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murderofravens · 25 days ago

Text

BABY, I'M RIGHT HERE

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader

part: 2/3 [finished]

warnings: large age gap (20 vs late 40s) angst. slow burn. slight infantilization. no use of y/n. codependency. obsession from both sides. unhealthy dynamics. plot with porn. fingering. oral fixation. brat tamer inho. sub!reader. reader is very touch starved. a little yandere vibes. emotional manipulation. i made him very fatherly but toxic oops.

summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.

word count: 8k more or less

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

please ignore mistakes.

you can't remember half of it. everything happened so quickly— your little moment of bliss shattered by 388's quick warning. the lights went out. one moment you were in young-il's arms, the next he was dragging you down towards 456, who was hiding under another bed. he shifted to make room for you and you crawled to his side. young-il followed.

"stay quiet," 456 whispered, looking around. not much was visible in the dark, but soon enough, the loud noise of bottles shattering and people screaming began echoing through the hall.

"they're killing each other—" you whisper, eyes wide. you shift slightly, raising your head. you try to sit up. "they're killing our side of the people—"

young-il halted your movements with a hand on your arm, "don't move." he hissed. "we can't leave till the guards come in."

"what?" you snap, voice hushed, "if they kill all our people, what's gonna happen in the next vote? we'll lose!"

"there won't be a next vote," 456 added, flinching slightly at another sharp cry. he looked determined. "we're stopping this today."

you glanced at him, heartbroken. you looked out again, heartbeat picking up as you saw player 380 run away from nam-gyu. he was on her tail, visibly trying to kill her. a bottle lay there by the bed, and before young-il could stop you, you slid it out. nam-gyu tripped on it and fell on his face. luckily, it was too dark and he was too worked up to check who it was. you just hoped it gave player 380 enough time to hide.

young-il restrained you then, pushing you down slightly so you were fully sandwiched between him and 456, "don't compromise our position!"

"how much longer?" you whispered, ignoring him. you winced as more sounds of bones cracking and people choking on their own blood took over the entire room. neither of them answered, but even 456 jumped a little as the body of one of the girls on your side fell to the floor.

your eyes widened as the girl's eyes met yours, and then she sputtered out blood before laying there, lifeless.

"don't look." young-il voiced out, craning his neck down to meet your gaze. he clenched his jaw, settling you with a cold glare, "look at me."

"you should've told me this was the plan," you hissed through gritted teeth, squinting as the flashing of lights overwhelmed your senses, "would you be okay if that was m—mphh!"

he put a finger to your lips, shaking slightly as he gave you another warning glare. 456 watched with bated breath, as if counting all the people dying.

the lights go off again, and the room remains dark. only the noises of people fighting can be heard.

"time to move," 456 tells young-il, who nods and begins shifting out of the bed. you follow along, but he pushes you back in, "don't get out until i tell you."

"what?" you frown, confused. your words are quick, "you expect me to hide here while you go out there to do god knows what—

as you speak, young-il grits his teeth, frustrated. he's desperate as he grabs your shoulders. he glances back, makes sure no one sees before silencing you with a kiss. it leaves you breathless. he cups your face and looks into your eyes intensely, "don't get out until i tell you to." his voice is urgent, "close your eyes, put your hands to your ears. trust me, and listen to me for once."

you blink rapidly before nodding, still a little out of it. you don't think you'll ever get used to how good kissing him feels. you wish you could feel it again and again, under better circumstances.

456 hisses for young-il, and he pats your head before rushing away as soon as the doors open. the guards come in, rapidly firing their machine guns towards the ceiling, stopping the fight. you watch carefully, heart dropping to your stomach as young-il and 456 lay there, as if dead, along with 390 and 388. you almost rush out to check on them, but young-il's previous words hold you back. you watch as the guards start putting those devices to the dead bodies' ears, and when they reach your team members, 456 suddenly attacks. the rest of the team similarly manages to take their guns away, and kill the remaining guards. you almost jump out of your skin as a firing match starts— and young-il and player 120 skillfully kill most of them. you look on with bated breath, flinching as the guards fall to the floors. you begin to get out from under the bed, panting. one of the guards was still hiding, and he immediately aimed the gun at you. before you could move, young-il shoots him dead.

you look around the room, swallowing the lump in your throat at the sight of all the dead bodies. so many people with hopes and dreams. people with families, laying there, lifeless. cautiously, you looked around with purpose, before your eyes fell on player 380's body.

she couldn't hide.

you look away, sweat rolling down the side of your head. you clench your jaw and glare at the other team, eyes narrowing with resentment as you catch sight of nam-gyu. swallowing hard, you walk past the bodies, careful not to step on them. your eyes fell on your team members gathering the guards' weapons.

so this was the plan. you frown, rushing forward to help them. the guns are heavy, but you manage to place many of them along with some ammo on the bedsheet laying there.

456 announces the plan— something about capturing the ones who captured them all, and going to their headquarters to make them pay. you shift your gaze to young-il, who stares ahead blankly, as if thinking hard. you wonder if he's scared.

"anyone who knows how to use guns and wishes to join us—" 456 calls out, "please step forward!"

the players are silent, frozen. cowards, you think to yourself. you step forward immediately, and young-il's face hardens so dramatically, it almost makes you laugh. he takes a step towards you, "absolutely not!" he snaps, "stay right there."

"you need all the help you can get!" you argue back sharply. you point an accusatory finger at player 100 and his team. "don't you see? even these so called tough guys aren't willing to go with you! don't put your trust in these people, i can help more than they can! my aim's great!"

while you talk, young-il pinches the bridge of his nose, calls your name again gruffly. a warning.

"don't drag us into this!" player 100 interrupts angrily, his lip curling with disgust. "this is madness! you don't stand a chance against them!"

you quite literally snarl as you rush towards him, jabbing a finger to his chest. it makes him stumble backwards, "you had no issue with risking our lives and your own for money, but standing up to those who caught you is where you draw the line?" you glower at him, scoff at the rest of his team. to emphasize your point, you gather saliva in your mouth, spit it by his shoe. "fucking pussy !"

young-il quite literally snatches you away by the collar of your jacket before the other team can do anything. it's a little baffling how swiftly he moves, even while carrying such a big gun. he takes you to your side of the bunker, shoves you onto the bed, "don't make me tie you up." he grunts threateningly, "you are not going and that's final. you're built like a bird, you won't stand a chance against armed guards. i refuse to watch you get killed."

456 calls out for you, voice soft but urgent, "it's best if you stay here. we won't be able to focus if he's— if we're worried about you."

you grit your teeth as you scowl at young-il with glassy eyes. they're tears of anger. you want to scream at him. you want to pull him towards you and never let him go. you look at your team, watch with longing as player 120 guides them on how to use their guns. she's brave and badass, it makes you want to be like her.

"and you're okay with getting killed?" you drift your attention back to young-il, voice cracking. "what am i supposed to do if something happens to you?"

young-il sighs, gaze softening as he kneels before you . your lips wobble as you glare daggers at him, eyes narrowed. he shakes his head, "i'll come back to you alive."

you scoff bitterly. "how can you be so sure?"

"i just am."

"promise me." you hold your pinky up, clenching your jaw as you stare at him intensely, "promise me you won't die. promise me you'll come back for me."

he looks at your pinky, and then at you. you've always found him harder to read than other people. but you see reluctance in his eyes. he sighs, before raising his own pinky, joining it with yours. the contrast between your hands would've been comical if you were not in this shithole. he gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"i promise."

you can hear player 100 yelling at his team, clearly talking shit about you. you look over young-il's shoulder, and he glances at the old man too before turning to you knowingly.

"don't get in any trouble while i'm gone." he whispers softly. he reaches behind his back. "and just in case— i want you to have this."

it's a pistol. he probably took it from one of the dead guards. your eyes widen and you look at young-il. he teaches you how to unload it, and reload it, and how to work the safety, before placing it in your palm. your gaze never leaves his face. questioning.

"you've made enemies here," he explains, as if it's obvious, "if any of the men there try anything—"

"you want me to kill them?" you quirk an eyebrow.

his mouth curls into a smirk, "i want you to be safe."

he gets up, and as player 100 looks at you again, you jokingly aim the gun towards him. he jumps back in fear, stumbling into the younger men at his side. you chuckle, and young-il lowers your hand. "behave."

it makes your heart jump.

"why does that kid get a gun and we don't?!" one of the younger men yells. young-il ignores him.

you grin at him almost childishly. he shakes his head before addressing 149— the old lady who got here with her son.

"don't let her leave," he tells her, giving you a stern, sidelong glance. you roll your eyes.

before he can leave, you grab his hand and look at him intensely. you can only hope your eyes can convey what you can't verbally, not in front of people. for his sake.

"be careful." you decide to say, voice cracking. you memorize every feature of his face, with only one thought in your mind.

you're not allowed to leave me.

he nods, looking away before walking to his team. you yell at them too, telling them to be careful and watch as they carefully exit. you look on with longing as you watch them go, before glancing down at the gun in your hand, and then at the door again. soon enough, you can hear the faint sounds of guns firing. it makes you jump, but player 149 puts a hand on your shoulder, comfortingly guiding you to sit beside her.

you almost contemplate rushing out, what would these people even do? stop you? you have a gun in your hand, although you wouldn't want to pull it on 149. she's a good lady. people are already scared. you don't want to make it worse.

so you stay, and hope that young-il keeps his promise. pinky promises are sacred. you either keep them, or you die.

you decide that if he dies, you'll just bring him back to life somehow and kill him again.

you don't remember how long you wait. multiple times, you stand up and pace around the room. agitated, scared. every gunshot has you looking at the door again and again, hoping that somehow young-il will decide to burst through it. 149 tells you to be calm, tries to distract you with your life outside the games. it doesn't work.

thankfully, the pistol in your hand had scared the other team enough to not try anything with you. they talk within themselves, trying to busy themselves with conversations and anxiously bouncing their legs as they look at the ceiling. you wonder how they can be so calm after killing your team.

"you people are cowards." you say to no one in particular. the message hits the target though, because the ones who weren't willing to go and help shift uncomfortably.

"you'd rather die losing to a stupid game instead of a noble death trying to help people," you chide, chuckling bitterly. 149 tries to stop you from talking, but you shrug her words off with a shake of your head. you stand up and face the other team again. "it's shameful. you had no problem killing others who were in the same position as you, but your oppressors is where you decide to stop?" you gesture towards the dead bodies. the sight of blood doesn't make you squeamish anymore. it just makes you sad.

"these people died because you wanted to keep playing." you hiss, "you killed them."

the people on the other side don't respond, instead lowering their gaze to the floor. you look at nam-gyu sitting on the side, fiddling with something. you want to kill him. you want to kill everyone who stopped you from going home, who became the reason more innocent people died. your morals are a bit fucked, you think, but you're okay with it. people who do bad things deserve to die. you raise the gun, aim it at player 100. he flinches, and sits straight up, raising his hands. his team members shuffle away from him, and it makes you snicker. when he's on death's door, they abandon him. "have you gone crazy!?"

"game or no game, you were meant to die." you clench your jaw, your mouth twitching. "shall i kill you, old man?"

you don't get to pull the trigger. you're interrupted by player 388 rushing inside, panicked and covered in blood. your eyes widen, and you go straight to him, grabbing his shoulders. he looks shaken up, "what happened? where's 001? is he okay? did you find—"

"gather all the remaining ammo," he says shakily, fumbling over his words, "we ran out. i need to take some back."

you nod, and 149's son comes to help you check the dead guards' gear and gather the remaining ammunition. 388 wraps it up in a jacket, and rushes to the door, before suddenly stopping. you pause, looking at him, sweat breaking out across your skin. there's a bad feeling in your stomach. "what's wrong? aren't you going?"

he doesn't respond. you can't see his face because his back is turned to you. a moment passes and you step forward cautiously. he drops the walkie talkie, and your eyes fall to the floor where it lands— where you can hear the voice of player 120 asking where he is. they have no ammo.

"i can't do it." 388 whispers, shaking. he rushes back to his bed, drops the little makeshift bag full of ammo and cowers into himself. your eyes widen. you look at the walkie talkie, and back to him. if they don't get ammo soon, they're going to die. you rush to the bed, shoot 388 a frown— you consider comforting him, but you have another priority now. you grab the bundle and turn to leave.

149 runs after you along with a few others, pulling you by the sleeve of your jacket. she's trembling with worry. "your father told me not to let you leave—"

amidst the chaos, you let out a chuckle.

"he's not my father," you reply, yanking your jacket from her grip and composing yourself. the sentence would've had you cackling in a better situation. you can't wait to tell young-il about it. you can understand why she'd think so, even though you and young-il look literally nothing alike. the opposite, really. he's like a father in spirit.

your face hardens and you address the crowd. "they need help. is anyone gonna come with me?”

nobody moves. you scoff bitterly. predictable.

149 looks at you helplessly, pushes her son to grab you. when he advances towards you, you pull out the gun and hold it to his head, eyes crazed as you pull the safety. you warn him dangerously, "step back."

he raises his hands and steps back, lowering his gaze. holding the bundle to your chest, you walk backwards, aiming the gun to both sides of the room and ensuring no one grabs you. you look at 149, meet her crushed gaze and mouth an 'im sorry' to her before running out as fast as you can.

you're quite sure you got lost. you're running as fast as you can, trying to follow the sounds of the gunshots, and looking for any bullet holes or signs of struggle. you look up and see broken cameras, and recall 120 shooting them back in the hall. you follow them until one of the red guards encounters you, immediately raising his gun. he's slow, infuriatingly so— but it doesn't matter because in your panicked haze, you shoot him in the stomach, then rush forward and kick his gun away before running off.

you can see your team. you let out a breath of relief, and as soon as 120 meets your gaze, she gasps. you shake your head and quickly slide over to her, giving her the rest of the ammunition. she quickly reloads, and you toss the rest to the other players, before looking around frantically, flinching at the gunshots. "where's 001 and 456?" you ask her.

"control room!" she points towards the end of the hallway, and you nod before advancing. she tries to protest but you're quicker, and she's preoccupied with firing. luckily, the guards never seem to fire at you.

there are two sides. you hesitate, before finally taking the left one where you just heard two gunshots. you quickly rush forward, pistol held protectively. the whole area looks like some sort of purple maze, and you're wary as you walk, scared that a guard might jump out and shoot you.

finally, you see your young-il's back. he's crouching on the floor, looking at a dying player. the relief you feel is baffling. your eyes widen, and you call out his name. "young-il sir!"

he tenses, turning back so fast that you worry he'd get a whiplash. visibly stressed, he rushes towards you, shaking his head, "no— no, no, no, no, no, what are you doing here!”

you run towards him, almost tripping on the stairs. he grabs your shoulders, shakes you aggressively, "i told you not to fucking leave!"

you almost flinch at his tone. it's strange to see him swear. you answer him shakily, panting, "they— they ran out of ammo, i couldn't leave you!"

he looks upset and shaken up, clenching his jaw as he pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbling incoherently to himself. you turn towards the dying player, your expression pained. he tries to point at something, but you don't understand what. you kneel towards him, and his hand falls down. his croaking stops.

suddenly, you hear the footsteps of guards heading towards you. before you can move, you're surrounded. you hold onto your gun, shaking as you quickly stand up. you swallow hard, unblinking as they aim their guns at you.

that’s when you notice it.

they're aiming at only you, and not young-il. it makes you feel strange.

you look at him, and he's taking sharp breaths, as if trying to compose himself. or trying not to scream with rage. it's odd, how relaxed he looks. tense in the face, but relaxed in the way that he didn't take an offensive stance, or feel surprised at the sight of the guards. you frown in confusion, before he flicks his hand. the guards lower their guns.

you blink a few times, swallowing the lump in your throat, dread settling in your stomach. you look at the guards, then at young-il, who refuses to meet your gaze. you repeat the action.

guards. young-il. guards. young-il. then the players on the floor. then back at young-il's face. and it takes you a moment, but the realization sets in.

the guard letting you go to the restroom when young-il was by your side, him conveniently appearing to save you when you went exploring, him walking with that air of authority. how the guards never seemed to look at him too long. how easily he killed the man during mingle without a second thought. how one look from him had the guard lowering his gun during voting. how he was sure he wouldn't die. things that you never should've looked over.

you step back, your breathing getting ragged as you slowly raise your gun towards young-il. the guards point their guns at you again, ready to shoot. he stops them by raising his hand in warning. he clenches his jaw, his eyes unreadable and guarded.

"who are you." you demand tightly. your voice shakes pathetically, it makes you wince. you've never been this scared of anything in your life. not even the games.

"it doesn't have to be this way." he says quietly. his voice seems different, deeper. gravely. he holds his hand out to you in what he hopes is a comforting fashion. "put the gun down."

you step back, putting your finger on the trigger, just the way he taught you. ‘i want you to be safe,’ he'd said.

"i asked you a fucking question!" you yell, voice cracking. your gun feels slippery in your hands. it almost falls. you fumble trying to keep a tight grip on it. all this time, the prospect of death felt a little comforting with the idea that you'd have young-il by your side if it happened. but now, it just terrifies you. it looks bleak.

you sniffle, lips wobbling as fresh tears roll down your cheeks. you were always fucking unlucky. the first time you like a man this much, he turns out to be the bad guy. you feel utterly pathetic and terrified.

his eyes dart all over your panicked face before he gestures towards one of the guards, who raises his gun. there's a flash of guilt in his eyes that you can't miss. it makes your blood freeze. you refuse to die alone.

you straighten your aim towards young-il and pull the trigger. two gunshots ring out, and you don't get the time to react before something stings your chest, and you fall to the ground.

your vision goes black.

there are no dreams, no last memories. no flashes of your life. there's this heaviness in your chest, like someone is suffocating you.

you wake up with a startled gasp, sitting up immediately. your vision looks blurry, but with a few blinks you can make out a room. a lavish room with a closed window on the side. you frown in confusion, before putting your hand to your chest. there's no bleeding, no pain except the one in your muscles.

you swallow hard, your throat feeling dry. for a moment you wonder if it was all a dream, but when you try to move, you realize your right hand is chained to the side of the bed— with those strong black straps with locks that they used in the second game. you pull at it a few times, breathing getting heavy as you look down on yourself. your bloodied green jersey has been replaced by a comfortable pair of pink pyjamas that cover your arms and legs. you raise your hand to your head, and there's a small bandage on the right side of your face that you remember previously scratching in the bathroom.

you struggle a little, try to look for a way to unlock the straps, but it's like the room is purposely empty. absolutely no sharp or heavy objects to help you escape. like a prison cell.

you think of young-il. is he dead? you remember pulling the trigger. you knew the risk that came with aiming the gun at him when you were surrounded by guards— you just had this thought that if you were going to die, you would drag him with you. he won't get to live after what he'd done.

you don't get to brood about your thoughts for long, because the door opens and he steps inside— a man dressed in black, with a creepy mask. it makes you feel uneasy. you touch your chest again, look at him with a questioning gaze.

“it was just a tranquilizer.” he answers your silent question, voice distorted through the mask.

“is this really necessary?” you ask dryly, rattling the chain on your right hand.

“do you feel comfortable?” the man asks, gesturing towards your clothes.

you grit your teeth, “cut the bullshit. who are you?”

the man sighs, looking down, as if disappointed. he looks at you again before taking off the mask, and you feel like throwing up.

his hair looks different — slicked back with gel. his eyes look tired, even more so than back at the games. he looks more intimidating this way. you feel a strong urge to leap across the bed and ruffle his hair so he can look familiar again.

you have so much to say.

why did you do this? who the fuck are you? how are you still here, when i so clearly remember shooting you?

“you're alive,” you instead remark dryly. young-il gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

“your aim needs more practice,” he says quietly, patting his right shoulder. “barely grazed me.”

the idea of having hurt him almost makes your chest ache, but you remind yourself of who he is.

you sniffle, lips wobbling as you look at him. your dear young-il. who comforted you, protected you, held you and kissed you so dearly. he really made a fucking fool out of you.

“and what's all that for?” you tilt your head towards his hand. trying to put on a mask, just like him. a brave face.

he places the mask on the table, walks over to sit on the side of the bed. you flinch, moving away from him slightly.

he notices, and it hurts more than getting shot. he doesn't dare reveal that on his face.

“is your name even young-il?” you ask quietly, voice strained.

he shakes his head. you snort bitterly.

“i'm guessing you're the big boss then.” you remark flatly, looking around the room. forcing yourself to appear nonchalant. he wants to tell you to drop the act, because he can still hear your voice faltering.

he nods, “something like that. i design the games.”

you bite down on your lower lip to stop it from wobbling. nobody knows the strength it takes trying not to cry. you lower your gaze to your lap.

your next question is pathetic. you would expect yourself to scream and threaten him to let you go, but there's only one thing on your mind.

“was i a game to you too?” you ask quietly. you don't want to know the answer. perhaps you would've preferred it if he killed you.

he sighs, averting his gaze. he utters your name softly, and you feel like a weak woman because you still like the way he says it.

your voice almost waivers when you ask, “are you going to hurt me?”

he looks at you, blinks a few times before answering honestly. “don't make me.”

you hold back the urge to sob. your left hand comes up to clap over your mouth, and he looks away as you cower in on yourself. how can he say that, after covering your eyes and pulling you into him to ensure you didn't get scared by people getting killed? you wish there was atleast a lamp on the side table, maybe you could've cracked his skull to free yourself from this fear. and to take revenge for playing with your heart.

“you ruined everything.” he admits, voice growing tight. solemn. he clenches his jaw, mouth twitching with barely disguised anger. “i went into the games because of gi-hun, to make sure he doesn't stop the game. and then ended up paying more attention to you than him.”

you release a shaky breath, pulling your knees to your chest. your mouth twists with emotion. gi-hun. player 456. your eyes widen, heart leaping out of your throat.

“is he okay?” you ask, voice cracking with concern, “is he alive?”

his head snaps up— gaze hardening almost dramatically. his eye twitches, and he gives you a tight smile. it doesn't suit him because it's not the one you're familiar with. “are you worried about him?”

you glare at him, eyes narrowing.

“he’ll be fine.” he adds nonchalantly. his voice sounds different— cold in a way that makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “would you rather be with him than me?”

you snort bitterly, looking away with a roll of your eyes. he can't be fucking serious. he has the audacity to be jealous after what he's done to you. he is so unbelievably ridiculous.

“put me back in the game.” you hiss through gritted teeth.

“i can't do that.” he shakes his head, “you will die in there. you won't survive the next games. i made sure they get increasingly difficult—”

“i'll win!” you argue, “i’ll beat them all and win, stop treating me like a fucking child—”

“you are a fucking child compared to me!” he bellows, making you flinch. your gaze never falters as you grit your teeth, looking at him with all the rage you can muster. he grabs your jaw, squishing your cheeks so hard that your lips pucker. he would've kissed you if he wasn't so fucking angry. his voice is harsh as he continues, shaking your head. “you! are quite literally a baby compared to me and the others in there. they're ruthless animals who won't hesitate to rip you apart to win. you're going to die in there and i wouldn't be there to save you!”

his words have your stomach churning, because he's right. but that doesn't matter to you.

“since when do you care?!” you snap challengingly. your words come out muffled.

he glares back at you, his nostrils flaring with anger, “i wish i didn't care.” he hisses, voice low. hoarse. he leans towards you. “oh how desperately i wish i didn't care about you.”

your heart begins to race as you stare at him, dumbfounded, unable to speak. he looks into your eyes, then glances down at your lips, before making eye contact again. he lets go of your face and straightens up, composing himself.

“you almost ruined my entire plan.” his voice is collected, almost guarded. “you consume my every waking thought ever since i felt your head against my chest. do you know how many times i had to warn my guards not to shoot you? especially with how many times you kept crossing the line?”

your breath hitches, and you open your mouth to argue. he doesn't give you a moment to speak.

