the eye, even when he tries to make you uncomfortable just for fun. You fist-fight people and laugh because you imagined something funny in the middle of getting an uppercut to the stomach. You bought drugs from him the second he walked in the door. You're hardly recognizable.

That night, you're settling in the living room with a movie on the TV. It's a quiet, peaceful evening as you smoke a joint on your couch, enjoying the silence of your own company.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock!

Someone frantically bangs on the door before bursting in and slamming it behind them. "Hey! Are you home or what?" Simon yells into the foyer.

"I'm right here, you scared the shit out of me!" You throw a handful of popcorn at him. "Why are you inside my parents' house? What time is it?"

"I don't know what time it is. Shut up, listen, I need to," he seems to search for a softer word than 'hide.' "Stay in here for an hour or two."

"I saw your wanted poster. You're a real outlaw, huh? Arson, right? Hard." He rolls his eyes. "I told them I hadn't seen you."

"Yeah, thanks. I'd hope so."

"You gonna sit down or what?" You ask, annoyed that he's interrupting your movie. He huffs and joins you on the couch and you pass the joint to him.

"The fuck are we watching?" He raises an eyebrow. You stare at him for a second before answering.

"Firestarter."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he sighs.

"Yeah, I started thinking about it after I read your charges. Fucking idiot." You laugh. "Broad daylight is brutal."

"Their house was fine."

"Well, you can hide here as long as you need to. I'll be here for a few weeks. But I am throwing another get together tomorrow, so be down for that."

"Again?" He scoffs.

"Yeah. It's way more fun to party in this giant house than my fucking double wide."

"You live in a double wide trailer?"

"Yes. I got out on my own dime. Options are limited where I ended up." You always tell this story like a brag. It's something you're proud of. After all, it's a nice double wide. It's not even in a trailer park... This time.

"Hard." He mocks you and you laugh in response.

"So these are your two options? Party or a movie with barely any volume while you get high?" He leans across the couch to pass you the joint, unknowingly scooting closer with each reach.

"Normally I'm not talking over the movie so the volume is just fine." You shrug. He takes the hint and finally shuts up, watching the movie and keeping panicky eyes on the windows. By the time the joint is finished, the two of you are much closer than before. Not too close, but gravity seems to be doing its thing. Simon can finally see the small bruise under your eye.

"Is that from that guy?" He laughs.

"Yeah, I know. He tried his best," you join in the laughter. Simon raises a hand to brush his thumb over it, never minding to invade someone's personal space.

"There's not even a welt. What a fuckin' pussy," he says as he lowers his hand. You're not sure if you're blushing or not, but you do know that you're frozen for a moment after the sudden, close quarters. You may have grown out of a lot, but you're still pretty fucking awkward sometimes. Simon notices right away. God damn it.

"That's exactly what I said! There's nothing on my stomach either. It's like I fought a toddler." You laugh, your head is clearing up, but not for long. Simon leans in closely, sliding closer to you than before and invading your personal space much more boldly than when he touched your bruise.

"You know how to take a hit, huh?" He whispers, inches from your face. Your eyes are wide and you feel the heat rise in your cheeks when you feel his hand on your thigh.

"You're about to take a hit if you don't move that fuckin' hand," you snap with a wavering voice that you hope he doesn't notice.

"I'm just fuckin' with you. Had to find some way to do it. You're all... difficult now." He laughs at your still red face. He backs down and you roll your eyes, defeated by your own bodily reactions.

"You are God damn difficult, Simon." You jam your finger into his chest, sizing him up, invading his bubble. "You're difficult and it makes you angry. Now, I'm letting you hide in my parents house from the fuckin' police, so please, for the love of god, tone that fuck-shit down." He can't help but grin at the tables you've turned. Your forehead might as well be pressed to his as you tell him what for.

"Calm the fuck down, Y/N. I'm just fuckin' with you. Thanks for the safehouse." His thanks sounds like sarcasm, but you decide it's the best you'll get from him. He keeps his distance after that, but doesn't shift away from you. For the rest of the movie, you catch him stealing glances your way. He's silently reliving the moment you pushed back, a smile cracks across his lips, but you're too focused on the movie.

The two of you fall asleep before the credits roll. You're baked and glued to the couch, he's exhausted from running all day. It's barely dawn when Simon shakes himself awake, startled by something only a mind as paranoid and volatile as his could dream up. He looks at your sleeping form on the couch and checks his watch. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he mumbles to himself. As he quietly steps toward the door, you call to him from the couch.

"You can shower here if you want. You look like shit. It'd probably be harder to spot you if you weren't filthy." Simon rolls his eyes, but you're right. You rise and stretch from your blanket cocoon. "Fuck, what time is it?"

"Early."

"Useful. The bathroom's down the hall to the right. Toss your clothes in the basket and set it outside."

"Alright," he huffs, unsure how to process your balance between "fuck you" and "I'll do your laundry for you so you can shower."

Simon leaves his clothes in the basket just like you asked and you toss them in the washer with a few of your clothes to fill it up. It'll take longer to wash and dry his clothes than it'll take for him to shower, so you rummage through some of your dad's PJs and leave a pair of soft pants and an old Harvard T-shirt in place of the basket. After a while, Simon emerges from the steamy bathroom, towel-clad. "Are you serious?" He asks, holding up the clothes you've left for him.

"Don't you wanna know what it's like to wear a Harvard shirt?" You jest. "It'll be another 30 minutes on your clothes." Simon rolls his eyes, and tosses the clothes on the couch.

"I'll wait." He takes a seat next to you, the towel secured around his waist. "Give me that." He takes the joint you've barely just started rolling out of your hands. It feels more like a "thank you" than a "I'll do it better" so you let him roll it. It's a gesture of kindness from him, and you accept it.

After a joint or two more, the buzzer sounds on the dryer. "I'll be right back, I threw some of my clothes in there too." You leave and return with a basket of fresh, clean, warm clothes. You dig through and find Simon's belongings, tossing them to him piece by piece. Once he slips off to the bathroom again, he comes back fully dressed. A cleaner, easier to look at version of himself.

"Thanks," Simon nods, but he doesn't retake his seat next to you. "I'll catch you later."

"You coming to the party? For the money?" You grin, secretly hoping to repeat your patio soiree from before.

"For the money." He chuckles as he steps out the door, leaving you in peaceful silence. You fall back asleep right away. Hours later, when you finally awaken, some people are already in the house.

"Jesus Christ, you guys don't knock or nothing?" You rub your eyes. "Don't fuck up my parents' house. I'm gonna go get ready."

"Yeah, yeah," your friends chant back, picking out music to play on the stereo. Once you're dressed and made up to your liking, you return to the party. The size of the crowd doubled in the hour it took you to get ready. As you play hostess, you're secretly searching each room and hallway for Simon, hoping he'd show up, though you're not sure why you're so eager. He was a dick for most of the time you've known him, but even back then, he's a very attractive man.

You pour a round of shots and pass them out, making sure each of your closest pals gets theirs first. You're holding onto one last one, searching for Simon, when you round the corner and see a familiar face. It's the short little shit you just fought the other night. "Aw, god damn it." You sigh, already anticipating the spectacle that's about to unfold.

"You got a lot of fucking nerve throwing another party after the shit you pulled," he says, cracking his knuckles, but you're looking down at him almost, so it's not very threatening

"What? Nerve? Aren't you trespassing right now? Get the fuck out of my house. We're all pushing 30." You're dumbfounded by this weird turf war happening inside your childhood home.

"You think just 'cause you're a broad, you can mouth off to anybody you want and get away with it."

"No, I didn't 'get away with it,' you left a faint little freckle on my cheek with that crabapple you call a fist." And with that, you catch another swing. Just as painful, and this time, no laughter follows. The shot glass is knocked from your hand and shatters on the floor just before you land, cutting up your hands pretty good. "Ah! God fucking damn it!"

"Fuck you, bitch!" The man shrieks, kneeling over you to beat you senseless, but he doesn't get a second hit in before someone's grabbed his shoulders and ripped him off of you. Simon.

He has the short man pinned against the wall receiving hit after hit to the face and stomach. "The fuck you come back here for, dumbass? Playground's already closed?" Simon taunts as he lands blow after blow. The rage in his eyes is palpable. You're on your feet in no time, folding your glass-filled hands in on themselves to swing brick-like fists at the troublesome man. It's you and Simon vs that guy until his friends eventually join in, knocking Simon around and finally dragging their friend out of the function. You wonder what the point of showing up was at all.

Simon helps you wash the glass and small traces of blood from your hands. There's only one significant cut, and a bandaid will have it fixed up in an instant. "Why and how did you manage to land on a pile of broken glass?" He asks, frustrated with the tweezers he's using to remove the tiny shards. "Who keeps inviting that fuckin' guy?"

"I saved you a, uh... I saved you a shot." Your voice lowers as the sentence goes on as you realize how desperate it sounds.

"Saved me a shot?" He laughs. "You were waitin' for me." He grins.

"Yeah, I was hoping to sweeten you up and get a heavier gram this time." You reach into your pocket for money and shove it at him, leaving your bandaged hand in front of him, awaiting your drugs.

"I'll share my personal with you, how about that?" He tilts his head up, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes as he raises a cigarette to his mouth. He already knows you'll be pulling him onto the patio, so he wastes no time lighting it.

"Sounds good, let's go." You lead him to the dark backyard and the two of you take a seat at the table, but you're a chair closer this time, making it easier to share the little mirror. You cut out two lines and pull your hair away from your face. Once the substance enters your body, you're ignited into conversation. You drone on and on, and Simon listens to every bit, quietly hitting his cigarette as he watches you go. Slowly, the adrenaline wears off, and the reality of the ache in your face settles in. "Oh, my God. My fucking face." You brush a finger over the inevitable darkening black eye on the right side of your face.

"Yeah, they uh, kinda fucked us up." Simon speaks through cigarette smoke.

"Do you even know who they are? The short guy?"

"You keep calling him short. He's your height." Simon squints.

"I just feel so much taller than him. Maybe it's the shoes, I don't know." You shrug, snorting another line with the side of your nose that hasn't swollen shut from the fight.

"It's clearly a sore spot for him, regardless."

"You jumped in," you smile, feeling as if this "friendship" has finally been validated.

"Said I would," Simon responds flatly. You roll your eyes and stare up at the night sky for a moment. Inside, the party rages on. Music thumps from indoors, but the sound is well sealed from where you two sit.

"This is gonna hurt so bad tomorrow, huh?" You ask, sniffing through your coke and blood-filled nose.

"Oh, yeah." A drag of his cigarette. "It's gonna fucking suck." He can't help but chuckle, having lived through an ass beating or two in his life.

"You gonna be here when I wake up?"

"Stop asking me so many fucking questions." He waves his hand dismissively.

"Not even to hide?" You smirk.

"I'll come back to hide." He exhales smoke through a small smile. You two are up long past sunrise, and when the last of the coke finally begins to wear off, you head to bed.

"Goodnight, Simon. Don't go to jail today." You chime behind you as you head down the hall. Simon scans the living room and it's emptier than the last party. As in, no one stayed the night. He shifts uncomfortably for a moment, unsure of his next move. Before he knows it, he's face down, passed out on your parents soft, leather couch.

You can hear the familiar sound of falling face-first into that exact couch, and you feel a sense of comfort knowing Simon won't be running from the cops while you sleep. He's gone when you wake up and to avoid any more drama, you hold off on planning your next party. Days go by, and your time house sitting dwindles. Simon hasn't come back, not even to hide.

Weeks pass and you're packing your belongings into your van, giving your parents a hug and assuring them that nothing went awry. They shower you in thanks and love, sending you on your way back home, states away. It feels bittersweet, and you wish you got to tell Simon you were leaving. Maybe give him a phone number or something stupid like that.

Before you leave town, you stop by a gas station to fill up and grab a snack. At the register, a tall man with long locs peers at you from behind the counter. "Is that everything?"

"Yeah, and the rest on pump four." The man nods at your request. You'd be lying if you said you weren't looking for Simon to pass by outside, or hopefully catch him walking somewhere so you can say bye. It's a strange feeling in you to want his presence. As you reminisce about the sheer rage in his eyes as he pulled that guy off of you during the fight, your eye catches something behind the register. A poster for some gritty, underground band. And opening for them... Psyops.

The cashier hands you your bags and you point to the poster. "What's the date on that? The concert thing."

"I think it's tonight," he answers flatly. Your shoulders fall, wondering if this late in the evening means you've already missed him. You shake these weird feelings from your head, reminding yourself that a few days of liking each other doesn't make up for all those years of torment. You continue down the road for a few miles more.

"God damn it!" You burst, cutting a U-turn in the middle of the street, barreling your van back into town. He said he'd jump in, and he did. You told him you'd go to a show.

(Part 2 is HERE!!)

[makeyoumine69]

Last Memory (Memory Reboot x5)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Some time after Patrick and Evelyn got married, Bateman thought he could live a normal life and finally forget about you, but he didn't realize that he was already starting to lose his grip on reality, slowly but surely.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NSFW, Patrick's POV, angst, lots of sex, canon violence, blood, near-death experiences, dark themes, obsession, strong hallucinations, blowjobs, pussy eating, rough vaginal and anal sex, cum eating, tainted love vibes, drug use, depressing thoughts and intentions, blackout and fainting, rough choking, spanking, masturbation, cheating, dirty talk and slurs, pet names, degradation kink, self-harm and panic attacks implied, unstable Patrick is a warning himself, I might have forgotten something because this chapter is long af, so forgive me if I really did.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 15k

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: VØJ, Narvent—Last Memory; Timecop1983—Back to You

ᴀ/ɴ: Hello dear readers, I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but I just wanted to make this chapter as good as possible! After several rewrites, I think I am finally happy with the result. I'm very sad that Memory Reboot will end in the next update, but I hope you enjoy this angsty story! Also, there are some easter eggs in this chapter, so be on the lookout! And please be aware that there is a lot of trigger material in this chapter, so be careful! Thank you so much for sticking with me, you are all incredible!

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]

An annoying, sonorous alarm sound woke me up and I had to hit it with my fist, almost breaking it, to make it fucking stop. Yawning, I sat on the bed and realized that I was still in Evelyn's apartment; these cream-colored sheets made me want to cry from how much I hate them, but instead of ripping them off, I stretched my arms. The tension in my body, coursing from my shoulders down to my groin, was an eloquent sign that I needed release. With a loud groan, I stood up and briefly grabbed my dick through my white underwear, which seemed to have been hard all night since that bitch Evelyn, who was my wife by the way, refused to have sex again. It was the second time in a row. Sliding my messy hair back, I walked into the living room and noticed that Evelyn had already left. I sighed with relief that I didn't have to see her irritated face since I was already on the verge of going nuts.    

In the kitchen, I took the bottle of Evian from the fridge and made a long gulp before checking the time on my Rolex, frowning right away as I remembered Evelyn yapping about me always keeping them on, even when I went to bed. 

God, why can't women have their mouths shut sometimes?

With a wry grin, I placed the bottle on the counter and paused for a moment to check my reflection in the gleaming metal door of the refrigerator. Today’s day in the office was going to be tough as hell since I had a fuck ton of stupid meetings I tried to convince Jean to cancel, but she reassured me that it would be too rude to ignore my business partners for too long. Hmmph…

A bit later, when I was almost finishing my work out, I suddenly realized that it had already been two months since me and Evelyn got married. And no, I couldn’t really believe this since all days were like one long day—a day that seemed to never end. Huffing, I did another push-up, the 50th in a row, feeling not tired at all. Small beads of sweat rolled down my tensed forehead and I could care less about brushing them off as I was so focused on the pleasant feeling of my muscles flexing each time my chest almost touched the mat. Normally, sports could easily help me to distract myself, to let off steam, to feel refreshed and clear-headed, but now I was more detached from reality than ever before. And it seemed that no amount of exercise could help. Also, my condition was aggravated by the lack of sex, proper sex. When my muscles finally began to hurt, I stopped doing everything and just lay on the mat, panting and looking at the ceiling above. Then, I slowly looked down at my groin—still hard as rock–before my hand involuntarily grabbed it, eliciting a small gasp to fall from my wet lips. Fuck, I was about to explode from my own touch. That was not normal at all. It was pathetic.

Frustrated, I was certain that even a quick release in the shower wouldn’t soothe my mounting tension. It never did, considering that over the past few days I couldn’t even sleep, and what was worse was that even violence couldn’t bring me this much-needed relief. As I made my way to the bathroom, I was thinking, literally drowning in my obsessive thoughts.

I need more…I really need to get this done. I REALLY NEED IT! I NEED THEM!

 I bit my lip and turned on the shower, then got rid of my white boxers, stepped out of them, and strided on the cold marble. The water washed over me like a tidal wave. I closed my eyes and let the steam splash along my flushed face. My skin felt like it was on fire, as if I were about to crash into the sun. I couldn't find any way to relax. I felt desperate and angry. I was pretty mad, too. But would killing you have helped me find peace? 

If I knew you were gone, if no one could ever be with you the way I was, would that be what I wanted?

 I let out a deep, exhausted sigh and pressed my forehead against the wet tiles, ignoring the way the tip of my cock brushed against the wall, sending tingles into my very core. The images of you covered in blood, trapped beneath me, almost sent me over the edge. I didn't let myself think about it for too long, though, because I knew it would lead to addiction. As if I weren't already hooked. My breathing got a little uneven, and I started scratching at the white tiles as I got hit by a sudden, intense rush of memories. I remembered your voice, your moans, and the way you screamed my name. I wanted to ruin you, to make you bleed, to tear you apart and leave you just like you left me. The pain you caused was so deep, it lingered. I was so caught up in the moment that I didn't realize what I was doing. I let my hand rest on my throbbing length while the fingers of my other hand slid down my lower back, right between my legs. The moment I touched my tensed asshole, I moaned. I was loud and needy. I was embarrassed but also aroused. I thrust into my hand, slowly at first but gradually losing control, while my digit slid inside my ass completely with ease. I couldn't hold back my whimpers as I was about to cum. My vision was filled with blood, intensifying my fantasies about you. With my eyes closed, I was on the brink of losing it when I suddenly heard some commotion coming from behind the bathroom door. 

"Damn!" I groaned and hit the wall in front of me, my dick pulsing even after I let go of it.

"Honey," Evelyn's voice echoed through the bathroom. I turned to see her casually walking to the shower, her blue eyes curiously examining my bare frame as if she was seeing me like this for the first time. "You didn't close the door."

Fuck, I really didn't.

Scrunching my nose, I pushed my wet hair back and spun around completely, giving her the full view of my nakedness. "I thought I'd leave before you got back..." my reply was brash and sharp. "...at least I hoped so."

Evelyn didn't react, she just stood in front of the shower, blinking and staring at me—at the way the water flowed down my sculpted body, to be exact—and something told me that just watching wasn't going to be enough for her.

"So... are you just going to stay and watch?" I said aloud before opening the glass door and letting some steam out of the shower. 

The blonde grinned broadly but remained motionless. "You're not trying to bait me like that, are you?" 

Jesus Christ, this woman is really driving me crazy.

Irritated, still struggling with my boner, I wanted to drag her into the shower without even asking and make her freshly bought Chanel suit so fucking shitty that she would definitely throw a tantrum, but I managed to control myself.

Leaning against the wet glass, I watched her unclasp her jewels, gems that shone in the dim bathroom light, my hands instinctively slipping down to my aching cock as I was now the one watching Evelyn take off her jacket, the delicate shape of her collarbones forcing me to admit that my wife was, after all, absolutely gorgeous and even though I didn't feel anything... sublime towards her, I couldn't deny that every time she did things like that, she stirred up a burning desire in me.

"What if I do?" My voice dropped lower from the tension building at the base of my spine. "You'll find another stupid excuse to deny me, like you always do?" I gave myself a slow stroke, biting my lips and quickly licking them as Evelyn removed her blouse and placed her leg on the edge of the tub, pulling up her skirt so I could see her black stockings. "Why didn't you go for Bryce when you had the chance?"

My body stopped listening to me as I said these words, as if I was hypnotized, but I felt no remorse, only a pang of conscience for how pathetic I probably was right now, standing in the shower jacking off to the woman I didn't really love, who was probably having an affair with my best friend all this time as a bonus.

"And you're bringing up Bryce again," Evelyn murmured, grinning like a vixen, her hands working meticulously to remove her stockings, stopping only when she was done with her expensive clothes, leaving herself only in a white Vanity Fair lingerie I'd bought her a few days ago to stop her hysteria. "Why is this only bothering you now...after we got married?"

"W-what?" I almost choked on my breath, my hand around my cock stalled in its momentum. "What are you talking about? It...it never bothered me."

Still, her words struck a chord within me and now I was even more angry with myself than before. Evelyn obviously thought she was in control of this situation—her extra confident demeanor, the way she moved and talked, even her blue eyes looked different now, as a wicked spark glinted in them. 

For a fleeting moment, I just stood there, trying to lose myself in the warm streams of water, not really knowing what to say, and a suffocating panic crept into my chest, but then, as I found myself gripping the glass shower door with all the force I could muster so that it wouldn't shatter, my vision blurred for a second before I noticed Evelyn's slender body pressed against the glass, her small but pretty breasts looking so damn inviting that I couldn't hold back a groan.

"What were you saying?" She asked indifferently, the water gurgling mixing with her voice inside my head pulling me into a trance.

"Nothing," I replied, leaning forward and pressing myself against the glass door from the opposite side, my dick brushing against it ever so slightly, but even this mere contact made me close my eyes for a dear moment. "I said nothing..." my eyes darkened, pupils dilated. "Now...get in...will you?" I grinned and tilted my head, watching my wife flutter her thick eyelashes like bird wings.

Evelyn didn't answer, standing still with her body pressed against the shower door, and I couldn't hold back anymore—I just dragged her in, not caring about her expensive lingerie getting soggy—I'd buy her a new one if I had to. With a surprised squeal, she then giggled as the streams of water ran down her fit body, her elegant fingers stroking my cheek for a fleeting moment before I picked her up and turned her around to press her against the cool marble wall. Evelyn's gasp echoed through the bathroom, sending a shiver down my spine, as if I were really into her, into all of this, and if that was not me imagining you in her place, if that was not making me want to be somewhere else right now.

Somewhere where nobody could find me. Us. 

"Patrick," Evelyn's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "Can you hear me? The water's too hot..."

"Too hot?" I repeated, finding her statement so funny for no reason, but I cooled the water with my free hand anyway, still holding Evelyn in my arms as if she weighed nothing. "I'd say something like..."

"It's not the water that's making it hot, it's me," she cut me off, her face turning into a serious grimace, and for a second I felt like I was going to lose my shit. Is she making fun of me? "I've heard that enough, honey."

Frowning at that fucking nickname I really hated, I noticed the way she was pressing on my shoulders, implying that she wanted me to get her down on the floor, and I did—I didn't want to think, I didn't want to guess what was going through her mind—I just wanted to follow. To feel at least something beyond hatred and disgust. But I guess that was too much to ask.

Without saying a word, I knelt before Evelyn, leveled myself with her perfectly waxed pubic area, her breath hitching as I planted a soft kiss on her mound before tracing a finger along her wet from the water folds through the absolutely drenched fabric of her panties, which were now clinging to her like a second skin. I looked up at her with a mischievous grin, the water hitting my eyes painfully, but I held on to watch that raw need emanating from her body—savoring it like a vampire thirsty for blood.

My actions were smooth, calculated. When I got rid of her damp lingerie, I let the wet clothes that were now spread out on the shower floor fall to the ground, forgotten, and I was sure that Evelyn would have to throw them in a garbage can when we were done. The involuntary arch of her back, her hips brushing against my face and the moan she let out when the tip of my tongue flicked around her feverish clit, that was something I could live with. 

Letting Evelyn grind against my face, I began to eat her pussy more feverishly, my one hand holding her open while another was wrapped tightly around my hard dick as I jerked off in sync with my oral ministrations. It was actually a turn-on, but only because I managed to block out all thoughts of you... In another situation they would have helped me to orgasm, but now... now they would only destroy everything. 