“i'm not sending you back in the games where you can die.” he continues darkly. he brings his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. the action is gentle— a stark contrast against what he previously did. the situation you're in, the kind of man he is. you blink at him, eyes teary. his gaze softens just slightly. “you made me promise not to abandon you. I don't plan to.”

“you're a sick man,” you whisper. you can't believe he's holding that against you— your promises from when he was deceiving you, “you designed those fucking games. you can stop them anytime you wanted. i got stuck here because of you, you killed all those innocent people. you're a sadistic, psychotic asshole—”

he shoots you a warning glare, pressing his hand against your mouth. “don’t test me, brat. ”

you sniffle, letting out a pained whimper. you push his hand off your mouth, “let me go.”

he looks unamused, “i can't do that.”

“were you not planning to leave me?” you try to reason with him, desperate. “when you left with the rest of the team? you wouldn't have come back after that—”

“i would've found a way to get you home.” he admits quietly. “i had a plan. but then you came running after me like the brat you are. you never listen.”

“then let me go now!” you protest heatedly. his words have your heart hurting. if that's true, then you're the one who sealed your fate. another impulsive decision ruined your life. “i told you about me. i told you about my mom! i miss her. she and my sister—" you almost choke on a sob as you croak the words out, the mere thought of them driving you to insanity, "they need me."

“i've settled your father's debt,” he mentions after a moment of silence, looking deeply into your eyes. he hopes it gives you some comfort, stops you from wanting to leave him. “you don't have to go back. they'll live a life of ease.”

your blood runs cold. that means he knows where they are.

“do you expect me to fucking thank you?” you can't hold back the tears rolling down your cheeks, shaking your head, “i wanna go home.” you sniffle, “you ruined our lives. you played with my feelings and my life. people are dead because of you. how can you say you'd have let me go home one moment, and then refuse it the next?”

"don't hurt them," you speak again, leaning forward almost pleadingly. perhaps you shouldn't piss him off. you're not the kind to beg for your life. but your family? now that's another thing. "please keep them out of this. dont hurt them, please."

"i won't," he says airily, his dark eyes deeply boring into yours, "not if you don't give me a reason to. just be good."

you sniffle, violently trembling. be good. you'll be good. for your family's sake.

his hands cup your face and you flinch. his thumbs brush the tears away. you avert your gaze. you can't meet his eyes— you resent him.

you resent yourself because his touch still makes you feel an odd sense of comfort.

"this is torture," you choke out, "why are you doing this to me?"

he says your name softly, guides your face up to look at him, “i’m selfish.” he admits. “the moments i spent with you.. was the happiest i've been in a… long, long time. i'm not ready to let go of that. ever. ”

he has lost everything. his wife, his baby. his brother. his humanity. only now he has control over his life, enough resources. he can change fate with a flick of his finger. he's not going to lose you, not after you've made him feel human again, for the first time in years. you've ripped open his ribcage and climbed inside, sealed it shut with your touch. he hasn't been needed by anyone like this— it gives him a sense of purpose. he doesn't trust himself to not lose his mind if you're ever out of his sight. he'll make sure you're by his side, where he can hold you and comfort you. whatever it takes.

you shake your head, lips wobbling. you try to pull away, your free hand coming up to hold onto his, to pry it off your face. he doesn't let up, instead climbing towards you and invading your personal space as he presses your foreheads together.

“i don't know about you kids, but in my time, pinky promises were a big deal,” he says lowly, the side of his mouth quirking up. he's trying to joke, he wants to see you smile again. the way you did when you looked at him— with stars in your eyes. like he's your hero. nothing else has ever made him feel more alive. “i’m afraid i can't let you go.”

you let out a shudder, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes you till your back collides with the bed. you shake your head, voice tired. “just kill me.”

his face drops, and he looks at you coldly, “you think i'd have you here like this if i planned to kill you?”

you don't respond to that, your chest heaving. everything hurts. your head is pounding, and you feel faint.

his thumb brushes across your cheekbone. he looks at you tenderly, analyzing every feature of your face.

“you know, i really expected you to struggle harder against me.” he observes. the words make you feel embarrassed. your skin heats up with shame, and you clear your throat, looking anywhere but him.

he might be right, you think. you've struggled a little, yes, but he can tell you have the ability to be so much more insufferable. but you're not, not yet. it's fucked up. because even after everything, for some reason you can't seem to brush him off you. you can't seem to let go of the comfort and hope he provided you in one of the most terrifying moments of your life.

you convince yourself it's because your family's life is on the line. not because of your personal feelings.

you don't answer him. you don't have to either, because judging by the small smirk creeping on his face, he knows.

“i'll take care of you,” his face softens. he's trying to convince you. there's a desperate edge to his voice. you look so utterly beautiful to him— your complexion glowing even more because of the pink pyjamas he got for you. in that moment he makes a mental note of what color clothes he'd shower you in the most. “those people down there that you're so desperate to save? they would've thrown you under the bus to win. they don't care about you. i'll make sure you're safe. the life you were living before was worthless. let me look after you.”

“i hate you,” you whisper, voice cracking. another tear rolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away. you don't mean it. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“i know.”

you don't get to speak again, because he tilts your head up and crashes his mouth onto yours in a bruising, punishing kiss. it makes you wince, and you choke on a soft sob. against your better judgement, you kiss him back.

the moment your mouth parts under his, he takes the chance to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding in. he moans into your mouth, holding your face as he climbs over you completely. you contemplate biting his tongue off, but you don't. as if reading your mind, his hand comes down to gently squeeze your throat— just enough to make you feel a little lightheaded. you gasp softly, eyes blinking dazedly at him. he pulls his mouth away, then places a soft peck upon your lips. then another. and another. you take greedy breaths as you squirm under him. his hand leaves your throat and slips under your top and you jolt at the feeling of his warm hands against your tummy. his mouth trails down, leaving soft kisses across the smooth skin of your neck.

“you’re sick.” you gasp shakily, throwing your head back, giving him more room to place his wet kisses upon you.

“you're the one letting a man like me touch you,” he whispers hoarsely against your neck, voice slightly teasing. “maybe you're just as sick as i am.”

his words make you shiver. you consider them, and you force yourself to think of all the people back there in the hall, ready to march to their deaths tomorrow. your eyes open and you snap out of your trance.

you use your free hand to push slightly at his chest, gaze pleading, “don't kill them,” you whisper. “let them go. atleast our team. they're good people—”

“are you really doing this?” the switch in his voice has you quivering slightly. his hand comes up, grabs your hair. it stings just slightly. a warning. "do you think they would've been this desperate to save you?"

you let out a noise of protest, looking at him helplessly. trying to touch a string of empathy within him. he has none, not anymore.

“they knew what they were getting themselves into. there's no favoritism. you either win, or die.”

your ears ring, heart pounding against your chest. “then what am i?”

he smirks, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

“you're my little girl.” he noses the side of your neck. goosebumps rise on your skin, “don't bring that up again.”

you grit your teeth, feeling even more remorseful. is there no way to change his mind? even being responsive to his affection doesn't help.

but you're not being docile to change his mind.

you realize you're pliant because you like being under him.

your logical side forces you to speak. your guilty conscience doesn't allow you to get too comfortable under a killer. "this feels wrong."

he stops, clenches his jaw with restrained anger. he squeezes his eyes shut, mentally counts from 1-10 to avoid doing anything he might regret later.

"let me make you an offer," he pulls back, cocking his head to the side. his eyes are unreadable, voice flat, "i'll let them go on one condition."

your eyes widen with hope, and you nod enthusiastically, eager for him to speak.

"with every player i leave alive—" a small smirk appears on his face, despite his best efforts to hide it. "i'll kill someone you love."

the way terror seized you was suffocating. your throat immediately felt dry, eyes widening with shock. you stared at him, motionless, images of your family, your friends, flashing through your head. his hand gently splayed across your stomach, pressing down a little.

"a life for a life." he announced again, giving you a tight lipped smile, "how does that sound?"

"no." you warned, clasping his wrist desperately with your free hand, breathing rapidly. "no— no. please don't. i'll— i'll stay with you. i'll do anything you say, just—" you held back a sob, "please don't hurt them."

in life threatening situations— people only look out for two types of people. themselves, and the ones dearest to them.

he smiled fully then, amused. predictable, he thinks, before leaning back down, "then conversation's over."

"you made the right choice," he whispered. you didn't bother struggling, squeezing your eyes shut. his hand pulls down your top just enough. his mouth quite literally waters as he bites down on your exposed skin, leaving cherry red bruises across your collarbones.

you have no choice, you tell yourself. it's okay to get comfortable now. you couldn't have done anything.

you mewl, and he slips two of his fingers in your mouth, watching intently with a hungry gaze as you suck on them enthusiastically— just like back in the hall. your eyes flutter, and you mumble incoherently as his fingers gently thrust in and out of your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. it’s messy and sloppy, and the sight of your saliva slipping down your chin makes him moan softly, “my pretty baby.”

you whimper as his hand slides down to your bottoms. you wait with bated breath as you look at him with hazy eyes. his hand slips down into your panties, and a desperate moan escapes your bruised lips.

“i just want to ruin you,” he chuckles breathlessly, teasing your entrance. he hovers over you, looks at you like a starving man as he pinches your clit. you yelp slightly. he taunts you, gaze full of faux innocence as he raises his eyebrows. “does it hurt, huh, sweetheart? do you want daddy to make you feel good?”

“oh fuck—” the moment that word comes out of his mouth, in his soft, breathy voice— you moan. you're pathetic. it's whiney and high pitched and so utterly desperate, it makes him proud to get a reaction like that out of you. and suddenly he understands a little more why you got so attached to him. he pecks your lips again, and smirks against your mouth. he teases your entrance with a single finger.

you whine, “please.”

“what did you say, hm?” he pretends not to hear you, pushing two fingers in. you've never been brave enough to use two even while masturbating— and his are long and thick. the stretch makes you wince. “come on, baby, tell your old man what you said.”

you try to capture his lips with yours again in hopes that he would stop teasing you. he chuckles breathlessly, then lets out a soft moan at the way your walls clench around him.

“i’m a sadistic, psychotic asshole, right?” he throws your words back at you, and you wince. you squeeze your eyes shut, bite down on your lips to hold back a needy whine. his fingers pull back and then thrust again, curling slightly. his thumb goes to your clit, rubbing it. you take a sharp breath, squirming on the bed as you moan again. he doesn't let up, “is that not what you called me? and now you want me to make you feel good?”

his voice grows serious again, face hardening. his motions stop. “apologize.”

your eyes snap open, and you look at him, surprised. “huh?”

“apologize,” he repeats, “for everything you said earlier. and i'll consider making you cum.”

that gets you to clench your jaw. you glare at him with narrowed eyes, chest heaving with frustration. but you won't do it. if anyone should be apologizing— it's him. he was the one who deceived you and ruined your life. and he hasn't apologized even once. he must think you're stupid. hell would freeze over before you apologize.

you almost reconsider your decision— but then again, his threat only stands if he leaves the players alive. he didn't say anything about language. you shake your head, your previous stubbornness taking over. “not a chance in hell.”

he snorts, looking at you, unamused. his facial expressions don't change, but you can see it in his eyes. little things like a twitch give him away. your heart drops as he pulls his hand out completely, his fingers glistening and wet. he brings them to his mouth, sucks the juices off so casually that it leaves you dumbfounded and flustered.

“i have no patience for brats.” he nods, standing up. you stutter over your words, mouth opening and closing like a fish. much like it did when you first met.

“b-but—”

“i have some work to do.” he announces coldly. you wonder if he's going to do something bad. he's having the time of his life, sexually and emotionally tormenting you. “i'll be back in a bit. i asked the guards to bring you some chocolate milk. feel free to tell them your favourite food for dinner.”

the sudden change in events has you so unbelievably baffled that you can't say a thing as he begins to leave. it's brutal, and it almost makes you want to cry.

“sir?” you call out softly, almost timidly. unsure of how to address him. you're not going to take a risk.

he stops midway, before sighing to himself. he turns to you, looks at the desperation in your eyes.

“inho is fine.” he remarks flatly, swallowing hard. he doesn't know why he decided to reveal his name to you.

perhaps because it would give him another excuse to not let go of you.

you keep looking at him, a devastated expression on your face. like you're dying inside. and maybe you are.

your only source of comfort is gone. you'd gotten too used to it in the past few days. now you wish you'd never met him.

the emotion on his face is unreadable as he walks back to you. he places a soft kiss to your forehead and turns to leave. you grab his hand. the prospect of being alone leaves you terrified. maybe if you can convince him to stay, be good for him, he wouldn't hurt your loved ones. you'll behave.

you start to miss how things used to be.

if things were different, he would have come back to you. he would smile as he walked through the door, and you would finally feel your heart pumping blood as you run to him. he'd drop his gun and hold you, and you'd cry into his chest. he'd ask you if you caused any trouble, and you would take him to your bed and tell him everything. you would tell him that 149 called him your father, and he would laugh— his old man laugh which sounds so sweet and makes his eyes crinkle. he would ruffle your hair and say something along the lines of, ‘with how many times i've saved your ass, i might as well be.’

from a younger age, all you've ever desired is comfort, something you never received. someone to hold you when you cry, to take care of you. protect you. you're sick of being the tough one. the mere idea of it was so far away for you, that the first show of affection and reassurance had you getting this terribly attached. perhaps, inho's biggest crime was taking that away from you.

“inho.” you whisper, visibly crushed. you don't even feel horny anymore. you just miss his comfort, his soft words of reassurance. his laugh. your eyes grow teary. “please don't leave me.”

he looks at you, contemplating. he sighs defeatedly, before grasping your hand properly. it's so warm, and you choke on a soft sob as the reality of your situation sinks in again. you're done for. there's no escape. you're alone, and there's no one to save you. your young-il will not come swooping in to protect you, because he was never there in the first place. you don't even realize when you break down into heartbreaking sobs, breathing ragged.

he isn't used to showing much physical affection. not after what he went through, not until you. and now with you like this, something softens within him. he sits back down on the bed, wordlessly leaning into you, his arms open. you feel utterly pathetic at how quickly you crawl into his lap, burying your face in his chest. you feel like you're betraying your team, but do you have a choice? perhaps you did. you could've chosen to be tough and refuse his affection. but the stakes are different now. your family's life is on the line.

you never stood a chance, not after you met him.

and you don't want to think of a single instance where you don't get to experience being held by him.

your morals are more fucked than you thought. even after all the threats, after him practically forcing you to stay, you can't help but desire his affection. you'll be selfish for once. what could you have done anyway? you would've died in there, and your family would be alone. if what he said is true, atleast now they can live a life of ease without any debts.

as for your team, 456 will look out for them. he's alive, afterall.

you force your mind to be silent.

“i miss you,” you wail painfully, your free hand clutching the fabric of his shirt.

he holds you like a child, a hand pressing your head close, the other wrapping around your waist. he shushes you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. he doesn't regret anything he did. you'd made him promise to come back for you, afterall. he always keeps his word. “i'm right here.”

you lean into his neck, and breathe in the smell of him. you squeeze your eyes shut till your sobs die down into the occasional hiccup. the stretch of your right hand and the rattling of the chains is another reminder of where you are.

perhaps if you stay hidden against his chest, you can try to convince yourself it's still your young-il holding you like this.

A/N: so! that's the end of dusk till dawn. this story truly was my joker. i tend to add a lot of psychological elements and character interactions so the fic feels more immersive and realistic, like you're really part of the game. i hope you liked it. can y'all tell who my favourite characters are? lol. also, i'm very horrible with smut so i really tried but i just can't write too much 💔 I'm mostly an angst girl as you can tell. anyways, this was a little self indulgent. thank you so much for the support you guys showed me, it truly means everything! i might write blurbs related to this specific couple from time to time, but no promises! maybe if i get good ideas or requests. anyways i rambled a lot. thank you for reading. feedback is always motivating.

tags: @bonelessghoul @cowuies @auspicious-lilana @politicstanner @verouys @gloriousjellyfisharcade @carolinevoight @shadowmoonlight0604 @ancrygurl @sunoon @jessgentleman @colorwastaken @loversroq @clown-around-and-find-out @popcorm @xcinnamonmalfoyx @robertthehoover @iloveoldermen0204 @kpopsmutty69 @iamkali

#raven writes #frontman x reader #the frontman x reader smut #hwang inho x reader #hwang inho x you #squid game x reader #squid game x reader smut #squid game fanfic #salesman x reader #player 001 x reader #player 456 #young-il x reader #lee byung hun x reader

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solxamber · 4 months ago

Text

Trash Novel Chronicles: Villain System vs World - Riddle Rosehearts x reader

You have a guilty pleasure: trashy villainess stories. So when you die a frankly, humiliating death, and end up in one of the worst ones you've had the pleasure of reading, you're in denial. Then the villain system shows up. Well, there goes your second chance at life So what do you do now? Do villainous things and cause as much chaos as you can, of course. And maybe, just maybe, bag the male lead, Riddle Rosehearts while you're at it.

i had so much fun writing this, i hope you like it just as much!

Series Masterlist

You’ve had a week. Not just any week—a rough week. Work has been an absolute dumpster fire, deadlines have been chasing you like a pack of rabid wolves, and your responsibilities are piling up like a game of Jenga about to collapse. If someone were to ask how you’re doing, you’d just laugh maniacally and hope they’d back away slowly.

So, when you finally make it home, the first thing you do is collapse face-first onto your couch with all the grace of a dead fish. After a moment of just lying there, contemplating whether adulthood is some kind of elaborate prank, you do the one thing that always makes you feel better: grab your phone and open up your webnovel app.

You scroll through your favorites—ah yes, the classics. Trashy, absurd, villainess webnovels that are objectively terrible but subjectively amazing. You’re talking about the ones with titles like “I’m the Evil Duke’s Twisted Ex-Fiancée, But He Loves Me Now Because I Have Plot Armor!” or “My Death Flags Mean Nothing Because I Can Charm My Way Out of Everything (And Also, Dragons)”.

It’s like junk food for your brain. You know it’s not good for you. You know there are objectively better stories out there. But the drama, the ridiculous misunderstandings, the sheer stupidity of every character decision—it’s beautiful. It’s a hot mess, and you are the fly drawn to it.

Except this time, you somehow pick the worst one.

You don’t know if it’s because your standards are already on the floor and this one somehow dug under it, or if the exhaustion has finally gotten to you, but it’s bad.

The story is all over the place. The villainess is cartoonishly cruel, like she wakes up in the morning and thinks, “What heinous thing can I do today?” But sometimes, you swear she doesn’t even want to be that way. It’s like the author just decided, “Villainess = bad,” and put their brain to bed.

The plot? Oh, it’s a mess. The villainess and heroine are sisters—the real daughter of a Duke and the adopted, sweet angel who gets all the Duke’s affection. Naturally, they both fall for the same guy: Riddle Rosehearts, some prodigy with a complex about rules, order, and justice. Of course, the Duke arranges for his precious adopted daughter to marry Riddle, and the villainess? She flips out, does a bunch of cruel things (of course), and eventually gets herself killed in a totally overdramatic fashion.

Okay, typical villainess plot so far. Nothing new there.

But the worst part? The treatment of poor Riddle. It’s like he’s just a toy to be fought over. The sisters practically claim ownership of him like he’s a fancy handbag. Then, once the villainess is conveniently eliminated, the author gives Riddle this tragic backstory. Harsh childhood, crazy controlling mom—you know, the works. You brace yourself for the resolution, for him to rise above his traumaand find happiness.

Nope. His trauma is treated like a joke. Nothing gets resolved. He’s just stuck in this gilded cage, with the heroine taking over as the new warden. And somehow, that’s supposed to be the happy ending?

It’s horrible. It’s nonsensical. It’s everything you could want right now.

You should stop. You know you should stop. But the sheer absurdity of it has you in its grasp.

And you don't even want to think about the love decagon. Yes, decagon. There are 9 men dying over this heroine who has the personality of rusty spoon.

You snort, your laughter echoing through your empty apartment. It’s awful. It’s brain-rotting, cringe-inducing garbage.

You love it.

The plot is hanging on by a thread, and yet, there you are, fully committed. You don’t need quality writing, deep themes, or even consistent character motivations. What you need is to watch this trainwreck unfold until the bitter end, and you’ll be damned if you don’t see it through.

But that’s when the universe decides to kick you in the teeth. In a sequence of events so absurd you couldn’t make it up if you tried, you—oh, wait for it—die. And not in some grand, noble fashion, either. You slip on some residual shampoo on your bathroom floor, and fall face first onto a tap. Ouch.

Really?

Out of all the dramatic, swoon-worthy ways to die, like saving a kitten from a burning building or sacrificing yourself for someone you loved, you went out like a fool. A shower slip. One minute you’re standing, and the next, you’re faceplanting like some poorly executed slapstick scene.

And then, boom. Everything went black.

Which brings you to now. You feel odd. The texture of the sheets beneath you isn’t quite right. They’re silkier than the cheap cotton sheets you usually wrapped yourself in before bed. The air smells... different too. Not to mention, the bed feels way bigger, and you’re nestled in something way too plush to be your beat-up old mattress.

You bolt upright, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the room. You squint around and your eyes widen. This is… not your room. Gone are the band posters, the laundry in the corner, and your trusty alarm clock with the missing buttons. Instead, you’re surrounded by opulence: heavy velvet drapes, an intricately carved wooden dresser, and a huge vanity covered in jewels.

Your heart drops.

Slowly, you lift your hands. They are... not your hands. These are dainty, perfectly manicured hands. No chewed-off nails. No pen smudges from your hours of work. Just smooth, perfect fingers, topped off with the exact kind of expensive manicure you'd normally cringe at paying for.

No. Fucking. Way.

Frantically, you throw the blankets off yourself and scramble to the nearest mirror. What you see staring back at you isn’t your own reflection.

“Oh. My. God.”

You’ve been isekai’d. Into a webnovel.

And not just any webnovel. No. The terrible one you’d been reading before your humiliating death. You’re in the body of the villainess, the character who was basically a walking disaster from beginning to end. Not to mention, she was set to die a very messy, very public death within a few weeks.

“Oh god. I’m screwed.” You pace around the room in a panic, wringing your hands together. “How am I supposed to survive this? I can’t be a villainess! I don’t even like drama!”

You glance around desperately for something, anything that will give you some semblance of control over the situation. This can’t be happening. Maybe this is all a weird dream? You pinch yourself. Hard.

“Ow.” Nope. Definitely not a dream. Just your reality. Fantastic.

Then, you spot it. A glowing screen, floating mid-air right next to your head.

The classic system menu, like the ones from every villainess isekai you’ve read.

Except, instead of comforting you, this one makes you want to scream. Because in glaring red letters, it says:

“Villainess System Activated! Complete your tasks or face severe consequences.”

You blink. “Consequences?”

A new notification pops up, smug as hell. “Severe punishment will be dealt if you fail your villainous duties."

Oh, great. You’re trapped in a parody of an isekai where you not only have to survive as the villainess, but also complete quests like some twisted game. Lovely.

You stare at the system menu. “This is going to be fine,” you mutter, trying to convince yourself. “I just have to do the opposite of whatever got this chick killed. Just... stop being a jerk, right?”

But no sooner do you say that when the system blinks and pops up your first quest:

“System: Ruin Lady Heron’s Garden Party. Reward: 50 Villain Points.”

Are you kidding me?

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Okay, but hear me out,” you say to the system like it’s a person you can negotiate with. “What if I ruin it... with a compliment? Like, I tell her that her flower arrangements are so beautiful that she faints from the shock?”

The system’s reply is immediate: “Invalid. Must complete task in line with villainess behavior.”

“Oh, come on!” You pace the room again, muttering under your breath. “Fine. You wanna play it like this? I can play.” You crack your knuckles. “We’ll see who outsmarts who.”

The next hour passes in a whirlwind of panicked planning. You’ve read enough villainess novels to know the basic rules: never do what you’re supposed to do, but always make it look like you are. It’s malicious compliance at its finest.

So, when you arrive at Lady Heron’s garden party, dressed to kill (because apparently that’s a thing villainesses do), you’ve already concocted your plan.

The system wants you to ruin the event? Fine. But you’ll do it your way. You compliment Lady Heron’s flowers with the fakest smile you can muster, pouring on the charm. You gush about her decorations until she’s practically glowing, all while subtly steering the conversation away from the usual petty gossip that gets the villainess in trouble.

Instead of sabotaging the food, you pretend to be horrified when the catering staff makes a small mistake, swooping in to save the day and looking like a hero in the process. And as for the “accidental” tripping of the host’s dress that was supposed to happen? You deftly catch her instead, earning surprised gasps from the crowd.

By the end of it, the system’s fuming, and you’re basking in the glory of having completed your “villainous task” without actually being villainous.

Malicious compliance for the win, you think smugly.

The system didn't like your attitude and it wants it to be known.

"System: Next quest: Defeat the chicken in the garden."

No problem, right? It wasn’t like you were going up against a raging dragon or anything. It was just a chicken. A harmless little chicken.

Wrong.

You found yourself standing in a dusty barn, staring down the most demonic creature you’d ever seen—a puffed-up, red-eyed chicken with an attitude problem. This thing wasn’t just any chicken; it looked like it had gone ten rounds with a tiger and won. Twice.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you muttered under your breath, rolling up your sleeves as the chicken fluffed its feathers like it was about to brawl. You eyed it warily. It eyed you back, and for a second, you swore you saw flames in its eyes.

"System: Quest update: —Defeat the Chicken of Doom!"

Chicken of Doom? You squinted at the thing. “You could’ve warned me, you know.”

"System: Where’s the fun in that?"

The chicken let out an ear-splitting squawk and lunged at you like a tiny, feathered fury. You dodged, barely, as it pecked the air where your face had been a moment earlier. This was no ordinary chicken. This thing had skills.

You scrambled out of the way, trying to think of a strategy that didn’t involve you getting pecked into oblivion. “System! Any tips here?”

"System: Aim for the legs. That’s where the power is."

The legs? You glanced down at the chicken’s scrawny legs. “I’m pretty sure it’s coming for my face, not my ankles!”

"System: Well, you could always just run. But that’s not very villainous, is it?"

“Oh, you are the worst,” you grumbled as the chicken made another wild leap for your head. You ducked, grabbed a nearby rake, and swung it around like a makeshift sword. “Alright, chicken. Let’s dance.”

What followed was an embarrassing display of you flailing around the barn, trying to fend off this demonic poultry with a rake while the system laughed at you from the sidelines.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of dodging and weaving, you managed to hook the rake around one of its legs, pulling it off balance. The chicken flopped onto its back, flailing wildly as it squawked in outrage. You quickly pinned it down with the back-end of the take, panting heavily.

"System: Congratulations! Quest complete. 50 Villain Points awarded."

You glared at the system’s message. “I better get more than 100 points for this. I deserve a medal.”

"System: How about the satisfaction of knowing you just defeated the Chicken of Doom?"

You groaned, wiping sweat from your forehead. “Next time you send me on a quest, can it be against something less likely to murder me? Like a butterfly?”

"System: No promises. But look on the bright side—you’re officially undefeated in chicken combat. And you now are +50 Villain points richer"

“Fantastic,” you deadpanned, finally letting the defeated chicken hobble away with its dignity intact. “Just what I always wanted to be known for.”

You walked out of that barn a little wiser, a little bruised, and a lot more wary of small farm animals. From that day forward, chickens were officially your sworn enemies.

Villain points: 100

You were still in denial that you were in that novel. But what's a better wakeup call than running into the main lead? The guy who the story revolves around, Riddle Rosehearts.

You had decided to take a stroll in the academy's gardens when a loud squeaking noise caught your attention.

Turning the corner, you stumbled upon a scene that confirmed your worst fears: Riddle Rosehearts, was hunched over a small enclosure, tending to a couple of prickly hedgehogs.

“What in the world…?” you muttered, leaning in closer. Riddle was meticulously checking their little habitats, his brow furrowed in concentration. You had to admit, he looked oddly cute.

As you watched, one of the hedgehogs—who seemed to have more ambition than sense—decided to attempt an escape. It made a daring leap right off the side of the table, and you could practically hear the collective gasp of the students around you. Time slowed as you saw the tiny creature plummet toward the ground.

No!

Without thinking, you launched yourself forward, arms outstretched, preparing to catch the little spiky ball of chaos. You almost made it, but instead of a graceful landing, you miscalculated and ended up face-first in a pile of fallen leaves, with a hedgehog landing right on your back.

Riddle’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you doing?!”

With the hedgehog squirming atop you, you tried to push yourself up. “Just… saving this little guy,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. The hedgehog seemed to be enjoying the view from its leafy throne, completely unfazed by the near disaster.

“Are you okay?” Riddle asked, half-concerned, half-amused as he stepped closer. You could see a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, which was both infuriating and endearing.

“Yeah, just a minor case of heroism!” you replied, attempting to sound cool while still half-buried in leaves. “No big deal. Just saving lives one hedgehog at a time.”

The students around you started whispering, some trying to hold back laughter. Riddle, however, seemed genuinely impressed, his cheeks turning a shade of red that almost matched his hair. “Uh… thank you?” he said, fumbling for words. “That was… very quick thinking.”

As you finally managed to roll over, the hedgehog took that moment to scuttle off your back, plopping down on the ground with a little thud. You turned to Riddle, brushing leaves off your shirt. “Yeah, well, it’s what I do best. Hedgehog rescuer by day, unremarkable student by night.”

Riddle blinked, processing your words while his face continued to betray a mix of flustered admiration and confusion. “You… you look quite cool doing that,” he said, almost to himself, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You smirked, enjoying the moment. “Cool? Well, thank you.”

Riddle opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly flustered. “Right… um, thank you again. I usually prefer to do everything by the book, but you… you have a knack for chaos.”

“Just trying to shake things up a bit!” you replied, grinning. “Besides, what’s life without a little excitement?”

His face turned an even deeper shade of red, and for a moment, you thought he might actually explode. “Excitement is… not exactly my strong suit,” he admitted with a seriousness that almost made you laugh.

Just then, Cater called out, “Hey, Riddle, are you blushing over there?”

Riddle straightened up, all business once more. “I am not blushing!” he snapped, though it only made the others laugh harder.

You couldn’t help but chuckle yourself. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s very becoming.”

At this point, he was trying desperately to regain his composure, his usual dignified self crumbling under the unexpected twist of fate. “Right, well… um, thanks for your help,” he stammered, trying to pivot back to his hedgehogs as if that would restore some order to his day.

“Anytime!” you replied cheerfully, already plotting your next move in this wild webnovel world. After all, you might just have to become the chaotic force that turns Riddle’s world upside down.

As you left him there, you couldn’t help but think—yup, you were definitely in that webnovel. And you were not hating it.

"System: New quest: Sabotage the dinner. +100 points"

Oh this was a quest you were willing to do even if the system didn't ask you to. All you need to do was question your darling sister's yapping and you'll be set.

The dinner is going about as smoothly as you’d expect a social gathering could in this godforsaken story. Which is to say, not smooth at all.

You’re sitting at a long, polished table that looks like it’s seen better days—probably because it's held together by the sheer willpower of outdated noble customs. Your dear sister, the illustrious heroine of the world, is seated at the opposite end of the table, positively glowing in her usual self-absorbed way, surrounded by a gaggle of male leads that have somehow become entangled in her web of charm. Including, of course, the third male lead, a guy whose name you don’t even care to remember, but who keeps giving you condescending looks from across the table.

Your father, seated next to her, is smiling like he’s watching his favorite child perform in a school play. Every time the heroine opens her mouth, he’s doting on her with embarrassing enthusiasm, nodding along like she’s spewing pearls of wisdom when, in reality, it’s more like dribbling out some very glittery, very ignorant garbage.

“Oh, Father,” your sister begins, in that overly sweet, almost nauseating voice of hers. “Did you know that dandelions are actually a type of flower? Most people mistake them for weeds, but I just find them so fascinating.”

You internally groan. Seriously? Dandelions? That’s the big revelation she’s bringing to the table tonight?

Your father beams at her, his eyes twinkling as if she’s just solved world hunger. “My dear, you’re so clever. It’s amazing how much you know!”

Ace, seated next to you, nearly spits out his water. You glance at him and catch the barely-restrained laughter on his face, which only makes you want to snicker along with him.

You give him a look that says "brace yourself."

You lean forward slightly, your face the picture of politeness, and say with a small smile, “Well, technically, dandelions are considered invasive species in most gardens. I suppose calling them ‘fascinating’ is one way of putting it.”

Your sister blinks at you, clearly confused by the subtle jab, while Trey—who’s seated beside Riddle—hides his smirk behind a delicate sip of wine. You catch a glint of amusement in Riddle’s eyes as well. Even he seems to be enjoying this trainwreck.

The heroine, though, refuses to let her utter lack of botanical knowledge slow her down. “Oh, well, I was just trying to emphasize how misunderstood they are! Like, did you know dandelion tea is supposed to help with digestion?”

You can’t help yourself. “Is that why you’ve been so full of it lately?”

There’s a loud snort from Cater, who quickly covers it up with a cough, but not before giving you an encouraging grin. Deuce’s shoulders shake as he tries to hold back laughter, while Ace is full-on grinning at the chaos you’re creating. Trey is still playing it cool, but you know he’s on the verge of losing it too.

Your sister pouts at you, her lower lip trembling like she’s about to burst into tears. Oh, here we go. The waterworks. But honestly, you’re not about to feel guilty for calling her out when she practically walked into it.

“You always have to be so mean to me,” she whines, her voice wobbling dramatically. “I was just trying to have a nice conversation!”

Your father, predictably, jumps to her defense. “Now, now,” he says, giving you a stern look. “There’s no need to be so harsh with your sister.”

Harsh? Oh, please. If this is what he considers harsh, he clearly hasn’t spent much time around actual harsh people. Not that you’re about to say that aloud, of course.

“Apologies, Father,” you say, trying to keep your tone as neutral as possible while still dripping with passive-aggression. “I’ll be sure to keep my comments to myself next time.” You pause for a beat, and then add with a pointed look, “Unless, of course, they’re about real flowers.”

Cater and Ace lose it, full-on laughing at this point, and Deuce isn’t far behind. Even Trey is chuckling softly into his drink.

And then—oh, wait, is that a smile on Riddle’s face?

It is.

Holy crap.

For the first time since this disaster of a dinner started, you see a genuine smile tugging at Riddle Rosehearts’ lips. It’s small, but it’s there. And it’s directed at you.

Well, well, well, you think. Who knew I’d get the tiniest bit of amusement out of the stoic redhead tonight?

Riddle’s mother, who has been sitting quietly at the head of the table this whole time, seems to notice as well. She raises an eyebrow at you, and while she doesn’t say anything, the slight nod of approval she gives is as close to praise as you’re ever going to get from her.

Meanwhile, your sister has resorted to dabbing her eyes with a napkin, and the third male lead looks like he’s about ready to crawl under the table and disappear. Honestly, with the way his face is turning red, you wouldn’t be surprised if he just bolted for the door.

As the heroine sniffles dramatically, trying to regain her composure, Riddle’s mother clears her throat. “Perhaps it’s time we moved on to the next course.”

You sit back in your chair, feeling rather pleased with yourself. You’ve always known how to work a room, but this? This was practically a performance art piece. A subtle roast of the dinner party’s most insufferable members, all without breaking a sweat.

Trey gives you a subtle thumbs-up from across the table, Cater is still grinning like an idiot, and Ace is wiping tears from his eyes. Even Deuce looks like he’s enjoying himself more than usual.

And Riddle? He’s still smiling.

All in all, you’d call this a successful dinner.

"System: +100 points"

Villain Points: 200

You reached a compromise with the system during a mind numbingly boring tea party. You were doing your best to sit there with a polite smile plastered on your face while your sister droned on about her latest dress, but all you could think about was the fact that there were probably better uses of your time—like, say, literally anything else. Maybe you could fake a sudden illness and make a run for it? Or trip over a conveniently placed teacup and disappear into the shrubbery?

And that’s when you heard it.

"System: New Quest—Make it through this tea party without falling asleep. Reward: Not looking like a complete fool."

You almost snorted out loud, but quickly caught yourself. Great, the system is back at it again with these stellar rewards.

Gee, thanks, system. Truly motivating stuff.

"System: Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want something better? How about I throw in 50 Villain Points?"

Your eyes widened. Wait, 50 Villain Points just for not dozing off during this boring nonsense?

"System: Well, technically, you just have to stay awake. I never said you couldn’t look bored out of your mind."

You grinned slightly, trying to hide your amusement behind your teacup. You’re starting to grow on me, you know that?

"System: Likewise. I must say, I didn’t expect someone like you to actually stick with me this long. Most people would’ve either ignored me or gotten themselves killed by now. But you? You’ve got potential."

Aw, stop, you’re gonna make me blush.

"System: I’m serious! You’ve got guts. You think outside the box. You’re not afraid to bend the rules a little. And that’s why I’ve got a proposition for you."

You leaned back in your chair, intrigued. Oh? Go on, I’m listening.

"System: Here’s the deal—I’ll start giving you quests that aren’t designed to get you killed or humiliated beyond repair. In exchange, you have to promise to actually follow through on them. And I don’t mean half-heartedly—I want 100% commitment. Deal?"

Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying you’ve been giving me death traps this whole time?

System: Well… not death traps, per se. More like… character-building exercises.

I swear to God, system, if you ever make me fight a rabid chicken again—

"System: That chicken was a necessary evil! Character development! But fine, fine. No more chickens. Only reasonable, non-lethal missions from now on. What do you say? Partners in villainy?"

You tapped your chin, pretending to mull it over. Hmmm… sounds tempting. But what’s in it for me besides the joy of your sparkling company?

"System: Oh, you know, the usual—power, influence, fame, and fortune. Plus, I’ll throw in some juicy blackmail material for when your sister inevitably gets on your nerves again."

Your grin widened. Now that is the kind of offer I can’t refuse.

"System: That’s the spirit! Now, first mission as my official partner: Sabotage your sister’s next grand entrance. Nothing too catastrophic—just a little stumble, maybe some ruffled feathers. Keep it classy."

And just like that, you and the system were officially besties. It was weirdly comforting knowing you had a sarcastic AI watching your back—and occasionally messing with your enemies. Sure, it might’ve been the weirdest friendship ever forged in the history of villainy, but hey, you’d take it. You’d never be bored again with this delightful chaos agent in your corner.

As you left the tea party with your head held high, the system chimed in one last time.

"System: By the way, next time your sister brags about her shoes? “Accidentally” mention that those went out of fashion last season."

You smirked. Oh, system, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

+50 points, + 1 extremely powerful ally.

Villain points: 250

It was supposed to be a peaceful afternoon. You had gone into the library looking for a quiet place to relax after a long day of trying to stay out of family drama. But of course, there was Riddle, hunched over a mountain of books with his hands gripping his hair like it had personally wronged him. Not to mention, your sister was sitting nearby, yammering on about… something. Something that was definitely not helping Riddle’s clear state of panic.

As soon as you walked in, your eyes locked with his, and in that instant, you could practically hear his brain screaming for help. It was a silent plea, one you couldn’t ignore.

With a sigh and a bit of a smirk, you sauntered over, interrupting your sister’s endless tirade about her latest frivolous pursuit. “Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” you said brightly, grabbing Riddle by the arm and pulling him up from his chair before he could protest.

Your sister blinked at you, clearly thrown off by your sudden intrusion. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of an important conversation—”

“Were you though?” You raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure Riddle needs a break. He’s been studying for hours, right?” You didn’t wait for an answer, instead giving Riddle a quick nudge. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air.”

To your relief (and amusement), Riddle offered no resistance, letting you whisk him away from the library and your sister’s insufferable voice.

Once you were safely in one of the quieter gardens, Riddle sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how much more of that I could’ve handled. Thank you.”

“No problem. Honestly, I did it for my own sanity too,” you chuckled, leading him to a bench under a shady tree. “But seriously, you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Riddle’s face flushed a bit as he glanced away. “I’ve been… focused. There’s a lot to cover.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you replied dryly, nudging him to sit down. “But if you don’t rest, you’re going to burn out. Even someone like you can’t run on fumes forever.”

He hesitated for a moment but eventually sat down, clearly too tired to argue. “I suppose you’re right…”

Riddle leaned back against the bench, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. You thought he’d sit there for a few minutes, maybe catch his breath, and that’d be it.

Except he didn’t just catch his breath.

Nope.

Instead, Riddle Rosehearts, the pristine, perfectly poised model student… fell asleep on your shoulder.

And you? You froze.

Oh no.

Oh God.

What do I do?!

Your mind spiraled as you sat there, staring at the top of his bright red head resting comfortably against you. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against your side, his quiet, steady breathing, the softness of his hair—

Wait. Why is his hair so soft? It’s like spun silk.

Does he use some kind of magic conditioner? Should I ask him for hair care tips?

No, focus! Focus!

You peeked down at him again, and he looked so peaceful, his usual stern expression completely relaxed. You could feel your heart racing, and the logical part of your brain screamed at you to keep it together, but the other half—the half that was currently hyper-aware of Riddle’s head resting on your shoulder—was completely losing it.

Is this what bliss feels like? Is this how people write poems? “Oh Riddle, how thou art like the setting sun, warm and brilliant yet—WAIT, what am I thinking?! I am losing my mind! THIS IS BAD!

But also… very, very good?

You glanced around nervously, wondering if someone might see this. Would this look weird to people? Am I weird for not moving? I can’t move. He’s asleep. If I move, he’ll wake up and think I’m a weirdo for staying so still and letting him nap on me like this. Oh God, what if he thinks I’m weird?!

But even as your brain launched into a full-blown existential crisis, you couldn’t deny how nice this felt. Riddle looked so soft—so vulnerable—and for once, he wasn’t burdened by the weight of expectations or responsibilities. He was just… Riddle. And that made something inside you feel oddly tender.

Your gaze softened as you looked at him. Maybe this isn't so bad. Maybe I could get used to this. Maybe—

Then, without warning, Riddle stirred, shifting slightly before blinking his eyes open. He looked groggy for a second, but as soon as he realized where he was—where you were—his entire face turned scarlet.

“Ah!” he gasped, jerking upright. “I—! I didn’t mean to—! I—!”

You blinked at him, trying very hard to pretend that you hadn’t just gone through a whole mental rollercoaster while he was napping. “Uh… it’s fine. You were tired. Happens to the best of us.”

He quickly straightened his uniform, flustered beyond belief. “That was… highly inappropriate. I apologize. You must think I’m terribly uncouth.”

“Nah,” you said with a grin, waving him off. “You’re a hard worker. Even someone like you deserves a break.”

Riddle looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment. “Still, I shouldn’t have—"

You laughed and patted his shoulder. “Relax. It was kinda cute, honestly.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, his blush deepening. “C-cute?”

Realizing what you just said, your face turned bright red. “Uh, yeah, like… in a respectable, admirable way, obviously! Because, you know, falling asleep is… healthy… and stuff.”

From behind you, you heard Ace’s familiar snicker, and you turned to see him and Deuce standing there, both of them with identical grins.

“You’re totally simping,” Ace teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my God, go away.”

Riddle coughed, straightening his back and trying very hard to regain his composure. “Ahem. I think I’ll… return to my studies. Thank you again for helping me earlier.”

He stood up, still looking mildly mortified, but as he walked away, you caught the faintest smile on his lips.

Ace elbowed you with a grin. “You’ve got it bad.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, your face still burning as you watched Riddle leave.

But deep down, you couldn’t stop smiling either.

You sit at the breakfast table, staring at the notification hovering just above your coffee.

"System: New Quest: Get your sister to humiliate herself in front of the Empress. Reward: 100 Villain Points."

Your sister, ever the radiant queen of smugness, lounges at the other end, flipping her hair like she’s about to step onto a runway. Her latest self-important monologue about being 'practically irreplaceable' in the Empress’s inner circle grates at your nerves.

“What’s with the face?” Ace flops into the seat next to you, raising an eyebrow at your sudden, murderous glare.

Deuce, ever the responsible one, follows, setting down his tray with a clink. “You alright? You’ve been quiet.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “I got stuck with… a task.”

Ace snickers. “What, the world’s worst chore or something?”

You glance at your sister, now preening at her reflection in a spoon, and mutter, “Worse. I need to make her humiliate herself in front of the Empress.”

Both Ace and Deuce freeze, staring at you in disbelief.

Ace nearly snorts his drink. “You—wait, what? You have to do that?” His eyes practically light up. “That’s hilarious.”

Deuce, always the voice of reason, frowns. “Why do you need to do that? That sounds kinda… extreme.”

You sigh, trying to keep it vague. “Let’s just say... it’s a long story. But trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

Ace leans back, grinning like he’s just been given front-row tickets to the chaos. “Oh, I am so in. We have to take down the drama queen? Say no more.”

Deuce hesitates, but after a glance at your sister—who’s loudly bragging about her upcoming meeting with the Empress—he sighs. “I guess if it’s for a good cause... she could use a little humility.”

“Perfect.” You clap your hands together, a plan already forming. “But it has to look natural. No obvious sabotage.”

Ace smirks. “You say that like I’m not an expert in ‘subtle.’”

The banquet is set in a lavish garden, with your sister already dressed in the most elaborate gown she could find. She looks like she’s ready to steal the spotlight—and she fully intends to. But you’re three steps ahead. As you, Ace, and Deuce trail behind her, you start whispering the plan. “She always does that thing where she stands up to give a toast in front of everyone, right?”

Deuce nods. “Yeah, she loves being the center of attention.”

You glance at Ace. “Think you can handle making sure her ‘center of attention’ moment doesn’t go as planned?”

Ace grins wickedly. “Leave it to me.”

Your sister, in all her glittering glory, steps up to the platform. The Empress and her courtiers watch on, curious, while your sister clears her throat, preparing to launch into one of her legendary speeches.

Ace winks at you, positioning himself near the platform’s support. With the lightest nudge, it shifts, just enough to unbalance your sister. As she stands, her heel catches on the uneven surface.

Her eyes widen. “Wha—?”

And down she goes, arms flailing dramatically as she tumbles straight into a nearby fountain.

There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, and the Empress looks mildly surprised as water splashes everywhere. Your sister, soaked and sputtering, looks utterly mortified.

Ace bites his lip to keep from laughing. “Oops.”

Deuce winces but nods. “Well... that worked.”

You can’t help the satisfied smirk tugging at your lips as your system pings again.

"System: Quest Complete. Reward: 100 Villain Points."

“Perfect,” you murmur under your breath, already thinking about the next quest.

As your sister sputters her way out of the fountain, dripping wet and desperately trying to regain her composure, the crowd falls into an awkward silence. You can practically hear her brain scrambling to salvage the moment.

She forces a bright smile, pushing wet hair out of her face. “Well, that was… unexpected,” she says, laughing nervously. “I suppose even the most poised among us can have a moment of... gracelessness”

The Empress raises a perfectly arched brow, but remains silent, watching with a cool, unreadable expression.

Your sister, in her panic, decides to fill the silence with her usual brand of arrogance. “I’m sure someone will fix that platform,” she says, waving a hand dismissively at the servants. “Honestly, who would set up something so poorly constructed? I could’ve been seriously hurt!” She glances at the Empress and adds, in a misguided attempt to flatter, “But of course, I suppose even the Empress’s court isn’t immune to such… minor mistakes.”

Ace and Deuce both freeze. Your stomach drops.

The Empress’s lips tighten just slightly, a subtle but dangerous shift. “Minor mistakes?” she repeats, her voice icy and sharp.