I groaned when Evelyn pulled my hair harder than I liked, but I didn't want to punish her for it, not now, because I was still going to fuck her and this would be a perfect moment to show her how I felt and what I really needed. But then again, all of this made me feel pathetic in some odd, twisted way, that I was a starved dog who had to struggle to find barely any food to survive—what was my life—I was not living, I was surviving.

"Yes...yes...just like that," Evelen keened again as I tongue fucked her flushed cunt. "Keep...g-going..."

I could feel that she was so close to collapsing, it was kind of amusing how fast I could always make her cum, if only she knew that I always did it for myself, not for her, but for me. "Cum around my face," I spat out, my overalls buzzing from the tensind at the base of my cock; these little tingles were going to make me explode, but I didn't hesitate, increasing the pace of my own stroking. "Let it go. Now!"

My voice was muffled, gruff, I was sure its vibration only added to the overwhelming rush of bliss that was about to descend upon my wife as her legs began to tremble, her thigh on my shoulder jerking as I dipped my tongue inside her while my thumb caressed her oversensitive bud. And then she climaxed, convulsing and barely holding herself from screaming, I watched as she silenced herself with her palm, her eyes closed tightly, I reveled in such reactions, I always had, so I didn't stop as I wanted to prolong this scene—a scene full of fake emotions and this was just an echo of something I had experienced and lost— because if I stopped, I would fucking die.

Maybe this is what I always needed? Just to...stop existing?

Panting, I finally moved away from her hot, now swollen cleft, my own heart pounding so fast, but I couldn't move, I just stayed on my knees, the water falling on me like a heavy rain from that day I followed you to the airport and watched the plane take you away from me. For the second fucking time in a row.

Meanwhile, Evelyn was slowly coming down from her high, her chest heaving and falling so fast that for a moment I thought she was going to pass out, but then she turned and leaned against the wall, swaying her hips in the most inviting gesture I'd ever seen her make.

"Shit," I murmured almost imperceptibly, my basic instincts finally taking over. "You want me to fuck you?"

Gasping, she nodded and craned her neck to look back at me, I quickly stood and hugged her from behind, my lips tracing a short trail of kisses along her shoulder as I aligned myself with her entrance, she was so aroused and ready for me that I felt no resistance as I pushed myself into her malleable body. Just a few fleeting seconds for both of us to adjust before my pace picked up, the sound of wet flesh against flesh filling the room, and I pressed closer to Evelyn, her high-pitched moans fading in my delusions as I gave in—the images of you were so clear in my mind now that I clenched my teeth to hold back my own moans—I was weak and I hated myself for it.

Luckily Evelyn was on the pill so I didn't have to worry about a sudden pregnancy, but there was still some fear I tried desperately to ignore, my thrusts became ragged, raw and deep, I was about to spill myself inside her, both palms cupping her breasts, rubbing soft mounds, but then I squeezed them quite roughly and Evelyn's loud whimper was a sheer testament to my ferocity. Feeling my whole system shatter, I managed to stop myself from sinking my teeth into her neck as my vision turned white as I reached my peak with your name on my lips, though I never let myself say it out loud.

A little later that morning, as I dressed in my freshly tailored dark charcoal flannel double-breasted suit with wide white pinstripes, the sun was high in the zenith and its rays bathed Evelyn's bedroom in a soft golden hue. This brief encounter of intimacy with my wife gave me some hope that maybe there was still a chance to live a normal life, the one my mother and father always wanted for me, the American dream family they always told me about, but my parents never really tried to understand me, but since Sean chose a different path in life, not the RIGHT one, the legacy of my family fell on my shoulders.

Trapped in my thoughts, I didn't even notice the phone ringing somewhere next to me, I turned around to see a small black phone on the nightstand. At first I decided to ignore it, since I didn't really care about Evelyn's business, I didn't care at all, but this time something inside of me started to sting.

Who can call her at this hour?

With a soft click of my tongue, I finished adjusting my cufflinks and looked back at the buzzing phone, deciding to pick it up and find out who the hell was calling my wife. "Yes? Who's this?"

"Hello, Patrick," your voice crawled into my brain like a parasite, I swallowed, my skin covered in goosebumps and I sweated almost instantly. "How's it going? Don't you think it's a bit pathetic to think of me when you're banging your lovely wife?"

"You?" Was the only thing I managed to say. "Where did you get this number?"

I heard you laughing as if you were right next to me. "Tim gave it to me," you replied with blatant audacity. "Uh...you're not happy to hear me? That's a shame because I thought you missed me."

"Listen," I spat into the phone, gripping it so tightly that it was about to break in a half in my hand. "I don't know who you think you are...but believe me when I say I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU AND YOUR FUCKING LIFE! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

"Patrick? Who are you talking to?" I turned to see Evelyn standing in the doorway, her blue eyes full of concern.

Caught red-handed, I took the phone away from my ear and chuckled. "It's just...a random call...nothing serious." When I said that, her face became even more worried. "Is something wrong, darling?"

Evelyn blinked several times before answering. "I definitely remember turning off the phone before I went to sleep...I always do..."

Her words hung in the air for some time before I could actually continue, and when I finally did, I tugged at my collar from the sudden lack of oxygen in my lungs.

What the fuck?

Under Evelyn's attentive gaze, I looked up at the receiver as if seeing it for the first time in my life, then I pressed it to my ear again and all I heard was silence—a deafening, eerie silence—even a single beep could not be discerned. My throat tightened uncomfortably and I felt like throwing up from the tight knot in my stomach, for I'd never felt such fear before.

"Patrick...are you okay?" The blonde woman asked, not daring to come closer. "Are you taking the medicine your psychiatrist prescribed you..."

"Evelyn!"

"No, I'm serious! This isn't funny Patrick, I'm scared," she suddenly confessed and I swore I couldn't remember seeing her so worried. "You need help...why don't you let people help you?"

With that Evelyn stormed out of the bedroom and I was sure she was crying. Damn women, never give you a chance to explain yourself. I cursed before slamming the phone down on its station with a thud, probably shattering the plastic, but who fucking cared? All they cared about was whether I was taking those fucking pills, but no one really cared about...me. 

It took me some time to calm down and finally go to work. I didn't talk to Evelyn before I left, as it was pointless in her current state. As soon as I was outside, I breathed in the fresh air and watched the passers-by walking here and there without even noticing each other, this scene I saw every day, I picked out my Walkman like in a slow motion movie, put the headphones on my head and then attached it to my belt, the next moment I heard Madonna's deep voice surging through my head.

The taxi ride to the Pierce & Pierce office took longer than usual because of the heavy traffic. When I finally entered the high-rise building, I didn't take off my headphones because I didn't really want to talk to anyone, I just walked through the long corridors like a ghost without a name. It was really interesting that I never really thought about my fucking coworkers constantly messing up my name—they didn't know who I was even though we met every week—but you—you remembered it so clearly, there wasn't a single day that you mistook me for someone else. Jean greeted me as always with her sweet smile. Today she wore a dress and high heels. I smiled at such details and pulled up my headphones so I could hear her. 

"Did I miss anything?" I asked casually, thinking I was late as I often was.

Brushing her blonde hair, my secretary rose from her seat, clutching her favorite notebook to her chest. "Timothy Bryce called to ask about lunch."

My eyebrows raised in skepticism at her words.

Bryce. Wants to see me after not talking to me for almost a week. Interesting.

"Uh, right, but I thought I had a pretty busy schedule today?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Well, yeah," she quickly opened her notebook and then raised her bright eyes to me. "But you have a little window..."

At some point, Jean's voice became as much white noise as Madonna's song, the lyrics of which slipped away from me like a leaf in the wind. The thought of Tim finally revealing that he and Evelyn were having an affair behind my back, as if they really thought I could be stupid enough not to notice, brought me a strange sense of relief. It was like an itchy splinter in your finger that you couldn't bring yourself to pull out, but you knew that the longer it stayed there, the worse it would get.

"Okay, Jean," I heaved abruptly. "Be a doll and make a rez in a good place. Then call Bryce back."

Jean was noticeably confused, but I was too overwhelmed with my own chaotic thoughts that there was no room for anything else. With a devoted nod, she returned to her seat and I opened the door to my office, where everything was the same, all things in the places I had left them. At least there seemed to be something constant in my life.

The rustling of chatter and the clinking of silverware against plates mingled in a wild cacophony of sounds I was quite familiar with—I was born in the middle of this madness, to say the least, the lush life of people like me was something you couldn't really avoid, though I never tried to avoid it, I enjoyed every little benefit I got from being rich. 

So now I was sitting in Delmonico's lash interior, holding a glass of J&B on rocks in one hand and a cigar in the other. I waited for Bryce to come and soon I noticed his approaching figure, his black hair slicked back as usual, and I even chuckled at how fucking punctilious this man always was. Tim ordered a glass of Russian vodka and some seafood appetizers. After a short casual conversation we both fell silent and just when I was expecting him to tell me the reason why he wanted to see me, he suddenly picked up a shiny cardholder and put it on the table, then took out a pack of cigarettes to grab one.

"New cardholder?" I asked, definitely remembering that Bryce used to have a different one. "Looks...nice."

"It's platinum," Timothy commented before lighting his cigarette, his gray eyes scanning the room before focusing on me. "It's a gift...from our mutual friend."

Friend?

I almost bit the inside of my cheek to the point of bleeding. "Really?"

Bryce let out a puff of smoke and pointed to my empty glass. "I heard you quit drinking," he grinned and dabbed the ash from his cigarette. "That you're on... some medication."

"I wonder who told you that," my jaw almost snapped in anger, I had to claw at my knee to regain some composure. "And yes, I had to take medication for a while...but I'm on a break now." I hoped he could tell by the tone of my voice that I wasn't going to continue this conversation. "Who else would know how it works better than you since you went through rehab. Am I right, Bryce?"

I knew how much he hated talking about it, so his recent bravado faded like a cloud of smoke, but his cheeky grin never left his face.

"I get it, I get it," he laughed softly before sipping his drink. "You definitely got off on the wrong foot today, but it's okay," the man swirled his glass in his hand, watching the ice cubes clink against its walls. "I just wanted to tell you that... you're definitely missing something. Or maybe I should say—someone."

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head to the side. "Maybe you can tell me something more...specific, or are we going to play that crappy guessing game?"

Bryce shifted in his seat and wanted to say something, but he was interrupted by two familiar voices—Craig and David.

Shit, why did those two idiots have to come right now?

The moment was ruined, and so was I.

"Wow, I can't believe my eyes! See, I told you they had a date," McDermott let out a loud chuckle, my fists clenched, and if we were somewhere else, preferably alone, I'd fucking break my glass against his smug face. "I called Jean and she said you two were having lunch together. Isn't that sweet?"

"Oh, fuck you, McDermott!" Bryce retorted, but he wasn't really angry. "Fuck you and your cheap jokes. Your sense of humor is as flat as the ass of that chick you met in the Tunnel yesterday. Besides, how was she?"

The Tunnel, that damn club that started all this shit. I closed my eyes and tried to shake off the unwelcome memories of that day, but all I wanted to do was leave this place. Bryce's words became a breaking point, they helped a cup of weights to turn to another side without him even knowing it. Slowly I rose from the table, ignoring any questions, dismissing them with a clumsy gesture.

This evening was destined to be spent in the Tunnel after everything that happened today. I didn't tell anyone about my spontaneous venture to find some escape in the nightclub full of drug-addicted chicks and yuppies like me. My mind was racing with the idea of doing some coke, all I had to do was find the dealer that Bryce and I always hang out with and get a gram. A very simple plan to forget about all the shit that was going on in my life for a while.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, they say.

As I strolled across the dance floor, I noticed the bar was pretty empty, so I decided to have a drink before finding the dealer, as the glass of whiskey I had at lunch was not enough. The bartender greeted me with a polite smile as he cleaned the bar. 

"Good evening, sir," the man took a shiny glass and set it in front of me. "What would you like to drink?"

"A J&B straight and a Corona." I replied, taking a seat and fumbling for my wallet.

The bartender nodded and went to get my drinks. While I waited, I looked around when I noticed the only person sitting at the bar—it turned out to be a redheaded girl, a very good looking one—I hummed to myself, absolutely sure that such a girl was definitely not alone tonight. 

"Your drinks, sir." The bartender placed an open bottle of Corona next to my glass, now filled with my favorite whiskey.

"Thank you." I handed him a few bills before he could even tell me how much I had to pay. 

The young man babbled something incoherent that I couldn't even make out, but after I gave him a dead stare, he just took the money and finally left me alone. Annoyed, I checked the time on my Rolex before grabbing a bottle of Corona to take a sip, but I was interrupted again. This time not by the bartender.

"Hey," a soft female voice hung over my ear, sending a massive wave of excitement through me. I turned to see that the chick from the other end of the bar was now standing so close to me that I could smell her flowery perfume. "Are you here alone?"

I wish I could say that, but my thoughts of you were always here, with me, but instead of saying that bullshit, I nodded and grinned, checking her body in the most humiliating way, thinking it would scare her away from me, but the gleam in her green eyes only increased after my move.

God, she doesn't know what she's asking for.

"Yeah, you could say that." I smiled again as she sat down next to me. "What about you?"

The girl leaned against the bar, her ginger hair cascading down her elegant shoulders, and for a moment I couldn't take my eyes off her. "I wasn't supposed to be alone tonight, but...you know how it is...most men are total jerks."

I could barely keep myself from bursting out laughing. "Did someone offend you?" She played with the gold bracelet on her wrist and nodded shyly, a move I suddenly found very sexy. "Do you mind if I get you a drink?"

"First, tell me your name," she muttered in a challenging way—a blatant provocation that I ate like a starved man. "Then I'll think about it."

This girl is so sweet, I bet her insides are the same.

At first I wanted to use a fake name, like I always did, but then I just gave her my real name, because in the end it would make no difference. "Patrick....Patrick Bateman," I finally took a sip of Corona and savored the taste. "And you?"

"Nicole," the girl said, still fiddling with her jewelry. "But I used to have a lot of different names."

"I like this one," I chuckled, smiling charmingly. "It suits a girl like you."

"A girl like me?"

"A beautiful girl...very beautiful I must say." My voice was deep and soft like silk, I noticed the way she straightened her shoulders, slowly but gradually relaxing. 

"You really think so?" She asked me, her eyes roaming over my mischievous face, then down to my lips.

Instead of answering, I just smiled in the most enchanting way possible before calling for the bartender to order her a drink. Nicole and I talked for a while—she told me she was from Canada and didn't really have any friends in New York—it was strangely satisfying but I tried to be sympathetic and supportive even though my mind was so far away from here. The ginger girl didn't even notice how she finished one cocktail and then another, while I didn't even touch my whiskey, just idly sipped my bottle of Corona because for some reason I wanted to be as sober as possible.

As the club was getting more and more empty, Nicole was ready to give me a blowjob right at the bar, but I convinced her to go to my place and to be honest, I didn't expect it to be that easy since I hadn't really planned anything like that. I forgot about the drug dealer because now I had to worry about what I was going to say to Evelyn tomorrow because I was definitely not going to spend the night with her. 

"Patrick..." Nicole nestled into my side as we sat in the cab. "Did I tell you I know...F-French?"

I crossed my arms and shook my head in dismay. "No, you didn't," I said, looking down at her red, messy hair. "But it's nothing special...you're from Canada and French is your second official language."

Nicole let out a cartoonish giggle that made me cringe. "Oh...you know it? Damn, you're such a smart man...Mr. Bateman...so fucking smart...most guys I've slept with....didn't know that..." she giggled again and tried to pinch my nose, but I shooed her away. "Can you believe that?"

At a certain point, I was even starting to regret bringing her along, but I hoped I'd be able to shut her mouth with something...sharp and maybe deadly. "It happens, Nicole. Like you said, there were so many bad people in this town. Fortunately, you're lucky to have met someone like me."

The girl hugged me at my words, I could feel her drunk breath next to my lips, but instead of turning away I let her kiss me and it felt better than I expected. Soon the cab pulled up to the American Gardens Building. The walk up to my apartment didn't take much time, I was already thinking about how I was going to dispose of her body after I was done with her. Nicole, completely unaware of my dark thoughts, walked around my apartment barefoot as she kicked off her shoes, complaining about how fucking uncomfortable they were.

"Oh, this place is so fucking...c-cool!" She managed to say, swaying from side to side while moving. "Jesus, is that a telescope? Why do you even need that?" Nicole giggled like a child seeing one for the first time, but who knew, maybe she really was seeing it for the first time. "Do you... spy on people with that... thing?"

"No, Nicole." I replied curtly, standing next to her with my hands hidden in the pockets of my tailored pants. 

"Are you...an astronaut...from NASA?" She asked, then winced when she finally noticed my looming figure. "Are you... going to send me to the moon tonight, handsome?"

"I'll do more than that," I crooned, placing my hand on her waist and pulling her closer. "But I must say one thing you may not like..." a short pause, then a soft rumble left my throat. "I prefer that beautiful mouth of yours to be closed. Do you understand?"

I was expecting anything other than this bitch dropping to her knees and immediately working on unbuckling my belt. The way she was behaving was both amusing and enticing, but what I enjoyed most was that she was so naive and completely dumb.

"Look at you," I murmured before grabbing a handful of her ginger curls that were blocking her vision. "So inpatient, huh?"

By the time she managed to undo my pants, I was already so hard that my dick sprang out of the confines of my clothes and almost slapped her face, but it didn't bother her at all—I could only see an uncontrollable desire in those big green eyes that were now looking at me as if asking for my permission. 

Shameless, pathetic whore.

With a practiced move, I grabbed the back of her head to pull her closer to my crotch, then pressed my engorged dick against her lips, sliding it along them and making her lick off my pre-cum. "Yeah," I croaked, biting my own lips. "I definitely like you more like this...open your mouth, bitch."

Nicole obeyed and the next thing I knew I was thrusting into her mouth, her warmth welcoming me and making me grunt as I bucked my hips into her face, pushing myself further until I heard her gag around my shaft.

"'C'mon, choke on my dick," I snarled, pulling on her hair with brutal force, her nose rubbing against my pubis and I snaked my hand down to rest on her throat, wanting to feel my cock slide along it. "I'm sure no one has ever face fucked you like that...am I right, honey?"

I used that ugly nickname Evelyn always gave me and pulled myself out of her mouth to hear her answer, but she just gulped desperately for air and grabbed my legs for any semblance of support. 

"Oh-Christ...you're...s-so fucking big," she wept, trying to wipe the liquid mixture off her chin, but I wouldn't let her, pulling her head back. "Shit...you're really one of those guys...who likes it rough?"

With a devilish smile, I gave myself several quick strokes before answering. "Oh, darling. You can't even imagine how MUCH I like that kind of thing."

Panting, Nicole was not ready for me to invade her mouth again, but I didn't care, just as I ignored her little protest when I fucked her throat and felt the curve of my dick slide into her wet, tight channel. It was a bliss I had always sought, that fleeting moment of raw control over another human, once you tasted it you couldn't stop yourself.

Perfection.

As time passed, I came at least twice in her abused mouth, each time making sure she swallowed every drop, but then I got bored of fucking her face and left her sprawled out on my expensive living room floor, which I would definitely have to call the maid service to clean. Barely alive, Nicole literally vomited my sperm mixed with her blood, her plump lips swollen and bruised from my beatings—I couldn't stress her pathetic whimpering anymore, so I had to act—but she would last a while longer, I was sure of it.

As I rummaged through my stuff in the bedroom to get a condom, Nicole's pathetic whimpering was like music to my ears, but at some point I considered turning on some real music to muffle the girl's screams, although to my surprise she was not that loud. But just in case, I returned to the living room and stepped over Nicole, who was still lying on the floor, to get to my stereo and put on the latest Talking Heads album, True Stories.

"I didn't ask you what kind of music you like," I suddenly chuckled and moved closer to the sobbing girl to crouch down beside her. "But I doubt it would change anything."

After that, I stood up and decided to strip completely, every move I made calculated and mastered to perfection. One second, two seconds....ten seconds and I was almost naked, when the only thing left on me was my gold Rolex, I heard her weak, shaky voice:

"Whitney Houston," she murmured, barely audible. "I love Whitney Houston."

I stopped in my tracks. "Oh...really? What is your favorite song?"

My lips were curled in a smile that came dangerously close to something insane as I carefully placed all my clothes on one of my black chairs before picking up the girl and moving her to the window—away from my white couch that I didn't want to stain with her fucking blood. She didn't struggle, she didn't struggle at all as I positioned her against the window, pressing her bruised face against the cold glass.

"Take Good Care of My Heart," the redhead added as I began to poke at her soaked pussy, which was not shaved like most of the girls I used to have, and to be honest, I really liked it. "I...I really love the whole album."

"Oh yeah," I chuckled into her ear, fixing her in place as the tip of my cock plunged into her, causing her legs to shake. "This is such a good album..."

With that I bottomed her out completely, my balls slapping against her ass, red from my spanking, I thought I could see the outline of my hand. Her little cunt felt no worse than her mouth, but it was not as tight...after being with you, nothing seemed tight enough to me.

Fuck it!

Cursing under my breath, I sped up to pound into her as hard as I could. Thank God the glass didn't break, but I changed our position anyway. Now Nicole was bent over my black leather chair, her ass wiggling every time I thrust into her and I couldn't stop myself from spanking her, I wanted her to fucking scream and cry out in pain but all I could get from her was nothing that could signal that she was in pain. On the contrary, this girl seemed to enjoy it so much, as her hips moved in rhythm with mine, she bucked in my direction to meet my movements.

"Shit, you fuck like a whore," I blurted out, grabbing her hair in a self-made ponytail. "Is that why you came to America? To be a fucktoy for men like me?"

"Mmm...f-fuck me...please...fuck me!" Nicole didn't seem to hear me, I had to squeeze her throat to shut her up. "Ye-yes...fucking...c-choke me...please!"

Stupid bitch.

In one swift motion, I pulled out only to slam into her unprepared asshole, making her scream in pain and fuck, she sounded amazing. Quickly wiping the sweat from my forehead, I pushed her down on my cock, noticing the crimson drops of her blood on my dick, which only spurred me to move faster and more ferociously. This bitch didn't see it coming, but she was still pretty obedient, which started to seem pretty weird to me, because usually by this time women start to panic, fight and try to escape, but this fucking hoe didn't even say a word about the way I was treating her.

And that started to disappoint me.

When I thought I was not going to climax, I closed my eyes and let my imagination take control of my brain. Huffing, I rammed into Nicole harder, fantasizing about you—how we could go 69, your fingers buried deep inside my asshole - I could fucking feel the sensation of them and it sent an electric shock right through my tensed sac.

"Oh, fuck," I gripped her waist with both hands, fucking her with pure abandon. "You...fucking...arrogant prick...I hate you! I hate you s-so fucking much!"

All my curses fell on deaf ears as Nicole only whimpered in response, gripping the back of the chair and the next second I found her cumming around my cock, her inner walls spasming around me, triggering my own orgasm.

 When I was finally finished with her, I stood over her trembling body as she lay on the floor again. The girl was shaking and giggling, I thought she probably lost her mind already, so instead of using a knife or something, I decided to just strangle her with my bare hands. I wanted to see life slowly leave her body. I fucking craved it.

"Nicole," I shook her before getting on top of her, pressing her down with the weight of my muscular body. "Look at me."

Nicole's bloodshot eyes couldn't focus on mine for some time, she was stunned, dazed, ruined and intoxicated, I had to slap her face several times before she finally locked her hazy gaze with mine. The sweet anticipation of the kill enveloped my mind, my cock grew hard again as I placed both hands around her fragile neck, I began to squeeze it, lightly at first but then more and more forcefully.

"You made a big mistake coming to America, Nicole." I let out a taunt, not really expecting her to hear it or respond to it.

Everything was going according to plan when she suddenly smiled and covered my hands, not to take them off, but to stroke them with a wicked... attraction?