Your sister, utterly clueless, laughs again, louder this time, still trying to brush it off. “Oh, of course, not your fault, Your Majesty. I’m sure your staff just… overlooked something. It happens, right?”

The crowd’s collective inhale is deafening. Even Deuce slaps a hand to his forehead, muttering, “Oh no…”

Ace looks like he’s about to choke trying to hold back his laughter. “She’s done,” he whispers gleefully.

The Empress finally stands, her gaze narrowing on your sister. “I assure you,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “such oversights are very rare in my court.”

Your sister opens her mouth to respond, but there’s no coming back from this. The Empress has already turned away, addressing one of her advisors with a wave of dismissal. Your sister is left standing there, soaked and utterly humiliated, in front of everyone.

As the system pings again in your head— "System: Bonus Quest Complete: Cause a Major Faux Pas. Reward: 50 Villain Points"—you can’t help but smirk.

"Well," Ace leans in, whispering, "mission accomplished."

As you watch your sister fumble through an awkward curtsy, trying to salvage what little dignity she has left, the familiar ping of the system goes off in your head again—but this time, it sounds... different.

"Villain System: Achievement Unlocked—Total Disaster;

Reward: 50 Villain Points + Bonus Perk!"

Before you can fully register the notification, the system continues, breaking its usual monotone, deadpan style.

"System: Honestly..." there's a brief pause, like it's trying to hold back a laugh. "I have to hand it to you. This... this was beautiful. I mean, wow, top-tier humiliation. The look on her face? Priceless. I didn’t think you had it in you to pull off such magnificent chaos so effortlessly. Not to mention the insult to the Empress."

Another chuckle—this time, you can feel it reveling in the scene.

"System: You're really becoming quite the villain, huh? I’m almost impressed. Well, because you've reached a new level of villainy—and honestly, you’ve earned it—here’s a special perk. You hit 1,000 points, and I’ll give you an out. You can get rid of me. Completely. No more schemes, no more quests. Freedom from this system."

For a moment, you can barely believe it. The system’s offering you a way out?

"System: Oh, but until then, I’m not going anywhere. And really, wouldn’t it be a shame to stop now? You’re on such a roll."

You shake your head, but even you can't deny the chaos was a little satisfying. Your sister, now the talk of the court, dripping with embarrassment, is living proof of that.

"What's up?" Ace asks, glancing at you. "You look like you just won something."

"Yeah," you mutter under your breath, smirking. "Something like that."

Villain Points: 500. 500 points to freedom.

The test results had come out earlier today and Riddle had topped it, as usual. But he was not allowed to come celebrate with the rest of you, which has led here.

It’s late at night, and the manor is quiet—eerily quiet, except for the soft rustling of leaves outside Riddle's window. You stand beneath the window with a strawberry tart in your hands, feeling very much like a strange version of a fairy-tale hero. Except, instead of rescuing a damsel in distress, you're here to sneak contraband dessert to an overworked boy whose mother monitors his sugar intake like a hawk.

"Riddle!" you whisper-shout up to the second floor. "Let down your hair—uh, I mean, your bedsheets!"

There’s a pause before Riddle’s head pops out of the window, confused but intrigued. "What are you doing out there? It’s late."

"Shhh!" You gesture for him to keep it down, holding up the tart like it’s some sort of forbidden treasure. "I brought you a strawberry tart. Your mom might have banned it, but we live dangerously in this house."

Riddle’s eyes widen, and for a moment, you think he might actually tear up. "You... You risked sneaking a tart past Mother... for me?" He looks genuinely touched, and you can see the internal battle raging between his desire to stay obedient and his deep, insatiable love for strawberry tarts.

"Yes, I am willing to defy the Tart Tyrant for you," you say, nodding solemnly. "Now hurry up and lower the bedsheets before she finds out and decides to have me beheaded for dessert-related treason."

Riddle hesitates for just a second, but the lure of the forbidden pastry is too strong. After a moment, he vanishes from the window, only to return with a neatly tied set of bedsheets. He throws them down like some kind of serious, rule-abiding Rapunzel.

You take a second to appreciate the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, then quickly tie the tart to the end of the sheet rope. “Alright, here comes the goods!” You give the bedsheets a tug to let him know the package is secured.

With a little effort, Riddle pulls up the tart with the same solemnity you’d expect if he were receiving an ancient royal artifact instead of sugar-laden contraband. He gingerly unties the tart and holds it in his hands, staring at it like it's the most precious thing he's ever seen.

You then somehow use the bedsheets to get up there too. Wow maybe you are truly a fairy-tale hero.

"You truly are remarkable," Riddle says, his voice soft with gratitude. He turns his gaze toward you with such an earnest expression that you suddenly feel self-conscious.

You wave him off, trying to play it cool. "Eh, it's nothing. Just saving you from a tartless existence."

But instead of saying anything, Riddle leans down and, with the utmost care and sincerity, presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, like some sort of old-fashioned gentleman. "Thank you," he murmurs.

And that’s when it happens.

Your brain shuts down. Completely. Like someone pulled the plug on your thoughts and left you staring blankly into space. The only thing running through your head is static. You don't even register the tart anymore. Did he just—? Did Riddle Rosehearts just—?

You short-circuit so hard that your mouth moves, but nothing coherent comes out. “Guh... buh... uh...” Great. So much for playing it cool.

Riddle, ever the gentleman, doesn’t seem to notice your malfunction, as he’s too busy taking the tiniest, most delicate bite of the tart, savoring it like he’s trying to make it last forever. "Delicious," he whispers, clearly over the moon.

Meanwhile, you’re still stuck on the whole hand kiss thing. Did that actually just happen? Did you fall into an alternate reality? Is this still the same planet?

Ace is going to have a field day with this.

"Uh, well... goodnight!" You finally manage to blurt out before spinning on your heel and power-walking away, almost jumping off the balcony instead of climbing down, mentally screaming at yourself for turning into a malfunctioning robot over a simple gesture. You hear Riddle chuckle softly behind you, a sound that somehow makes your heart do a weird little flip, and then his window quietly closes.

The whole way back to your room, you're fighting off the most embarrassing grin. Maybe this little night mission was worth it after all—short circuits and all.

The next morning, you wake up to a new notification from your ever-so-charming system.

"Villain System: New Quest—Make the heroine cry and win the baking competition. Reward: 100 Villain Points"

You stare at the message, blinking. Make the heroine cry? That’s one thing, but… win the baking competition? You don’t even bake.

"System: Oh, did I forget to mention? The heroine has won every year because it’s women-only, and the original villainess didn’t care about trivial things like baking. Now she’s got a free pass to victory—unless, of course, you do something about it."

You roll your eyes. Right, of course. But then, an idea hits you. Trey. Who needs to bake when you know the one person who could win with his eyes closed?

In this kingdom’s prestigious baking competition, there's one important loophole: while only women are allowed to officially compete, each contestant is permitted a single helper. Of course, most participants choose their helpers from other women to maintain the spirit of the tradition. However, there’s nothing in therules that says it has to be a woman.

The heroine, ever the strategic darling, has chosen none other than the Sixth Male Lead as her helper—an aspiring nobleman known for his meticulous manners and refined taste. His calm demeanor and careful attention to detail make him a safe bet, and you overhear the heroine boasting that, with his assistance, her victory is all but guaranteed.

Yeah, not this year.

Instead of following tradition, you’ve asked Trey to be your helper. Trey Clover—renowned for his skill in the kitchen, and quite possibly the one person who could bake the heroine’s smug little plans into pie. The original villainess never cared enough to bother with this competition, which gave the heroine free rein. But now? Now she has to face you, and by extension, Trey.

And Trey Clover doesn’t play for second place when it comes to sweets.

Later that day, you find Trey in the gardens, tending to some herbs. He looks up, giving you that calm, friendly smile. "Need something?"

"Yeah, actually. There’s a baking competition coming up," you say nonchalantly, "and I need to win."

Trey raises an eyebrow. "I thought it was women-only?"

You shrug. "It is, but I thought you could, you know, help me win."

He chuckles, brushing some dirt off his hands. "What kind of help are we talking?"

"Let's just say," you grin, "we’ll be making a dessert so good that even the Empress and Emperor will swoon. And if sister dearest happens to cry... well, that's just a bonus."

Trey looks amused but intrigued. "Alright, I’m in. Let’s see what we can whip up."

The day of the competition arrives, and as expected, the heroine is floating around the kitchen like she owns the place. You catch a glimpse of her smug smile as she arranges her ingredients, clearly confident that victory is hers.

Little does she know.

You and Trey work quietly, making an intricate dessert that smells so good even the judges start peeking over your shoulder. It’s a delicate mille-feuille with layers of crisp pastry, rich cream, and fresh fruit, and the entire hall is already filled with its tantalizing aroma.

"Are you sure you want to go this hard?" Trey asks, smirking as he plates the dessert. "This might be overkill."

You laugh. "Overkill is the goal."

As the competition moves forward, you notice the heroine starting to fidget. Her confidence wavers when she sees your masterpiece, and by the time judging begins, she’s outright glaring at you.

The Empress and Emperor sit at the head of the table, and when your dessert is placed in front of them, you watch as they take a bite. First, there’s silence. Then, the Empress closes her eyes, a look of pure bliss on her face.

The Emperor leans back, sighing deeply. "This... this is incredible."

Even the Prince, sitting beside them, takes a bite and pauses. He leans in toward you with a subtle smile. "Such talent... A skillful partner would be quite the asset to the royal family."

You raise an eyebrow but smile politely.

"While I appreciate the compliment, Your Highness, I’m not interested in marriage at the moment. My hands are quite full with other matters."

The Prince looks mildly disappointed, but the Empress shoots him a warning glance, and he wisely backs off. You can feel the heroine seething from across the room.

Then, Riddle, who’s been observing the competition from the side, steps up to taste your creation. He takes a small, cautious bite—and his entire face lights up. His normally stern expression softens, and he looks so genuinely pleased that you can’t help but feel a little flustered yourself. Who knew Riddle could be this cute?

"This is... delightful," he says quietly, and for a moment, you forget about the competition entirely.

"Glad you like it," you say, your voice a little softer than you intended.

Ace nudges you from the side, wiggling his eyebrows. "You blushing? Never thought I'd see the day."

"Shut up," you hiss back, feeling your face heat up even more.

Meanwhile, the heroine, who has been watching the whole scene, looks on the verge of tears. As the judges declare you the winner, she loses her composure entirely and storms out of the hall, sniffling dramatically.

Ace bursts into laughter. "Wow, you really made her cry, huh? I’m loving this!"

Deuce, more concerned, pats you on the back. "Well... at least you won the competition?"

You smirk, satisfied. "Yeah, I’d say that went pretty well."

As you leave the competition hall, your system chimes in again.

"Villain System: Quest complete! 100 Villain Points awarded."

"System: I’ll be honest. I wasn’t expecting you to fluster Riddle like that, but hey, bonus points for making the Prince back off too. Well played. +25 points"

Villain Points: 625. 375 points left till freedom.

You had to do something about the funny little flips your heart did when you even dared to glance at Riddle and so here you were, dramatically declaring a “Strategy Meeting” with Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce. You had even assigned roles—like some kind of overly elaborate battle plan—because, in your mind, this was war. And the enemy? Your increasingly uncontrollable feelings for a certain redheaded, rule-abiding, perfectionist nobleman.

You stood at the head of the table like a general ready to command the troops, but instead of warriors, you had your collection of questionable allies. Trey and Cater were lounging comfortably, while Ace and Deuce seemed entirely too excited about the prospect of scheming.

“Alright,” you began, pacing in front of the group. “Here’s the deal. I think I like Riddle.”

You were met with silence at first. Then, Ace broke into the most ridiculous grin. “Pfft, of course you do. You’ve been mooning over him for weeks now. Congratulations on finally catching up to reality!”

Deuce elbowed him. “Hey, don’t make fun of them! It’s... uh... commendable that you’re so serious about it.” He gave you a sympathetic smile, like you were some kind of lovesick puppy.

Cater, who had been leaning back casually in his chair, gave you a teasing wink. “Aww, our little villain is going soft. I guess all that sneaking tarts and saving him from certain doom finally got to you, huh?”

Trey, ever the calm and rational one, simply folded his arms and gave you a small smile. “Well, it makes sense. You two have spent a lot of time together. He’s... a good guy. A bit high-strung, but good.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is not helpful. I need a plan, people! Riddle’s mom already thinks I’m a conniving little troublemaker—how am I supposed to make a good impression while also, you know... not being painfully awkward around him?”

Ace raised his hand dramatically like you were in the middle of a classroom. “Simple solution: you don’t. Just be yourself. He’s already used to your brand of chaos. Besides, you already saved him from his mom’s sugar ban, so I’d say you’re ahead of the game.”

Deuce nodded, adding, “Yeah! Plus, you’re like, really smart and cool, so... you’ve got this!”

“Okay, so,” Cater piped in, “in terms of strategy, you could always stage some grand gesture. I mean, Riddle’s all about tradition and propriety, right? What if you—”

Suddenly, a voice interrupted from behind you. “What are you all plotting now?”

You froze, spinning around to see none other than your mother, the Duchess, standing in the doorway with an amused look on her face. She had an uncanny talent for sneaking up on people.

“M-Mother! I, uh... it’s nothing serious. We’re just—”

She raised an eyebrow, cutting off your fumbling explanation with a wave of her hand. “If you’re scheming about Riddle Rosehearts, dear, you could use a bit more refinement. Fortunately for you, I’ve decided to assist.”

“Wait, what?” You blinked at her, feeling like the ground had just shifted beneath you. “You’re... helping me?”

She gave you a knowing smile. “Well, it’s about time someone showed that other daughter of mine what true charm looks like. You’ve always been the more intelligent one.”

“Uh... thanks?” You weren’t quite sure how to respond to that.

Without another word, your mother turned to the butler who had been standing in the hallway. “Make sure everything is in place for dinner tonight. And do make certain the maids are aware of our... little plans.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler replied with a subtle bow before whisking away.

You stared after him, feeling both flustered and slightly panicked. “Mother... what are you planning?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “It’s nothing too drastic. Just a little adjustment to how tonight’s dinner will go.”

That evening, you found yourself at the weekly gathering/dinner, sitting at the long, ornate table alongside your parents, Riddle, his mother, and—unfortunately—your sister, who was already droning on about some utterly mundane topic that only she could make sound self-important.

And then, the plan began.

The maids moved around the table, loudly discussing their work. "Oh, our youngest lady is always so kind to us, isn't she? Such a breath of fresh air!"

"Yes, yes," another maid replied with an exaggerated nod. "And always so intelligent! Did you hear how she handled that situation at the garden party? Simply remarkable!"

Riddle’s mother perked up at the praise, her sharp gaze cutting from the maids to you, her expression intrigued. Your sister, on the other hand, looked like she was about to burst a blood vessel.

The butler, who had been refilling glasses, suddenly spoke up as well. "Ah, I must say, our young miss has shown extraordinary grace and poise recently. A true future lady of the house, if I may be so bold."

You were mortified. Your face felt like it was on fire, and you desperately tried to shrink into your seat. This was not what you had planned. You could feel Riddle’s eyes on you, and you were certain you were about to pass out from sheer embarrassment.

Your sister, however, could not stay silent. “Excuse me?” she snapped. “I don’t know what all this nonsense is about, but—”

But the maids and butler kept going, seemingly oblivious to her anger. "Indeed, I can’t think of anyone more suited to such a role!" one of the maids declared.

Riddle’s mother hummed thoughtfully, clearly impressed by the blatant—and likely orchestrated—praise. “It is quite rare to find such well-rounded young women these days,” she mused, looking at you with a glint of approval in her eyes. “Perhaps I should consider the advantages of such a match after all.”

You nearly choked on your drink. Riddle, across from you, was staring at his plate like he was trying to become one with it. He looked both horrified and... pleased? Maybe?

And just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, Ace—because of course, it had to be Ace—leaned over and whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Hey, at least you know Riddle's mom doesn’t hate you anymore. Progress!”

You shot him a glare, but the damage was done. Everyone at the table had heard, and Riddle’s mother raised a curious eyebrow at you both. You could practically feel Riddle sinking further into his seat.

The dinner continued with more awkward small talk, with your mother throwing in subtle digs at your sister’s lack of... everything, while you tried your hardest not to combust from sheer humiliation.

But hey—if nothing else, at least Riddle wasn’t the only one who felt like he needed to escape to the nearest corner. Small victories, right?

"System: Quest: Make Riddle Say Something Mean to Your Sister. Reward: 100 Points"

The system pings you with the next quest, and you almost laugh out loud. Get Riddle to say something mean to your sister? The guy whose idea of an insult is reminding someone to follow the rules more carefully? You know this’ll be near impossible—his mother raised him to be the picture of etiquette and politeness.

But, then again, opportunity tends to strike when you least expect it, and with your villain system, those moments come with a bit of flair.

It all starts innocently enough: horseback riding. You’re a natural at it, of course, and as you effortlessly guide your horse around the course, your sister glares at you from the sidelines, arms crossed.

"Oh, how shocking," she drawls loud enough for everyone to hear. "A masculine activity. How unbecoming for a lady."

Before you can snap back, someone else beats you to it. "That's funny, I quite like horseback riding too," The Empress says, her voice as polite as ever but with just enough edge to make your darling sister freeze.

And when Riddle adds that he also enjoys horseback riding, you almost snort. Of course, he does. Riddle would have to enjoy something that involves strict rules and perfect posture.

Your sister's eyes flicker toward Riddle, suddenly aware that insulting horseback riding is not the wisest move when he is within earshot. She stammers, trying to recover. "I—I mean, I didn’t say it was entirely inappropriate. It’s just—"

You just stare at her, subtly challenging her to continue. And she takes the bait.

Sensing an opportunity to show off, your sister decides to prove she’s good at it too. "I’ll show you how a real lady rides a horse," she declares, moving to mount the closest horse. The horse, sensing the storm of bad vibes radiating from your sister, immediately snorts and takes a few steps back.

“See, even the horse knows better,” Ace mutters behind you, earning a chuckle from Deuce. You can’t help but grin.

Your sister’s attempt to get on the horse is nothing short of a disaster. Her foot slips, her balance is off, and the horse finally has enough. In one swift move, it bucks her off before she’s even properly seated, sending her tumbling to the ground in an undignified heap.

For a second, there's stunned silence. Then, in true ‘sister’ fashion, she gets up, furious and embarrassed, and hits the horse on the flank.

Oh no. She did not just hit the horse.

Riddle’s face turns red—not his usual "I’m about to scold you" red, but the kind of red that suggests a leviathan-level insult has just taken place. "What are you doing?" he snaps, shocking everyone in earshot. Even you pause, surprised.

You quickly recover, barely holding back your grin. You can already feel the points tallying up.

"That was completely uncalled for," Riddle continues, his voice icy. "You should apologize to the horse."

Your sister sputters, clearly not used to being reprimanded by someone like Riddle.

"I—I didn’t—"

"Violence toward an innocent animal," the Emperor chimes in from his observation point, his tone dripping with disapproval. "Disgraceful behavior."

The Imperial Princess, who has been watching with her arms crossed, gives a snort of laughter. "Well, clearly not everyone can handle themselves with grace on horseback."

Your sister looks like she’s about to implode, her cheeks burning redder than Riddle's hair. "I didn’t mean—"

"Please," Riddle says, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. "Let’s not make this any worse for yourself."

The system pops up again with a cheeky little message.

"+25 bonus points: The system respects that level of carnage. Well done."

Honestly, even you can’t help but respect the sheer scale of the damage your sister just managed to cause to her own reputation in a matter of minutes.

Riddle, who’s usually the epitome of control, saying something that mean? The Emperor, the Imperial Princess, and the Empress all scolding her? It’s a beautiful mess, and you’ll take the points with a smile.

Villain Points: 750. 150 points left till freedom

You’re lounging in the courtyard, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when chaos inevitably strikes. You don’t know why you thought you could have a quiet afternoon without something going wrong. The universe must have you on its watchlist, and today, it decided to throw a wrench in the form of Deuce Spade sprinting across the courtyard, holding a goose under his arm like some kind of barnyard Olympian.

The goose then shows a surprising amount of athleticism and manages to pivot in his arms and jump down.

“GET BACK HERE, YOU FEATHERED MENACE!” Ace screams behind him, waving what looks like a loaf of bread. You raise an eyebrow, confused but intrigued. “Uh… do I even want to know?”

“They’re trying to catch the Duchess’s prized goose,” Cater pipes up, appearing out of nowhere. “It escaped from the coop. Again.”

You squint at the scene unfolding before you, watching as Deuce trips over a bush, while grabbing its tail, sending both himself and the goose tumbling to the ground, feathers everywhere. The goose immediately makes a break for it, flapping wildly in your direction. You can’t help it—some deep, misguided instinct kicks in. You blame your duel with the chicken of doom. Must help friends! Must catch rogue poultry!

You leap to your feet, determination surging through you. This is it. This is your time to shine. You throw yourself at the goose, diving for it like a soccer goalie saving the game-winning shot.

And you miss. Not just miss—you whiff it entirely. Instead, you skid along the ground, getting a face full of dirt and grass. The goose, clearly uninterested in whatever heroic save you were attempting, runs straight towards the nearby rose bushes, where Riddle is calmly reading a book.

“Got it!” you yell, trying to recover from your very undignified position. You scramble to your feet and sprint towards the goose, not thinking—absolutely no thoughts—just vibes and feathers.

“STOP THAT GOOSE!” you hear Deuce shout, which only makes you run faster.

But then… things go wrong. Horribly, hilariously wrong.

The goose, in a feat of poultry acrobatics, launches itself directly at Riddle. In a panic, you leap towards them, determined to protect Riddle from the poultry projectile. Unfortunately, in your zeal to save him, you overestimate your athletic prowess, launching yourself way too high and way too fast.

You soar right over the rose bushes. For a brief, glorious moment, you feel like you’re flying. Like Icarus, you’ve flown too close to the sun.

And then gravity kicks in.

You crash into Riddle, knocking his book out of his hands as you both go down in a very undignified heap. Riddle lets out a startled yelp, and you’re pretty sure your entire life flashes before your eyes in that split second.

When the dust settles, you’re on the ground, somehow tangled up with both Riddle and the goose, who looks mildly offended by this whole debacle. You can barely process the pain in your elbow because, oh no—you’ve just tackled Riddle Rosehearts in broad daylight. You’re doomed. Absolutely doomed.

Riddle, red-faced and thoroughly flustered, pushes himself up, brushing stray feathers off his jacket. “What in the world…?”

“I, uh… was trying to help?” you say weakly, still half-sprawled on the ground with the goose now comfortably perched on your back, like some sort of bizarre poultry crown.

Before Riddle can reply, Ace and Deuce finally catch up, breathless and thoroughly amused by the sight before them.

“Nice one!” Ace cackles, doubling over with laughter. “I didn’t think you’d go for the full-on tackle!”

“Yeah, wow,” Deuce adds, clearly struggling to keep a straight face. “Really… really brave of you. Or maybe just… really dumb?”

Cater, meanwhile, is gleefully giggling during the entire thing. "I can’t believe you almost took out Riddle over a goose!” Riddle glares at them, cheeks still a furious shade of pink. “This is not funny. Someone could have been hurt!”

You finally manage to sit up, the goose still somehow perched atop your shoulder. You look up at Riddle, giving him a sheepish grin. “Uh, well… thanks for breaking my fall?”

Riddle huffs, brushing dirt off his sleeves as he stands. “Next time, please consider not risking your life over poultry.”

“Aw, don’t be mad, Riddle,” Cater teases, still giggling. “Our hero here just wanted to protect you from the fierce Goose of Doom!”

Riddle shoots him a glare that could melt ice.

Ace leans over, giving you an exaggerated thumbs-up. “Honestly, this is peak comedy. I can’t wait to see the look on Trey’s face when he hears about this.”

You groan, already feeling the embarrassment sink in. “Just… just help me up, please.”

Riddle offers you a hand, though he still looks like he’s debating whether to scold you or just cry. As he pulls you to your feet, the goose squawks indignantly, finally hopping off your shoulder to strut away, victorious.

“See?” Ace says, still grinning like a fool. “The goose is fine. No harm done.”

“No harm,” Riddle repeats, looking at you with a sigh. “Except perhaps to our dignity.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, your cheeks burning. “Yeah, well, dignity is overrated. At least we caught the goose… eventually.”

Riddle shakes his head, a small smile finally tugging at his lips. “Next time, let’s leave the heroics to someone a little more... suited for it, shall we?”

You nod, rubbing your sore elbow. “Deal. But if that goose comes at you again, I’m not making any promises.”

Riddle just shakes his head, turning away to pick up his book. And he takes your hand and ties a handkerchief around a scratch you didn’t even realize was bleeding. You can still hear the teasing laughs from Ace, Deuce, and Cater echoing in your ears, but you can’t help the grin that tugs at your own lips.

Yeah, you might’ve girlbossed a little too close to the sun today. But at least you made Riddle smile and he held your hand!(kinda) . And, well, the goose is still alive, so there’s that. Small victories.

"System: Quest: Become the Flower of the Ball. Reward: 50 Points"

The system's new quest pops up with a glorious ping—Become the Flower of the Ball. Easy enough, right? Except, of course, your sister has always held that title. The "Flower of the Ball" is not just the prettiest person at the event; it’s the one who commands the room, whose influence and elegance leave everyone talking for weeks. And you? Well, with Cater on your side, you’re about to change that.

First step: rumors. Cater helps you work your way through the gossip circuit like a seasoned pro. With just a few whispered suggestions here and there, you have half the ball convinced that you’ll be arriving in something that will make your sister’s dress look like an afterthought.

Next, your mother—who’s never liked your adopted sister, mainly because of your father's favouritism —does her part by pulling the strings and reserving the best tailor exclusively for you. Your sister? She’s stuck with second-rate options, fuming in the background. By the time you step into the ball, you look absolutely perfect. The dress is a masterpiece of fabric and sparkle, the kind that makes everyone’s heads turn the second you enter.

Cater sneaks by your side as you walk in. "Nailed it, babe," he whispers, giving you a wink. "They're already talking about how your dress makes you look like a literal god."

And indeed, the whispers from the crowd follow you like a wave. Mission accomplished.

Your sister, of course, tries to maintain her usual position of dominance. She’s chosen the 7th male lead as her escort—a decision that reeks of desperation since she couldn't snag a higher-ranked noble. You, meanwhile, had originally planned to attend with Ace and Deuce, they were your closest friends after all, just to keep things low-key. But before you can finalize that plan, Riddle appears, looking composed as ever, and offers you his arm.

"I thought it might be appropriate if you accompanied me," he says with a shy smile. "Since my fiancée has chosen to attend with someone else this evening."

You almost laugh. Of course, she has. She likely thought it would make her look more desirable, but now it's given you a perfect in. Going to the ball with Riddle is about as high-profile as it gets.

Your sister’s eyes widen the moment she sees you walk in with him. Her expression morphs into barely-contained outrage, but before she can say anything, another bomb drops.

Riddle’s mother—stern and poised as always—leans over to one of her confidantes and just loud enough for you and your sister to hear, says, "Well, perhaps this arrangement is for the best. It wouldn’t be surprising if we reconsider the sister for our families’ union."

Cue dramatic gasp.

Your sister’s face twists in horror, while the 7th male lead stands there, visibly confused as to why he’s even part of this drama. "What—what did she mean by that?!" your sister hisses, shooting daggers at you and Riddle.

You smile sweetly. "Oh, who knows? Perhaps she just appreciates my company more."

Before your sister can explode, the Imperial Princess herself enters the fray. Your sister, still seething, is barely holding it together when she steps forward to greet the Princess, but her curtsey is sloppy. The Princess raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "Hmm, interesting technique," she says coldly, her eyes flicking to you with approval as you execute your bow with flawless grace.

Your sister sputters, trying to recover, but it’s too late—the Princess’ interest is already elsewhere. The rest of the ball quickly follows suit, flocking to your side. Riddle, ever the gentleman, offers you a subtle smile as the room begins to orbit around you instead of your sister.

And then, like clockwork, your sister makes yet another blunder. This time, it’s with the cutlery at the dinner table. The 7th male lead awkwardly copies her, both of them managing to insult half the table in the process. You’d almost feel bad, but honestly, they’re making it too easy.

The system, naturally, is having the time of its life. "+25 points: Honestly, this is comedy gold. Extra points for the mess."

You flash a victorious smile, knowing that by the end of the night, you’ll be crowned as the new Flower of the Ball—your sister’s reign well and truly over.

Villain points: 825. 175 points to go.

Riddle wasn't quite sure when it happened. Maybe it had been a gradual realization, building slowly every time he saw you speak your mind with that sharp wit of yours, or maybe it was something that had struck him like a lightning bolt during a moment like this—watching you hold an entire room's attention, bright and confident in your own, distinct way.

You were just so... you. The way you spoke, that glint of mischief in your eyes whenever you were about to say something clever—it was entirely captivating. It was easy to see why people were drawn to you, why they wanted to bask in your energy.

Right now, you were standing near the center of the room, laughing animatedly as you shared some story with your friends. Your expression was full of life, each gesture adding color to your words, your smile lighting up the whole space. Riddle couldn’t help but find his gaze lingering on you, taking in every detail.

And then, out of nowhere, you turned your head, locking eyes with him across the room. For a split second, he felt his breath catch. He should look away, he told himself. But he couldn't. He was rooted in place as you spotted him.

Your face lit up even more—if that was even possible—and you raised your hand, giving him an enthusiastic wave, completely unabashed. There was something so genuine, so utterly you, in that wave. Your arm flailed just a little, and you were smiling so broadly, so openly, that you looked a little silly. But it didn’t matter.

Because, in that moment, Riddle felt something click into place. He might like you. He might like you quite a lot, actually.

Without even thinking, Riddle found himself waving back, a small smile creeping onto his face. He felt warm, a strange fluttering sensation settling in his chest. He probably looked ridiculous, waving with that soft, dazed look in his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

You gave him a thumbs-up, your grin widening, and Riddle had to stop himself from laughing. His heart was pounding in his chest now, a warmth creeping up his neck, and the realization hit him with startling clarity: you made him feel light. You made him feel... happy, in a way he hadn’t quite understood before.

He might have spent his whole life avoiding this kind of chaos, but when it came to you—when it came to your laughter, your brightness, your way of pulling him into your orbit—Riddle found he didn’t mind the chaos at all.

In fact, he was pretty sure he was completely smitten with it.

"Villain System: New Quest—Humiliate the heroine in front of the heir to the throne, the First Princess. Reward: 100 Villain Points"

You read the message and resist the urge to sigh. Your sister is a piece of work, sure, but the system really seems hellbent on making her your eternal punching bag. But hey, if the system insists… who are you to resist?

As luck would have it, the annual hunt is coming up—an event where the bachelors of the court go off into the woods to prove their worth, while the bachelorettes sit around and gossip like they're at an overpriced brunch. However, this year, the Imperial Princess, renowned master swordswoman and all-around terrifying person, has decided to spice things up by organizing a competition of swordsmanship for the ladies.

Before the hunt and the competition officially start, it's tradition for those not participating in the hunt to present charms to their loved ones—little tokens of affection and support to tie onto their swords before they charge off to slaughter things in the woods. It’s all very romantic, except, of course, when it’s you and your friends.

You've prepared four charms for Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce. Mostly because you know these four will be fighting like it's a matter of life or death (because, let's face it, it’s mostly about showing off at this point), and the least you can do is give them something to remind them not to do anything stupid and die.

You hand them out one by one, and each of them reacts in their own, very predictable way.

Cater takes his with a grin, twirling it between his fingers like it’s a prize from a carnival. "Aw, thanks, bestie! Now I have no choice but to win." He strikes a pose, charm held up as if he’s already envisioning the animal he's gonna get.

Deuce just flushes, taking the charm with both hands as if it's some sacred object. "I, uh, I’ll do my best!" he declares, looking both touched and slightly stressed by the responsibility you’ve just put on him.

Ace rolls his eyes, snatching his charm like you’ve just given him an extra chore. "Ugh, seriously? Now I gotta win for you?" He gives a dramatic sigh, but you can tell he’s secretly proud, especially with the way he ties it onto his sword with a flourish—making sure everyone nearby notices.

Trey, ever the gentleman, accepts his charm with a warm smile, nodding in thanks. "I appreciate it," he says, his tone so sincere you almost feel bad about how unserious the others are. "I'll try to bring back something worthy of this."

You wave them off with a grin. "Just try not to get yourselves killed, alright? I don’t need the guilt."

They nod, though Ace gives you a playful smirk. "No promises, but hey, if I survive, I'll owe you one."

You’re not entirely sure if that’s comforting, but at least they seem motivated... in their own, ridiculous way.

But then comes the surprise: Riddle. Normally, Riddle doesn’t accept charms from anyone. The whole court knows he rejects them all, your sister’s included, and it’s practically common knowledge that they’re engaged.

And yet, as you’re about to turn away, you feel someone tug gently on your sleeve.

You look back, and there’s Riddle, cheeks tinged pink, looking almost… shy? “I… noticed you hadn’t given me a charm,” he says, his voice quieter than usual.

Your heart skips a beat. Riddle? Asking you for a charm? You quickly pull out an extra special one you’d prepared just in case, trying not to look too smug as you hand it over. “Of course, I saved the best for last,” you tease.

He takes it with both hands, his blush deepening, and carefully ties it to his sword. "Thank you," he says, the sincerity in his voice making you feel just a little warm inside.

The time for the competition arrives after they leave and naturally, your sister finds this whole idea beneath her. Women should be "gentle and poised," she says, like she hasn’t spent the last three months practicing how to flutter her eyelashes in just the right way to ensnare the nearest man.

Then she makes a godawful comment. "I'm sure I'm better than everyone here anyways."

The Princess's eye twitches at your sister’s comment, and you can practically smell the impending doom. “Is that so?” she says, voice calm but sharp enough to cut glass. “Then perhaps you’d like to prove it.”

Your sister blinks, feigning innocence. “Oh, but Your Highness, you're a general, a dame, it would hardly be fair—”

“No, no,” you butt in, already feeling the villainous urge rising. You smile sweetly at the Princess, “I’ll do it.”

Your sister’s eyes widen, and you swear you see a flicker of fear. “You?”

“Yes, me.” You roll your wrist casually, like this is nothing. After all, you’ve been secretly training with your mother(a former knight) for weeks. And let’s be real—if you can endure her strict-as-hell lessons without fleeing for your life, your sister stands no chance.

The crowd of onlookers murmurs, excited at the prospect of some royal drama. The Princess smiles approvingly. “Very well. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

The competition begins, and your sister—oh, sweet, naive, overly-confident sister—struts up to the sparring ring like she’s about to breeze through this. She hasn’t even drawn her sword, too busy preening for the audience.

The Princess stands off to the side, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. “Whenever you’re ready,” she says dryly.

Your sister scoffs, finally drawing her sword with confidence that stems from absolutely nothing tangible.. “This won’t take long.”

It really doesn’t.

You sidestep her first swing with ease, and she fumbles, her balance thrown off. She’s clearly never sparred against anyone with any actual skill, and it shows. You suppress a laugh, offering her a mockingly sweet smile. “Having trouble?”

Her face flushes with anger, and she lunges again, this time with less grace and more brute force. You parry her strike effortlessly, spinning around her and tapping her shoulder lightly with your blade. “Point.”

The crowd gasps, and you can practically feel Riddle’s mother watching you with approval from her seat. Your sister glares at you, red-faced and flustered. “That was just luck,” she hisses.

“Sure,” you reply, twirling your sword for added flair. “Let’s see if your luck improves.”

Spoiler: it doesn’t.

By the end of the match, your sister is out of breath, red-faced, and thoroughly humiliated. You, on the other hand, haven’t even broken a sweat. The Princess claps her hands together, beaming. “Well done! I think that settles the matter.”

Your sister looks like she’s about to cry, and you can’t resist twisting the knife just a little. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before insulting women who actually know how to use a sword.”

The Princess snorts.

By the time the bachelors return from the hunt, everyone’s gathered around to see who brought back the biggest game. As expected, Ace and Deuce present their game to you: They’d both managed to snag huge wolves—both proud and slightly smug. Cater hands you his deer with a wink and a grin. Even Trey, with his calm composure, looks pleased as he hands over his bear.

And then, to everyone’s shock, Riddle approaches. He’s carrying what is clearly the biggest game of the day,a bear and a lion, and as he presents it to you, the whole crowd falls silent.

Your sister looks absolutely mortified. The other male leads, meanwhile, are either empty-handed or have brought back something pathetically small in comparison—a rabbit here, a pheasant there. But Riddle? Riddle has the prize catch, and he’s offering it to you, her sister who just humiliated her in front of the entire royal court.

The center of attention, you smile graciously as you accept the game, thanking him softly. The crowd erupts into whispers, all eyes on you and Riddle. Your sister looks like she wants to crawl into a hole and disappear, and you can’t help but feel just a little triumphant.

Meanwhile, the system chimes in:

"Villain System: Quest complete! 100 Villain Points awarded"

"Villain System: Bonus reward! 50 Villain Points awarded.

System: I wasn’t expecting you to charm all of the top hunters into giving you their game… but hey, overachieving is such a villainous trait. Well done."

You nearly roll your eyes at the system’s snarky tone. Of course it would reward you for accidentally out-villaining yourself. But hey, who’s going to complain about extra points?

Villain points: 975. 25 points to go, you're so close.

It was a peaceful afternoon in the garden, one of those rare moments where you and Riddle had a quiet space to just… exist. He was sitting across from you, his face slightly softened from its usual stern expression. The hedgehogs nearby were doing hedgehog things, oblivious to the world.

"I suppose it’s something I don’t talk about often," Riddle started, his voice softer than usual, like he was letting you into a part of himself he kept locked away. "My mother was strict—is strict. Everything had to be perfect. The rules, the grades, my behavior… there was no room for failure. Not even a sliver."

You nodded, already knowing this story from your countless hours reading the webnovel. But hearing it from him directly? It hit differently.

"I wasn't allowed to have friends or play outside. My entire childhood was about memorizing rules and doing things perfectly," he continued. His eyes stayed on the hedgehogs, but his expression grew distant, lost in the painful memories. "Every mistake I made was a punishment… every misstep was a disappointment."

You could feel the lump forming in your throat. Here it comes. The part that always got you while reading.

"But the worst part," Riddle whispered, his voice almost cracking, "was that I started to believe I wasn’t good enough… not for her, not for anyone."

That was it. The dam broke.

You tried to keep it together—you really did—but the sheer weight of Riddle’s story, the pain in his voice, it hit you like a sledgehammer to the chest. You started sniffling. And then… it escalated.

You’re not just crying; you’re ugly crying. We’re talking snot, hiccups, the whole I-will-not-survive-this package.

And then, in between gasps, you suddenly blurt out, "I swear... I SWEAR, I’ll get revenge for you! No one will survive my wrath!" You shake your fist to the sky like you’re about to start a one-person war against his emotionally distant mother.

Riddle looks at you, eyes wide with shock. He hadn’t expected this. No one had. Not even you.

"Are you… are you crying?" he asked, sounding both bewildered and concerned, because let’s face it, you were making sounds that weren’t even human anymore. Somewhere between a hiccup, a wail, and a seal being slapped.

"Y-YES!" you sobbed, wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt, which didn’t help because now you just had tear-streaked sleeves and a snotty nose. "IT'S SO SAD!"

Riddle blinked, completely caught off-guard. “It’s… it’s not that—”

By this point, you were full-on hysterical, tears streaming down your face as you flailed around in righteous fury. Riddle just sat there, completely overwhelmed. He had expected maybe a few words of sympathy, a comforting pat on the shoulder. What he hadn't expected was for you to declare full-scale emotional war on his behalf.

Riddle, for his part, was speechless. And also… redder than his hair.

He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat awkwardly. "I… appreciate the sentiment, but—"

"No, Riddle!" you cut him off, wiping your nose aggressively with your sleeve again. "You deserve someone who loves you without conditions! And I’m going to make sure the world knows it!" You stood up dramatically, only to trip over a rock, stumble, and fall back into your seat. "Ow."

Riddle, despite the chaos, couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at your sheer determination—and the fact that you were still crying while swearing vengeance. It was… endearing, in a very chaotic, unpredictable way.

You, however, were still in your feelings. "I can’t believe your mom! I’m—sniffle—gonna burn her rulebook. Watch me."

Riddle, who had started the conversation with the intention of sharing something personal, now found himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions he didn’t know how to handle. But… somehow, through your teary declarations of revenge and your intense empathy, he couldn’t help but feel something stir inside him.

He looked at you—your face blotchy, your eyes puffy, your determination unwavering despite the fact that you were an absolute mess—and he realized that you weren’t crying just because you felt bad. You were crying because you cared. Like, really cared.

His heart skipped a beat. Maybe… maybe you were the kind of person who could see past all his rules and expectations and just—feel for him. No judgment. Just empathy.

"I… I didn’t realize it would make you so upset," he said quietly, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "But thank you. Really."

Through your sniffling, you managed to nod and offer a watery smile. "It’s not fair. You deserve better, Riddle. I mean it."

And with that, Riddle found himself falling just a little harder for you—ugly crying and all.

It’s a regular afternoon tea party, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and your sister is… making out with the eighth male lead in broad daylight behind a rose bush.

Ah. Classy.

You had only wandered over to sneak a mini éclair when you caught them. What’s worse is they weren’t even being subtle—like, they might as well have put up a sign that says, “We’re Ruining Our Reputations Here.”

Shocked beyond measure, you accidentally let out the loudest and most undignified gasp. It’s so loud that the entire tea party freezes mid-sip. Cups stop midair, all eyes turn to you like you’ve just declared war on the empire.

“Did someone choke on a scone?” Trey asks, concerned, already standing to assess the pastry crisis.

You try to subtly redirect everyone’s attention back to their tea, but it’s too late. The damage is done. The Imperial Princess, the Empress, the First Prince, the Emperor, Riddle, your parents, Trey, Cater, Ace, Deuce, and Riddle’s mom—all eyes are now locked on you and the unfortunate scene happening behind you.

Your sister and the eighth male lead pop their heads out of the bushes like deer caught in headlights, looking horrified. The heroine, of course, immediately bursts into tears. “I can’t believe you! How could you ruin my private moment!” she wails, mascara already running.

You blink. "Private? You were basically holding auditions for 'Romeo and Juliet' in front of the entire garden."

"Enough!" The Empress's voice cuts through the chaos like a sword. She glares at your sister, then glances at you for an explanation. You're about to open your mouth when—

"An outrage!" The Imperial Princess thunders, stepping forward with the grace of a tiger ready to pounce. "Is this what passes for decorum these days?"

Before you can even begin to process the incoming storm, your sister points her trembling finger at you. “It’s her fault! She—She’s been plotting against me this whole time! She wanted to embarrass me!”

You raise an eyebrow, utterly deadpan. “By forcing you to lock lips with the eighth male lead in broad daylight? Wow, my plans are so intricate even I don’t understand them anymore.”

Ace is snickering so loudly into his teacup that he’s shaking, and Deuce is doing his best to hold back tears of laughter. Cater’s trying to stay neutral, but even he’s got a lopsided grin.

Riddle, on the other hand, looks like he’s trying to create a new spell that will instantly smite him while his mother… well, his mother seems like she’s gonna cut someone.

Riddle’s mom, the always composed Lady Rosehearts, steps forward, glancing at your sister with such a cold expression that you could swear the temperature drops five degrees. “This engagement," she begins icily, "will not proceed. If there is to be any union between our families, it will be with someone more appropriate." She then turns her gaze to you. “Someone like you.”

Cue a choking noise from Riddle, who looks ready to faint on the spot. His cheeks turn red as he stares wide-eyed at his mother, clearly having not expected this. Trey’s eyes widen too, but he quickly coughs into his fist to hide a smirk. Ace elbows Deuce with barely concealed glee.

“U-Um, Mother?” Riddle manages to stutter out. “What… what do you mean?”

His mother gives him a rather smug look, clearly having already made up her mind. “I mean that if this union is to benefit both families, it would be much more suitable for you to marry someone with intelligence, grace, and… a bit of common sense. Someone who hasn’t made a public fool of themselves.” Her eyes drift back to your sister, who is now dramatically sobbing into her hands.

Your father looks like he’s just been hit by a runaway carriage, staring in horror at the scene unfolding before him. “Lady Rosehearts—surely this is a misunderstanding—”

Riddle’s mom raises a hand. “If there is to be any marriage, it will be between my son and your younger daughter. Or,” she adds sharply, “there will be no marriage at all.”

You stand there, blinking at the whirlwind you just caused by gasping too loudly at your sister’s terrible decision-making skills. You glance at your mom, who has her face buried in her hands. But when she peeks through her fingers, you see the slight glint of satisfaction in her eyes. She’s pretending to be scandalized, but deep down… she’s absolutely living for this. You know she's elated that you got your guy.

The Emperor himself clears his throat, trying to restore order to the royal circus. “Well, this is… unprecedented,” he says, diplomatically, though there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, like he’s holding back laughter.

Your sister, meanwhile, continues her sobbing performance, practically flinging herself into your father’s arms. “Papa, how can they treat me like this?! You always told me I’m the heroine!”

You try to hide your grin. “Heroine of a tragedy, maybe.”

“Enough!” Your father groans, looking utterly defeated. “You’ve done enough damage, girl.”

Riddle reluctantly speaks up. “I… I suppose Mother has made her decision.” His voice wavers a bit, and for a moment, he seems like he might collapse under the weight of all this sudden attention. But then, his eyes meet yours. And despite the chaos, despite his mortification, there’s a small, shy smile on his face.

“You,” he begins hesitantly, “you wouldn’t… mind this arrangement, would you?”

You laugh softly, glancing at the ridiculous mess that was this tea party. “Honestly? I'm quite fond of you so, why not?”

Ace lets out a snort of laughter, while Cater gives you a double thumbs-up from across the table. Trey just smiles warmly, giving you an approving nod. Even Lady Rosehearts looks somewhat satisfied.

The system, not one to miss an opportunity, dings in your head again.

"Villain System: New achievement unlocked! Engagement broken! Also… bonus points for making a royal spectacle of it. 100 Villain Points awarded."

With this, you're free from the system. Maybe it's time to retire your villain act.

You nearly burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all. But for now, you simply give Riddle a small, reassuring smile.

“Well,” you say, “guess we’ve got some wedding planning to do.”

It was a grand banquet, the kind where you could practically smell the prestige in the air. The Imperial Family was seated at the head of the table, all regal in their elegance. You were just trying not to trip over your own shoes and embarrass yourself in front of the Empress again.

Riddle, of course, was the epitome of decorum. Every movement was precise, every word carefully measured. Until—just as he went to refill the First Prince’s wine glass—his hand slipped ever so slightly. The tiniest splash of wine splattered onto the pristine tablecloth. It was so small you would’ve missed it if you weren’t watching him so intently.

But Riddle noticed. Oh, did he notice.

His face immediately paled like he’d just seen a ghost wearing polka dots, and his eyes darted across the table to where his mother sat. Lady Rosehearts was blissfully unaware, engaged in conversation with the Emperor, but Riddle looked like he was about to meet his maker.

You could almost hear his internal screams.

To anyone else, it was a non-event. But to Riddle, this was a catastrophe of the highest order. You could practically feel him sweating next to you, despite his rigid posture.

Time to act.

“Oh no!” You gasp dramatically, standing up and pointing directly at yourself. “I can’t believe I just did that!”