"Please...kill me already...I beg you..." She couldn't stop herself from crying and laughing. 

This was a psychotic episode I had experienced so many times, but I never expected to see it with my own eyes. I froze in shock, losing my grip, and as I did, Nicole pulled my hands back to her throat, shaking me as if to wake me up.

"No, no, no, no! Please...don't stop...please...I want to die! Patrick, please...set me free!" Nicole's voice cracked and I could finally see the sheer desperation in her green eyes, but this kind of desperation was different. 

This wasn't the kind of despair I'd seen before...this was something completely different. It was kind of a turn-off for me. The whole evening was fucking ruined, I couldn't believe it. Shaking my head, I stood up and stepped away from her as if from a fire. 

"Patrick...please!"

"Shut up!" I yelled, looking down at my own hands—they were shaking so badly. "Shut the fuck up!"

In a panic, I rushed to the bathroom to wash my hands for who knows what reason, then grabbed my robe and put it on. I couldn't really explain what was happening to me, but when I got back to the living room, I picked up Nicole's clothes and threw them at her.

"Get dressed," I ordered, and then I went into the bedroom to unlock my safe and take out several bundles of money. What was I doing? Panting, I paused in the doorway to watch her get dressed, then walked over to her and handed her the money. "I want you to take this, go to a hospital and get back to Canada. Do you hear me, Nicole?"

The redhead was silent, just looking at me with her pleading eyes. "But I don't want to go..."

"You have to." I emphasized the words by lowering my voice. "Just do what I say and everything should be... okay."

"But I don't want it to be okay." Nicole tried to touch me, but I pulled away.

"Just go," I repeated my previous words, this time in a more serious voice. "And never come back."

I spent the rest of the night sitting in the shower, literally sitting on the floor, crying. A lot. My eyes were so red and puffy that I didn't know which ice mask would help me look normal tomorrow. The hatred of myself that rose from my chest to my cheeks and made me nauseous—I hated myself so much that I finally admitted that I had changed—you had changed me and there was no going back. The man I was before died, now I was just an empty being, or maybe a new man had been born in my shallow soul?

When I finally managed to drag my ass out of the bathroom, the phone rang and I was sure it was Evelyn trying to fuck my brain for not coming back to her apartment and to be fair, I wasn't ready for anything like that at that moment, but considering how much of a pain in the ass she was, I didn't want any more consequences if I didn't pick up the fucking call.

As I walked into the bedroom, I took the phone from my nightstand and finally answered the call. "Yes?"

"Patrick! Jesus, I thought you weren't going to answer the call!" It was you, damn it, it was you.

My teeth almost creaked with anger and disbelief. "How many times do I have to tell you to fuck off?! Are you stalking me or what? How the fuck did you know I was in my apartment?"

"I... I didn't know... I just decided to try my luck and here we are," you replied, your voice was different than it sounded this morning. "Listen Patrick, I'm in New York right now...maybe we can see each other?"

"See each other?" Those words made me sick. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"I know that...things are pretty tense between us, but...maybe we can at least talk about it?"

"No, we can't," I clutched the phone as tightly as I could. "I don't want to see you and I don't want to hear you. Do you understand? If you ever call me again, I'll fucking find you and KILL YOU!"

With that, I dropped the phone on the floor and screamed so loudly that my throat began to hurt. Right now I was nothing but a living madness, the things that were happening in my mind were like an open chasm to hell—a place I'd be one day, I had no doubt about it.

The few days I spent in a dizzy state, I couldn't really remember what I was doing, but the only thing I was sure of was that I couldn't stop thinking about you. Also, I didn't kill anyone for lack of thrill, there was no more adrenaline or excitement—you changed me and now spilling some blood couldn't help me to relieve myself anymore. I felt like I was being shattered into pieces, decomposed into something primitive, for the first time I saw myself as being even more inhuman than I really was.

Inhuman.

What a perfect word to describe everything about me, but I still couldn't understand where I belonged? If not here, could there be a place for a creature like me?

This question was swirling around in my head like a brain worm; that damn rainy evening when I decided to stalk my dear wife. After my rather long absence, Evelyn was about to go to the police, but then I showed up at the door of her apartment at night, high as hell, but she didn't seem surprised at all. I expected her to be mad and angry, but instead she treated me really nice, I could hear her crying and her desperate touch when she hugged me, weeping and sobbing something about being so scared and worried about me and although I didn't believe a single word that came out of her mouth, something stirred inside of me.

The raindrops were falling on my umbrella like Morse code, hitting the surface with such a precise rhythm that I really thought maybe something or someone was trying to send me a sign. The level of absurdity was over the top, and if I were in a different state mentally and physically, I'd be laughing my ass off at this shit, but today I couldn't do anything funny. I couldn't smile, I couldn't sneer, I was like a ghost, a shadow of the person I was before I met you. So here I was, following Evelyn down the street after the taxi ride until I saw her stop at some hotel—a luxury hotel in Upper Manhattan to be exact— and then, after some time, when I thought nothing interesting would happen, a sleek black Cadillac stopped by the street and I saw Timothy Bryce get out of the car—he was holding a black umbrella just like me. Evelyn was so excited to see him that she didn't even wait for them to go inside the hotel, she kissed him now and then without holding back her emotions. This scene made the stone fall off my shoulders; I was so damn happy that I was right and that this fake marriage was about to collapse, but I still couldn't understand why Evelyn married me at all. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if one day, when we finally had a serious talk about it, she would confess that she loved both of us—me and Bryce— and suggested that we all live together.

Say hello to an altered version of the American dream family.

The reality was always cruel, and I knew it too well.

A loud clap of thunder echoed through my apartment, waking me up in my living room, drenched in sweat. Breathing heavily, I turned around to register some pornography playing on my TV, my robe was undone, I was completely naked underneath, some remnants of my cum stuck to my stomach.

Shit, I just blacked out jerking off? This porn really sucks.

And this was the 5th or maybe 10th porn tape I had watched, and I only managed to cum once. Cursing and scowling, I fidgeted on my couch to find a remote control. I was disgusted with my current situation, but then I noticed two thin lines of white powder on my glass coffee table and a twisted $100 bill. Now everything started to fall into place.

Fuck, where did I even get this gram?

I rubbed my head, and instead of turning off the porn, I turned it up louder—two perfect bimbos making out, their oiled bodies wrapped around each other like two snakes—my hand instinctively sliding back to my hard cock, throbbing and soaked with my cum.

"Oh-fuck..." I murmured through clenched teeth as I pumped myself, watching the girls play with their large breasts. "Yeah...suck her tits...suck them like a fucking pacifier..."

The louder their moaning got, the more excited I got, and just when I thought I was about to climax again, I heard... a fucking phone ringing loudly—it hurt my hearing. Confused, I stopped doing anything, ignoring the fact that one slut was now riding on the face of another. There was only one thing I could think about right now— had I turned off my phone or not? Because I definitely remembered pulling the fucking cords out of it, but that thing kept ringing? 

Slowly I got up on my stiff legs and walked to the kitchen island to grab the phone, the only light coming from my playing TV and I bumped into something pretty hard before the fucking receiver was in my hand.

"Patrick Bateman's apartment..." I almost whispered, pressing the receiver harder against my head.

"...Pat..." the echo of a familiar voice wailed from the other end of the line, but I still couldn't make out who it was. "...need... -h-help!"

"Who...am I talking to?"

"Patrick, please, help me," your voice sounded so clear now that it echoed inside my skull, drowning out all the sounds of the bad weather outside. "I'm...I'm at Paul Allen's...I need help...please...I think I'm gonna die..."

Was this some kind of prank? 

I turned around and scanned my apartment as if someone was watching me right now. I felt insane and cornered, if I was really losing my mind the best option now would be to take more coke and trigger an overdose and then...

"Can you hear me? Please, come here, I'll... give you the address..." and then I heard loud interference and noise, so I had to pull the phone away for a second. "Patrick? Please...talk to me!"

"What...what happened?" I asked, still not believing what I was doing. "Are you in pain?"

"No...yes....Patrick...listen...you should write down the address..."

Without thinking, I grabbed the Vogue magazine lying next to the phone and a pencil, and the next second I was writing down the address where Paul Allen was supposed to live. 

"Hold on! I'll be right there!" I suddenly said into the phone, but all I could hear was the agonizing beep. "Hey...I'll be there...do you hear me? I'LL BE THERE!"

Fuck!

I dropped the phone and took several deep breaths before I finally came to my senses, or so I thought. Then I rushed to the bathroom to clean up and put something on without worrying too much. So I grabbed the first suit out of my closet, fixed my hair and left my apartment to take a cab. All the way to Paul's, I was holding a crumpled page of Vogue that I had to rip out. At first I didn't even notice that I wasn't surprised when the cabbie just nodded and we drove off, so this address was real? It meant you really called me? And what about all the previous calls?

Perplexed, I leaned against the cool glass of the car window and watched the nighttime cityscape blur into something unrecognizable, almost falling asleep, but the driver turned on the radio with some cheesy pop songs that kept me awake, as I was too irritated to ignore how much I disliked such music. When the car stopped in front of a towering building like the one I lived in, I paid the driver twice what I was supposed to and got out of the cab. There were no pedestrians and for a moment I really thought that maybe I was still asleep and had to pinch myself to wake up in my living room?

As I entered the building I saw a table where the concierge should be sitting, but there was no one, so I casually opened the journal to find the number of Allen's apartment—I felt a creeping shock when I actually found his name in the journal.

Okay… this feels…too real.

Feeling a strange thrill of the rush, I closed the journal and sauntered quickly across the large lobby to the elevators. Paul's apartment was on the 15th floor, so when the door opened on the floor I needed, I stepped out of the elevator with a heavy weight in my chest. Every step I took resonated with the fast beating of my heart, and when I reached my destination, I didn't know what to do - whether to ring the bell or knock or…

Shaking myself off, I first rang the doorbell—nothing. Then I knocked several times, then again, still no answer. Finally, I put my ear to the door to listen, but I couldn't hear a single sound. Anger overcame me, so I kicked the door and turned to leave. How stupid was I? Maybe mixing my pills and coke wasn't the best idea, but this...

When I got back to the lobby, an old man, who must have been a missing concierge, greeted me with a fake polite smile. "Greetings, sir. How can I help you?"

Annoyed as hell, I stopped next to his small table, adjusted my leather gloves, and pointed to his journal. "I was looking for Paul Allen's apartment, he's my friend and I wanted to see him, but it seems...he's out tonight."

"Oh, Mr. Allen left on a business trip this morning." The concierge said casually, but then he noticed how pale I'd become. "Sir, is something wrong?"

"Did you say he left this morning?" I asked again, feeling a few beads of sweat on my tense forehead.

"Yes, sir," the old man opened the journal and began to leaf through it. "I can even tell you the exact time he left..."

"No need. Thank you." Was all I said before I turned on my heels and headed for the exit.

Outside I noticed that the taxi that had brought me here was still standing by the side of the road. It was strange but I didn't even think about it. I got in and asked the driver to take me back to my place, but first I asked him to give me a moment to sit and think. With shaking hands I picked up the crumpled piece of paper with the address on it, I traced my handwriting before throwing it out the window, my temples pounding so hard I thought my head would explode. Exhausted both mentally and physically, I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, not noticing that the concierge I was talking to literally ran out of the building, looking around, seeking someone.

"Let's go." I ordered the cab driver with my eyes still closed. "And can you please turn off the music...my head is killing me."

The taxi drove off and I didn't see or hear the old man following the car. "Sir, wait! I made a mistake about Mr. Allen-"

Today, after I refused to go shopping with Evelyn and help her choose a fucking curtain for her living room, she finally told me that she never loved me, that she wanted a divorce and nothing else from me. The relief I felt was comparable to a good orgasm, to say the least, Evelyn was shocked at my reaction—did she really expect me to beg for forgiveness? But the single mention of Bryce made everything come to its place, I wasn't angry, no, I just couldn't solve this fucking puzzle, what was all this for? If she really liked Bryce, why couldn't she just tell me and go for him? How many times had I told her that? A hundred? A thousand? Millions? Luckily, I wasn't inclined to leave my stuff in her apartment, so I finished my busing with 'moving out' pretty quickly and smoothly, because something glorious and important was waiting for me. The last moment of my drama.

I imagine that maybe someday there will be a show on Broadway based on my life—a great example of a life that no one should have lived—I smiled at the thought, as I always liked to romanticize things in the most clichéd and poetic way. After all, Bryce was right, I was mental, and no matter how hard I tried to run away from the dark version of myself, it would catch up with me one day. And that day seemed to have finally come.

As I walked down Wall Street, wearing my favorite headphones and listening to Huey Lewis and the News, I stumbled by the phone booth—a random idea plagued my mind before I could really think about it. Opening my briefcase, I found my notebook, and soon I was dialing your office number, hoping you wouldn't answer. But my hopes were never to be fulfilled. 

To my surprise, I heard a male voice coming from the phone and all the words stuck in my throat like a lump. "Uh...hi...can I talk to..."

"Sorry sir, I can't hear you properly...it might be the bad connection," the voice replied and it made me really nervous. "I'm sorry, but if you want to talk to my boss, they are out of the office right now."

Out of the office…shit.

"Who am I talking to?" I asked, almost fainting.

"Vinc..." an unpleasant static noise came over my brain and I held my eyes closed for a second from the stabbing pain in my temples. "My name is Vincent...I'm .... assistant."

"Listen, Vincent..." I started to speak, not even knowing that he could hear my words. "I want you to tell your boss that...Patrick Bateman called and...this would be my LAST call," I laughed hysterically, leaning against the phone booth door. "I'm going to, uh... disappear..."

A short pause seemed like an eternity.

"You mean you are leaving New York City, sir?" Vincent's question surprised me.

My lips twitched in a wicked smile. "No...I mean...yes..."

"Are you going somewhere in particular, Mr. Bateman?" The man asked me and I stopped breathing for a second.

"I'm going...to a place where no one will ever...find me..."

And with that I hung up the phone. There was already a line of people by the phone booth, and as I walked away, they looked at me with the most disdainful look I could ever dream of mastering. Unfortunately, I wouldn't need it anymore.

Soon the white walls of my apartment would be the only witness to my last confession. My apartment smelled so fresh and good, the maid had just finished cleaning, and I was glad that if the police found my body, they would see that wealth and money were not a panacea for a happy life, although I had believed in it fervently for almost all these years. With deliberate steps, I walked into my bathroom, grabbed a small bottle of medicine prescribed by my psychiatrist, and popped a handful of pills at once. Then I looked at my reflection in the mirror and somehow realized that the mask I had worn for most of my adult life was about to slip. Right now, at this very moment, I was about to die. An abnormal dizziness washed over me, I could barely stand on my feet when I suddenly saw your silhouette behind me in the mirror. I gulped and turned around to see nothing but the empty doorway, my hands shaking so badly that I failed to put the bottle back in its place, dropping it on the floor and scattering pills all over the bathroom.

Holy shit.

A strong gag reflex suddenly took over me and I managed to get to the toilet faster than I could throw up—I threw up all the pills—Jesus Christ, I was so weak I couldn't even finish this... I was so pathetic. In the end, I finally accepted that as the darkness took me in its cold embrace.

Knock…knock…

What is this? Am I still alive?

I kept questioning myself because I didn't feel anything, no pain, no remorse, nothing. But if I were dead, I wouldn't hear that strange sound, would I? I opened my wet eyes and looked up at the white ceiling—I was still in my bathroom— lying on my back, covered in my own vomit, saliva and bile. My mouth smelled like a rotten rat and I knew what I was talking about. The annoying knocking kept coming from my front door, and although I didn't want to get up, I felt that if I didn't, this fucking knocking would never stop.

With careful, unhurried movements, I crawled to the sink and, leaning on the bathroom counter, managed to stand up and quickly brush my teeth, avoiding looking at my reflection because I was sure I looked like shit. After that, I took off my stained clothes and put on a new robe that I had bought myself for no reason a few days ago. 

As I approached the front door, the knocking stopped and I thought it was just another hallucination, but I decided to open the door anyway and to my surprise I saw my concierge who looked very worried and even scared.

"Mr. Bateman, thank God you're all right!" The man blurted out, holding his concierge hat in his hands.

"Of course I'm okay," I replied nonchalantly. "What happened? Or did you just come to check on me?"

"Well," the concierge looked away before rubbing his gray mustache. "Someone was looking for you..."

My eyebrows furrowed, and I peered out into the long corridor. "Who was it? Did they give a name? Was it a policeman or something?" 

"No, sir." The old man gave me an awkward smile that made me even more angry. "They were so desperate...they were literally storming around the lobby...constantly saying things about you not answering calls and not opening the door...I told them maybe you just left..."

The rest of what he said fell on deaf ears, because now I was absolutely sure who was looking for me. "What time is it now?"

"11 a.m., sir."

"Today is Friday, right?" I asked, my head spinning. "It should be Friday."

The concierge paused. "It's Sunday, sir."

Sunday?

A sharp pang of nausea crept into my stomach, nearly breaking me in half, but I managed to grab hold of the doorjamb for support. "Where is this person?"

"Mr. Bateman, I had to call the police because they were being...kind of aggressive," the concierge explained, stepping back a bit. "The cops arrived pretty quickly...they found out this person had drugs, sir."

I stagger to the side as if from the hard blow. "And what happened next...did they arrest them?"

"I...I guess so?"

I let out a tired sigh, rolling my eyes and trying to keep it together - this poor guy was not guilty, it was just an accident, but how did you get caught with drugs? It was so fucking illogical to me.

My voice was unnaturally soft as I tried my fucking best not to snap at the man across from me. "Did the cops really take them away? Did you see that with your own eyes?" The concierge just nodded, and I could tell by his nervousness that he felt it was his fault at some level. "All right, thank you for your information, remind me to tip you next month." And with that, I closed the front door, leaving the man in a completely bewildered state.

Shit...this whole situation seemed like a fucking joke, but I had to think fast—I needed a plan how to solve this bullshit and maybe I could get some answers if I could help you. I took a moment to collect myself and told myself that one way or another I had to go there...to rescue you.

I'll do it even if I have to burn down this police station.

In record time, my impeccable appearance was ready, and now I confidently walked down the long, dimly lit corridor of the police station that was closest to where I lived—I hoped you were in that station, but if not, I would visit all of them until I found you.

Finally, I reached the reception area, where a pretty policewoman greeted me with a friendly smile. "Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for..." I opened my briefcase and showed her my notebook with your full name written in it. "Are they here, in this department? I believe they were arrested today."

The officer smiled at me before she turned around and started to rummage through some papers, folds, notes... With each passing moment I was getting more and more impatient, but I had to play it cool.

"I think I found the person you were looking for," the woman said, placing several documents on the reception desk, implying that I should take a look at them. "They were delivered here an hour ago."

"Can I see them?" I asked, putting on my casual, seductive smile.

“And what is your relationship to the suspect?” 

Damn, not this fucking question.

I was a little stunned at first, but then I quickly tugged at my red tie and tilted my head in a condescending way. "I'm their lawyer, and I need to see them as soon as possible."

I noticed that her expression suddenly changed, her eyes gliding over my massive form—she was obviously trying to access my appearance and compare it to the look of a successful lawyer living in New York City—when I gave her an intense look and then winked, she visibly blushed.

After a small cough, she took the documents and only then dared to look at me again. "The suspect is now in interrogation room number one. Don't get lost."

"Thanks." I grinned broadly and, after closing my briefcase, left the reception.

It didn't take me long to find the interrogation room I needed. As I stopped right next to the door, I checked myself in the reflection of the nearby window—I looked perfect, not as perfect as I used to be, but not too horrible either.

A light knock on the door before I opened it. "Good afternoon, sorry for the long wait. How is my client? I hope you haven't done anything inappropriate in my absence?"

The moment our eyes met, I could see a mixture of shock, disbelief, and something beyond human understanding.

"And who the hell is that?" One of the officers—a rather fat guy with a messy beard—asked his partner, then looked at you. "You said you were from Chicago and your lawyer had to catch a flight here."

"Yes, that's exactly what I said. Why are you telling me my own words?" You crossed your arms and gave me a scorching gaze, I seized the moment of your confusion to nestle into the empty chair next to you. "Probably...my lawyer has handed this case over to his colleague in New York, so he doesn't have to come here."

Both policemen looked at us as if we were idiots—which we definitely were—but I hoped this affair would work out.

"But you asked to be allowed to make a phone call... the whole damn time," another policeman replied, pointing his finger at you and then at me. "I'm going to send you both to jail if you don't tell me what-"

"Jesus Christ, I told you several times...I was at a party...I took someone's coat by mistake and there was...this fucking bag of cocaine, but it's not mine! You can check the fingerprints and you won't find mine on this fucking bag! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU?"

"My client is right. Before we get the results of the fingerprint analysis, the presumption of innocence should not be forgotten." I started in the most serious tone I could manage. "Remember that."

Both officers started arguing with each other almost immediately, using many different insults that I would definitely have to remember so that I could present them to Tim— he would love to hear them. I was about to say something clever when the door suddenly opened and a woman with dark hair stepped into the room.

"What the hell is going on?" The woman asked her colleagues, looking disappointed and quite angry. "Everyone can hear you outside."

"Oh, Miss Moore," one of the officers murmured like a guilty child. "Well, we..."

"Detective Moore to you, Rogers," she replied, her posture radiating confidence. You and I both stared at her for a while, I noticed her tanned skin and thick curly hair, she was definitely Hispanic, the accent was also quite noticeable. "Can I confide in you at least once?" Officer Rogers looked at his partner, neither of them said a word, and that made the detective even more annoyed. "We'll talk about it later, now go."

The cops didn't dare protest, and soon they left. Now it was just you, me and Detective Moore in the interrogation room. The tension was palpable in the air, my hands were sweaty and shaking, I had to brush them off my open coat, but before I could, you caught one of them and squeezed it barely sensibly—I gasped, almost choking on my saliva.

After a brief examination of the documents, the woman across from us raised her brown eyes and smiled, not too friendly, but not too menacing either. "So, my name is Andrea Moore," she turned to look at you, holding a piece of paper in her hand. "I already know your name," her piercing gaze finally stopped on me. "May I have your documents, sir?"

Swallowing hard, I unlocked my briefcase to hand her my ID. "Yeah, sure."

"Mr. Bateman...have we met before?"

"No...I don't think so."

Andrea hummed to herself. "Well, I hope you brought your law license with you?" 

Your grip on my palm tightened, I almost let out a hysterical squeal. "I... I must have left it in my office."

"Listen," you suddenly spoke up, gesticulating as if you were at a school presentation. "I need to call my assistant, Vincent Eisenhower...he will help sort things out-"

"Wait a minute...did you say Vincent Eisenhower?" Andrea suddenly stopped you, obviously surprised.

"Uh, yeah, he's my assistant at the company I work-" 

"...in Chicago?" 

"Yes..." you replied in confusion. "Is there something wrong with that?"

The detective didn't answer, and it made me nervous as hell, but you holding my hand in a gentle manner was strangely comforting, even though I despised such displays of affection.

Looking puzzled, Andrea finally took the pen and a clean piece of paper. "Can you give me the number...I'll call Mr. Eisenhower and ask him for...a real lawyer. Mr. Bateman, I hope you understand the consequences of your actions-"

"Leave him alone, it's not his fault," you cut Andrea off before I could say anything in my defense. "He didn't know what he was doing coming here...please...he hasn't done anything bad...he's just going through a hard time in his life and..."

"Enough," the detective raised her hand in a halting gesture. "I hope I can reach out to Mr. Eisenhower....You two better pray for that."

Andrea left as abruptly as she had come. We were finally alone. Both confused, frightened, and lost.

"Why did you even come here?" You asked, not looking at me, but not parting our hands. "How stupid of you to come here and act like you were my lawyer."

"I HAD NO CHOICE!" I almost screamed, turning in my seat to cut the mere distance between us. "Not after you terrorized me with those damn phone calls..."

As I said that, time stood still for us and I could see the inner conflict in your deep, mesmerizing eyes—you were broken and lost just like me—I looked down at our intertwined hands, waiting for your answer.

"What calls, Patrick? What are you talking about?" 

"You know WHAT I'm talking about...don't try to fuck with my brain," I husked, inches from your lips. "You think this is funny, huh?" 

"And you think it's funny to call my office and tell my assistant about your suicidal intentions?" Your warm breath wafted pleasantly around my face as you moved closer. "You think it's funny to appear and disappear in my life like I'm a toy you can play with whenever you feel bored?"

At first I didn't answer. Instead, I just kept eye contact with you, then I lowered my eyes to our hands again—my palm was bigger than yours, this little detail always made my heart flutter. Did I ever think that such a small thing would stir such strong emotions in me? Probably not.

Definitely not.

"By the way, did you manage to find out anything about that machine you told me about?" I questioned abruptly, putting my arm around your shoulders. 

You frowned and chuckled in disbelief. Well, at least the tension was relieved.

"What machine?" You fidgeted in your seat as I pulled you closer. "Hey, don't change the subject..."

"A memory reboot machine," I crooned, leaning forward so our noses rubbed against each other. "If you're here... that means you probably didn't find it."

The urge to indulge in this moment, to follow the passionate momentum and just kiss these lips I'd been thinking about all along, was unbearable, but I didn't want to be the first to fall apart and drop my defenses.

"Maybe I never needed this machine," you replied, pressing your forehead against mine for a brief moment. "Because I never wanted to forget...you?"

Was it a question or a statement—we never knew as we both moved towards each other, my burning lips pressed against your soft ones as we shared the most desirable kiss I could ever imagine. Gasping into my mouth, you let go of my hand only to wrap both of them around my neck as you responded with no less favor than mine. It was so hot, so desperate, so tragic. And it was all mine— your pain, your anger, your hatred.

Because you were my salvation.

With precise deftness, I carefully tilted your head back a little to deepen the kiss, my arms eagerly but not persistently roving around your back, knowing every little detail of your body, every dent and bump. As much as I wanted to tell you how fucking perfect you were for me, I didn't want this kiss to end, but as if you could read my mind, you suddenly pulled me away a little too abruptly and roughly.

"God, I hate you..." you wept, covering your face so I couldn't see your tears. "I really... I really thought you were going to do something bad... I was afraid it was too late..."

I was at a loss, I didn't know how to react or what to say—everything about you confused me, made my brain overload with different thoughts about what you said and why—now was no exception.

"But I'm here now...in one piece," I decided not to touch you, my hand resting on the back of your chair, ready to hug you at any moment if it was needed. "You should understand that...if I really wanted to do this, no one would be able to stop me..." I whisper above your ear and place my hand on the back of your head, gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on the table. "Even you."

I knew that this confession would mean nothing, just like all my previous ones, but as soon as I said it, you raised your tear-stained eyes and whimpered. "Don't say that...don't fucking say that! You can be a total asshole, but that doesn't mean you deserve to die..."

"Darling," I gently brushed your stray locks from your face, trying to distract you and keep you from saying words that would only make things worse. "You know so little about me...but I don't want you to say something you'll regret..."

"I've already said too many things that I now regret," you replied, turning away from me. "Have you ever thought about your family and how they would react if something bad happened to you? Have you thought about Evelyn?"

My eyebrows knitted together, the words you said pierced my heart like sharp daggers, but I didn't want you to stop, because you were right, I was always selfish, but you knew so little about my family, who would surely be sad about the loss, but they would recover pretty quickly, since they still had Sean. And Evelyn? I would laugh if things were not so sad.

Trembling and sobbing, you still sat with your back to my face. "I'm not going to ask you for anything except to promise me that you'll never even think about...hurting yourself."

Oh, dear.

With a soft clink of my chair, I stood up and placed both of my hands on your trembling shoulders. "I promise... if you stay with me, I'll never look back... on my previous life." I felt your body tense under my touch. "We can't reboot the memory, but we can...reboot our lives?"

This was it—the moment I had fantasized about so many times, considering different outcomes, scenarios—I was waiting for your answer when the door creaked and Detective Moore appeared in my vision. She was much more cheerful than before, which worried me a bit.

"So," she took a seat, opened a folder with documents and wrote something on it. "I spoke to Vince, and luckily for you, he has already contacted your lawyer-"

"Vince?" You asked in shock, but at least you stopped crying.

Andrea stuttered and cleared her throat. "I mean..." she paused and twirled the pen in her hand. "It happened that Vincent and I used to know each other..."

What?

We were both speechless, how the hell could such a coincidence have happened? 

"Well... I really didn't see it coming..." You murmured, brushing the remnants of tears from your face.

"Neither did I," the detective chuckled curtly before resuming her work on some papers. "Listen, we should wait for the results of the fingerprint analysis, and while we wait, you are forbidden to leave the city. Please put your sign here."

"What is this?"

"Your ticket to freedom," she explained. "A street bail."

I saw you hesitate, so I gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and you looked at me, I simply nodded, and you placed the sign. 

"And how long have you known Vincent?" You asked after you handed the document back to Andrea. "Just asking."

"Since childhood, I think."

"Oh... that's... a lot."

"Vince has always been known for being a good boy..." the woman paused, coughing awkwardly. "Uh, you can talk to him about... that if you're interested." Andrea closed the folder and shifted her gaze to me. "And you, I highly recommend that you never do anything like this again."

"So you're not going to put me in a cell?" I replied in a slightly teasing manner.

"No...not this time. But the officer who allowed you to come here will be severely punished, maybe even fired," Andrea explained, getting up from her chair. "It's her first day at the police station, but she let a man go through without even checking his papers. Such violations are very serious."

And although I didn't feel sad for this woman I would probably never see again, I looked at you and your big doe eyes. "Maybe there's a way not to fire her? I assured her that I was a lawyer and...I could pay a fine if I had to."

Detective Moore said nothing, she just grinned and beckoned us to follow her.

An hour later we finally left the police station. For some time we walked in complete silence, the surrounding commotion drawing out my shallow breathing, my mind overclocked with the search for topics to talk about after all the shit that had happened.

"So... where did you stay?" I asked casually, looking at you from above, your eyelashes shimmering in the sunlight. "In the Plaza?"

"No," you replied almost immediately. "Not the Plaza this time...it was all booked up."

"You were really in New York... for the whole time?"

"Depends on what time you mean exactly," your slight smile made me almost stumble, but I pretended to see someone familiar. "Maybe I haven't left New York at all?"

No, that can't be.

"You know, since you can't leave the city... maybe we should spend some time together and... you didn't answer my question."

My offer made you stall, and I followed suit. Passers-by walked past us, not paying attention even though we were standing in the middle of the street.

"Was it really a question?"

"And what do you think it was?"

"A plea?" You smiled and stepped closer to me until there was no space between us. "If you weren't so stubborn...everything could be so much easier."

"And YOU tell me that?" I let myself pull you closer to me. "I have an idea...fuck the place where you stopped! We should go to Newport."

"Newport? Would it count that I left New York?" you asked me a little shyly. "Do you have a house there or...?"

"My family has a house there and since they are out of town we can use it to kill time...have you ever been to Newport?" My hands rested possessively on your waist and before I knew it, I added. "Me and Evelyn are getting divorced..."

"No, I haven't," you replied, finally resting your hands on my shoulders. "But I really want to...since I've heard a lot of good things about this place..." then you suddenly froze. "What... What did you say? Are you kidding me? God, I can't believe this...I..."

You continued to bubble something that made me smile in amusement and I couldn't help but hold you tightly in my arms— the place you always belonged to, though I understood it too late. The fresh breeze of change swirled around us, playing with our hair and clothes. Yesterday I didn't know if I would make it to tomorrow, but today I was sure that there would be so many tomorrows because I wasn't alone anymore.

With you, for you, in your name—I was still alive and finally free.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[mymoodwriting]

16.3k, yandere, sirens, minor hydrophobia, sleep walking, lucid dreaming, potential drowning, trauma, drugs, manipulation, kidnapping, smut, aphrodisiac, monster fucking, monster cock, fingering, penetration, female penetration, french kissing, pussy licking, cream pie, implied gang bang (@starillusion13)

“This trip is gonna be awesome!”

Your friends had always told you to visit the Fairy Tale Waterfall, since it was a big tourist attraction, and something you had to do at least once in your life. You agreed, it was an incredible place, but you definitely didn’t have the heart to tell them you had already been there once, and weren’t really eager to go back. You had gone with another friend group back then and over the last year had drifted apart. You didn’t want to disappoint your new friends and make them feel bad if you were left out, so you packed a bag and went out with them.

You arrived at the waterfall early in the morning, the sunlight shining down on the water, making it sparkle. This place was really beautiful, you couldn’t deny that. Although you felt this nervousness in the back of your head as you stared at the water. You knew how to swim, and you still did so at pools and the beach, but this waterfall, you weren’t so sure you wanted to get in the water at all. You put that to the side and helped your friends set up the tents. You focused on that even as some of the others went for a swim, saying you wanted to make sure everything was set up before nightfall.

When you had mostly finished up you took a little break, sitting down in the shade of a tree, staring out at your friends. They were having so much fun, and their smiles brought one to your face. This really was an amazing place and you were glad to be here, but the memories of the past continued to haunt you. This whole scene before you actually felt like deja vu, especially when your friends noticed you and began gesturing for you to join them. You shook your head and pointed towards your campsite, telling them you weren’t done. They let it go for now, but you began to worry. It might not have been a good idea to come at all. As you continued to watch them you could help but think back to the last time you had been here.

🖤

“Y/n! Get up and get in the water!”

You opened your eyes to the sound of your friends calling for you. A groan escaped your lips, followed by a smile. You took a moment and then dressed yourself before stepping out of the tent. The warm sun shined down on you, and after a moment your eyes adjusted. You saw your friends out at the water, seeing them waving and gesturing for you to come over. You walked towards the shoreline, but yelped when you felt the water.

“It’s so cold!”

“Just get in!” Jemma shouted. “You’ll warm up to it.”

You laughed and walked into the water, shivering a bit but smiling all the way. Your friends cheered as you wadded over to them.

“Y/N!”

You heard a splashing sound, hearing a familiar voice call your name. You stopped and turned around, seeing your friend, Ally, frantically making their way over to you. It was an odd sight especially when you had seen Ally with your group of friends that had called you out. Something was off, and it was starting to freak you out. As Ally approached you stepped back, panicking. You wound up slipping and going under. When you resurfaced everything had changed. Day had turned to night and you felt a greater chill in the water. While you looked around confused and disoriented Ally caught up to you.

“Y/n, what the hell are you doing?”

“Huh?”

Ally could tell you weren’t in your right mind, so she helped you out of the water and onto dry land. She told you to stay put and not move a muscle while she went to get you a towel. She helped you dry off, bringing you over to a fire to help warm you up.

“Wa… what happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Girl, I woke up to get a drink and I see you walking out into the water. You scared me, were you sleepwalking or something?”

“I… I guess… I thought… you guys were out there… and it was morning…”

“Talk about a vivid dream. Let’s properly dry you up and change your clothes.”

You got up and went with Ally, cleaning up and getting into dry clothes. You couldn’t really go back to sleep, but come morning you packed up, Ally and your friends thinking it best to leave after such an experience, and you weren’t going to argue with them. As everyone finished packing you stared out into the water. Something strange happened to you, but you couldn’t quite understand it, nor did you want to. You thought you’d never come back, but it seemed that fate had something else in mind.

🖤

As the sun went down you helped prepare dinner, coming along with some of the guys, the smell of meat in the air. For everyone’s safety you had agreed on no alcohol, but you had plenty of other refreshments for the trip. You played some games to determine tent-mates and then everyone slowly started turning in for the night. You were one of the last to go to bed, staying up to admire the stars and the calmness of the water. Although after a while a bit of uneasiness settled in and you figured it was best to go to bed. For your own sake you set up a little trip wire with a bell on it outside your tent, just in case something happened again. You hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but at least you found it easier to fall asleep.

Come morning you woke to the smell of breakfast, hearing your friends outside. You made your way out, startling yourself when you tripped over a wire, a bell snapping you awake. You tumbled to the ground panting, sound hearing some chuckles, and then a hand came into view. Your tent-mate, Misu, helped you back onto your feet, commenting on your little contraption. She noticed right away when she got up and was careful not to trip it so you could sleep in. She didn’t think you would fall for it yourself, but one could be very groggy in the morning. Things were left like that and you joined the others for breakfast. Although today you probably couldn’t avoid going into the water, and it made you a bit nervous.

“Y/n, look over there.”

Avary pointed over to a group of boys near the water. It was so early in the morning but they were already going for a swim. You could feel the blood rush to your face as you noticed some of them weren’t wearing any shirts, and the others were in white t-shirts that were already soaked. You had never seen such a thing before, and you couldn’t stop staring.

“This is exactly why we came to the waterfall.” Misu commented. “The boys. We should say hi, maybe go for a swim together.”

“I… I don’t know… I… we can’t bother them…”

“Y/n, if they were just here to swim then they wouldn’t be doing all that.”

“I… I guess…”

Misu had a point. The boys weren’t just swimming around, but being very playful with each other, and being quite loud. At this point they were surely attracting everyone’s attention. Maybe this could work in your favor. You were already too nervous to enter the water, and you could use the pretty boys as another reason not to go. You’d surely embarrass yourself if you got near them anyway. Yet, you couldn’t help but stare, something about them drawing your gaze. You only broke away when your friends called to you.

After breakfast you helped clean up, your other friends going off to swim and make conversation with those boys. They’d be distracted trying to make nice with them, so you trusted they wouldn’t be bothering you about getting into the water. You were right about that, even as you kept catching yourself staring at them. You didn’t know what it was about them that kept getting your attention, but you tried not to keep staring. After the fifth time you told yourself you needed to have the waterfall out of your line of sight, so you went to your tent. Since it had always been your plan to stay out of the water you brought a book with you to keep you busy.

You laid down to read it, having a mini fan in the tent to keep you cool. You got engrossed in your book until you heard a bell that startled you. A scream escaped your lips and you quickly turned around, seeing a stranger poke their head into your tent. You screamed again and they quickly apologized, stepping out. Once you had regained your breath you carefully crawled over to the entrance of your tent, looking out at the boy who had startled you. He had a nervous smile on his face, waving at you and apologizing once more. Now that you got a good look at him you realized he was one of the boys you had been staring at earlier. You immediately retreated back into your tent, feeling your face heating up again.

“Excuse me…” The boy peeked down into the tent. “Are you alright?”

“Uh… fine… uh… can I help you?”

“Could you come out of the tent?”

“… why…”

“Well, it’s difficult to talk this way.”

“…”

“I won’t bite.”

“… what do you want…?”

“To talk.”

“Why?”

“To be honest, I was curious about you. I saw you staring again and again, yet you didn’t go into the water. Are you afraid or something?”

“What’s it to you?”

“This is the Fairy Tale Waterfall, one of the most beautiful places there is, but you won’t get into the water. Why bother coming all the way here if you’re not gonna enjoy yourself to the fullest?”

“I’m perfectly fine where I am…”

“Are you though?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, I can teach you how to swim if you want to.”

“I know how.”

“Then why don’t you come out to play?”

“I’m good.”

“You’re very interesting.”

“Y/n!”

You heard the voice of your friend. You were glad not to be alone anymore, and this gave you the motivation to get out of the tent. You scrambled out and ignored the boy nearby, looking for your friend. When you tried to walk away your arm was grabbed and you were held back.

“Ya! Let go.”

“We weren’t done talking.”

“Y/n! Oh- I see you’ve met Juyeon.”

“Who?”

“I’m Juyeon.” The boy introduced himself. “Nice to meet you.”

“Can you let go of my arm now?”

“Ah, sorry.”

Juyeon had quickly changed demeanors when your friend showed up. He was no longer giving creepy vibes, but had a big friendly smile on his face.

“My brothers and I were talking with your friends.” Juyeon explained. “And they mentioned that someone from their group was missing. I thought to come over and get you myself. We don’t want you missing out on the fun.”

“I’m alright, thanks.”

“Come on, y/n. You didn’t get a chance to get in the water at all yesterday, you have to get in today.”

“It’s okay, Mina. Besides, I was about to start preparations for lunch, I’ll call you all when it’s ready.”

“My brothers can prepare lunch for all of us.” Juyeon suggested. “That way you’re free to come and swim with us.”

“Uh…”

“That sounds perfect!” Mina cheered. “Let’s go!”

Before you could say more Mina grabbed your hand and pulled you along towards the water. She caught you off guard so you stumbled behind her, trying to protest. Even as you spoke your eyes were fixated on the water that was fast approaching. Your words were failing you, but just as you got close to the water’s edge you screamed.

“Stop!”

Mina abruptly let you go and stepped back. You slowly settled your breathing, moving away from the water, keeping your arms close to your chest.

“Y/n… are you okay…?”

“… yeah… I’m fine… I just…”

“Y/n…”

“Close your eyes and take a deep breath.” Juyeon took your hands in his and turned your back to the water. “Just breathe, okay?”

Even though you were creeped out by Juyeon earlier it didn’t matter at that moment. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm your breathing. Juyeon gestured for your friend to go, keeping you company while you regained your composure.

“Just focus on my voice and breathe. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“… sorry…”

“What are you apologizing for? You didn’t do anything wrong. Just breathe, you’re okay.”

Once you had steadied your breathing you opened your eyes, seeing the worry on Juyeon’s face. He quickly hid it behind a soft smile, giving you some reassurance.

“Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine…”

“We should go back to the tent, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Alright. Let’s go, one foot after the other, I got you.”

Juyeon stayed at your side while you made your way back to your tent. Your legs were a bit wobbly, but he made sure you didn’t fall. He helped you get back into your tent, not wanting you out in the sun, and disappeared for a moment to get you some water. You took the bottle and he figured that was an invitation to join you. It wasn’t, but you didn’t have the energy to tell him otherwise. Juyeon sat down next to you, pulling his knees up to his chest. He watched you quietly for a moment.

“What happened?”

“Huh?”

“What happened to you that you’d react like that?”

“Why do you care?”

“Well, what am I supposed to tell the others? Everyone saw…”

“Ugh, I never should have come back here in the first place.”

“How about this, you tell me what happened to you a year ago, and I make sure no one mentions this little incident. Deal?”

“As if you could do that.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You stared at Juyeon, but he kept that friendly smile on his face. You had never really told anyone about what happened, and those that had been present back then were no longer in your friends circle. Maybe you did need to talk about it, and a stranger was less likely to judge.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

You sighed. “It’s silly.”

“I doubt that considering the way you reacted.”

“Last time I was here… I wound up sleepwalking into the water… it was the middle of the night, but for some reason I thought it was morning… my friend saw me and went after me… in my disoriented state I slipped under the water and panic took hold… I nearly drowned… I would have drowned if not for her…”

“And is that friend here with you?”

“No… we lost touch afterwards… my current friends don’t know about this… I didn’t want to tell them so I agreed to come along, but it was a bad idea… I couldn’t just avoid the water the whole time I’m here… I’m so stupid!”

“No, you’re not. You didn’t want to upset anyone so you came along. I think it’s great you came back here.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“From what I can tell, you’re not afraid of drowning, you know how to swim, what you’re afraid of is the waterfall.”

“That sounds crazy.”

“Is it though? The soothing sound of the calm water probably enticed you and caused you to sleepwalk. That’s understandable.”

“Why are you being so nice?”

“Can’t I? This place is amazing, I love it here, and the last thing I want is for someone to be afraid. Tell you what, how about I help you?”

“With what?”

“This, to overcome your fear so you don’t have to feel silly anymore. Not that it is silly.”

“And why would you help me?”

“Don’t you wanna have fun with all your friends and play in the waterfall? You had fun last time with your friends, so much so that you got into the water without hesitation when you thought they were calling for you. There’s nothing to be scared of. I promise.”

“… what are you gonna tell the others?”

“That you were startled and not ready to go into the water. No one’s gonna bring it up, I swear. So how about we go prepare lunch?”

“… sure… I can help…”

“Awesome.”

Juyeon got out of the tent, careful not to trip over the bells again, and waited for you. It took you a moment but you got out, taking the hand that was offered to you. Juyeon led you over to his camp area, not letting go of your hand the entire way. A few other of his brothers had already started preparing, and welcomed you as you arrived.

“These are my brothers Sangyeon, Jacob, and Younghoon.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Jacob commented. “Hear a lot about you.”

“Really…?”

“Yeah, your friends kept talking about you. Nothing but good things I promise.”

“Right… so what can I help with?”

“How about you wash some vegetables for us.”

“I can do that.”

You helped the boys with lunch preparations, loving the smell in the air. There were plenty of picnic tables in the area, so the boys brought a few together so you could all eat together. Once the food was ready the others were called over and everyone gathered to eat. That’s when you were properly introduced to the rest of Juyeon’s brothers. There wasn’t much of a family resemblance, but from the way they treated each other it was easy to tell they were very close. You on the other hand were a bit nervous, expecting some questions and concerns about the earlier incident, but there were none. Everything seemed normal, as if you didn’t have an outburst at all. You weren’t entirely sure if you should be grateful over such a thing, cause it was kinda strange, but for the moment you could at least enjoy your time with your friends.

“Hey, come with me.”

Hyunjae took your hand and led you away from the others. You thought maybe you’d go back to your camp, but he began making his way towards the water. You stopped, but his pull was far stronger than you anticipated.

“Hyunjae…”

“I know, we’re not getting into the water, I swear, but I wanted to try something.”

“What do you mean?”

“Trust me.”

You probably shouldn’t, but something about his words felt reassuring, so you followed. As he promised, you only came to the edge of the water. Hyunjae sat down and pulled you down with him. Your feet were inches from the water, but you weren’t all that nervous.

“Nothing much can happen at this depth, so there’s nothing to fear. How about we just dip our feet in?”

“… how… who…”

“Maybe I overheard you talking before… but anyway, let’s do this. Nothing like literally getting your feet wet to help you overcome your worries.”

Hyunjae put his feet in the water and gestured for you to do the same. In this situation you could see how your fear would be silly. You were just putting your feet in, and you were mostly on land, so there was no real danger. You took a breath and slowly dipped your feet into the water. The cool sensation was welcomed, and a little smile appeared on your face.

“Good job.” Hyunjae cheered. “See, everything’s okay.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m right here, keeping an eye on you, nothing bad is gonna happen.”

“You can stop, you’re making it sound like I’m a child.”

“Alright, I’ll back off.”

You moved your feet around in the water, feeling a bit childish with your actions. Your gaze was on the water around your limbs. It was clean and beautiful, not at all like it could swallow you whole. When you heard a splash you looked over, seeing Sunwoo swimming towards you. The water was pretty shallow over by you, so he began crawling to get close.

“Look at you, enjoying the waterfall?”

“A bit…”

“That’s good. Why not come in for a swim? I’ll be right with you.”

“I’m okay…”

“Baby steps.” Hyunjae stated. “Little by little. Besides, you shouldn’t be in the water either, Sunwoo, you just ate.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Sunwoo splashed some water up your legs, getting a bit on your shirt. It was refreshing, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You remembered doing all this back then with your friends, deep into the waters of the waterfall without a care in the world. You didn’t want to be scared of such a wonderful place. You stood up and both boys looked at you curiously. You took a shaky step forward, going just a bit deeper into the water. Sunwoo backed away whereas Hyunjae got up and grabbed your arm.

“Woah, we don’t need to do anything drastic today.”

“I can… I can go further…”

“Don’t push yourself.”

“I know… this… this is real… I’m not dreaming… right…? Pinch me.”

“What?”

Sunwoo splashed some water in your face, getting you pretty soaked. You were stunned and wiped your face off before glaring down at Sunwoo.

“What was that for?”

“Splashing water in your face is usually a good way to wake up.”

“I said pinch me.”

“I can do that too.”