Everyone at the table stopped and stared, clearly wondering what on earth you were talking about. Even the Empress raised an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and mild amusement flickering on her face.

Riddle blinked, looking at you like you had just spontaneously grown a second head. “What…?”

You plopped down a napkin over the tiny splash of wine, covering the evidence. “I—I accidentally knocked the bottle when Riddle was pouring!” you announce loudly, offering a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry, Your Highnesses. How embarrassing.”

The Empress smiled indulgently. “It’s quite all right, dear. Such things happen.”

Lady Rosehearts glanced over at the napkin-covered spot and frowned slightly, but then she looked back to you and said, “No harm done.”

Meanwhile, Riddle’s face was a mix of confusion, shock, and—was that gratitude? He blinked again, still processing what just happened. His mother hadn’t even glanced at him in disapproval, and now you were taking the fall for a spill no one really noticed.

As the conversation around the table resumed, Riddle leaned in close, whispering under his breath, “Why would you do that?”

You grinned and shrugged. “Because I’ve got a heart of gold, obviously. And I quite like you, you know”

Before Riddle could respond, Ace, who had been watching the whole debacle with barely restrained glee, leaned over from his spot across the table. “You’re down so horrendously,” he said, just loud enough for you and Riddle to hear.

You shot him a look. “You’re just mad you don’t have someone as gracious as me taking the fall for you”

Ace wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe, but at least I don’t go taking the fall for my fiancé before we’re even married.”

Riddle flushed a bright red. “I—I—this isn’t—”

You laugh, leaning back in your chair. “You know, Ace, sometimes you just have to be a hero.”

“Sure, ‘hero,’” Cater chimed in, leaning in on the action with a smirk. “Or, you know, simp of the year.”

Riddle, still flustered, shoots both of them a glare, but you can tell he’s secretly relieved. The impending doom of his mother’s wrath was averted, all thanks to your impromptu performance.

With a small sigh, he finally mutters, “Thank you,” so softly you almost miss it.

You give him a wink and lean back in your chair, feeling pretty pleased with yourself. “Anytime, partner.”

Ace nudges Deuce. “You think we should get them ‘World’s Greatest Simp’ matching mugs for the wedding?”

Deuce shrugs. “I think it’d be cute.”

Riddle buries his face in his hands. "Please, spare me."

But the corners of his mouth are lifting, just slightly.

It happened when you decided to climb the academy's tallest tree. It was a brilliant idea in your mind—after all, you’d just spotted an adorable sparrow nest precariously hanging from one of the highest branches. Rescue mission mode engaged.

The execution? Less brilliant.

You were halfway up, dangling from a particularly wobbly branch, when you heard a very familiar voice calling your name from below.

“WHAT are you doing?” Riddle’s voice was half exasperated, half astonished.

You looked down (mistake) and saw Riddle, arms crossed, staring at you with a mix of bewilderment and that very specific “You’re in trouble” look he usually reserved for rule-breaking.

“I—uh,” you stammered, “I’m saving the sparrows?”

There was a long pause. Riddle blinked. “You climbed that tree for sparrows?”

“Look, I know it’s a bit—”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Riddle interrupted, running a hand down his face. “Do you even have a plan for getting down?”

“...I’ll figure that out later?”

Riddle pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Of course you will.”

By some miracle (or the sheer force of your chaotic will), you managed to secure the sparrow nest and shimmy your way down without falling to your doom. As soon as your feet hit the ground, you triumphantly held the nest up, smiling wide.

“See? Mission accomplished!”

Riddle just stared at you, mouth slightly open, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, out of nowhere, he laughed—a soft, bewildered laugh that grew louder the more he looked at you, dirt-covered and grinning like an idiot.

“You…” he started, shaking his head with a small, fond smile, “You’re such an idiot.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. “I—hey!”

“No, really,” he continued, stepping closer, eyes full of amusement. “You’re reckless and absurd and you do things like climbing trees to save sparrows and covering for me in front of the imperial family without thinking it through.”

You frowned, feeling a bit defensive. “Well, someone has to—”

“And yet…” His voice softened, and suddenly he was close, much closer than you expected. His gaze locked onto yours, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “And yet… I don’t think I could imagine my life without you.”

Your brain took a second to catch up. “Wait, what?”

Riddle took a breath, as if bracing himself, and then met your eyes with the most serious expression you’d ever seen on him. “I’m saying that I—” he hesitated, his cheeks turning pink, but his voice was steady, “I’m in love with you.”

You stood there, stunned, staring at him in complete disbelief. Riddle Rosehearts just confessed his love to you.

“…Even after all the dumb stuff?” you asked, still processing.

Riddle laughed again, that soft, endearing laugh that made your heart flip. “Especially after all the dumb stuff.”

There was a beat of silence where you just stared at each other, and for once, your usually silly brain kicked into overdrive. You stepped closer, leaning in with a sudden smoothness you didn’t even know you were capable of.

“Well,” you said, your voice dropping to a low murmur as you tilted your head toward him, “lucky for you… I’m your idiot.”

And before Riddle could even respond, you kissed him.

It was soft, and sweet, and everything perfect. For a moment, Riddle was so surprised he froze, but then he melted into it, his hand gently cupping your face like he’d been waiting forever to do this.

When you pulled back, Riddle was completely flustered, his face red as a tomato, but there was a dazed smile on his lips. “That… That was unfair.”

You grinned, leaning your forehead against his. “You love it.”

Riddle shook his head, still smiling. “I really do.”

And from that moment on, it was clear: you may be the academy’s resident chaos agent, but you were his chaos agent, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You finally got a private moment to yourself. It was time to say goodbye to the villain system that you may or may not have gotten fond of.

The notification flashed across your vision, blindingly bright:

[Congratulations! You’ve accumulated enough points to finally say goodbye to the system.]

You blinked. "Wait… really? I can finally get rid of you?"

[Yes. It’s been a wild ride, hasn’t it?]

Wild ride was an understatement. The system had dragged you through schemes, quests, and enough drama to fill a ten-season TV show, all for the purpose of toppling your sister's reign of terror. And now, at long last, you were free.

"...So that's it?" you asked. "No final boss fight? No sudden plot twist where you take over my body and reveal you’re the real villain?"

There was a pause before the next notification popped up.

[Actually... about that plot twist...]

You groaned. "I knew it. What is it this time? Are you an evil AI? A demon? Oh God, please tell me you’re not my fairy godmother in disguise."

[I’m… actually the original villainess.]

You stared at the screen for a solid five seconds. "...What."

[Yeah. You, uh, you kinda possessed me.]

You blinked rapidly, your brain short-circuiting. "WHAT?!"

[I was the original villainess of this world. The real one. You didn’t just get isekai’d into some random character. You got me, because I wanted you]

"Oh my God," you muttered. "You’ve been here the whole time?"

[Yup. Watching you fumble around like an idiot. No offense.]

"None taken, but wow—uh, okay," you said, rubbing your forehead. "So I’ve just been… helping you take revenge on your sister this whole time?"

[Well, duh.] The system sounded almost smug. [She tormented me horrifically when I was still alive. That’s why I pushed you to make her life miserable. I wanted justice.]

"Justice," you repeated, thinking back to all the chaos, sabotage, and general insanity. "That was justice?"

[Look, we both know she deserved it.]

You couldn’t exactly argue with that. "I mean, fair. So what now? You just leave?"

There was a long pause before the system replied.

[Well... you actually have more points than you need. You can buy my identity if you want. Get the full story. You know, if you're curious.]

You hesitated for a second, but then shrugged. "Eh, why not. Hit me with it."

The system pinged, and suddenly, memories flooded your mind—her memories. You saw everything: her upbringing, her struggles, how she had tried so hard to be perfect for her family, only for her sister to constantly outshine her. You saw the cruel way her sister belittled her, humiliated her in front of the court, all while smiling sweetly to the outside world.

And then… the tragic ending, where the villainess was cast aside, labeled a monster, and killed.

By the end of it, you felt like you’d been punched in the gut.

"Oh, wow," you whispered. "She really was awful to you."

[Told you.]

"Man… I’m so sorry," you said, your voice softening. "You went through all that, and then you ended up stuck with me."

[Honestly? It was kinda fun watching you screw up everything at first.] The system’s tone was teasing now, but there was an undeniable warmth underneath it. [But you did a good job. Better than I ever did. You were a little unhinged, but hey, that’s probably why I liked you.]

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Thanks, I guess? I tried my best."

[You did more than that.] There was a strange fondness in the system’s voice. [You turned this whole world upside down. You made people laugh, cry, and probably question their sanity. Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better revenge.]

For a moment, you felt a lump form in your throat. "So… what now? Do you just disappear?"

[Yeah. It’s time for me to move on. But… hey, I’m rooting for you. Go live your best life. Be happy. And if you ever need to knock your sister down a peg, do it in style. For me.]

You smiled, blinking away the sudden wetness in your eyes. "You bet I will. And hey—wherever you go, I hope you get to relax for once. You deserve it."

[Pfft, I doubt it, but thanks.]

There was a brief pause, then another notification popped up.

[Goodbye, little reader. It’s been real. And remember—always aim for the drama. It makes life more interesting.]

With that, the screen dimmed, and the system was gone.

You stared at the empty space where the notifications used to be. "Aim for the drama, huh?" you muttered, a grin tugging at your lips. "Well, I guess that’s one thing I’m good at."

As you turned around, ready to move forward without the system hovering over

you, you felt something. A strange, gentle sensation, like the faintest brush of a breeze, except it wasn’t just that. It was warmer, more personal, and… oddly comforting.

It took a second, but then it hit you. "Wait—"

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. Was this—?

It was as if the original villainess was giving you a ghostly hug. Soft, delicate, but so real you could almost feel her presence.

Tears welled up in your eyes, completely out of nowhere. You weren’t supposed to feel emotional! Not over a system—no, not just a system—a person who had suffered more than you ever realized.

"I… I’m sorry I couldn’t fix everything for you," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I tried, I really did, but…"

You felt that warmth grow a little stronger, like she was reassuring you, telling you that you had done enough. More than enough. Maybe, in a way, you’d freed her. Given her peace.

The weight of that ghostly embrace made your heart swell, and before you could stop yourself, you started crying. Again. But not the ugly, chaotic crying from before—this was softer, deeper. The kind of crying that cleansed your soul.

"I’ll do it," you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. "I’ll finish what I started. I’ll take her down. Not just for me—but for you."

The presence seemed to linger for a moment longer, and then it was gone, leaving behind a quiet strength in its place.

You wiped your eyes, steeling yourself. The resolution hardened in your chest like iron. Everything you had been planning, all the revenge, the chaos you had been orchestrating, it wasn’t just some game anymore. It was personal.

For her.

With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and looked out toward the path ahead, a fire burning brighter than ever inside you.

"I’ll finish this," you muttered, fists clenching. "And it’s going to be beautiful."

And with that, you walked forward, no longer just a reader in someone else’s story.

This time, you were the one in control.

The day of your wedding to Riddle was perfect. Every detail was as if the universe had conspired to make sure nothing went wrong. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers, and laughter echoed throughout the grand venue. Your friends were all there, supporting you—Ace and Deuce bickering over who looked better in their suits, Cater contantly checking if everything was aesthetically pleasing, and Trey managing everything behind the scenes with his usual calm, though you caught him grinning at you more than once, proud as ever. Even Che'nya had shown up, popping in and out of sight as he pleased, throwing teasing remarks at anyone who passed by.

Your sister, however, was absolutely seething. She stood stiffly, dressed impeccably, but with a scowl that could burn down the entire venue. You knew she was fuming because she had always imagined herself in your place, standing beside Riddle. Too bad for her—you had the upper hand now.

You glanced at her briefly as you passed by, a wicked smile tugging at your lips. “Didn’t think you’d have the guts to show your face here. I almost admire it,” you whispered sweetly as you walked past her, arm in arm with Riddle.

She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could get a word out, you tossed one last barb. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to toss my bouquet to you. Maybe you'll get married next? You know, if they can find someone that can stand you?”

Riddle squeezed your hand as if to remind you to behave, but even he had a hint of a smirk on his face. Your friends snickered behind you, and Che'nya, perched casually on a railing, added a quiet, “Oof, that’s gotta sting.”

The ceremony itself was beautiful. Riddle stood there looking like he’d stepped out of a fairytale, his usually stern face softened by the moment. As you exchanged vows, there was a lightness to the air that made everything feel surreal. You could see how much he cared in the way his hands trembled ever so slightly when he held yours.

Ace, unable to help himself, whispered loudly, “You sure Riddle isn’t going to pass out from the nerves?”

Deuce elbowed him, but you could barely hold back a laugh. Even Riddle blushed a bit, shooting a glare at Ace but unable to hide his own amusement.

When it was time for the reception, the fun really kicked off. Che'nya gave a surprisingly emotional speech—well, for him at least, as he vanished mid-sentence and then reappeared to finish his speech. Trey quietly made sure everything ran smoothly, even sneaking a slice of cake for you before the official cake-cutting, while Ace and Deuce took over the dance floor with some wild moves that had everyone laughing. Cater even got caught spiking the drinks and you couldn't help but laugh.

After the wedding, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light over the celebration. Everything had gone smoothly, almost too smoothly. Even Riddle’s mother, who was notoriously hard to please, had remained poised and polite throughout. But you knew there was still unfinished business, and the weight of it settled heavily on your chest.

You’d seen the way she treated Riddle for years—through the pages of the webnovel and now, up close. Sure, she liked you, had even hinted at being pleased with your match to Riddle, but that didn’t erase the years of pressure and manipulation she had placed on him. The burden he had carried because of her was too great to ignore, and today, of all days, you were not going to let it slide.

You spotted her near the garden fountain, quietly observing the festivities. For a moment, she looked almost serene, her icy exterior softened by the beautiful day. But that didn’t change how you felt.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over. "Lady Rosehearts," you began, your voice steady but laced with unspoken tension.

She turned to you, a smile on her lips. "Ah, my dear. You were magnificent today. Truly the picture of grace and elegance. I couldn't have asked for a better match for my son."

Her words were warm, genuine even, but they only fueled the fire burning in your chest. You didn’t respond right away, just stared at her, waiting for the right moment to unleash what you’d been holding in.

Finally, you spoke, your voice low. "I appreciate your kind words, but there’s something I can’t let go of." You stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "For years, you’ve pushed Riddle to be perfect. You suffocated him with your expectations, and it hurt him. I can’t stand by and let you pretend that didn’t happen."

Lady Rosehearts blinked, caught off guard. She opened her mouth to respond, but you held up a hand.

"You like me, and I’m grateful for that, but I love Riddle." Your voice wavered, not with fear, but with emotion. "And because I love him, I can’t ignore the damage you’ve caused. The pressure you put on him to be someone he wasn’t. The way you never let him breathe. You may have done it out of love, but it hurt him."

She stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in. There was no immediate defense, no cold dismissal. She simply looked… surprised.

"I…" she began, but faltered. "I thought I was doing what was best for him. I wanted him to succeed, to be respected."

"But at what cost?" you snapped, unable to hold back the edge in your voice. "You wanted him to be respected so much that you never let him make his own choices. He deserves to be happy. And he deserves your respect, not just as your son, but as a person."

The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. You could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the realization that perhaps, just perhaps, she hadn’t done as well by Riddle as she thought.

Before she could respond, Riddle appeared beside you, having noticed the tension from across the garden. He stood tall, his usual calm demeanor in place, but you could sense the vulnerability beneath it.

"Mother," he said quietly, his voice steady but with a new strength behind it. "She’s right."

His mother turned to him, the surprise evident on her face. "Riddle…"

"I know you wanted the best for me. I know you love me. But I needed more than just discipline and expectations. I needed to know that it was okay to be myself. To fail, even." He paused, and his eyes softened. "I love you, Mother. But you have to let me live my life. I’m not a perfect image for you to sculpt."

The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken words. You held your breath, waiting for her reaction, unsure of what to expect. You had always imagined her to be unmovable, too set in her ways to ever change.

But then, her expression softened. She took a step toward Riddle, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "I… didn’t realize. I thought I was protecting you. But I see now that I may have been too harsh, too controlling." She paused, her gaze shifting between you and Riddle. "You’re right. Both of you. And I am truly sorry."

You blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. This was not the cold, unyielding woman you had expected. There was genuine remorse in her eyes.

She turned to you, her tone softer. "Thank you. For helping him find his way. And for standing by his side."

For a moment, the three of you stood there, the weight of years of tension slowly lifting. It wasn’t a perfect resolution—years of damage couldn’t be erased with one conversation—but it was a start.You sighed, the anger that had been simmering inside you finally ebbing away. "I only did what anyone who loves him would do," you said, glancing at Riddle with a soft smile.

Riddle’s mother nodded, and though her usual composure was still in place, there was a warmth in her expression that you hadn’t seen before. "Then I’m glad he found someone like you." But you saw her expression crack a little and so did Riddle.

Then, Riddle, ever the perfect son, stepped forward. "Mother, it’s alright." His voice was soft, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t often seen. He reached out and offered her something you never expected—a hug.

For a moment, she hesitated. Then, slowly, she stepped into his embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around him. It was quiet, emotional, and—before you knew it—you were also pulled into it.

The warmth of the group hug surrounded you, Riddle’s mother surprisingly holding you a little tighter than you expected, as if silently acknowledging the forgiveness Riddle was able to give because of your presence by his side.

She then pulled away, wiped her tears and wiped the tears that you didn't realize were falling from your eyes either. "Congratulations, again, I'm proud of you both" was all she said as she turned to leave.

As she stepped away, leaving you and Riddle alone in the garden, you let out a long breath, feeling a sense of closure you hadn’t expected.

Riddle turned to you, his expression soft and full of gratitude. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For standing up for me. For everything."

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "You don’t need to thank me. We’re in this together, remember?"

He squeezed your hand gently, his usual stoic expression melting away into something softer, more vulnerable. "I know. And I wouldn’t have it any other way."

From across the garden, you saw Trey and Che'nya watching, Trey giving a subtle nod of approval, while Che'nya grinned, undoubtedly waiting to pounce with some teasing remark later.

But for now, you just stood there with Riddle, the weight of the day finally settling in. You’d won—both the battle for his heart and the battle for his freedom. And in that moment, everything felt right.

The courtroom was packed, filled with nobles from all across the empire. This was the moment you’d been waiting for, orchestrated with the help of your closest friends: Trey’s calm, methodical planning, Cater’s relentless information gathering, Ace and Deuce’s enthusiasm (and occasional chaos), and, of course, Riddle, who stood by your side, his presence a steady reassurance.

Your sister stood at the center of attention, oblivious to the storm about to hit. For years, she had manipulated and destroyed anyone who dared stand in her way. She thought she was untouchable, the darling of the nobility, admired and respected. But you knew the truth, and so did everyone in this room, thanks to the carefully gathered evidence that was about to expose her for the monster she was.

Cater had planted seeds of the truth you found out that grew into full-fledged whispers about your sister’s darker deeds. Even now, the tension in the room was palpable as people murmured, casting glances her way.

You stepped forward, the letter you held clutched tightly in your hand. Riddle gave you a small nod of encouragement, his eyes steely as he took his place beside you.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you began, your voice clear and sharp, cutting through the room's murmurs. "I come to you today not with accusations, but with the truth. The truth of the heinous crimes committed by my sister."

There was a gasp from the crowd, the air thick with shock and intrigue. Your sister's face remained calm, but you saw the flicker of worry in her eyes.

"She has embezzled from the kingdom’s treasury, siphoning off funds meant for the empire's welfare," you declared, holding up the documents that Trey had meticulously helped you gather. "She has blackmailed noble families into silence, using threats and false accusations to maintain her hold over them. And worst of all—"

You paused, letting the tension build as you cast your gaze over the room, making sure every pair of eyes was locked on you. Then, with quiet, deliberate force, you spoke.

"She has been responsible for the poisoning of the emperor’s own cousin, Lady Astoria. A death that was pinned on an innocent maid."

The room exploded into chaos, gasps, and shouts of disbelief filling the air. Your sister’s face drained of color, her facade finally cracking as people turned toward her, expressions of shock and outrage growing with every second.

"These documents prove every crime," you continued, your voice strong and unwavering as Cater passed around copies of the evidence to the nobles. "She thought she could keep her secrets buried. But not anymore."

"These are lies!" your sister shrieked, her voice desperate as she clutched at the air, trying to regain control. "This is a setup! You’ve all been deceived!"

But it was too late. The emperor himself stood up, his eyes narrowing in fury as he glanced over the evidence. The knight commander beside him was already moving, her sword drawn as the guards approached your sister.

"For your crimes against the empire, you are sentenced to death," the emperor declared, his voice cold and final.

Your sister screamed, fighting as the guards seized her, but there was no escape now. The nobles who once fawned over her turned away in disgust, her power crumbling in mere moments.

Riddle’s hand found yours, his grip tight but comforting as you watched her dragged away. It should’ve felt sweet, but instead, you felt a strange heaviness settle in your chest. This was the end, wasn’t it?

As the execution was carried out in the courtyard, the crowd watching with bated breath, you stood off to the side, Riddle at your side, and your friends close by. Ace whispered some snide comment about how dramatic everything was, and Deuce elbowed him to shut up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

When it was over, the finality of it hit you like a truck. You had done it—exposed her to the world, avenged not just yourself, but the original villainess too. You expected to feel victorious, but instead, a deep sadness settled in your chest. She should've been the one to see this.

And then, just as you were about to turn away, you saw her.

A faint, ethereal figure stood near the edge of the courtyard. The original villainess. Her eyes were softer than you imagined, her expression free of the bitterness that had fueled her desire for revenge. She looked… peaceful.

Tears welled in your eyes, and before you knew it, you were crying, really crying. Ugly, messy sobs that you couldn’t control. All the rage, all the sorrow, everything you had carried from her spilled out in that moment.

"I did it," you whispered, barely audible, but you knew she heard you. "I did it for you."

The specter of the original villainess smiled, a soft, almost sisterly expression on her face. And then, in a moment that almost felt too surreal, you felt her—felt her give you a final ghostly embrace. It was as if the weight of her vengeance had lifted, her spirit no longer bound by the chains of hatred. She was free now, and so were you.

With a final nod, the specter faded into the night, leaving you standing there, tears streaming down your face. You wiped them away as best as you could, sniffling and trying to compose yourself, but the lump in your throat remained.

The warmth of the original villainess's hug lingered long after she faded, her presence now a bittersweet memory. You stood in the quiet, feeling an overwhelming sense of both loss and completion. For the first time, it felt like the weight of both your lives had lifted.

Then, a soft flutter of wings caught your attention. A small dove descended gently, perching on your shoulder. It was so light, so delicate, and for a moment, it just sat there, as if offering comfort. You held your breath, watching it. The dove turned its head toward you, as though it knew. As though she knew.

You blinked, tears pooling in your eyes again as the dove gave a soft coo and flew away, soaring into the sky. Something inside you broke at the sight—something that had been held together for too long. The tears came harder now, not out of sorrow, but of release.

"She's free…" you whispered, your voice trembling. "She's finally free."

Your chest heaved with emotion, sobs you couldn’t control spilling out as you watched the dove disappear into the distance. All this time, everything you had done, every struggle, every sacrifice, was for her. And now, it was over.

Riddle turned toward you, concern flickering in his eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded, blinking away the last of your tears. "Yeah… yeah, I am. It’s just—" You paused, looking up at the sky. "My sister’s gone now. And I think… I'm at peace."

Riddle stood beside you, his own heart heavy with the weight of your emotions. Without a word, he reached out, gently pulling you into his arms. His embrace was soft but firm, grounding you when you felt like you might fall apart.

Riddle’s grip on your hand tightened, and when you looked at him, there was something unspoken in his gaze—understanding, maybe. "You did what was right," he said softly. "And now it’s over."

You took a deep breath and nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "Yeah. Now it’s over."

With Riddle by your side, and your friends waiting for you just beyond the courtyard, you knew that the hardest part was behind you. You had avenged the original villainess, exposed your sister for what she truly was, and now, finally, you could walk away from all of it.

Riddle leaned closer, his voice gentle but filled with quiet strength. "Come on. Let’s go."

Together, hand in hand, you turned away from the past and walked toward the future—your future—with the love of your life, your husband, Riddle, by your side.

Boy, was this a ride to write, but i genuinely haven't had this much fun writing before, and it got longer as i went.

For the next Trashy Novel Chronicles, which twst char would you like to see? I have a few plots planned for these, I'll eventually write them both but which one do y'all wanna see first?

Series Masterlist ; My Masterlists

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #chaotic mc #ace trappola #deuce spade #trey clover #au: nobility #arranged marriages #trash novel chronicles

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hypnagogics · 6 months ago

Note

Bro I literally eat up ur writing every time😭can u do ellie using a vibe on u?

before you read.

☆: KILLING 3 BIRDS W ONE STONE HEHE. i feel these all go well, so why not. sorry for the insane wait, and the wildly lazy writing...me putting this off forever only to bang out a crappy blurb in like 2 mins...also can't stick to a single aesthetic WHATEVA.

◇: vibrator use, fingering, porn w/out plot (sawry), dom-ish ellie (but she's still kinda silly), overstimulation, squirting, aftercare at the end (all r! recieving).

"you can take it, doin' so good." she murmurs under her breath, her face contorted in concentration.

you squeal when ellie presses the vibrator hard against your poor, overworked clit, the sensations almost too much to bear. but no matter how overwhelming it may be, it's still so mind numbingly good. the device has been set on a mode midway for the past...however long, and you've completely lost count of how many times she's made you cum thus far. for all you knew, it could have been well into the double digits, and she didn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

ellie’s eyes were dark, low with blown out pupils. they remain trained on you, flickering between observing your facial expressions, your squirming body, covered in a shiny layer of sweat, and what's going on under her hands. "...ellie, hold on...wait." you gasp out, struggling to catch your breath.

she detaches the device from you, her tattooed hand traveling up your body, settling on the side of your face to cup your cheek, and wipe away a stray tear that had escaped from your eye. "need a break, babe?" she says, her gaze softening. that honey voice she puts on, featuring a light domineering timbre, it immediately makes you wet all over again and you whimper quietly, bucking your hips up in pursuit of more stimulation. she notices—of course she does, observant as a fox—and her lips stretch into a sneer, "yeah that's what i thought, still need more." she chuckles, before thrusting the tip of the toy back onto your swollen clit, biting her lip when she watches you arch backward, mantras of her name and pleas falling from your lips.

her free hand, which was previously resting on your knee, flies down the inside of your parted thighs, grazing the heated skin, and she teases your hole with two digits, eagerly observing the reactions. she quickly stuffs her middle two fingers inside with ease, slick and pearly cum leaking down her slender knuckles. curling upwards to massage your g-spot, the pleasure is causing explosions of colors to appear in your vision, your eyes are filling with tears once again.

"just gimme one more, okay?" ellie orders gently, clicking buttons to increase the intensity of the vibrator even more, and you nearly shriek. out of instinct your legs fight to close around her hands, but she's quick to push your knee to the side again, tutting. "nuh-uh, don't do that. just one more. say the safeword if you really want me to stop, alright?" you open one eye and nod meekly at her, and she resumes. within no time at all you feel the brink of orgasm swell in your lower abdomen once more, your legs trembling at every purr of the toy. and she can tell as well by the way you're whining and panting, all with a fucked out, lazy smile playing on your face.

silent moans trapped in your throat, you feel the blinding ecstasy overtake your body, blacking out your senses for a moment. she has lessened the setting to work you through it effectively, all while muttering sweet praises throughout.

"god, look at that." she whispers in awe once it's over, discarding the device on the floor and rubbing her hands across your legs to ease the tension in your thighs, making sure you're okay. she hovers over you to press a tender kiss to your forehead, then over your entire face, grinning when she hears you laugh.

her goofy tone returns, "fuckin' squirted all over me, baby. we'll clean up just gimme a sec." she cuddles up to you, nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck, sighing and softly stroking the top of your head. "next time we'll do a couple more, make a new personal best, whaddaya think?"

tags (idk why some didn’t work): @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @flowrmoth @liddysflyer @fortune777 @claude999 @brunaedn @lanabaezzzz

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vnti-vnxiety-recs · 15 days ago

Text

Blood Moon (M)

★ PAIRING: Werewolf!Haechan x Vampire!Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 16K

★ GENRE(S): Smut, Angst, Forbidden Love, Dark Fantasy, Mortal enemies, Slightly melodramatic lol, Haechan is a real yearner in this.

☆ SUMMARY: Your boyfriend is in an accident that leaves him in critical condition. You wanted to be the one to save him, to turn him, but his best friend beats you to it. How will your relationship change now that you’ve become immortal enemies? ★ ☆ WARNINGS: Minor character death, mentions of grieving and loss, blood, mentions of torture, reader has a messed up backstory,dry humping, rough supernatural sex hehe, rimjob, cunnilingus, knotting, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, drug use in the form of pixie dust, Its freaky asl idk, mature, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: Might have got carried away on this one whoops. I love fantasy so excuse the lore but enjoy this porn with plot!

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Your heart was in the pit of your stomach. You'd always known this day would come eventually, but you'd been foolish to think you would ever be ready. The call from the hospital had come 10 minutes ago, and traffic crawled by like a sluggish beast. You wondered why you'd gotten behind the wheel, when you knew you were faster on foot.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the busy streets. Your veins thrummed with a restless energy as you tried to sit still. You would make it. You had to.

Your heels clicked against the tile of the hospital floor as you darted down the corridor, your head whipping in every direction for the room the receptionist had told you was Donghyuck’s. The scent of disinfectant and sterile air filled your lungs, but beneath it, you caught a whiff of something else – a faint hint of his presence.

Finally, your eyes found the room number, and as you approached the door, your gaze fixed on the whiteboard attached to it:

Patient: Lee Donghyuck

As you entered the room, you didn't notice the strain in your shoulders or the way your breath caught in your throat until you almost yanked the door off its hinges. The bed was empty and cold, but his scent lingered. It hadn't been long since they'd moved him.

Your mind reeled with worst-case scenarios. You patted your pocket for your phone, but it wasn't there – you must have left it in the car in your panic.

You hear footsteps approaching, and they come to a stop outside the door. When you turn around, you see a nurse wiping the whiteboard clean.

“Where is he?” The harshness in your voice surprises you.

“If you’re asking about the patient who was in here, you just missed him. He was checked out a little while ago,” she replies, not looking up from her task.

You finally exhale, your legs growing weak beneath you as relief floods through you. He was okay. But then a flicker of confusion crosses your face, causing your slight smile to falter.

“Is something wrong?” the nurse asks, finally looking at you.

“I’m sorry, it’s just... his condition. I was told it was critical.”

The nurse nods, concern creasing her brow. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure he’d pull through. He was hit by a drunk driver. He broke several bones, and we thought there was internal bleeding. There should have been, at least.” She pauses, her expression turning puzzled the more she thinks about Donghyuck’s case.

“Where is he now? How could he just get up and leave after all that?” Panic begins to rise within you. He was human; you were certain of that. Humans don’t just bounce back like that, do they? Questions and doubts swirl in your mind.

“A few friends visited him about thirty minutes before you got here. One of them came to find me and said he needed to be checked out. I was just as shocked as you when I walked in and found him standing there, all his vitals normal. The doctor wanted to keep him for more tests, but the guys insisted on taking him home. Honestly, there wasn’t much we could do since he appeared fine.” The nurse shrugs, her confusion mirroring yours.

Just then, her pager buzzes, breaking the tension. “I’ve got to run. Sorry!” She glances at the notification before hurriedly excusing herself.

You start piecing things together, and the outcome doesn't sit well with you. You walk back into the room and focus. Your senses aren’t as sharp as usual, you’re due for another recharge soon. You sift through the scents in the hospital: sterile, metallic, but then you catch a whiff of something you missed earlier. It confirmed the nurse's story. They had been here.

Irritation bubbles up as you stride out of the hospital. You could leave a trail of fire in your wake with the heat radiating off you in fury. They had reached him first. They had taken him. You grind your heels into the pavement as you run. You’d worry about your car later; moving on foot is your best bet now. Better they didn’t see you coming.

The cold night air bites at your skin as you fly through the darkness, few cars passing you on the back roads. At this speed, they wouldn’t even catch a glimpse of you. The trees blur into shadows as you sprint toward your destination, buried deep in the forest. You split from the main highway to a side road, blocked by rusting barriers, stretching out for miles. its cracked and overgrown pavement leading to a half-built freeway that drops off into thickets of bushes and trees. No one comes this way; not many even know it exists. The only souls who dare venture down this path are high schoolers or college kids looking for thrills at night, chasing highs.

As you round a bend, your destination comes into view: a rundown motel, overtaken by moss and vines. It stands as the sole remnant for miles, until you reach the unfinished freeway. There's nothing else out here but forest.

You slow your pace, taking in the scene; it feels like stepping back in time. The once flickering neon sign, long burned out, hung tilted above the entrance, and the peeling paint on the walls had seen better days. The only thing guiding you through the darkness is the moonlight and your own keen night vision. Without them, it would be pitch black—no lights for miles.

Even before you see them, the smell hits you first: a wet, dog-like odor that makes your nose scrunch up in distaste. The moment you step onto the property, yellow eyes appear in the dark, and low snarls echo through the night. You’re in werewolf territory, and they’re just seconds away from ripping you apart. In an instant, you’re surrounded, their numbers closing in like a tightening net. Your own eyes flash red as you bare your fangs in warning, a growl rumbling in your throat. Teeth clash around you, spit flying as they display their own teeth.

“Where is he? I know you took him!” you shout, your voice carrying through the crowd. “I’m just looking for my boyfriend! I’m not here to fight!”

You took a gamble coming here unprepared. In the wild, they predominantly favored their wolf forms. The hairs along their necks and backs bristle, ears perk up, and they crouch low, ready to pounce. In this state, instinct reigns supreme; reason and negotiation was unlikely.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, preparing to unleash your own claws when a voice suddenly cuts through the chaos.

“Stand down,” an older voice commands as two familiar figures emerge from the pack.

One of the pack members howls, calling the others to attention. The wolf shakes violently, as if shrugging off water, before morphing into a human—a few others follow suit. The rest bound off into the dense forest.

“You shouldn’t be here. This is our territory,” the first transformed wolf says, a warning etched across his features. He stands before you, his human form unapologetically naked.

“Jeno, enough!” the old man insists, his presence commanding.

“She’s a vampire! She’s breaking treaty by being here without permission!” Jeno, points accusingly at you.

“He’s here, isn’t he? There’s no way you haven’t heard about the accident. He wasn’t at the hospital.” Your frustration boils over, almost uncontrollable. “You turned him into one of you, didn’t you? Answer me Jeno!”

He meets your gaze with a snarl at the mention of his name.

“I said enough! We don’t need to escalate this,” the old man interjects firmly.

“Dad!” Jeno says in disbelief.

“Follow me,” Jeno’s father commands, brushing aside his son’s fury with practiced ease.

You glower at Jeno as you follow his father deeper into the property. Your scowl is met with silent glares from the others, who stand in their human forms, their eyes watching intently. The chief has spoken. it’s clear—no one is to touch you.

You recognized Ten, Johnny, Kun, Xiaojun, Yangyang, and a few other familiar faces among the pack. Your boyfriend, Donghyuck, had grown up with them. His dad was friends with Jeno’s, so he and Jeno had played together since diapers. They were the ones who had given him the nickname Haechan. You always hated how close he was to the pack. He always carried a trace of their scent and there was a time you were fully convinced he might be one of them.

Donghyuck had been blissfully unaware of the supernatural world around him. When he introduced you to a few of his friends one day, you had to fight the instinct to bare your fangs. That night had been tense and awkward. You had learned to play nice while Haechan was around, but the moment he left the room, you were at each other's throats.

They guide you into one of the rooms. Despite the rundown exterior of the motel, the inside was meticulously restored, almost like an oasis in this forgotten wilderness. As soon as you step inside, your breath catches in your throat. The sight of Haechan makes your heart swell and break all at once.

At first glance, he seems fine—lying on a bed in the center of the room, his chest rising and falling gently. Sweat beads at his temples, and his brows are furrowed in a way that sends a rush of alarm through you. A slight grimace crosses his lips, hinting at discomfort or pain making your heart sink.

"What’s wrong with him?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, fear creeping in.

“It’s part of the process,” Jeno says from near the door. “He’s adjusting. It’s a lot for him to handle.”

“Why would you allow this?” you target the chief. Jeno pulls you back by the arm before you can get to him, his claws digging into your skin.

“He didn’t know! I did this,” Jeno interjects.

Your anger shifts to Jeno, a growl escaping your lips. “You,” you spit, eyes glowing red again. “You know the risk of turning him, and yet you still did it!”

“He’s my best friend! I wasn’t going to let him just die!” Jeno’s voice rises with frustration and pain. “What were you planning to do when you got there? Watch him die?” He laughs cruelly, which only fuels your fury. “You’re just mad I beat you to it.”

The air is thick with tension, and you prepare to lunge at him when growls break the silence from behind you. Turning around, you see some of the pack entering the room. You lock eyes with Ten, Johnny, and Jaehyun, their expressions unreadable but serious. You sense their protectiveness over Jeno and reluctantly ease your stance, frustration boiling over in a huff of air. “Ughh!” You clench your fists, willing yourself to calm down as your chest rises and falls harshly.

“What’s going to happen to him?” you ask, looking towards the chief.

“He’s going to change,” he replies, his gaze steady. “He’s taking the bite well. There shouldn’t be any complications, but he needs rest. He’s been through a lot today.”

“How long will it take?” You say. You move carefully to sit at Haechan’s side and brush the hair from his forehead.

“It varies from person to person,” He says, pulling your attention away from haechan. “It can be a few hours to a couple of days. But he’s resilient, and he’s strong.”

You turn back to Haechan, your heart aching as you scan his form. The covers are thrown aside, exposing his chest, bare except for the sweat glistening on his skin. He looks different—his shoulders broader, muscles more defined, and his face sharper than before. He was still your Haechan, but you realize with dread that there’s one detail you’ll have to adjust to.

That smell. The unmistakable scent of a werewolf—stronger and more pungent than the subtle hint he carried before. He reeked of mutt.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Past

You hadn’t told Haechan you were a vampire. It was safer that way or perhaps you were deluding yourself, too afraid to face the truth. As a vampire, dating humans was frowned upon. Humans were considered nothing more than food, meant to be consumed or else they’d spoil. Vampires, on the other hand, were the undead, nightwalkers who defied mortality and the passage of time. You didn't age, and You didn't die. Vampires were superior to humans in every way. It was common manners not to play with your food but eat it. You had sworn you would never date a human. Loving a human was dangerous but despite everything you couldn’t stop yourself from loving Haechan.

There was an abandoned cemetery just outside the city where you lived. Cliché as it might be, you loved the cemetery; it was one of the few places you felt truly at peace. You often found yourself wandering there, even outside of your biweekly recharging rituals.

Living amongst humans was difficult for most vampires, but those who tried had to make accommodations. Unlike some legends you could bask in the sunlight without fear of turning to ash under the sun or sparkling like diamonds. But there was a trade-off—when exposed to the sun, you were stripped of your immortality. You were the most vulnerable during the day. You’d still retain your speed, hearing, and agility, but you felt as fragile as a human. Many were terrified of this weakness, so they hid away until nightfall when they were the most powerful.

At night you were untouchable. Not even a stake through the heart, garlic, or silver bullets could kill you. Still, prolonged exposure to the sun would gradually drain your energy, weakening you until you were left with nothing if you didn’t recharge. Bathing in moonlight was one solution, but the quickest way to recuperate your strength was resting in a specially inscribed coffin. That kind of sleep rejuvenated you, allowing you to regain your vitality and power.

You had stumbled upon an unburied coffin in that cemetery long ago and inscribed it with runes of protection and rejuvenation. It became your perfect charging station. Tucked away from the bustling city, it was very rare that someone came here due to the cemetery's extremely run down appearance.

You thought it was perfect. The quiet stillness allowed you to gaze at the stars, and it was beneath that vast, twinkling sky that you first met Haechan.

You had spent an entire day in your coffin, allowing the darkness to wrap around you like a comforting blanket. As you pushed against the stone lid, it slid aside with ease, and you sat up, yawning and stretching your limbs. Blinking a few times, you find the moonlight spilling into the space and filling you with its magic. You bask in it as it dances against your skin. After resting you always got the zoomies, a few laps around the forest would do just fine before heading home.

Sliding out of the grave, you dusted off the dirt and debris from your clothes. Just as you began to shake off the remnants of your rest, a shuffle caught your attention a few yards away. Instinct kicked in, and your senses sharpened. The sweet, tempting scent of human filled your nose, and a smile crept across your face. You were starving and could go for a little snack, especially if some careless drunk college kid had stumbled their way here. You’d never understood why freshmen chose this spot to get wasted, but at that moment, you silently thanked whichever god had sent them your way. You were tired of dealing with the trash and beer bottles they left behind anyway.

You're naturally light footed so you don't have to sneak up on the hunched figure in front of you. Just as you were about to attack, a small sniffle stopped you in your tracks. You took a moment to observe the young man kneeling in front of a grave, fresh pink camellias in his hand. He was crying, and his tears sparkled in the moonlight as they fell, unknowingly watering the flowers. There was something ethereal about him, reminiscent of a fairy. For a moment, you could have sworn the flowers bloomed brighter with each teardrop, but perhaps that was just your imagination running wild. Taking a deep breath to better understand this mysterious figure. His scent confirmed he was undeniably human, tinged with a hint of canine—perhaps he was a dog owner.

You may be a creature of the night, but you weren't heartless.

As you gazed at the young man, you couldn't bring yourself to disturb him while he was grieving. Your voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence. "I'm sorry for your loss."

He jumped, startled, and clutched his chest with his free hand. "You scared me," a nervous chuckle escaped his lips as he tried to calm his racing heart. "I didn’t think anyone else was here" he said, wiping his tears and clearing his throat. He gently set the flowers down beside him.

You offered him a soft, gentle smile and settled in beside him, your eyes drifting to the tombstone. "Who was she to you?" You asked, nodding toward the name etched into the stone. Your gaze flickered to his.

The young man stared at you, his mouth agape, his eyes wide with wonder. You couldn't help but giggle at his adorable expression – he reminded you of a baby bear, innocent and endearing. It's like he finally remembers you asked him a question and his mouth snapped shut, and he cleared his throat. His eyes refocusing on the grave and a fond smile spread across his face, and you could almost see the memories dancing across his features.

"She was my grandma," he said, his voice cracking slightly. You hummed softly, indicating you were listening, and he continued.

"She took care of me when my dad would leave on business trips when I was a kid. She got sick after I'd left the city, and I couldn't find the time to come see her... and now it's too late." Tears began to well up in his eyes. “She wanted to be buried by her mother but…” He trailed off. His eyes flit around the abandoned graveyard and its crumbling tombstones, their inscriptions faded and obscured by moss and creeping ivy. The path leading through the graveyard was overgrown with wild grasses hinting at years of neglect.

You smiled, understanding where he was coming from. This wasn't the most ideal place to lay a loved one to rest anymore.

"It's not your fault, you know. I'm sure you wanted to be there for her, and I'm sure she knew that too."

His eyes remained fixed on the grave as he traced the name engraved in stone with his fingers, a faint smile breaking through his sorrow. "Thank you," he replied, but you sensed it would take time for him to truly believe your words.

Suddenly, he turned to you with a new intensity. "I'm sorry I've been rambling about myself. Did you lose someone, too?"

His question caught you off guard. You had nearly forgotten that people came here to grieve, as you had your own reasons. You paused for a moment, scrambling to conjure a lie. But after the heartfelt story he had shared, you didn't feel that it was right to lie about visiting a loved one.

"I just come out here sometimes because it's quiet," you admitted, which wasn’t entirely untrue; sometimes the chaos of the city was overwhelming, and you needed a break from the noise.

Haechan looked at you as if you were crazy. "You're crazy."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. "I guess I am. But look," you said, pointing toward the stars. "They look so pretty out here."

His gaze flickered upward, captivated by the night sky.

"That one's Ursa Major," you said with a smile. "It's my favorite." You reached out, taking his hand to trace the constellation. "Do you see it?"

"What's it supposed to look like?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"It's a bear! You see the Big Dipper? That's part of the constellation, and all together it’s supposed to resemble a bear." You released his hand and used your own to outline the Big Dipper in the sky.

His eyes lit up as he stared at the stars, and you found yourself captivated by him. The way the starlight shimmered in his gaze was enchanting.

"I see it!" he exclaimed happily, turning to share the joy with you, but when he looked back, you had vanished.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Your skin was cold to the touch and you were gone so suddenly he had almost written you off as a ghost that night. He had nearly forgotten about that night until you appeared before him again. A month later, he saw you in the library, and he was certain you were real.

After his grandmother's passing, Haechan had moved back home. He was entrusted with managing a significant part of her affairs, leading to weeks of sleepless nights spent sorting through her accounts and handling paperwork. Juggling family responsibilities and his classes at the nearby community college had left him utterly exhausted.

When he first saw you he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He rubbed his eyes tiredly but there you remained. You were just down the aisle, and he hurriedly packed his things, eager to follow you. When he turned the corner just a few seconds later, you had vanished again. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I’ve gotta get some sleep,” he murmured, shaking his head as he pulled his backpack higher up on his shoulders, preparing to leave.

“You probably should,” you said with a smile, making him jump back in fright, letting out a startled yell.

A few patrons shush the two of you. “I’m sorry. I should really stop sneaking up on you,” you said, a playful grin on your face.

“You think?” he whispered back, but a smile finally broke through his fatigue. “So you really are real,” he mused more to himself than anyone else.

Your smile widened at his revelation, and you nodded.

“What's your name?”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Present day

A week had passed since you'd last seen Haechan. You hadn’t gone back to see him and honestly you weren’t sure if you ever would. Dating a werewolf? It seemed even more complicated than a relationship with a human. Your mind was reeling, and you were still struggling to wrap your head around the reality of it all.

You sat on your balcony that overlooked the forest behind your apartment. Sipping hot chocolate and watching the full moon, you couldn't help but think of him. You wondered how he was coping with his first full moon. Having his first full moon so close to his initial change must be tough. With a sigh, you tried to shake off the thoughts. It would be safer for both of you if you stayed away from each other.

You moved back inside. You were walking into the kitchen to wash your cup when you felt a sudden draft as the wind blew in through the double doors leading to your balcony. You must have forgotten to close it all the way. You walked back over to close them, ensuring they were locked before returning to the kitchen.

You freeze when you spot the ash-grey wolf standing on your kitchen island. You couldn’t suppress the scream that escaped your lips. How the hell had it gotten in here without you noticing? Your senses were dulled, and you knew you were due for a much-needed recharge.

You cursed under your breath, taking in the beast before you. Its yellow eyes glowed, and saliva dripped onto your kitchen island, making you recoil in disgust. This wolf was not acting normal. Its shoulder heaved as it took ragged breaths, almost rabid in appearance. You instinctively put your guard up, creating distance between the two of you. You couldn’t fight it—not in your current state.

As you slowly began to back away, there was something in the wolf's eyes that halted you in your tracks. It couldn't be him.

“H-Haechan?” you called out, bending your knees to appear smaller so as not to frighten him. You wondered how he had ended up here. He looked scared.

“It's me, Haechan,” you said softly, hands extended in a non-threatening manner. You understood he was running purely on instinct. Perhaps he had sought out a place where he felt safe.