Of course Sunwoo didn’t miss the chance to move over to your leg and give you a little pinch. You yelped and jumped back a step.

“So, are you awake?”

“I guess I am.”

“Good. Let’s go waist deep.”

“No, no, no.” Hyunjae mentioned. “You also just ate, you shouldn’t be going into the water.”

“Just a bit more.”

You continued moving forward, even if it was like half a step at a time. Sunwoo was encouraging and cheering, while Hyunjae was worried and right at your side. With every step you thought about what Juyeon had said. You weren’t afraid of drowning, but of the waterfall itself. If you just showed yourself that there was nothing to fear, that it was just one bad experience, then you’d be able to enjoy this place just as you once did. The water got up above your knees when you had a bit of a slip. Hyunjae caught you and Sunwoo got up from the water to make sure you were okay.

“I think that’s good for today.” Hyunjae commented. “Let’s get back to land.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

You got back on shore, and the two took you to your tent, helping you dry off. You definitely needed a change of clothes, so you went off to do that. When you got back the two were still waiting for you.

“Since you’re not gonna swim, what are you gonna do for the afternoon?” Sunwoo asked.

“I have a book with me. So just some relaxing in the shade.”

“Why don’t you come over to our campsite, we have some games and we could keep you company.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your brothers.”

“We come here all the time. So we won’t be missing out on much.”

“You should join us.” Hyunjae said. “You’ll love it.”

“Alright.”

You spent your afternoon with some of the boys in their campsite, playing games and munching on snacks. It was nice, and you felt less bad about not being in the water. Later in the day you helped with dinner, and prepared some sausages and marshmallows for the campfire. Despite what had happened earlier you quite enjoyed your day and were happy to make some new friends. You stayed up a little late roasting marshmallows to make smores while sharing campfire stories. Nothing too spooky, so when you did finally sleep you didn’t have any nightmares. Come morning you were actually looking forward to the day.

After breakfast your friends mentioned they wanted to take a little hike to one of the other pools by the waterfall. You weren’t really one for hiking, but before you could give an answer Chanhee had come over to your camp, asking if anyone wanted to go for a swim. Your friends obviously already had plans, but at least now you had an alternative than to just staying behind. They didn’t seem to mind, and Misu gave you a knowing look telling you to have fun. Once they had gone you went with Chanhee to his campsite, greeting the others. They were happy to see you, and all eager for you to get in the water. Perhaps Juyeon had talked, but you didn’t care to scold him now.

Chanhee and Changmin were the two that took you over to the main pool. Not many others were around, so you’d have the place mostly to yourselves. The first to get into the water was Chanhee, diving under and getting himself completely soaked. He had a bright smile on his face, gesturing for you to join him. As you stared out into the water you felt nervous, but it was minor compared to the other day. You could stand at the edge of the water without being afraid. After a moment you took a deep breath and took a small step forward, feeling the water along your toes. You moved slowly, Changmin right at your side to make sure you were alright.

Although you only got a few inches in before Eric jumped into the water near you. He startled you a bit, causing Changmin to grab your arm and waist. You hadn’t really lost his footing, but his touch assured you that you weren’t alone. Although a moment later you were suddenly soaked as Eric was splashing water in your direction. You couldn’t help but laugh, trying to shield your face before Changmin moved you behind him. The other two began scolding the maknae but you were just curious as to why he had done this.

“What? Sunwoo said it was best to get her all wet so she’d know she’s awake, and pinch her too.”

“We’re not doing that.” Chanhee stated. “So don’t even think about it.”

“He said it was important.”

“It’s alright.”

Eric smiled and stuck his tongue out, going over to you and pinching your arm. You groaned but you grinned through the whole ordeal.

“Wide awake.”

“I am.”

“Good. Now we can continue with the important things.” Changmin said. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, baby steps.”

You continued where you left off, soon enough having water above your knees. It was as far as you had made it yesterday, and the goal was to go further. The water was a bit chilly but you were getting used to it. As you walked you kept your arms up, Changmin right behind you ready to grab you at any point. Meanwhile Chanhee stayed in front of you like a guide. You moved slowly, taking every step with caution and making sure you had your footing. Before you knew it the water was slightly above your waist. Now your nerves were starting to show.

“We can stop here.” Chanhee suggested. “You made good progress.”

“I… I can keep going…”

“You don’t have to.”

“I can… I know how to swim… I won’t drown…”

“We’re right here.” Changmin assured. “You can do this.”

You kept going as you had been, careful with every step. The two cheered you on and encouraged you. It wasn’t long before the water was at your breasts. You started laughing, a bit of nerves and joy mixed together. This wasn’t scary. You weren’t alone and the water around you was calm. Perhaps it was all that which caused you to lose focus. You took one wrong step and slipped into the water. You weren’t under for long but that was enough to trigger you and throw you into a panic.

“Y/n.”

The darkness you were met with when you went under put you back in the mindset of that day. Your vision was blurred and you were frantically reaching out for anything to hold onto. Before panic could truly settle in and take hold you felt someone lift you up. Next thing you knew you were sitting on Changmin’s shoulders, grabbing his face for stability. You were gasping for breath, shaking water out of your face.

“Easy, easy.” Chanhee grabbed your hand, trying to get your attention. “Deep breaths, deep breaths. That’s it, just breathe.”

“… what… what happened…?”

“You just slipped, but you’re okay.”

“… I’m okay…”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get you back to land.”

Chanhee kept a hold of your hand and Changmin moved slowly, getting you back to shore. You only took a few steps away from the water before collapsing to catch your breath. The two boys came to your side, keeping an eye on you as you recovered. A few of the others came rushing over to check on you.

“She’s alright.” Changmin assured. “Perfectly fine.”

“Good. We should probably dry you off.” Sangyeon held his hand out to you. “Come on.”

You accepted his hand and got to your feet. He kept you close, at his side, as you walked back to camp. As soon as you were there Jacob came over to wrap you in a towel, doing his best to warm you up.

“I’ll get you some cocoa.”

The boys had you sit by the fire, getting you another towel. Haknyeon was working on drying up your hair, being gentle, and keeping conversation.

“When did you learn to swim?”

“Uh… when I was like five…”

“Do you like it? Swimming that is.”

“Yeah. The cool water, moving in a way that feels like floating, it’s great.”

“You must have enjoyed swimming at the waterfall last year. Unlike pools, here the water is constantly moving on its own, adding to the experience.”

“Yeah…”

“You did really well today.”

“I still messed up…”

“You did no such thing. Most people would never come back here, let alone get in the water again after such an experience, but look at you. You’re quite brave don’t you think.”

“I guess…”

You had both hands on the mug of cocoa, using it to warm up. It really wasn’t that cold out, but right now you just wanted to get dry. You had lunch and stayed at the camp to play games again. No one else really brought up what happened in the morning and just focused on the present. You helped with dinner and afterwards found yourself rather tired. You wanted to wait for your friends to return, but sleep was calling to you.

“Maybe you should get to bed.”

“I’m gonna stay up and wait.”

“I don’t think you can.” Kevin chuckled. “Why don’t you go take a nap in one of our tents. We’ll wake you when your friends get back.”

“Sure…”

You couldn’t argue, well, you didn’t want to. A nap sounded like a good idea. One of the others went to get your sleeping bag and had it set down in one of their tents. None of them would be sneaking in later, so you could rest easy. It honestly wasn’t difficult to slip away into dreamland either.

🖤

“Rise and shine.”

You woke to the sounds of someone unzipping the entrance of the tent, peeking over with blurry vision to see Younghoon smiling and waving at you.

“Morning.”

“Morning? You were supposed to wake me when my friends got back.”

“Yeah, but they got back pretty late and didn’t want to wake you. Besides, it seems like you were sleeping happily.”

“Sorry. I’ll head out right now.”

“It’s okay. Let’s have breakfast first.”

Younghoon held his hand out to you, which you took after rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Everyone greeted you, and this time no one let you help with breakfast preparations. The rest of your friends came over to eat, talking about their hike and how much fun they had. You were glad to hear their stories, not speaking about your own activities from the previous day. After eating and waiting for the food to go down many went back out into the waterfall. You thought about yesterday. Even though it ended badly you had made great progress. You needed a different approach this time, and you knew exactly what to do.

“Where are you going?” Sangyeon asked. “Especially by yourself.”

“I’m gonna go swim.”

“What?” 

“I got pretty far into the water, but I keep walking and that’s my problem. The water is deep, if I keep walking I won’t make much progress. I need to swim in the water, that’s how I get my confidence back.”

“Okay, but you’re not going out alone.”

“I’d hope not.”

Sangyeon went with you to the waterfall, finding a place that was mostly empty. He got into the water first, diving down and getting completely soaked. You felt your face getting a bit red, seeing as he was shirtless and now completely soaking wet.

“You coming?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You slowly walked towards the water, but stopped at the edge. You had to mentally prepare yourself, but you were still nervous.

“I’ll go with you.”

Jacob suddenly appeared at your side, giving you a reassuring smile. He took your hand and the two of you walked into the water. You shivered from the cold water, letting out a yell.

“I guess the morning sunlight hasn’t warmed it up.” Jacob teased. “Shall we check to see if you’re awake?”

You nodded which prompted Sangyeon to splash water in your face. It was still cold, but nothing changed, it was still bright and early. Jacob gave you a little pinch, making you jump ever so slightly going further into the water.

“Shall we continue?”

“Yeah.”

You took a few more steps into the water, getting up to your waist. You stopped and slowly lowered yourself further in, getting the water up to your neck. You moved your arms around, trying to get a good feel for the water. The area around you was clear, so there wouldn’t be anything in your way. You mentally counted to three and then dove down into the water, swimming a little bit before surfacing. The sun was still out, Jacob and Sangyeon in your view, big smiles on their faces.

“I did it.”

“Yeah you did!”

Such joy surged through you, and your fears began to wash away. You were happy to be able to swim in the waterfall again, assured that you were awake and with good company. You swam around with Sangyeon and Jacob, some of the others coming over as well.

“Can I show you something?” Sangyeon asked.

“Sure.”

“Follow me.”

Sangyeon led the way over to the waterfall, helping you get out of the water and carefully moving along the rocks. Next thing you knew you were behind the waterfall in what looked like a cave entrance. You sat down by the edge, watching the backside of the waterfall, taking in the beautiful sounds and scenery.

“I didn’t know you could get back here.”

“It’s a bit risky, but worth it.”

“I agree.”

“I have something for you.”

“Hm?”

Sangyeon grabbed a plastic bag out of his swimtruck, revealing these transparent spheres. He pulled one out and popped it in his mouth, holding the bag out to you.

“These are gummies, mystery flavor. It’s my favorite so I thought you’d like some.”

“Thanks.”

You grabbed a gummy from the bag, curious as to what they were since you had never seen them before. They were very squishy and then you put it in your mouth. You chewed on it while focusing on the taste to figure out what flavor it was.

“Hm… I’m thinking peach.”

“Mine tastes like strawberry.”

“Nice. Where did you get these anyway?”

“That’s a secret.”

“Come on.”

“Not telling.”

“Why? I-”

Your words were cut short as you felt your throat drying up. You thought maybe something was stuck as it became difficult to breathe but you didn’t feel anything. You clawed at your neck, trying to find some sort of explanation. You looked to Sangyeon in fear, but he didn’t seem at all concerned. He popped another gummy into his mouth and then grabbed you. The two of you fell into the water together. You thought panic would overtake you, but for some reason you felt fine. You quickly surfaced and stayed a float, suddenly able to breathe again.

“What… what just happened…?”

“It’s temporary, just to get you home.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

Sangyeon pulled you back under water, scaring you and causing you to flail around. He held you tight though, and pulled you close, surprising you with a kiss. His lips pressed firmly against yours, and you began feeling dizzy. The more you tried to push him away the less strength you had. The edges of your vision began to go black, and it wasn’t long before darkness swallowed you whole.

🖤

You gasped awake and began coughing up some water. As you began to regain your senses you looked around. There was a large pool of water before you, and there seemed to be rocks all around. You were in some sort of cave. A bit of sunlight came into the room from an opening in the ceiling, but there seemed to be nowhere else to go. You were trapped here. Now you were starting to wonder how you even got there and how you would escape. You got up on shaky legs and looked around for some type of opening you could reach.

“You’re awake.”

You jumped and looked around for the voice, then you saw Juyeon in the water, waving at you. For a moment you thought you were imagining things, but he swam closer, and that’s when you got a real good look at him. His eyes had become slits, like a cat, and were a golden color. A few bluegreen scales decorated his cheeks and ran along his arms. His fingers were webbed together, also showing claws instead of nails. A few fins seemed to poke out of his arms, and even his ears had changed to look more aquatic. Seeing all this causes you to stumble back and fall. Juyeon remained in the water though, chuckling over your actions.

“You’re very cute.”

“Wa… what are you…?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“A fish?”

“Okay, that’s just rude.”

“Where am I!? Why did you bring me here!?”

“Easy. We’re not gonna hurt you. We just brought you here while we got everything ready. We’ll leave soon.”

“To where?”

“Home.”

“Home?”

“Yeah. We were gonna bring you a year ago, but your stupid friend took you from us before we got to meet. Kinda wish they were here with you, I wanted to give them a piece of my mind.”

Juyeon growled and revealed sharp teeth, making you scream. You scrambled back and as far away from the water as possible. You had your back pressed against the wall, mumbling to yourself that this was all just a dream.

“You’re not dreaming, and before you get any ideas, there is no way out of this place. Well, not for humans. The only way in and out is through some underwater caves, but you’d need diving gear to go to and from, which you don’t have.”

“How… how did you bring me here?”

“Sangyeon gave you something that would let you breathe underwater for a while. Long enough to get here.”

“The gummies…”

“Yeah those things, I don’t know where he gets them.”

“Just let me go, please.”

“Nope. You got away from us once, and it’s not gonna happen again.”

“Please. I won’t tell anyone anything. I’ll never come back and-”

“We don’t want that.” Juyeon got out of the water, revealing more scales and fins. “You disappearing again is the last thing we want.”

You swallowed nervously. “My… my friends… they’ll look for me…”

“And they’re never gonna find you. No one will.”

“Please…”

You felt tears sting your eyes and start sliding down your cheeks. You closed your eyes and went back to mumbling about how this was all a bad dream and you’d wake up soon. You felt Juyeon approach, but you kept your eyes shut tight. Then you felt a hand on your chin.

“Look at me.”

Juyeon’s voice was so calm and soothing. Despite your fears you began to relax. You slowly opened your eyes, seeing that Juyeon had returned to normal. He had a soft smile on his face, seeming far friendlier than before.

“Just listen to my voice. Everything’s going to be okay. You can go back to sleep, and when you wake up, you’ll be home.”

“… home…”

“You’ll love it.”

Your eyelids felt heavy, and this sudden exhaustion was beginning to take hold. You wanted Juyeon to let you go, but you didn’t have the strength to lift your arm. He kept coaxing you to sleep, and you couldn’t resist for long. Soon returning to that void.

🖤

Once again you woke with a sharp intake of breath, followed by coughing up some water. You recovered quicklier than before. This time you discovered you were no longer in a cave, but what seemed to be some sort of cabin. The walls showed logs, and you were laying in bed. The room itself was mostly empty besides the basic furniture. You slowly got out of bed, avoiding the water you had coughed up. You made it to the door and carefully tried the knob, relieved to find the door unlocked. You carefully opened it and peeked your head out of the room. The halls were empty and quiet. You quickly decided which way to go and quietly snuck out of the room. All you needed was an exit.

You walked down the hall trying to make as little noise as possible. It seemed that no one else was in the cabin, and then you came into what appeared to be the living room. The TV was on, but no one was on the sofas watching. You noticed trees out the window, and another body of water, but you didn’t care for it. There was a door that you figured led out, but taking the front door might not bed a good idea. You noticed another way leading to the kitchen and you figured that could lead you to the back. You moved quickly and made sure no one could see you from the windows. The kitchen was clean and empty, and there was your back door.

You ran over, happy to find it unlocked and you stepped out. The fresh air was so nice, and it seemed that no one was around. Now was your chance, you made it to the trees, being quiet and once there was some distance from you and the cabin you began to run. Surely you’d find a trail or some other signs of civilization soon, but you just needed to get away from the cabin and the others. You ran until you needed to catch your breath, looking around for any possible clues as to where you could go. All you could really see were trees, which wasn’t much help, but at least you had gotten away.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You screamed and looked back, seeing Hyunjae and Chanhee standing a few feet away from you. Your first instinct was to run, but you immediately tripped on an exposed root and collapsed to the ground. You scraped your knee and screamed again. The two boys came to your side, helping you to your feet. You wouldn’t be running anymore with that injury, and the two took you back to the cabin. Despite running for so long and getting so far, in a few seconds you were back at the cabin, as if you had never gone anywhere in the first place. Even though you were injured you yelled and tried to free yourself, but the boys held you tightly.

“We are trying to help.” Chanhee hissed. “You’re injured.”

“Let me go! This is kidnapping!?”

“It’s not. More like claiming ownership.”

“What?!” 

They brought you over to the edge of the dock, having you sit with your legs hanging over the edge, your toes just above the water.. You saw movement in the water and started freaking out, but you couldn’t go anywhere. Moments later Eric popped his head out of the water. He looked similar to Juyeon in his fish form, and that scared you all the more. You tried to pull your legs up but Eric grabbed your injured one, making you freeze. You could feel the tips of his claw pressing gently at your skin. You whimpered and Eric met your eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“What are you?”

“A friend.”

Eric cupped some water in his hand and splashed your wound, cleaning it a bit. Then he pulled your leg closer and kissed your wound. You yelped, but he just chuckled and disappeared into the water. You were confused but then your leg began to feel better, and you noticed your wound was healing. In a matter of seconds your leg was healed, as if nothing had ever happened.

“… how…?”

“Come on, let’s get you back inside.”

The two picked you up and took you back into the cabin. That’s when you noticed there were multiple cabins around, giving the impression this was some other camp. Although there was a waterfall as well that led into the lake the camp surrounded. You were still too shocked to voice any of your questions, so you were easily dragged back inside. The boys plopped you down on the couch, giving you the TV remote.

“We’ll be right back, and don’t go anywhere this time.”

You put the remote down and examined your leg, seeing for sure that there was no cut. You couldn’t believe it, you couldn’t believe any of this actually. You thought back to how you wound up here, remembering you went for a swim with Sangyeon, and then wound up in a cave, and now you were here. You looked out the window, seeing the sun. It was barely reaching its peak, meaning it was morning. It was hard to believe a whole day had gone by since you were last at the waterfall with your friends. They must be panicking and looking for you like crazy. Since you were alone you got up and looked around for a phone or something you could use to contact them. You found nothing, figuring they were probably hiding any means of outside contact.

“I’m pretty sure you were told to stay put.”

Younghoon offered you a smile, leaning against the entryway to the living room. You gave him a shy one in return, feeling like you were caught doing something bad when in reality you hadn’t done anything.

“Relax. Sangyeon wants to talk with you. Follow me.”

It wasn’t a request, but an order. After a moment you followed Younghoon, going up to the second floor and down the hall to the door at the end. He knocked and then gestured for you to go inside. You were kind of nervous, but it wasn’t like you could run away again. You shakily reached for the doorknob and turned it, making your way inside. You walked into what appeared to be a study, seeing bookshelves on the wall and a desk at the center. That’s where Sangyeon sat, staring at his computer and typing. He stopped when you entered, the door closing behind you, and glanced over at you.

“Sit.”

“I could stand…”

“Sit down.”

“… okay…”

You sat down in front of his desk, keeping your legs close together and your hands in your lap. You didn’t dare to raise your gaze, feeling a scolding coming.

“Look at me.” You slowly lifted your gaze. “Good girl.”

“What do you want from me?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“It’s good to finally meet. I’ve gone through a lot of trouble to bring you here. So, let me lay down the rules.”

“Rules?”

“You can’t escape our little camp here. As you saw before, you can run for hours and days but you won’t go anywhere. Our home has magic surrounding its borders that prevent people from leaving or entering without our permission. You also won’t be able to contact anyone outside our home, signals come in, but can’t go out. If you try anything we’ll know.”

“What are you?”

“Hm?”

“You speak of magic like it’s normal, and however you brought me here… I don’t understand…”

“You haven’t figured that out yet?”

“Are you… fish people?”

“That’s insulting.” Sangyeon chuckled. “We’re sirens.”

“Sirens?”

“How do you think we brought you here? A sweet melody to lure you into the water and into our embrace.”

“It… it was you… I wasn’t sleep walking that day… you lulled me into the water… if it hadn’t been for my friend-”

“Quite unfortunate we missed you the first time. Which was all the more reason to be cautious the second time around. We were all so happy when you came back. So we had to make sure you didn’t escape us again. It was nice of your friends to go off and leave you with us.”

“Did… did they even come back…? They wouldn’t just leave me with strangers!?”

“Are you sure? It’s easy for us to put someone to sleep, and you’ve seen what else we can do.”

“You… my friends will look for me! They’d notice I was gone when they got back!”

“They won’t. Who do you think gave them the idea? We took all your things too darling. As far as they’ll remember, you never came with them.”

“… wa… what … why… why me! I didn’t do anything to you! I didn’t even see you at the waterfall a year ago!”

“But we saw you. My boys were very entranced by the beautiful girl playing with her friends. They wanted you for breeding season, and who am I to refuse them.”

“Bree… what did you say?”

Sangyeon chuckled. “I’m certain you heard me. We won’t hurt you, so rest assured you’ll be fine.”

“You’re insane…”

“The boys agreed not to touch you unless the time came. I’m quite curious who’ll break first.”

You were still trying to come to terms with what you had just been told, and make sense of it, but your brain did not want to process. Sangyeon got up from his desk and took your hand, giving you a proper tour of what he kept calling your home. The cabin you were in was the main house, and where your room was. Since it was the biggest, everyone used it as a communal space, although besides Sangyeon and Jacob, the others actually had their beds in the other cabins. The whole camp surrounded the waterfall and the lake it led into, which you had noticed was much bigger than the one you had been to before.

A few docks led into the water, and there seemed to be a little farm area where they grew fruits and vegetables. In all honesty this place looked so beautiful, but it was hard to take it all in when you knew this was your prison. You weren’t really paying attention to the tour, and next thing you knew you were back in the living room, alone. You grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, not wanting to be reminded of the outside world you could no longer get to. Now that you sat in silence you realized you didn’t like it, so you left the cabin. After a few steps you stopped and looked all around. There had to be some way out. From what you understood the surrounding forest wasn’t an option, so that left the water.

You thought back to how you supposedly wound up here, which would mean the water. Your eyes looked to the waterfall, and you remembered getting to the cave behind it back at the other place. There was surely one here too, and that could be your way out. You started to make your way towards the lake. Now that you knew what really had caused your previous fear, you had let it go, having other things to worry about. Although before you could jump into the water you were grabbed. Haknyeon offered you a smile, but you didn’t return it. You didn’t trust any of these guys, especially now that Sangyeon had told you why you were here.

“You wanna help with lunch?”

“No.”

“Come on, you helped before.”

“Yeah, before I knew you were a bunch of psychos!”

“Hey, we’re perfectly sane.”

“Is what an insane person would say.”

“Let’s just go, everyone is waiting for you.”

You didn’t have a choice as Haknyeon dragged you back over to the main cabin, and your strength was no match for his. You resigned yourself to being a complete klutz in the kitchen, and the second you got your hands on a knife you began swinging. Of course it was taken away from you immediately and you were removed from the kitchen.

“I get it, you’re upset.” Chanhee led you outside. “But I swear to you that you’ll like it here.”

“How would I ever like it? You kidnapped me and are holding me hostage!”

“That’s not true.”

“You used your stupid siren song thing to get me here, and I can’t leave, that’s kidnapping and being held against my will!”

“Okay, but this place is great. Your own paradise. It’s beautiful, and you have no job or responsibilities, you can do whatever you want here. And you’re not afraid of the water anymore, so you can swim to your heart’s content.”

“I want to go home.”

“Why? Back to school to work yourself to death for some corporation.”

“Being taken against your will isn’t exactly the best alternative, now is it?”

Chanhee scoffed. “You can fight with us all you want, but you’re gonna change your tune.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

It was obvious you didn’t want company, so Chanhee let you go off by yourself. He told you someone would come find you later when lunch was ready. You waited until he was gone before making your way back over to the docks. The water wasn’t super clear, so you couldn’t really make out how deep it was, but you figured it wouldn’t be bad. You sat at the edge of the dock and then let yourself drop over into the water. You didn’t touch the bottom, so you definitely didn’t go into the shallow part. You kept yourself afloat once you surfaced and figured which way the waterfall was. You began swimming towards it when you suddenly noticed something moving out in the water.

You came to a stop and looked out. As far as you were concerned there were no creatures in the lake, besides the boys themselves. From what you had heard before, all the boys would be gathering at the main cabin, so no one should be out in the water right now except for yourself. Still, you didn’t like this, so you decided to swim back. You got to the dock and pulled yourself out, although you suddenly felt something grab your leg. You screamed and managed to pull yourself free, looking back to see what had gotten you. Yellow slit eyes looked back at you from the edge of the dock. You couldn’t make out who it was until they got out of the water, crawling onto the dock towards you.

“Su… Sunwoo… what are you doing…? I… I thought you were with the others…”

“… pretty…”

You crawled back, nervous that any sudden movements would cause him to pounce on you. While you maintained eye contact you kept moving away, and he followed.

“Sunwoo…”

“… want…”

There was something different about his voice, and his gaze. He seemed more like a predator stalking his prey. A devilish smile adorned Sunwoo’s face, and it sent shivers down your spine. You were scared, and this little game would only last so long. All of a sudden Sunwoo made his move, lunging at you. Your scream did nothing to deter him, and even though you scrambled back he managed to grab onto your leg. In one swift motion he pulled you towards him, and you soon found yourself pinned under him.

“Sun… Sunwoo… let go…”

“… mine…”

Sunwoo buried his head in the crook of your neck, breathing you in, his wet lips against your skin. His arms began to move along your sides, and you realized the claws were gone. That didn’t change your current situation though. You began to squirm, trying to get him off, but he was wet, and kinda slimy. Not to mention he was much stronger than you. As hard as you tried, you couldn’t get him to budge. He began to pepper you with kisses, his legs pushing between yours. You kept fighting until you felt something poking at you down below. Your gaze slowly looked down to see a tent in Sunwoo’s shorts, starting to realize the inevitable.

“Sunwoo, get off!”

Your actions seemed to upset him as he growled and pinned your hands above your head. You stared up at him, seeing his eyes remained the slitted yellow color. He seemed to be reading your expression for a movement before he dove down for a kiss. It was rough, and since he caught you off guard it wasn’t difficult for him to get his tongue into your mouth. Even as you tried to fight him you realized there was a certain taste on his lips. Something sweet with a bit of a kick. Then for some reason you started kissing back, your head feeling fuzzy, followed by this warmth spreading down your body.

When he pulled away you were gasping for air, your vision a bit blurred, but the yellow of his eyes you could still make out. His hands trailed down your body once more, effortlessly ripping your shirt open. You felt hands grab at your breasts, followed by lips sucking on one of your nipples. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you, this dizzy sensation messing with all your senses. You ran your fingers through his hair, trying to verbalize your thoughts, but it just came out as incoherent mumbles. A moment later Sunwoo’s hands were tugging down your shorts and panties. You tried to push your legs together, feeling a chill but he seemed to growl at that. He shoved your legs apart and moved down, burying his face into your center.

You yelled and grabbed fistfulls of his hair. You don’t know if you wanted him off or to go in deeper, but either way you felt something slimy between your folds, making you whimper and squirm. He didn’t tease you for long though, pulling away and climbing on top of you once again. You had no idea when he had gotten his shorts off, but now you felt something else poking at your entrance. In your state it was perfectly logical to reach down and feel this thing for yourself, but the result was very unexpected. Sunwoo was big, bigger than expected, and different. You could feel these ridges along his length, starting to wonder what that would feel like inside you. Although you didn’t have to wait too long.

Sunwoo pressed his lips to yours once more and then you felt something stretching you open. You moaned into the kiss, feeling the slow movement of his length going inside you, every little bump making you whine. You were quiet surprised you could take all of his like that. There was a moment of discomfort as you adjusted to the feeling, practically on the edge of being split in two. You whimpered as the slightest of movement shook your whole body. When he started moving you knew you were going to go insane. Sunwoo was taking in everything, your scent, your sounds, the slight twitches all over your body. He was going to enjoy this.

He wasn’t sure if you were ready, but he didn’t have much patience. Sunwoo pulled out nearly all the way before slamming back into you, over and over again. Your whole body moved with him, shaking and crying out in delight. He played you like an instrument, his giant cock rubbing against your sweet spot at every moment. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, incoherent sounds of pleasure spilling out of you. Sunwoo had your arms pinned above your head with one hand, the other trailing along your stomach, making you twitch. He purposely had his claws out to tease your exposed flesh, loving the reactions he was getting out of you. Every part of you was on fire, and his touch was fanning the flames.

You felt this bundle heat and sensations building up inside of you, well aware of what it meant. You tried to tell Sunwoo, but you still couldn’t do words. Although it seemed he understood your desperate pleas. He let go of your arms and grabbed onto your hips, the tips of his claws digging into your skin ever so slightly. He just needed a better grip to ram into you, his movements becoming erratic as he wanted to see you tremble in pleasure beneath him. You grabbed onto Sunwoo’s arms, mouth hanging open as you reached climax. You screamed out his name, shaking and twitching, getting more stimulation as you squeezed him tightly. Your lips were so inviting Sunwoo divided down to kiss you once again.

You moaned into the kiss, trying to devour him in your own way. He tasted so sweet you just wanted more and more. You didn’t really have a chance to calm down as Sunwoo kept moving, not losing his rhythm. He definitely had more stamina than you, so he took advantage of your sensitive state, building you up to another orgasm and forcing it out of you. Even if you were tired your body still reacted to him, holding him tightly, and letting him do whatever he pleased. You had devolved to a whimpering mess, more of a ragdoll in his arms. Your vision faded in and out, but you still felt every inch of him. The only distinction you could make was when Sunwoo’s movements became sloppy, his hot breath against your ear followed by the feeling of something warm inside you.

Sunwoo rested on top of you, breathing heavily and making low groans, his hips twitching and continuing to move, pushing his seed deeper and deeper into you. He seemed very content, nuzzling your neck, and mumbling sweet nothings. You could only respond with content whines, a ditzy smile on your face. You were floating on cloud nine, and had no idea when you’d come down. Although things did take a sudden turn for you. One moment you were laying on the dock with Sunwoo on top of you, and the next thing you knew you were in the water. The cold water seemed to snap you back to reality and you began to flail, trying to float. You managed to calm yourself a bit, but then something yanked on your leg and pulled you under.

You fought back and freed yourself, not caring to know what was happening and began swimming to shore. Once again your leg was grabbed and you were yanked beneath the water. You thought it was over this time, but you were suddenly grabbed by another force and brought up to the surface. You gasped as you took a breath in, unable to see as your vision was blurred by water. Someone was dragging you to the shore, but you noticed a clawed hand wrapping around your ankle. You could barely make out the yellow eyes staring at you, but that was the least of your concerns. Before you could scream and ear piercing screech filled th air. You slammed your hands over your ears, but it did little to block out the sound.

The hand had let you go and you heard a splash in the water. A moment later the sound disappeared. You took a moment to compose yourself and then realized what was going on. You were sitting on the shore, a few of the boys around you, and others knee deep in the water. They all seemed to be recovering from the sound as well, except for Sangyeon. He was speaking, but you couldn’t really make out his words. Then you began to remember you were naked. You quickly tried to cover yourself, but hands grabbed you and pulled you to your feet. A towel was wrapped around you and then you were swept off your feet. Sangyeon was carrying you bridal style, heading back to the main cabin.

“Are you okay?”

“Wa… what happened…?”

“You tell me.”

“Uh… I…”

“Kidding. Just take it easy, you’re fine.”

“I don’t feel fine…”

“I know.”

Sangyeon took you to your room and let you take a shower, properly cleaning yourself up, from head to toe, and then dressing yourself in fresh clothes. He was sitting in your bed and waiting. You were still a bit unsteady on your feet, and stuck close to the wall, holding onto the furniture. It didn’t take Sangyeon long to notice and bring you over to the bed so you could sit down. You mumbled a small thanks.

“Does your chest hurt? Or anything else besides… well you know.”

“No… but what… Sunwoo…”

“He was the first to break. My money was on Juyeon.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You said you brought me here for… that thing… but Sunwoo-”

“During breeding season a siren goes into a frenzy. There’s only one thing on their mind, and they’ll search for the nearest thing to satiate them. For the most part we stay in the water, but you were nearby, so he took advantage of that.”

“I… I wasn’t in my right mind… I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t blame yourself too much. We excrete a very lovely type of aphrodisiac to make our partners more agreeable. It’s okay to say you enjoyed yourself.”

“Fuck you. That’s not fair.”

“Sunwoo was just the beginning. Although I will apologize for him as he nearly drowned you.”

“Let me guess, he wasn’t in his right mind because of the frenzy?”

“Basically. He wanted to take you back to his cave.”

“What?”

“Why do you think the lake is so big? We all have our own little caves down there. Of course he’d want to take you there, but you obviously can’t breathe under water.”

“No shit.”

“I’ll get him to apologize when he comes back to his senses.”

“Forget that. I want to leave. If that’s what’s gonna happen to me again, I want no part!”

Sangyeon chuckled. “We’ve been over this. You’re not leaving.”

“I’m certain there are plenty of other girls, or boys, who’d be down to help you through this, but not me! You managed last time without me, so leave me out of this!”

“They were very upset last time. Many wanted to chase after you, but it’s not safe to leave the waterfall. I’m not going to upset them again.”

“I don’t care about that! Find someone else, or better yet, another siren! You said it’s breeding season, and I’m not about to get pregnant!”

“A siren can’t impregnate a human, it’s a very rare thing. Which is all the more reason to have you around.”

“Then like I said before, find someone else.”

“They don’t want anyone else, and neither do I.”

Sangyeon came over to your side and pinned you down on the bed. Your heart was racing but you tried to keep your cool.

“You enjoyed yourself, we all know it. So you don’t have to lie and be upset. We heard you turn into a mess out there.”

“… you… you did…?”

“It was music to my ears. You know, we’re all the same down there, although maybe just different sizes. Tell me, how was it? A whole new experience right?”

“…”

“You don’t have to be shy. I know you wanna do it again, and you’ll get to, just be patient. It starts with one, but that’s all it takes to drag the rest of us down. There’s nowhere you can go to escape us, so look forward to that.”

Sangyeon placed a small kiss on your head and excused himself. It wasn’t until he closed the door that you let out the breath you were holding. You felt so hot, aware of the burning in your cheeks. You shouldn’t be into any of this, and you were certain he had influenced you somehow, but you had to focus. They all overpowered you, and the way Sunwoo was acting before, you’d be in major trouble if it was more than one next time. You needed to get out, but the problem now was your leg. There was no way you could make the swim out to the waterfall right now, so there had to be another way.

For the rest of the day you stayed in your room. One of the others brought you food, leaving outside your door. You didn’t want to eat, but you were going to need your strength. You stared out your window towards the lake and the waterfall. Right now the best idea seemed to be to get as close to the waterfall as you could from land, and then swim the rest of the way. The only other problem was to figure out when. At night the water would be very cold, and your vision would be impaired. You figured early morning would be the right time, so it was probably best to go to sleep now. You were quite tired after all.

🖤

It was a bit difficult to sleep, as you kept waking up after a while. At least you didn’t miss sunrise. The cabin was quiet, and you carefully made your way outside. The rest of the camp area seemed quiet, and even the lake was still. You had mapped out your path the day before, so you just made sure to keep hidden and made your way towards the waterfall. When you got to the end of the path you carefully got into the water, making sure no one was around to notice you. Once in the water you cautiously made your way to the waterfall, trying not to let the cold overwhelm you. It would have been worse if it was night time. 

You thought back to how you made it to the back of the waterfall with Sangyeon before, although this was a different waterfall so things would be different. In theory it was the same, climbing up on some rocks and carefully making it towards the back of the waterfall. The danger was how slippery the rocks were as they were always coated in water. Still, you managed to make it, feeling relief and quite proud of yourself too. You admired the waterfall for a moment before going into the cave behind it. Sunlight came in through some holes in the ceiling, illuminating your path. You walked down this tunnel until it opened up into a bigger room. You began looking around for a way out, but to your horror there didn’t seem to be one.

You walked around, but there was nothing but rock surrounding you. The only way out was through the tunnel you had come from. This was just a room. There was a small puddle of water at the center, only going up to your ankles. Even the holes in the ceiling didn’t seem big enough for a person, and there was no way you could climb up to escape. You collapsed to the floor in defeat, realizing there really was no way out of this place. You pulled up your knees to your chest, hugging them. You had no idea what to do now, and you certainly had no idea how much time passed. You only snapped out of your daze when you heard someone approaching. You quickly got up, scared for what would happen next.

“How’d you get here?” Younghoon looked you up and down. “I didn’t know you knew about this place.”

“…”

“Ah, did you think there was a way out of here behind the waterfall? That’s cute, but we meant it when we said you weren’t leaving.”

“Just let me go… please… I don’t know how long this breeding season thing lasts for you, but I want out, now.”

“You’re not just here for that. You’ll be staying with us permanently.”

“What!?”

“It would be nice to have someone else around, and we all like you.”

“I have a life! You can’t just-”

“Do you really want to go back?”

“I… I…” You started feeling dizzy. “Uh…”

“You humans tend to live such boring lives. Wouldn’t it be more fun to stay here with us? We can give you everything and more. If you’re having all these pesky thoughts bothering you, I can just wash them away.” Younghoon stepped towards you. “Would you like that? Do you want me to take away all those bad thoughts?”

“Stay… stay back… you…”

“Sh, you know, we come here for some privacy, so imagine my joy finding you here.”

“I… no… no…”

“I’m certain Sunwoo took good care of you, shall I continue where he left off? Did you like the way he felt inside you? I promise I’m just as big.”

“Stop… stop it…”

“That’s not what you really want, is it?”

Younghoon pinned you to the wall, watching you curiously. His eyes had changed to that golden yellow, and a few scales decorated his skin. He gently caressed your cheek, no claws present, but other siren features were.

“How about a little taste, before I spiral down into madness. Strip for me, baby.”

Despite the sorrow of realizing you were trapped, the fear of being caught, none of that seemed to matter anymore. Your head was fuzzy like before, and you felt oddly calm with Younghoon. His words flowed into your head and were welcomed with open arms. When he asked you to strip it just seemed like the right thing to do. You started with your top, slipping it past your head and tossing it to the side. Younghoon helped you with your bra, happily taking in your exposed breasts. You reached down to slide off your shorts and panties, feeling the chill of the cave, causing you to shiver.

“I’ll warm you up in a bit.”

Younghoon stripped out of his clothes. Your gaze took him in, unable to resist running your hands along his chest and feeling his scales. He was wet and slimy, and you quite liked that. He was like a fantasy come true. Fingers wrapped around your chin and raised your gaze, Younghoon capturing your lips in a kiss. It was natural to kiss back, getting another taste of the unknown sweetness. You felt yourself melting into this sensation, moreso when you felt a hand between your legs, teasing your folds. You mewled into the kiss, jumping up a bit when you felt something cold push into you.

“There’s a good girl.” 

Even in the cold you felt warm, and it was slowly spreading. Younghoon worked you over with one finger before adding another, his thumb rubbing your little nub in circles, just adding to the stimulation. You were whimpering, the fog in your head already making you lose the ability to communicate. Despite taking things slow, Younghoon had little patience. He pulled his fingers out without warning, grabbing your hips and lifting you up off the ground with ease. You could understand what he was doing, and followed his movements without being told. You wrapped your legs around him, feeling something poking at your entrance before you sank onto it, taking it all at once.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you were suddenly filled to the brim, stretched wide open and feeling those bumps running along inside you. Younghoon was whispering dirty things in your ear, his hot breath making you squirm. Every little movement just sent another wave of pleasure coursing through your body. It didn’t matter that rocks pressed against your back, or that you weren’t entirely in your right mind. At the moment the only thing that mattered was you and Younghoon. Your mouth hung open in silent ecstasy as he provided you with a whole new experience. Gravity played a part in all this as no matter how he moved, you’d always sink down on him to the base, feeling every inch.

He kept his movements steady and it was a testament to his strength. You couldn’t imagine anyone else doing such a thing, but he played his part wonderfully. He didn’t break a sweat as he rocked his hips into you, stealing a kiss from you every now and then. His moans mixed with your own, echoing in the room. You felt hot, like you were burning from the inside out, but it was a pleasurable feeling. Your whimpering became more desperate as you were nearing your climax, and Younghoon took note of this with joy. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, adding to the sweet sensations that were overwhelming you completely.

You ran your fingers through his hair, barely able to whimper his name before you cried out in ecstasy as an orgasm shook your body. Younghoon pressed his lips against your when you came, wanting you to moan into his mouth and get more of his sweet lips. You were so drunk on him that your vision had blurred. A soft voice lulled you into a safe space, telling you to let go and relax. It was so easy to listen and just focus on the nice feeling between your legs, taking care of everything. You couldn’t tell when Younghoon had lost it with you, but you certainly felt something warm between your legs as another orgasm took over and made you scream. At some point you were moved off the wall, soon being laid down on your back and feeling water.

Younghoon assaulted every bit of exposed flesh with kisses, starting to leave bruises and holding back from straight up leaving bite marks. He just wanted to mark you and claim you for himself at this moment. You held him close, your body still moving with his as he was trying to make this feeling last for as long as he could. You were both desperately needy, and there was no one to get in the way. Younghoon was mumbling against your skin, but you couldn’t make out his words. At one point you could see those golden eyes stare down at you with hunger and then everything went dark.

🖤

You gasped awake, looking around in a panic before realizing you were back in your room in the main cabin. You breathed a sigh of relief, but when you tried to get out of bed you collapsed to the floor. Your legs were sore like never before, and as you tried to stand you noticed all the marks on your arms. The best you could do was pull yourself back up onto your bed. The sun was nearing its peak and you could barely remember your morning. You knew you had gotten up to get to the waterfall, but from there things seemed to blur. You were pulled from your thoughts when there was a knock at the door.

“You’re awake.

“Huh?”

“I was a bit worried when Younghoon brought you back to shore and you were half conscious. I guess he really did a number on you.” Sangyeon chuckled. “He certainly broke the rules.”

“Rules… I…”

“Sh, I’m sure he already messed with your memories in the hopes of not getting in trouble, but that’s not gonna work. Here. I brought you some medicine, should heal you up.”

“Thanks… I guess…”

Sangyeon offered you some pills and a glass of water, which you took. You laid back on the bed, just wanting to go back to sleep after whatever happened.

“You’re really not gonna let me go… once this is all over, right?”

“You won’t stop with that, will you?”

“What if I say no?”

“What are you gonna do right now? Run away? You can’t even stand. I’m lucky Younghoon didn’t try dragging you into the water. I won’t be able to stop them all when they go into a frenzy.”

“Won’t you be in the mess with them?”

“Exactly my point.”

“Amuse me then… how do I go back?”

“The only way out is through an underwater tunnel. You’ll never be able to reach it, even if you could breathe underwater, you can’t move as fast as us. Besides, there are multiple tunnels down there, you won’t find the right one.”

“How many people have you trapped here before?”

“No one. My boys like their space.”

“Wait, so I’m the first person you’ve ever brought here?”

“Yup.”

“What about other sirens?”

“Like I said, my boys like their space.”

“So… why… what’s so special about me?”

“I don’t know. You’re beautiful, intelligent, sexy. They don’t always agree on things, but you piqued their interest, mine as well. There’s no harm having a nice little pet around. It’ll make this place feel more like home.”

“I’m not some pet!”

“Yet you like it when there’s something nice and big between your legs, acting like a little creature in heat. You can say whatever you want about our influence, but we’re just bringing out your desires. Rest up, I don’t know when they’ll snap.”

You didn’t want to argue anymore, needing to go over the fact there was no way out. Well, there was, you just couldn’t access it. This place was supposed to be home now. You stared out the window, zoning out a bit as you took it all in. Everything was really beautiful, as if it was a work of fiction. It really wouldn’t be bad to live here, but you had your own life. Now that you thought about it, you realized there wasn’t exactly much to return to. There was school, getting your degree in the hopes of building your life. You had some friends, but given what Sangyeon said, you were probably a missing person’s case that had no explanation. You weren’t sure there was anyone who would seriously look for you, regardless if they had their memories messed with or not.

When that came to mind you shook your head. There was a chance none of these thoughts were your own, but something they had planted. Still, you couldn’t resist the idea to just let everything go and stay here, live in peace and happiness. Even if you had been trying to figure out a way to escape, you couldn’t deny your time here had been nice, in multiple ways. It kinda felt like time didn’t matter, and even if you were being difficult, the boys were just waiting for you to warm up to them. The funniest thing was that this whole situation was probably someone’s wildest dream and you were fighting it so hard. You took a breath and laid down in bed. You had a lot to think about, but you definitely needed to rest as well.

🖤

You inhaled softly as you regained consciousness, seeing that it was dark out. Your stomach grumbled and you realized you hadn’t eaten all day. Although the problem was you weren’t so sure you could get up and walk. You had no idea where the others were, or how you would even reach them. So you took a breath and got up. You were still unsteady on your feet, but you could more or less stand. You stumbled your way to the door and out into the hall, using the wall as support and making your way to the kitchen. You were doing well, but one wrong step cause your legs to give out. You nearly collapsed to the floor, but were caught by someone before you hit the ground.

“I thought you were gonna sleep the whole day away.” Hyunjae joked. “You okay?”

“Fine…”

“You must be hungry. We have some leftovers saved for you.”

“Thanks…”

Hyunjae brought you over to the kitchen and had you sit at the table. He heated up some food for you and brought it over. Your hands worked just fine, but he insisted on feeding you.

“I’m not a baby.”

“You’re my baby, now open wide.”

You were hungry, so you weren’t going to fight him much. You ate and afterwards he gave you some medicine. That’s when you finally noticed the marks on your arms were gone.

“How…”

“You think we’d just hurt you?” Hyunjae scoffed. “Come on. We can’t break you so easily.”

“Do you… like me… or am I… just some toy…?”

“Hm… when we saw you at the waterfall a year ago we were entranced by your beauty, as if you were a siren yourself. You seemed so joyous and happy, your smile so bright. We were curious to know what you were like. We tried to bring you here before, but your friend got you out of the water before we could get to you. We didn’t realize that would traumatize you, sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just thought I was insane for a year.”

“I could just make you forget that.”

“I’m certain you’ve already messed with my memories.”

“Maybe. Only good things, I promise.”

“What happens… after…?”

“After what?”

“… well… after… the season…?”

“Oh, you mean that. Well, I guess we’ll see, but the idea certainly isn’t to discard you or anything like that. We waited a long time for you.”

“Hm.”

“Alright, if you’re done, I’ll get you back to bed, you’re probably still tired.”

“Yeah.”

Hyunjae tucked you in for the night, and you found it easy to fall asleep. You probably shouldn’t have eaten so late, but you needed something in order to keep up your strength. You slept until morning, waking to the sounds of birds chirping. You had expected someone to wake you, but there was no one at your bedside when you opened your eyes. You didn’t think much of it and got up, realizing your legs were much better. Once you washed up you headed out of your room, but the cabin was eerily quiet. Perhaps the others were still asleep, and you didn’t want to bother anyone. 

So you made your way out of the cabin and towards one of the docks, sitting at the edge and letting your legs dangle. A morning view like this was something you could get used to. The sunlight danced on the surface of the lake in such a way that made it sparkle. The sounds of the waterfall filled the air, providing a soft melody. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to sleep outside one of these days. You weren’t even sure what the stars looked like at night. You were lost in your own mind, thinking of all the possibilities when you suddenly heard shouting.

“Get away from the water!”

“Hm?”

You looked back to see Sangyeon running towards you. Before you could make a move to stand something wrapped around your leg and pulled you down. You screamed, but managed to hold onto a loose board in the dock. Sangyeon came over to your side, grabbing you and letting out an ear piercing screech.  You yelled, but you couldn’t do anything to diminish the noise. Whatever was holding onto you let go and Sangyeon pulled you up, getting you away from the water’s edge.

“Are you okay?”

“What… what was that?”

“Sorry, some of the boys have been in the lake since yesterday, and I know what that means.”

“Ah… how… how many…?”

“Eight of them, and I have no idea how much longer the rest of us will last.”

“Is it a bad thing to fight it?”

“Partially, but I have to make sure they don’t hurt you.”

“That’s gonna be hard to do if they’re goal is to drag me in the water.”

“Let’s just get back to the cabin.”

Sangyeon got you back to safety, checking on your leg to make sure it wasn’t bruised or sprained. Thankfully you were fine. The two of you prepared breakfast, but you could tell Sangyeon was anxious. It was starting to make you feel uneasy, so you tried to distract yourself.

“Earlier… when you… screeched… do you do that often? I thought sirens had these beautiful voices that they use to sing.”

“Are you saying my voice isn’t beautiful? We’ve sang for you before.”

“With the intention of manipulating me… but with the type of persuasion powers you have, I guess your voices must be divine.”

“Precisely. As for the other thing, I only use that when I need them to back off and I know they won’t listen to reason.”

“I see… well, it really hurts.”

“Imagine how they must feel with sensitive hearing.”

“Right… uh… how old are you?”

“Don’t you think that’s mean to ask?”

“Uh, well… I don’t know… you look like you’re in your twenties… all of you really…”

“I’ll just say we’re older than that.”

“So you guys don’t age?”

“Not really.”

“Are you immortal?”

“Why? Are you gonna start looking for a way to kill us?”

“Just wondering…”

“Then I’ll leave you guessing.”

“Meanie.”

You both ate breakfast together, but you weren’t really hungry. Sangyeon noticed and encouraged you to eat, saying you needed your strength. Although that wasn’t entirely motivational.

“What… what’s gonna happen to me…?”

“Honestly. You’re gonna black out.” 

“How long is this supposed to last?”

“Days.”

“Days! I… how are you not supposed to-”

“Easy. We’re not all gonna pounce on you at once. We have each other to mess with, and believe me, no one is gonna be allowed to hurt you.”

“You can’t promise that when you’re talking about going into a frenzy, all of you! I can’t do anything to defend myself!”

“Not that you’d want to.”

“Shut it!”

“Just saying.”

“I… I need to think…”

“About what? The outcome is the same either way.”

“Yeah, thanks for that reminder.”

You left the table and stormed off to your room, slamming the door behind you. Once you were alone you let out a breath, sinking to the ground. The most annoying part of all of this was the tingling sensation between your legs. As messed up as this all sounded, you hated the bit of excitement that was slowly starting to course through you. Just one of those boys was able to mess you up, so you couldn’t imagine what would happen to you if they all got their hands on you. More than anything though, you were confused on how this was all supposed to go down. The others were in the lake, and you certainly couldn’t breath underwater. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard a knock at your door. You quickly got up and opened it.

“Hey, Jacob, where were you for breakfast?”

“Busy. Mind if I come in?”

“Uh, sure… is everything okay?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.” Jacob sat down on your bed. “How are you feeling? Better now, I’d hope.”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good. So how about we go for a swim.”

“Sangyeon told me to stay out of the water for now.”

“He’s just saying that, come on, the two of us can have some fun.”

Jacob got up and came over to you, taking your hands in his. He had a sweet smile on his lips, but something felt off.

“Jacob, are you okay?”

“Fine. Just so happy you’re here with us this time.”

“Right… I actually need to clean up and-”

“You don’t need to lie with me. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I didn’t say-”

“Trust me. Take a deep breath, and just relax.”

“Uh…”

“I want to take you somewhere special. Follow me.”

“… okay…”

Jacob pressed a kiss to your cheek and led you out of the room, but was quickly interrupted. Sangyeon separated the two of you, pushing you back into your room and shutting the door. A moment later you snapped out of your daze, realizing what had just happened. You quickly locked the door, stepping away from it. You knew time was running out, and you had nowhere to hide. Your heart was racing and you were trying to think straight, but your thoughts just drifted from fear to excitement, and everything in between. Somehow you managed to calm your mind, sitting on the floor against the bed, wondering what you should do.

“Y/n, open the door.”

You heard the knob turn, followed by Sangyeon’s voice. You quickly stood, but hesitated as you reached to open the door. It had been a while since you last saw Sangyeon, and you weren’t sure if it was a good idea to see him right now.

“Open up.”

“I’m okay… Jacob didn’t do anything…”

“That’s good, but I still need you to open the door.”

“Why? We can talk like this.”

“Don’t be silly. Open the door and let me in.”

“No.”

“No?” Sangyeon chuckled and slammed his fist against the door. “This isn’t a debate sweetie. Let me in, or I’ll force my way in.”

“Sangyeon… you… you’re scaring me…”

“Good… then you know where we’re at. You know you can’t run, so open the door before it’s too late!”

“I don’t-”

Another loud bang against the door startled you. It was instinct to look around for some escape route, but it was pointless. Next thing you knew the door swung open. Sangyeon calmly walked in, his golden eyes finding you immediately. You thought to run, to get past him, but he caught you so easily.

“Relax. You’re perfectly safe.”

“… sangyeon…”

“Come.”

Sangyeon led you out of the room and outside, walking towards the lake. You noticed the sun setting, realizing it was nearly dark. You hadn’t noticed so much time passing. Although as you got closer you began struggling against Sangyeon.

“… wait…”

“Sh, everything’s going to be okay, I promise.”

You came to the end of the dock, and your gaze turned to the water. You could vaguely make out shapes swimming in the water just below the surface. As you were distracted Sangyeon slipped another one of those gummy spheres into your mouth.

“Eat it.”

Sangyeon’s gaze on you was so soft, mixed with the sweet melody of his voice, whatever fears you had before were all washed away. You ate the gummy as he asked, somewhat having forgotten what the effects were before it came back to you. Your eyes went wide as you struggled to breath, but Sangyeon pulled you close.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He pressed his lips to yours, stealing away what little breath you had left, and letting you fall into the water. You immediately went under, no longer struggling to breathe. It took a moment for your panic to stop, for the air bubbles to clear your vision. You could see everything around you clearly, but you weren’t looking in the right direction. You made a move towards the surface, only for something to grab your leg and pull you down. When you looked to see what it was, a multitude of yellow eyes stared back, and then your world cut to black. 

🖤

You inhaled sharply, only to find yourself coughing up a bit of water. Your vision was a blur, yet you moved to get on your hands and knees. Although the problem was your legs were incredibly sore, and you felt bloated. Still, you pushed through that and looked around, finding yourself at the center of a unique scene. You recognized where you were, the cave behind the waterfall, and you weren’t alone. The rest of the boys were scattered around you, all seeming to be in some shifted form or another, and not really wearing clothes. That’s when you noticed all you had on was a large t-shirt.

You began to examine your body, seeing all the purple markings on your exposed skin, a few cuts here and there as well. You were also in water, realizing there was far more here than last time. You tried to stand, but your legs weren’t really working, and you slipped, falling on top of one of the boys. He had been sleeping a moment ago, but was startled awake when you hit him. He quickly pinned you down, seeming ferocious before recognizing you and calming down. Juyeon had a ditzy smile on his face and leaned down to nuzzle your neck.

“My baby’s awake…”

“Uh… what… what happened…”

“You’re the best.”

“Ju… Juyeon…”

“Sh. Forget about the bad things and just stay…”

“… stay…”

“Good girl, our good girl.”

“… good…”

“Very good.”

Yellow eyes seemed to fill your vision, making everything spin. You couldn’t help the childish smile that adorned your lips. Despite the water around you felt warm, and safe. Juyeon stole a kiss from you, filling your mouth with a sweet taste, further reminding you everything was okay. This was where you needed to be, and where you would remain forever.

[bullet-prooflove]

Song 2: Jesse Van Horn x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @caffeinatedwoman @cosmic-psychickitty @kmc1989 @happyfox43 @julius-ceasar

Companion piece to

Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll - Jesse tries to convince you not to disrupt your trip during the aftermath of Pittfest.

Drums are therapy for Jesse especially after nightmare shifts like Pittfest.

He likes the delicacy of a guitar, the notes you can wring from it but his real passion has always been the drums because you have to throw your heart and soul into it, you have to feel it to do it.

He slept like shit last night, images of blood and viscera flashing across his mind as he stared at the empty space beside him. It’s worse when you’re not here, you’ve always had this ability to sooth him, to fend off the darkness that creeps in during the dead of night and right now it feels like it’s taking over.

The shower doesn’t help, he still feels groggy and lethargic when he climbs out. He throws on his white ‘The Clash’ tank over black basketball shorts and returns to what’s tried and tested, playing Blur’s Song 2 as loud as he can in his noise cancelling headphones and smashing the hell out of the drum kit.

He spends hours chasing that impossible beat, trying to erase the demons from his mind. He focuses on the intense tapping of the sticks across the canvas as the music vibrates through the very core of his being.

Song 2 is so complex that it’s only ever meant to be played by two drummers, it never stops Jesse trying though. He likes the challenge of it, the way it absorbs him, consumes him.

He doesn’t hear you let yourself in, he doesn’t even sense your presence, he’s too caught up in the motions, his eyes closed, his body running on a muscle memory. It isn’t until your fingers thread through his hair, lightly tugging his head back by his silver curls that he realises you’re in the room. Your hair falls across his features, shielding him away from the rest of the world and he smiles as your mouth seeks out his.

“Hi.” He whispers.

“Hi.” You whisper back.

You’re a force of nature in everything you do, and your kiss is no exception. It’s reckless, passionate and it ignites every single nerve ending inside his body like a bolt of electricity.

His headphones slip off his ears, clattering to the floor as he turns in his stool and raises to his feet, trapping you against the wall behind the drum kit. You grip the fabric of his tank in your fists, tearing it up over his head as he grinds against you urgently. Your fingers roam over the colourful tattoos etched into his back and you moan as you feel his thickness through the silky material of those basketball shorts, rubbing against the seam of your jeans.

“For the love of God, please tell me you took your PrEP while you were away.” He mutters in between kisses, his fingertips unfastening button of your jeans. “I need to be inside you so bad Sugar.”

“Every single day.” You promise, dragging your teeth across his bottom lip as he shoves the denim down your thighs. “Your viral load still under 200?”

“Had the test three days ago, undetectable.” He informs you, tugging off your panties.

That means there’s virtually no chance of HIV transmission so the two of you are ready to rock. You push down his basketball shorts, his cock springing loose and he hisses through his teeth as your hand wraps around him, guiding him to just the right spot.

“Poor baby.” You tease, your wetness rubbing over his sensitive tip. “You haven’t even touched yourself since I’ve been gone have you?”

“You know I like to save it for you.” He mumbles against your mouth. “Make sure you get the full welcome home experience.”

The denial always makes him feral, he gets a little wild, a little unhinged. Just the way you like him.

The first thrust is always the sweetest because of Jesse’s reaction to it, the hue of his eyes darken and he makes that noise, that filthy exhale as he slides home, filling you with every single inch of him. His hand clasps your jaw, thumb swiping against your lower lip before he pushes it inside. You suck it deeper, your eyes on his and his dick twitches inside of you.

“Oh Sugar.” He smiles as you bite down just a little. “I’m gonna fuck you like it’s the end of the god damn world.”

He hoists your legs up around his waist, slamming into you. You cry out, a loud eruption of ecstasy and he follows up with long, hard, strokes that that piston into you, raking over that naughty little spot deep inside. The noises you make, their obscene. Breathy groans, hollered curses and his name, always his name chanted like mantra as you get close, real close, tightening around his dick, gripping it.

His mouth covers yours as you come together, drinking down the rapture as he spills his release inside you, hips jerking as he fucks it deep. His lips ghost over your jaw and down your throat before he places a kiss over the lace geomantic moon at the side of your neck.

“Twenty years and this shit still doesn’t get old.” He chuckles into your ear, his teeth catching on the silver piercing in your lobe, tugging lightly.

You clench around him again and he starts to move slower this time, his arm looping underneath your right knee, hitching it higher so he can deepen the position.

“No babe.” You whisper, your head tipping back against the wall as he hits just the right spot. “It only gets better.”

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[sv3t1ana]

Masterlist : Next chapter >>

SYNOPSIS ᯓ A Bonnie and Clyde-esque, high-stakes, multi-chapter smut romance that follows a deadly criminal duo whose intense, chaotic love becomes as dangerous as the heists they pull off. Trust forged in blood, bonds built on risk.

PAIRING ᯓ Criminal! Sukuna x Criminal! Fem. Reader

WARNINGS ᯓ alcohol use, mentions of crimes (stealing money, dealing drugs), mentions of blood

WORD COUNT ᯓ 1.8k

Chapter 1.

You sat cross-legged on the old mattress, the springs digging uncomfortably into your thighs as you counted the last of your cash. The bills were crumpled, damp with sweat, smudged in ink that wasn’t yours. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. The knife strapped to your thigh pressed into your flesh, a grounding presence.

The trailer creaked with every shift of your weight, air thick with dust and stale food. A place like this, half-rotting in an abandoned park, was good enough for a week or two. No neighbors, no curious eyes, no questions.

You should’ve left already.

It was instinct, muscle memory, stay too long in one place and trouble will find you. It wasn’t a question of if but when. Here you were, sitting in the wreckage of a life you never really planned, a fistful of stolen ones clutched between your fingers.

The paranoia never left, clinging to you like a second skin. You never slept for more than five hours at a time, not unless you wanted to wake up to the sound of a gun cocking in the dark. You weren’t naive or careless, but even the sharpest blade dulls eventually.

People like you don’t retire. They don’t settle down, don’t wake up in warm beds surrounded with soft sheets with breakfast waiting on the counter. There are only two ways out: get caught or disappear. And you weren’t ready for either.

The real name you had once, the one whispered in classrooms, scribbled in notebooks, it was gone, buried beneath years of forged identities and quiet lies. You left that girl behind long ago. Back when you thought you were in control, when the thrill still felt like freedom instead of inevitability.

You were jaded, but stopping wasn’t an option.

So you’d keep moving. Keep running. Keep your head down, knives sharp, guns loaded.

Because what else was there?

Money came and money went. It slipped by your fingertips like sand, something never meant to stay. Sometimes you could sit on a pile of stolen cash, bills fanned between your fingers, aroma of victory and proof you were still standing. The next, you were at some run-down gas station, turning your pockets inside out and leaving a handful of quarters on the counter before slipping out the door.

As if someone like you could say thank you or I’m sorry and mean it.

There was always a debt to pay, always something dragging your heels. This time, it had you wrecked with exhaustion, knees pulled tight to your chest with your back pressed against the cold steel of the trailer door. The metal was thin, barely enough to call a barrier that separated you from the outside world.

You got caught a few weeks ago when a job went sideways. Bad timing or bad luck, either way you stood red-handed, staring down the barrel of a man of the law. Only, he wasn’t a good man, not the kind that reads you your rights and takes you in by the book. Instead he was the kind that took your bribe with a smirk and lazy nod, then made it his life’s mission to make yours a living hell.

The first payment barely got you through the door. And that’s all it was, the first. It wasn’t over because it was never over. He called you sweetheart over the phone, voice dripping with amusement, like he enjoyed the fatigue edging your voice. He would send fake tips to the same run-down park he knew you were holed up in. Sometimes he’d do nothing, letting the paranoia fester and leaving you to wait, counting the minutes and wondering if tonight was the night he’d finally decide to put a bullet between your ribs.

You were tired, tired in a way that made even sleep feel like a luxury you couldn’t afford. But you had enough in you to continue, because it was the only thing you knew how to do. Because people like you didn’t get to stop and take a breath. Because the moment you stopped, it would all come crashing down, and you weren’t sure if you’d have enough strength to get back up.

You weren’t scared. You didn’t get scared. Fear was for people who had something to lose. People who hesitated, who second-guessed, who let their hands shake when it mattered most. That wasn’t you. That was never you.

Corrupt cops littered the city like roaches, you grew up knowing how to deal with them, how to play the game. Some were worse than others, as crooked as it seemed. But this one was patient in his cruelty, like he thought you actually valued your life, like you’d break if he pushed hard enough.

Maybe that’s why you hated him the most. Because despite everything, despite the weight in your chest and the way your hands shook every time you checked your messages, you weren’t there yet.

You weren’t broken, not yet.

There were only a few places in this city you oddly considered home, not because they were safe, but because they were consistent. The filth they oozed didn’t change, desperation clinging to the walls like peeling paint. And that small sense of comfort was enough.

So when the dimmed numbers on your microwave read 1:42 AM, you don’t hesitate. You grab your heaviest sweatshirt and flip the hood up, stepping out into the night and letting the broken metal stairs outside your trailer squeak under your weight.

The air was thick, unnaturally humid despite the cold temperature, seeping through your clothes like the city itself was trying to hold you in place. Stay. Decay with the rest of us. You ignored it, shoving your hands into your pockets as you walked.

The bus stop ahead was cracked open like a broken jaw, its bench streaked with something dried and dark. You didn’t look too hard, stains of blood were just as common as the potholes. No one bothered to care, investigate, or clean.

Gunshots echoed somewhere in the distance, far enough that they weren’t your problem. Sirens followed soon after, screaming like a warning, but for who? No one here came running to save you, and you’ve long since stopped expecting them to.

A voice murmured from the alley to your right, some hushed transactional conversation being made under the sickly orange glow of a busted streetlamp. A man stood with his back to you, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket and nodding as something changed hands. You didn’t need to see what it was, didn’t care.

Left foot. Right foot.

The smell was the worst part. Exhaust fumes clinging to your throat, burning the inside of your lungs. It was one of the quieter omens the city offered you, letting you know of your fate if you stay too long. Rotted garbage piled up against boarded-up buildings, stale beer soaking the concrete, piss marking the alleyways like territory.

Despite everything it felt like you belonged here, which is why you let your feet carry you past the filth, past the stench, past the neon signs that buzzed like a dying heartbeat. No matter how much you told yourself you wanted, no, needed out, you always came back.

You stood in front of the establishment that became a warzone of bad decisions. It was a place where none of the neon lights fully worked, where the shadows cast over cracked vinyl booths and tables that had seen more blood than spilled beer. Cheap whiskey, sweat, perfume, regret. Someone had been smoking inside again, a stale haze glued to the walls.

It wasn’t the kind of bar you found by accident, but a place you came back to, a wound you couldn’t stop picking at.

You pushed past a pair of men hunched over a table, eyes glassy, words slurred. Someone was losing money tonight, someone was leaving with bruises and an empty wallet. It almost warmed your heart, business as usual.

You knew that cities carried history with them, and things usually turned to shit after a few corrupt politicians. But sometimes you feel like this place never looked nice. Like they purposely used rotting wood and bent nails while building it. Still, even the regulars here weren’t the type of people to ask questions.

At the far end of the bar, exactly where you knew he’d be, sat Kinji Hakari.

Gold rings caught by the light as he swirled a dark drink, looking like a king in a throne he didn’t deserve. He was always too well-dressed, leather jackets, expensive jewelry, like he had just wandered in from a high-stakes poker table instead of belonging to the filth around him. But that was Hakari, all showmanship and bravado, but he knew exactly how to move through this world.

Your history with him wasn’t deep, but it was long. A thread woven through years of necessity, trades of information, favors done and undone. He wasn’t a friend. But he wasn’t your enemy either. He was only another piece on the board, and you both knew it.

Tonight he looked at you like he almost regretted calling you here.

You slide into the barstool across from him, elbows braced on the sticky wood. He didn’t look up right away. Classic, always making a show of making people wait. His fingers traced the rim of his glass lazily, like this meeting was an afterthought.

When his eyes flickered to you, it was a slow, deliberate drag from your heavy gaze to the set of your mouth. And then he smirked.

“You look horrible.”

“Thanks. You always know just what to say, Hakari.”

He chuckled, knocking back a sip of whatever overpriced drink he was nursing.

“Nah, I mean it. You look worse than usual.” His voice dipped, the closest he’d ever get to showing sympathy.

You hated that more than the insult.

“You call me out just to compliment me?”

“Mmm, something like that.” He leaned forward now, forearms resting on the bar, dropping his voice so only you could hear. “Listen, doll, you know I like you-”

“You don’t.”

“Alright, maybe ‘like’ is a strong word.” He flashed his teeth, all sleazy charm and ease. “Point is, I usually wouldn’t give ya somethin' like this. But, well-” He lifted his shoulders in a lazy half-shrug. “Desperate times, desperate measures, somethin’ like that.”

And there it was, your stomach tightening. You weren’t the only one who was desperate.

“Go on, then.” You tilted your head, voice flat. “Make my life harder.”

For the first time, Hakari hesitated. It was small, so small that someone else wouldn’t have caught it, but you weren’t someone else. You caught the twitch in his fingers, the way he wet his lips before speaking.

With a sigh he reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded slip of paper, sliding it across the bar.

“Think real hard before ya open that.” His voice was lower now, and for the first time, there wasn’t an ounce of smugness left in it.

You didn’t hesitate in picking it up.

And he sat back like he’d just signed your death warrant.

taglist: @cutesytwt, @tojis-ball-sack, @gojoscumslut, @sukubusss, @vicravluv, @newasskid

[leviathanleva]

Cujo

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Supersoldier!FemReader

Description: A monster in human skin, a weapon disguised as a person, no thoughts, no emotion, as per design. He despises you and everything you stand for. He’s tried to kick you out of his squad and failed, he’s made it his mission to break you no matter the cost.

It comes as a surprise when he asks you to lie and say you love him.

[4.4k words]

[Angst, Blood and Injury, Graphic Depiction of Gore]

Chapter 3 "Liquorish"

Heartbeat heavy in your chest, you race up the supposedly abandoned building, finding enemy after enemy.

It was supposed to be a routine inspection, an easy mission, in and out in less than a week. Now everything is turned upside down and being unable to contact or smell Ghost anywhere near has your senses flaring up with the unfamiliar feeling of stress and determination.

Bloodlust hazes your vision, everything has a ruddy tint to it, be it from splattered entrails or rage, it’s beyond your understanding. The memories still linger, the last sentence you heard over the coms before everything went to static:

“Hound! Do not engage! The roof is – ”

You were supposed to be his shield, it’s your job to be ambushed and take damage, you can regenerate, he can’t. But Ghost let either his man pride or his protective instinct overwhelm him, the anxiety still lingered in his gut no matter how many times you came back to him half dead and you were good as new minutes later. He wasn’t thinking clearly when he pushed you behind him and ordered you to watch his back as you advanced through the abandoned building suspected of drug trafficking activity.

He moved ahead without you, for once he wanted to be your protector. Now you can’t sense hair or trail from him and you’re becoming increasingly frustrated.

Easy mission your ass. This was a charade for something bigger.

The mask around your mouth whirls in overdrive, siphoning as much oxygen as possible while you vigorously work your way to the dreaded roof. Straining both muscle and limb in unison, you climb floor after floor, pushing your limitations as vapor froths off your skin and trails behind you like a haunting mirage. Your body is boiling on the inside, having exerted too much energy in too short a time and your muzzle can only do so much to keep you going before you collapse from overheating.

To hell with pushing your bounds when the Lieutenant might be in danger.

Another enemy, seemingly waiting for you, they all have been, a crumb trail of beating hearts the closer you get to your destination. You dive for him as bullets dig into your shoulder, he’s sliding towards the grimy floor and clutching his shredded throat a moment later. You don’t have time for a measly nobody, he chose the wrong side, he suffers the consequences.

The concrete debris crinkles under your boots, crushed to fine dust under the pressure you’ve put on your feet. Clutching and shouldering corners, you bounce yourself off them to retain speed in the claustrophobic corridors. Jump over handfuls of stairs where more hostiles await, you hear them before you see them, distinguishing their heavy breathing over your muffled pants.

Blood painting the walls like an abstract piece of art, death is left in your wake as you rush up another floor. The screams have alerted more people, and so have the gunshots and you bristle at the amount of footsteps echoing in the shells of your ears.

What is going on? Why are there so many of them? Where the hell is the Lieutenant? How did they jam your coms?

The questions are pushed aside as you appear in the shadows of a bare apartment, blending into the darkness and only your irises visible. A menacing sight to anyone, a monster, it’s what you’ve become as you slowly drown in your brutish ways the longer you’re detached from your beloved master.

A hoarse growl escapes you, you’re nearly moving on all fours, prowling low to the floor as you tackle the first enemy target. Flashlights are thrown astray, nearly blinding you as the chaos ensues. You crush bone like it’s toothpicks, rip at flesh like paper, the whirring in your mask overwhelms the gurgling cries for help and call for reinforcements. Bloodlust can be dangerous in the hands of one who is inexperienced such as yourself and you keep walking deeper down that path as no sign of your teammate shines to stifle you back to normalcy.

Strands of hair stick to your face like glue, matted down and drenched in sweat, your gear feels heavy and damp, it’s a sauna beneath your loose, coarse blouse. Your socks are slippery against the inside of your boots and you have half a mind to kick them off and continue barefoot. Juggernaut as you are, your breaking point is nearly reached and you feel the stinging pain creeping up your spine. The idea of rest is forced away, you can’t afford it when you’re so close, you’ve come too far to shut down now to cool off, not when Ghost is unresponsive.

The amount of cocking weapons should be concerning as you near the door to the roof, bloodshot eyes opened wide and pupils dilated as the scent of familiarity finally reaches your nostrils, too intoxicating for your mind to register the plethora of other bodily odors.

You nearly break through the door in your neglectful hurry, gaze harsh and piercing, slicing through the multitude of hostile soldiers only with your oppressive presence. Hunched over, with tense shoulders and pulsing hands that are itching to rip into the men before you, you skim over the roof with vigor, letting your nose guide your vision to a familiar figure standing at the edge of the roof.

“Lieutenant!” Your first instinct is to rasp out, crystalline orbs trained on his battered form strung up by a crane like a piece of meat. A guttural snarl reverberates deep in your throat as you turn to the crowd of armed enemies with malice, ready to shred them to a pulp and eat a bucket of bullets in the process if only to get to your precious squad mate.

Ghost sways above a crater, his secured feet dangling above a deadly drop. You can smell the blood slowly oozing down his knuckles, staining his gloves, and hear his steady heart as he swims in unconsciousness. You nearly whine at the sight, reeling your head towards him with the need to call out again and maybe have him wake up.

No such simple luxury is provided for you, instead you’re faced off with a handful of brutes who believe their chances of survival are higher than zero.

You take a step forward. The weapons train on you.

You’ll rip them apart –

“ – Tut, tut!”

You falter at the voice and watch the nearly unhinged door behind you close to reveal none other than your target – suited and unbothered by your feral breathing and unceremonial entrance. The man you’ve been hunting for an age too long now to admit, a slippery bastard that felt someone breathing down his neck only when you were sent after his trail. Philip Graves stands to your right, the traitor, the absolute menace of a man that has the audacity to flick a smile at you as if you’d just joined his most prestigious party.

“Well, it’s nice to finally see Shepherd’s little experiment in the flesh.” He croons and looks you over in marvel. A bitter frown adorns your features as you abandon your prowling stance and straighten your back, adopting a more human-like pose. “Quite the achievement.” He notices your attention turn completely to him and scoffs before unfurling his fingers to show off a remote of sorts. “Don’t give me that look.”

“And that is…?” You question, words slurred by the confines of your muzzle as your eyes dart from his face to the remote, then you realize and your glare sharpens.

“The remote to the crane of course. I wouldn’t risk being in your proximity if I didn’t have a guarantee of your obedience. I’m confident, not a fool.” You’d snort at his cocky words in a different setting. He gestures at you with his free hand, flicking his fingers casually as if ushering a child. “Now if you really cherish your Lieutenant – remove your mask.”

For a brief moment, you’re left confused, blink at him twice before tilting your chin to one side and crossing your arms, eyes straying from him as you plunge into thought. The audacity was not what bewildered you, but his utter belief in having wrangled you pliant. To think he was willing to so absolutely rely on the dry, shallow information he’d dug up was preposterous. It was also wrong, your instructions were clear and no blackmail or threat was going to weaken your resolve.

You were trained to hunt, complete your assignment at any cost, be put in lethal danger, and come out victorious. Your squad mates were weak to no fault of their own, but their lifeline was something you would risk for the greater good.

This was your duty.

“No.” You answer simply and take a step forward. Whatever justice-fueled speech was circling in your head is silenced by an unfamiliar trepidation in your chest as you see Graves’ thumb glide over the release button on the remote. You swallow something thick in your throat and huff out a breath before straightening your shoulders. “Return the Lieutenant to me and I will leave you to run. I will not pursue you. You have my word.”

What was this…? What the hell were you saying?

He laughs at your words, apparently the contradiction of them to your monotone voice is entertaining. Your jaw clenches at his nonchalant demeanor used to disguise the nervous sheet of sweat forming thickly on the back of his neck. You can smell it even with the abundance of testosterone burning your nostrils.

“You see, I would…but then again, I don’t trust you.”

“I do not lie.” You state with a deadpan look.

“You don’t disobey orders either.” Graves retorts and gives you a challenging expression, pursing his lips to one side and deeming you too untrustworthy for a dealing of a peace delegation. “Mask off. Now.” He snaps when you don’t budge and twirls the remote in his hand before pointing it daringly at Ghost. A moment of nothing passes and instead of the tension you’d hoped to rise within him, he grins and rests a hand on his hip, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Oh? Is this right? You truly don’t care for your teammate?”

“No.” Comes your immediate answer, smooth and soft and lacking an ounce of care for the potential danger it might send your Lieutenant in. You glance at his limp, hanging body with disinterest and blame your palpitating heart to the long and strenuous journey to the roof rather than something else. It couldn’t be anything else, you felt nothing but the aftermath of physical exertion. “Whether he lives or dies, it’s all the same to me.” You’re being truthful yet every single word wrestles with you fervently before being forced past your teeth. Strange and bothersome, but you pay it no mind. “If I return with your head my task is complete. Your death is my mission, casualties are inevitable.”

He doesn’t buy it.

“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” Graves sneers something vile and again points the remote at the crane, toying with you and relishing in it.

Your mask hisses loudly and is tossed on the concrete floor of the roof before you can realize what you’re doing. The lower part of your face – wet from the vapor of your breaths, soiled with a snarl. You don’t dare let the bastard out of sight now that the power dynamic has shifted in his favor.

“There you go. Good girl.” He coos at the sight of your unreluctant obedience and his smug features soften in near adoration. “Seems you still have a heart after all.”

Not fond of his degrading babying, you try to steer the conversation to another, much more vital topic that has been gnawing at your gut since the revealing of his presence.

“Why are you here? What business do you have with me?”

Graves, much to your surprise, obliges your question.

“A little birdie told me I’m being hunted by a whole new predator. A…special one this time.” He begins and motions for his men to make their way to his side, steering them to a safe distance from your vicious paws in case you snap despite the low odds. He reciprocates the eye contact, almost unblinking, not wanting to miss a beat from your uncanny demeanor. “That birdie also told me you have a habit of following orders only from your Lieutenant and I thought maybe…if I manage to string up the worm, I’ll get the fish.” His arms spread wide, his chest expands and you’re almost tempted to lunge forward. “And voila.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.” You cock your head at him and let your arms unfold and fall to your sides.

The corners of his mouth twitch at your disinterest.

“I wanted to see you in the flesh, Hound.” He answers then, changing from his grandiose façade to a genuine and less irritable one. Gesturing towards you, he continues. “Check if the rumors are true. And judging by the fact you even got to the roof – they certainly are.” His hands clasped together over his pelvis, the remote shining still between his fingers, yellow and menacing in contrast to his black cotton gloves. “Quite disgusting what they did to you. Wouldn’t you say?” The nearly heartfelt sympathy in his tone does little to sway your intentions and it shows clearly on your unmoving features. Yet he keeps going, keeps feeding you with conflicting thoughts that fail to take root in your mind. “Countless months of agony just to become a pawn.”

Despite the unpleasant memories flooding your head at his take, you hum and brush them aside without much effort.

“I consented to my augmentations.”

“That you did.” He nods and juts his jaw before flicking the blonde locks away from his eyes and slicking them back. “ For the chance of serving a greater purpose, not being someone’s lapdog and wasting your potential on lowly criminals.” Scorn drips heavily from his tongue, a hidden distaste for his own misfortunes showing, misfortunes much similar to yours. “But I won’t sway you yet. I can’t when your attention is so torn between me and your Lieutenant.”

Maybe his sympathy is sincere, you think. Maybe there’s an ounce of truth in his law-breaking, scummy ways and he sees you as much of a victim as he sees himself. It would make sense why he orchestrated this whole situation instead of simply trying to kill you and rid himself of you.

A part of you believes him, you can tell that bits and pieces of what he says come from a wronged man trying to take revenge for his pain. But you’re no simple soldier, you were built to withstand manipulation, torture, worse. You admit to his twisted honesty but have no intent in following after him and abandoning everything you’ve worked to build no matter how unimportant or unimpressive it was.

“You’re misinterpreting.”

The distinct beat of helicopter wings catches your attention far before the vehicle itself appears in the distance. Graves and his men’s ride, you presume, a quick escape after he got bored of your lack of subordination and bid you farewell.

“Am I?” He doesn’t dare to glance back, instead lets his ears assure him that his escape route is secured and is hastily approaching his location. “So far you’ve completed your tasks well.” A gloved thumb rubs over his freshly shaven jaw, before nudging his bottom lip up in contemplation as he sizes you up and down with a calculative look. “I have one last objective for you, though, just to test your limits. Figure out what I’m up against, you know?”

“I don’t take orders from you.” You hiss, expressing something more than monotony for the first time during your conversation.

His words had struck a nerve somewhere, surprisingly so, yet he took the opportunity regardless.

“This one you’ll have to.” He all but sighs, bored with your resistance and crackling unbothered demeanor. There’s too much peaking beneath it and he wants to sink his teeth into it, yet you continue to deny him. Whether from a lack of understanding over your emotions or a very bad attempt at hiding them, they were visibly showing through and he couldn’t get enough of it. “Tell me, do you think if you jump from this building you can survive?”

“Without my mask, it’s highly unlikely.”

A gust of wind sweeps by you and suddenly you’re painfully aware how it sways the rope Ghost hangs from, still and silent. Sweat forms on your brow, your hands curl into fists, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your palms and nearly drawing blood.

“Interesting.” He hums at your answer, nodding at the new information bestowed upon him – a weakness, a flaw in your design that your makers hadn’t been able to work out. This gave him a useful advantage against you. “So without a steady supply of oxygen, you’re rendered useless.”

“I can still rip you in half.” You declare and lean forward, arms dangling and ready to clutch at the floor and propel you forward. Your patience runs thin and Graves tastes it on his tongue, not much longer before you snap and dash either for him or the Lieutenant.

“Oh, I don’t doubt.” He laughs in your face like your threat means nothing and gestures for his men to board the helicopter before hopping on himself. He grips onto the side of the door and smiles bitterly at you. “Well, it’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance finally after such a long game of cat and mouse. I’m afraid we must be going now though.”

“Do you like hearing yourself talk?” A bark reverberates somewhere deep in your throat, akin to a growl as you lunge towards the helicopter.

No more talking, you’ve given him enough grace. Should have ended everything minutes before, forced yourself to move out of the stupor your Lieutenant’s state had pinned you in.

He doesn’t matter, nothing matters but Graves’ head, and like a scared mutt, you’d let him grow confident in his false influence over you.

“You know, you’re right. I’ve talked enough.” Venom oozes from his smirk as he spits one last taunt your way. “Fetch!”

You fail to realize why he’s so self-assured when you’re still capable of reaching him before the helicopter has lifted off. The slimy smirk doesn’t leave his face as he presses the button and turns away from you with a distinct “Ta!”. It’s sickening. Ghost matters not, your orders are clear and you’re sure the Lieutenant would understand the sacrifice you had to make were he in your stead. It’s a worthy sacrifice, he’d be honored after his demise, renowned for leading you to the den of the enemy for you to demolish and rid the world of their stain of an existence.

“You’re a fool if you think – ”

Your voice hitches as your body involuntarily turns away from Graves.

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING –

You dash across the rooftop and leap over the edge without a drop of hesitancy. A coil nestles in your stomach, not from the sight before you – a height so devastating, the street below so far that the cars look like mere pebbles, but at the thought of abandoning your prospect, disobeying a command, revolting against your upper command.

Too late to turn back now. And even if you could, would you?

No…

You adjust your limbs against the merciless wind, propel your arms forward like a diver about to hit the water's surface, your entire being flattened to endure as much resistance as possible and cut through the air. The cold whips against your eyes, blurs your vision with tears which you rapidly blink away to not lose sight of Ghost’s descending body.

Was it only the cold? Why were the tears so salty then?

Why was your face stuck in a desperate grimace of horror and hope?

Halfway across the building, you manage to snatch the rope around your Lieutenant’s waist. Your victory is shortlived as the earth beneath approaches steadfast and you bite into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and keep your head as cool as possible.

What now?

Even if he’s safely in your arms, you’re still heading for an inevitable death and thinking time is limited. You wrack your brain into turbo mode to come up with something, anything to save him, prevent his fall. The solution comes to you and it’s not all too pleasant, but without an alternative, you relent.

You thrust your arm through the glassy wall of the building, letting the shards shred through your skin, unable to exert your full potential without your mask. You try to regardless and your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself, you can’t breathe in enough air, the oxygen is not nearly the amount you need and you’re left suffocating slowly. Your hand mauls through cement floors and polished windows that shatter under the pressure as you desperately grapple for something, trying to slow your momentum.

Heart hammering in your throat, eyes wide with plea for something to work, for a miracle to happen, but it doesn’t. No fairytales allowed for the sinful and decrepit, for those who’ve abandoned their humanity for the betterment of civilization.

Pain doesn’t register on your features as your arm continues to endure in vain, shredded, sliced, battered to a pulp. But the horror registers when it shatters, the bone and flesh unable to withstand such detrimental amounts of damage, it’s rendered useless. It’s not the physical agony that terrifies you, but the only means of you saving the Lieutenant – now completely obliterated.

What now?

You think while your gaze darts from the bloodied, mangled mess that is your now worthless limb to the hastily approaching pavement below.

DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING! –

“Bloody f – ”

The once-lidded chocolate orbs you’ve grown to cherish look up at you – spastic, disoriented, glued to you as if you could explain your current predicament. You drown in them for a moment, pained, mournful that you’ve failed to fulfill both your duties.

Not a good hound. Fucking useless.

The prey got away, your keeper is soon to be a splatter of intestines on the ground below.

Good for nothing you are. Failed at everything. Can’t even save your own Lieutenant.

“Hound! Fucking hell, we – ”

Your jaw tightens, and your skin crawls once you’re close enough to discern the peculiar cracks in the sidewalk, you’re that close now. Doom, there’s nothing left but to die.

No. You refuse. If not for yourself, then for Ghost. You can’t lose him. You’ll sacrifice everything for him.

In a last attempt at being a hero, you struggle in the air, against the howling wind that screams bloody murder in your ears. You fiddle spasmodically, manage to clumsily maneuver both of you, deaf to the breathless curses slipping past his mask. You thrust him sideways, fling him into a window hard enough to make it give in under his weight. He breaks through back first, you hear him choke as he hits and skids on the carpeted floor with a deft thud.

You nearly smile, a contrast at his horrified expression as he realizes the situation – your maskless face, your bloodied limb, it’s only for a split second before you’re back to hurtling down without him. You hear a scream of your name, the intimate one, the real one.

Your eyes water anew, maybe from the air, maybe from him calling out to you in what sounds like spastic worry.

One good hand was all you needed.

You’re free now. You fulfilled your duty.

Everything hurts, you feel your entire being imprinted into the roof of a car, having squished it in the impact. Blood coats your tongue, your throat feels crushed. You’re choking for air quietly, your body desperately trying to repair all damages but failing because your mouth and nose can’t gulp enough oxygen no matter how greedily you’re breathing.

Sprawled out, the sky swirls high above your head, gazed at through blurry vision. Stars twinkle like smudged jewels, the moon is nowhere to be seen and for a moment you feel alone and at peace. It doesn’t matter that you’re molded into a random car with shattered bones and punctured lungs.

Maybe there are witnesses, maybe the streets are empty, you’re unsure, the screaming in your ears is punching at your eardrums and you can’t make out anything.

A peaceful death after years of war is what you wish for.

The cold creeps over your skin, through your gear, its caress soothing against your steaming flesh.

A splotch of creamy whine enters your vision, poking from one of the shattered windows. A skull mask, you recognize it even with both eyes and mind hazy and drunk on scalding pain. You’d reach out if you could, your first instinct demands you to do so, reach out to Ghost, reunite as leal hound and loving master once more. But you can’t, your body refuses to budge, a twitch of your fingers is all you can muster.

A cough rips through you, excruciating, and more stomach-churning iron rushes over your sticky tongue.

Will he remember you? Will he mourn you if you pass? Will he miss you? Will your absence leave yet another scar for him to nurture? Will he ever forgive you for sacrificing yourself for him?

Does it matter?

Not really…

But it does.

Somewhere deep within the crooks and crevices of your heart, it does matter to you, if only a little.

Your eyelids are heavy and you’ve not the strength to keep them open anymore. The chill air is so welcoming, lulls you and tugs you towards the comforts of slumber.

You hear a rasp, his voice echoing, deep and baritone as he disappears somewhere in the darkness.

You can’t stay conscious anymore no matter how desperately he begs you. You’re tired, just want to sleep, you’re aching, you want out of the pain, out of responsibilities and bloodshed.

This feels nice. Oblivion is welcoming.

The cold dissipates, and everything goes dark. You take one last meager breath and succumb to blackened dreams and fleeting pictures, sprawled vastly on the surface of your mind as your body gives out completely.

<<< Chapter 2

Chapter 4 >>>

Masterlist

[missmeinyourbones]

hi, congrats on ur milestone! can i request gojo with #2 from the midnights prompts list from lavender haze? thank u!

ALL THIS SHIT IT NEW TO ME (s. gojo)

a/n: reader is on their period, satoru calls reader sweet girl and m'lady once, suggestive towards the end with mentions of pregnancy and period sex

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

Your phone vibrates against the wood of the bedside table.

"Hello?"

Sounding slightly out of breath, Satoru immediately responds on the other side of the call.

"Hi."

Silence takes over the line as he refuses to elaborate any further on his reason for calling. Between whatever the hell he's playing at right now and the dull sensation of what feels like clawing inside of your abdomen, your patience wears thin.

Your second greeting comes less friendly, "Hello?"

"Are you okay?" he instantly asks.

Is he on drugs?

Satoru can practically see your teeth gritting on the other end of the line as you sigh and take a moment to collect your thoughts. With an exhausted and irritated tone, you scoff.

"Are you okay?"

"Your text," he softly points out.

You sigh. Satoru had left early this morning for work, as he usually does. It wasn't until you woke up late with a massive migraine and familiar ache in your stomach that you realized you started your period. It being a bit early this month, you were out of tampons and naively texted your boyfriend to pick you up some his way home.

You should've known it seemed a bit too easy when he merely replied with a thumbs-up.

Fingers pressing the bridge of your nose, you do your best to stay somewhat pleasant.

"…What about it?"

"I'm at the store now," Satoru states the obvious. You can hear the diluted commotion of other shoppers around him, the sound of items being scanned and shopping carts being steered.

He may mean well, but you're failing to see the purpose of his call, "And you're calling me because…?"

"This is such a scary aisle," he says beneath his breath, but you hear him all the same.

You can practically see his pout of cluelessness as he stands before the aisle, hand on hip and sighs, "There's so many… things going on."

"I sent you a picture of the box, Satoru," your eyes instinctually roll back like muscle memory. A cramp hits you a bit harder than the rest and you wince, desperate for his help, "Please, I'll Venmo you."

You hear a muffled scoff from the other line, "No, that's not what I mean. Never say that again."

"Then what do you mean?"

Walking the line between being in over his head and weirdly intrigued, Satoru hums to himself.

"There's like… a million options."

Your hand flexes in on itself in irritation, nails leaving crescents on your palm when you bite, "It's really not that hard when I sent you a visual aid."

"All this shit is new to me," his voice gets muffled a bit and you can tell he's wedging the phone between his shoulder and ear.

You hear the sound of plastic being fondled when he innocently asks, "There's sizes? What size are you?"

"It's not a size thing, Satoru—"

He interrupts you, "It says there's different settings—”

"Settings?" You're going to kill him.

"Yeah," he responds too casually for the situation. "Regular, super, super plus. What the fuck is ultra?"

It's borderline comical, the way you look up to the ceiling in disbelief. If there's a god in heaven, he'll make it so Satoru hangs up the damn phone and gets his ass back in the car within the next minute.

"Like I said in the text," your tone is cold and irritated, "the regular ones are fine."

It's silent for a beat when Satoru whispers, "Are you sure?"

"What do you mean am I sure?" you try not to spit venom. "I've only been doing this for over ten years."

"I mean, I'm pretty big though, and—”

"This is so different, oh my god," you groan, head in hands. "Get the regular ones."

More rustling of plastic and shuffling ensues. "Okay, okay, getting the regular ones. Damn, they make you pay for these?"

"Yes, Satoru," you hiss through a clenched jaw. "Anything else or can I hang up on you now?"

You hear him moving, and you can only pray that it's towards the checkout area, when he breathes, "Actually, yeah.”

You should've known not to ask, as Satoru readjusts his grip on his phone and smoothly taunts, "Are you more likely to get pregnant on your period? Asking for a very interested friend."

The sound of the call ending is his cue to swipe his card.

…

Not long after and in the middle of his lunch break, Satoru arrives home.

He's all smiles when he knocks on the half-open bedroom door, and he sympathetically smirks when he's met with your icy glare and bedhead.

He presents the plastic bag of goodies with a dramatic bow, “M'lady."

"Thank you," grumbles from your lips as you practically snatch it from his hand.

Satoru sits on the edge of the bed next to your limp body, "Anything for you, sweet girl."

His hand finds your tender side as he rubs gentle and warm circles on your skin, a weak attempt to ease any pain of yours he can. He leans back on his palm as he watches you rustle through the bag.

"Got you some other stuff, too," he says, hand finding your hair and gently scratching your head.

It's sweet of him, really. Your usual box of tampons sits on top of the items, followed by a few of your favorite candies and one of those makeshift heating pads shaped like a stuffed animal. You already have about five of them, but it's the thought that counts.

Feeling yourself ease up at his good intentions, you go to thank him—but another package at the bottom of the bag has you glaring at him.

"Satoru…"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Condoms?" you hold out an unopened box of his favorite brand and toss them his way.

"Oh, yeah," he moves the hand in your hair down to your neck, stroking its side softly.

His breath is warm on your skin when he leans in to press a gentle kiss to the spot he knows you like beneath your ear. Though you huff at the insinuation, he doesn't miss how you shiver a bit beneath his lips.

"During my lengthy and extensive research, I read that sex can help cramps," he declares proudly, nudging your throat with the tip of his nose.

“Who were you keeping that detail from, hmm?"