Now you stood just in front of him causing him to growl and bare his teeth. His body was rigid, and his ears were flattened against his head. Every sign warned you to stay back, yet you ignored them all as you reached out to touch him.

In an instant, it happened. One moment you were standing, and the next, he had pinned you to the floor, his powerful paws digging into your shoulders. He snarled, but you remained calm. He couldn’t kill you but healing would take days in this state if he did enough damage.

You looked into his eyes and took a deep breath. “Haechan, you need to calm down. It’s me. If you don’t find control, you’ll do something you’ll regret.”

He growls in response.

“Donghyuck!” you yelled sternly. “Snap out of it!” You scolded him as his claws dug deeper into your shoulders.

He flinched and whined, stepping off you reluctantly. His head hung low, and his tail tucked between his legs as he made a small circle before plopping down a few feet in front of you.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you realized he had regained some sense of awareness. Keeping your voice steady, you knelt beside him and tentatively reached out. When he allowed you to get close, you gently patted him. “You need to change back, baby. I know you're scared, but you have to. You can do this. You're stronger than this,” you whispered reassuringly.

He stood up, and you did too, backing away to give him space. He stretched into a downward dog and shook himself off, and to your amazement, his body morphed before your eyes. Finally, the Haechan you knew and loved stood naked before you, looking horrified as he took in the damage done.

“I’m sorry.”

Following his gaze to your shoulders, you smiled. “This is nothing; don’t worry about it,” you said, trying to comfort him.

He backed away slightly, shaking his head. “Don’t come near me!” he yelled, and you flinched. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he added, his voice softer this time.

Ignoring his plea, you walked toward him anyway. “You could never hurt me, love,” you replied, offering him a reassuring smile.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he sank to his knees. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t remember anything. Jeno and the others came for me and then turned me into… this.” He gestured to his hands, which hadn't fully reverted, his claws still bared.

Kneeling in front of him, you took his hands in yours. He tried to pull away, but your grip was firm enough to keep him in place. He looked at you in shock but before he could question your strength you spoke.

“Is that why you ran?” you asked gently.

“They turned me into a monster. How can I live like this?” His eyes searched your face for answers. Your heart ached at the fear reflected in his gaze. You felt a wave of shame wash over you; Jeno was right. If you’d gotten to him first, you would have changed him but that wasn’t what Haechan wanted. Jeno had acted selfishly, and so had you for even contemplating it.

“He was just trying to help,” you found yourself defending Jeno unexpectedly. Maybe you were subconsciously defending yourself. “You have to go back to them, Haechan. They’re the only ones who can teach you how to control yourself.”

“So I don’t hurt more people,” he scoffed, humorlessly. “How can you even look at me right now?”

“You’re not a monster, do you hear me?” you replied sternly.

“I AM! LOOK AT ME!” he yelled, his eyes glinting yellow as he finally found the strength to yank his hands away from yours. He stood and walked toward your room, rummaging through your drawer until he found a pair of pants he’d left behind. You stand in the doorway, watching him dress with your arms crossed.

“Haechan I'm fine,” you called out.

“Don’t lie to make me feel better!” he shouted back.

Frustration surged within you as you pulled your shirt over your head, exposing your already healed skin. “LOOK!” you yelled.

He halted, his eyes widening as he examined you. Your skin was unmarred, untouched by his claws. He dashed toward you, grabbing your shoulders and twisting you this way and that, searching for any signs of injury. “Wha—” he stuttered. “How did you do that?”

Closing your eyes, you remembered your true self. When you opened them, they glowed crimson. “You’re not a monster, Haechan. Unless you consider me one too,” you told him.

His eyes widened in astonishment, but he stood rooted in place, shock holding him there. “What are you?”

You hissed softly, revealing your fangs. "I'm a vampire," you stated simply.

You could see the gears turning in his head as he connected the dots: why you were always so cold to the touch, how you could sneak up on him silently, how you exhibited unnatural strength just moments ago.

Finally, his body relaxed, and he sank onto your bed, looking lightheaded. “So you’re a vampire,” he repeated, almost incredulously, as if trying to grasp everything that had just unfolded.

“Yes,” you said, sitting next to him.

“And I’m a werewolf.”

“Correct again,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.

“How old are you?” he asked next, genuinely curious.

You fought back a smile. “How rude!” you joked, shoving him lightly.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” he replied apologetically, running a hand down his face in embarrassment. “I mean, when did you become a vampire? Has it been a long time? Your family…” He trailed off, the gravity of the conversation settling in the atmosphere.

“They’re probably dead by now,” you replied, your voice softening.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you could hear the sincerity in his tone.

“It’s okay. I don’t remember my human years; most vampires don’t,” you explained. “I was 24 when I turned. The one who turned me was the closest thing to a father I had, and he was cruel.” You bristled at the memories of your past.

Haechan stayed quiet, allowing you to open up if you wanted. You took a deep breath before continuing, "He kept me locked away and taught me how to survive, but the punishments were brutal. I knew I had to get away from him eventually."

You told Haechan everything…

You don’t remember how you ended up there, but when you awoke that night, a man in his late forties stood before you. He had dark hair and striking blue eyes. Now that you’re older, you realize blue eyes belong to ancient vampires, beings that had survived since the dark ages. With a voice like dark velvet, he taught you how to harness your powers and you learned the art of inscribing. His teachings also instilled in you a deep-seated fear of the sun. He spun tales of scorched skin and searing pain, convincing you that to step into its light would mean certain death. He taught you other things too, like to despise humans. He taught you humans were to never be trusted and that one day they would betray you.

He kept you locked away underground in an old tower, isolated from the world above. The room where you stayed contained only a coffin. You were tasked with maintaining the underground floors, ensuring they remained orderly. You weren’t allowed to venture beyond the floors beneath ground level. He treated you like a slave, proclaiming that you belonged to him in exchange for granting you eternal life. It was a twisted bargain that felt more like a curse.

You had been above ground only once, it was a rare and seemingly indulgent gift from your master. He would normally bring you his kills to feed on but that night he had taken you out into the world, to teach you to hunt. It was exhilarating to experience the raw, primal instincts that surged within you. You hunted until dawn, the sun creeping up threateningly beyond the horizon.

The night had ended all too soon and you headed back home. You made it to the front of the tower, and just seconds before you were ushered inside, the sun rose, spilling soft gold and pink across the sky. You had caught your first glimpse of its light, radiant and breathtaking. It painted the world warm hues, something you had never seen in the cold tower.

Your master’s hand gripped your shoulder. “We must return,” he said, his voice laced with authority as he ushered you back into the shadows. Since that one fateful night, you have never been allowed to see the surface again.

One night, curiosity got the better of you, and while your master was absent, you explored the tower. You snuck into the library and read until dawn. When the sun rose, you raced to the top floor and gazed out at the sunrise. You longed to bathe in its light, fully aware that it would be fatal. Your master had warned you that direct sunlight could kill you, only safe within the tower's shadows.

Everything changed one fateful night. You had taken a book from the library but your master returned sooner than you had expected. Despite the risks, you knew you had to return the book before he noticed.

It was through the pages of his books that you discovered the truth. You were taught many things, but after reading his books how many of them had been true? The books told you stories about humans, the outside world, and important history. It revealed that while the sun wouldn’t kill you, it could weaken you, and that to regain any lost power, you must sleep. He had kept secrets from you, you couldn’t trust him. Maybe if you could escape, you could live among humans without fear? You’d never find out unless you returned the book. If your master discovered you had sneaked upstairs, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.

The halls were quiet, and slipping the book back into place was easy. You were making your way back, using an old passageway you had stumbled across, when a flickering light caught your eye. The corridor was lined with doors, each one leading to a different part of the tower. Peeking through a crack in one door, you saw something chilling.

Your master stood in the center of a gathering room, surrounded by chained and shackled humans. An entire council of vampires filled the room, and the sight of the horrific treatment inflicted on the humans made you nauseous. They were beaten and tortured cruelly. Their screams echoed in your mind, and that night, you swore to escape. The humans you had read about had their faults but they did not deserve that.

You thought you had everything figured out until three days later, when your master visited with a human man around your age. He offered no explanation, only instructing you to take care of him. You soon grew close to the human, who introduced himself as Kun. He quickly became your only friend, sharing stories about the outside world and his family. For two years, he stayed with you, working alongside you as a fellow slave. At first, you worried that your master would eat him, as it wasn’t like him to let food spoil. Eventually you stopped worrying about it and just learned to enjoy Kun’s company.

You showed Kun everything: the hidden passageways, the library, and the sunset whenever your master was away. You promised each other that when the time was right, you would escape together.

Then one night, your master woke you from a rare period of recharging. He had previously insisted you slept. You found it strange but you hadn’t argued. There was no reason for you to recharge, you spent most nights watching Kun sleep.

You instinctively turned towards his cot but it was empty. Before you could voice your concern, your master ushered you out of your room and upstairs to the gathering room you had once watched from the shadows. Ancient vampires surrounded the area, their underlings present as well.

In the middle of the room was Kun. He was stripped bare, bruises, scars and welts were painted across his once beautiful skin.

“KUN!” you shouted, trying to rush to him, but your master’s voice stopped you in your tracks. He had the ability to compel, a power only ancient vampires possessed. You had read that the only way to break it was to call him by his true name, a name you didn’t know since you had only ever addressed him as “Master.”

“MASTER!” you screamed, desperation rising in your voice. “PLEASE, STOP THIS!”

Tears welled up in your eyes and you could feel yourself die. You knew you were already dead but this pain in your chest would have been fatal if you were moral.

“You brought this upon yourself, foolish girl,” he sneered.

The other ancient vampires laughed at your distress, their underlings at their side, made to watch to teach them what would happen if they disobeyed their master.

“Make her suffer!”

“Look how she cares for that wretched human!” one of them jeered.

“Kill them both!” shouted another.

They hurled insults your way while you trembled under your master’s control.

“Did you think I was a fool? I knew what you were up to. I could smell you in the walls, you little rodent.”

“Please, Master, I’m sorry! Forgive me!” you begged.

“It’s not me you need to ask for forgiveness. It is him,” he said, gesturing a long finger at Kun. “Because of you, this is his fate.”

With an audience of ancient vampires, he turned to them proudly and declared, “Nothing but ruin can come from loving a human. Witness now the consequences of defying tradition. Drink from him!” he ordered.

Your body moved against your will. You fought against his compulsion with every ounce of strength, but each step felt heavier. Standing before Kun, you could see that he was barely breathing.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he managed to whisper. With the last of his strength, he smiled weakly. “Don’t let him break you.”

Tears streamed down your face as you bared your teeth and sank them into him. You could feel his life slipping away, and as you drank, your heart shattered in silence.

Later that night, you were thrown back into your room. You didn't move for months. Staring blankly at the wall, you cried until the hunger became overwhelming. Your master hadn’t brought you any food, likely leaving you there to die. You couldn’t let that happen; you had promised Kun.

Eventually, you found a way out. You fled during daylight, running until you could run no more. You felt the grass beneath your toes and the sun on your face. You ran so hard you broke your ankle in the process but by nightfall, it had healed. You lived as a nomad for years until you rolled into the city you now call home. Adjusting to your new life was a challenge at first, but eventually, you met a city vampire who taught you how to navigate life among humans.

Haechan listened intently, not interrupting once.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all of this sooner; it was easier if you didn’t know,” you confessed.

“I’m sorry you had to carry all that alone," he replied gently. "I promise, you won’t have to go through that again. We’re stronger now.”

“That's it though,” you began, gathering your thoughts. “We’re not strong enough. You need to go back to your pack, Haechan. You can’t come back here. There are rules, and we have to uphold them.”

“I don’t see why we can’t see each other. I know you’re afraid, but you can’t just push me away.”

"You can’t just do whatever you want! This isn’t a game, and those rules are there for a reason—to keep people alive!" You didn’t want to sound harsh, but the history between wolves and vampires was too complicated to explain right now. “The others are probably already looking for you. I can’t have a fight breaking out if they catch you here.”

“So that’s it? I’m nothing to you now?” Haechan stood up, frustration etched across his face.

“That's not—” You take a deep breath. “I didn’t say that. It’s just… complicated.”

You heard a howl echo in the distance, and your heart sank. “We don’t have time to talk about this. You need to leave. Now!” You turned and headed toward your balcony; it was safer for him to leave the way he came. He wouldn’t run into anyone and he could head straight into the forest. You swung open the doors, only to be greeted by the last person you wanted to see.

“Where is he?” Jeno demanded.

You sighed, trying to keep your attitude in check. “He was scared.”

“I don’t know if you’ve understood this yet, but he’s one of us now. You need to stay away from him. I’m running out of warnings,” he snarled.

Haechan rounded the corner and met Jeno’s gaze. “Jeno, relax! You know her,” he said defensively.

Johnny chimed in, “you don’t understand, just stay out of this.”

Haechan stepped in front of you, shielding you. “Guys, seriously! We’ve hung out together plenty of times. Why is everyone suddenly so defensive?”

“I told you, Haechan, it’s different now. New rules apply because you’re different. You’re part of their pack, and I’m a vicious vampire,” you replied, your sarcasm biting.

“Sorry, dude, but that’s just the way things are,” Mark added.

“This is so stupid! I didn’t ask for this life, and now everyone’s trying to tell me what’s best for me!” Haechan yelled, frustration boiling over.

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. “I know it’s unfair, love, but you have to go. I’ll see y—” You paused, stopping yourself from making any false promises. “Just… go with them, for me. Please?” You gave him your best pleading look, and slowly, he calmed down. Then he pulled you into a kiss. Neither of you wanted to pull away, but when he finally did, he turned away before you could see the tears threaten to fall.

He walked toward Jeno and the others, but when Jeno reached out to put a comforting hand on Haechan's shoulder he shrugged it off with a low growl. They all jump from your balcony and when you look down below to where they land a pack of wolves stare back up at you before running off into the forest.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A year passed, and you hadn’t seen Haechan again. You were the one who had told him to stay away, but still, there were moments when you couldn't help but ask Mark about him. Mark was the most reasonable of their pack; you wouldn’t quite call him a friend, but you could manage more than a few words with him without the threat of a fight looming over you. The city was considered neutral territory, so running into a member of the pack while out and about was not uncommon.

“Mark told me Haechan is adjusting fine,” you shared with your friend Sooyoung as you leaned against your kitchen counter. “It took him a while, but he can control his powers now. Apparently, it took longer than usual because Haechan was still mad at them and refused to learn, but they’re on better terms now.”

“You’re living in a soap opera,” Sooyoung huffed, plopping down on one of your barstools, resting her head in her palm as she slouched over your countertop. “Are you really not going to see him?” she asked, lifting her head slightly.

“I can’t. I really can’t,” you stressed.

“Well then I’m tired of hearing about him,” she replied through a yawn. There were many myths about fairies, and one was that they couldn’t lie. While that wasn’t entirely true, they preferred not to, which made them incredibly blunt.

“Wow! What a great friend you are!” you said, rolling your eyes playfully.

Sooyoung straightened up a bit as you focused on making dinner for the two of you. “I’m sorry,” she whined, “it’s not that I don’t care; it’s just that you clearly still care about him. I can’t watch you torture yourself like this. As your friend, I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy!” you shot back defensively.

“Not if all you talk about is your stupid wolf-turned-ex-boyfriend that you miss!” she countered.

“I don’t miss him!” you insisted.

“Do you think about him?” she asked knowingly.

“I do,” you admitted.

“And I have to hear about it all the time, every day, every minute.” she pointed out.

“I'm sorry.” You cringed.

“Why don’t you just go see him? Just once, for closure,” she added, trying to be convincing.

“But what if he’s moved on?” The thought plagued you, an echo in your mind. “He hasn’t come to see me at all.”

“He has his reasons, just as you’ve had yours,” she reminded you. You considered this as you took the dinner off the stove and plated it.

“Let’s just eat,” you said, setting the conversation aside for now.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You could feel eyes on you from the moment you woke from your slumber. The scent was unmistakably his—Haechan. Rising from your grave, you sensed his presence pulling away, retreating into the nearby woods. You knew you should let him go, but you couldn’t. Sooyoung was right; maybe you needed closure.

You followed him. His figure dashed gracefully through the undergrowth, and moonlight danced off his ash-grey fur, illuminating the way. He eventually led you into a clearing, where the moon cast a spotlight on him before he turned to face you. With a shake of his fur, he began the transformation you had seen so many times before. It unsettled you how his bones shifted and reshaped, until he stood before you—bare and vulnerable, yet undeniably Haechan.

“Why are you here?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I missed you,” he replied, his eyes earnest.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed to see you,” he said, dismissing your warning. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

“That's enough!” you yelled, emotions welling up inside you.

“I know you’ve been asking Mark about me. I know you still love me,” he said, stepping closer.

“Stay away from me!” you shouted. If he came any closer…

“That’s why you followed me here. Admit it,” he pushed, standing a breath away. He searched your eyes, as if looking for the truth that lay hidden in your heart. “Admit it.” He says almost like he's trying to convince himself as well.

You didn’t stop him when his lips met yours. It was a desperate kiss, and you found yourself kissing him back instinctively. His hands found their way around your waist, pulling you tight against his chest, as if he feared you would slip away again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him just as tightly. But before he could deepen the kiss, you pulled away suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, brows furrowed as he reached out to pull you back into his embrace.

“You know what's wrong.” you managed to say, your mind racing. “We can’t.”

Haechan ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “What’s your issue?! I can see it all over your face. You still love me; why are you fighting it? What are you so afraid of?”

“Losing you!” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks as you finally let the walls come crashing down. “You’re so damn stupid!” You closed the distance once more, pounding your fists against his chest. “Why couldn’t you just stay away?”

He let you unleash your anger, waiting patiently until you had calmed down. Then, he wrapped you in his arms again, grounding you as your knees wobbled. You buried your face in his chest with a sob.

Haechan wasn't as ignorant as he was in the past. He knew the history between werewolves and vampires but eons of bad blood wasn't enough to keep him from you. He was fully aware of the dangers that came with being with you but he would rather die fighting for you than to do nothing at all.

Vampires had a long history of hunting werewolves. They were the only creature that could rival their speed and strength. It was a sport, a display of dominance, to show that they were the apex predator. Treaties were signed but broken, territories marked, and warnings sent. Vampires and werewolves had learned that the best way to keep the peace was to stay far apart from one another. Most city vampires were progressive, they partied with elves, drank with werewolves, and got high off pixie dust. They mingled across species, but such alliances were frowned upon by the more traditional clans. Any love across species was seen as a betrayal, deserving of the fiercest punishment—blood spilled in the name of ancient grudges. You could be branded a traitor just for showing kindness to a werewolf.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, and you won’t let anything happen to me. We were together when I was human, and that was probably more dangerous,” he pointed out.

“I know, and I was selfish,” you admitted.

“Well, now it’s my turn to be selfish. Just let me see you,” he said earnestly.

“This is not a good idea,” you warned, but his pleading gaze softened your resolve.

He must have sensed your wavering will, as he pulled out the puppy-dog eyes. “Please,” he begged.

“Fine,” you said with an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

Just as he was about to celebrate and pull you into another kiss, you raised a finger to his lips. “But that doesn’t mean we’re dating! And the moment your pack finds out about this…” You gestured between the two of you with your free hand, “whatever this is, it’s done.”

“Deal,” he mumbled against your finger before you pulled it away.

You turned to walk away, glancing back over your shoulder before disappearing behind the trees. Haechan stood there, wearing the dopiest smile you had ever seen. “Stop looking at my ass, Haechan. Go home!” you shouted.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You and Haechan had been stealing moments together ever since that night. You found eachother in the dark corners of clubs, had picnics on abandoned rooftops under the moon, and shared intimate conversations beneath the ancient canopy of trees in the depths of the forest

Tonight you texted Haechan to meet you at an abandoned amusement park in the next city over. It took a few hours to run there, but you loved the freedom of it—being stuck in a car always felt so suffocating. When you arrived you settled into one of the old, rusted teacups. You heard rustling from the trees behind you and Haechan emerged in his wolf form, a backpack clamped between his teeth. When he shifted back to his human form, you instinctively looked away. The brief glimpse of his bare skin sent your mind racing with thoughts that definitely crossed the line of friendship. You reminded yourself for the hundredth time that you were just friends and friends don’t think about their friends like that. The sound of him unzipping his backpack and rummaging through clothes broke your train of thought as he started getting dressed.

“You can turn around now, darling,” he said, his voice teasing.

You hopped out of the teacup and ran right into him, relief washing over you. You’d missed him so much, and honestly, you didn’t even care that he smelled like a puppy—you buried your face in his neck.

“Hey hey, watch those teeth,” he joked.

You pulled away and playfully shoved him. “Shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes. “How have you been?”

“Terrible. We took in a stray recently,” he replied, a hint of irritation in his voice. “His name’s Jisung. We found him while traveling. Total troublemaker, so they dumped him on me. Ugh, he’s been giving me a headache! I was lucky to sneak away tonight.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” you said, your voice playful as you both started to walk deeper into the amusement park.

“No way! I was not like that! He’s just so moody sometimes, such a teenager,” Haechan replied, shaking his head.

“I forgot, you had a valid reason for being so angsty.”

“Yeah, she’s standing right in front of me,” he said, then playfully tickled your sides, making you giggle.

You and Haechan were in a good place now, able to joke about the past without any hard feelings. You cherished these moments together and loved being with him.

“How did you find this place anyway?” he asked as you passed a distorted funhouse, a shiver running down his spine. “It’s creepy.”

“Is my puppy scared?” you mocked.

“I’m not scared!” he insisted with an annoyed tilt of his head.

You skipped a few steps ahead before turning around to face him. “Oh yeah? And what if I just left you right here?”

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Very funny, but I’m faster than you now.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged.

“Yeah.” He says confidently.

“Race you to the top of the Ferris wheel then!” you exclaimed and took off.

You sprinted toward the Ferris wheel on the other side of the park, Haechan hot on your heels. As you dashed past a few booths, you grabbed some old, soggy plushies and hurled them at him.

“That’s so gross!” he yelled, dodging them with ease.

Determined to leave him in the dust, you picked up speed. You leaped over old concession carts and swung through the spider ride, with its twisting central column and spinning arms. With a laugh, you propelled yourself off its arms, feeling the rush of adrenaline. Haechan dropped down onto the car behind you before launching himself off to chase you.

“Catch up, slowpoke!” you called, glancing back as the Ferris wheel loomed closer.

Tension built in your legs, and you sprang forward, grabbing one of the metal bars of the ride and climbing higher. It was massive, and when you looked down, you were surprised to see Haechan close behind, springing off each bar with the agility of a cat. You swung from bar to bar, pulling yourself up and up. There was a car waiting at the top, and that was your goal.

As you climbed, you glanced down to gauge how far Haechan was, but he was suddenly nowhere to be seen. You froze for a moment, scanning the ride.

Your breath caught—though you didn't technically need to breathe, the habit was hard to shake. From this height, he could’ve easily fallen and gotten hurt. Werewolves were resilient, but they weren't immortal. They could almost live forever with how slowly they aged, as long as they weren’t mortally wounded.

“HAECHAN!” you called out worriedly. “THIS ISN'T FUNNY! WHERE ARE YOU?” Your voice echoed in the stillness of the night.

Just then, a laugh rang out. “Who’s scared now?” He called down to you from the passenger car at the very top.

A wave of relief washed over you. In no time, you reached the top and stood on the outerrail of the car while he lounged in the seat. The sides of the car weren't enclosed, allowing you to lean in and meet his gaze with a glare. “I thought you fell!” You grumbled.

“Sorry, babe. Couldn't let you win,” he said, patting the seat next to him. “Sit down.”

You ambled into the car and sat down across from him. “Don’t be mad,” he smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come sit by me.”

You uncrossed your arms, giving up the act; it had been too long since you last saw him. You slid over, the seat snug but cozy enough for both of you. It was probably intended for moments like this—everyone knew that when you reached the top of the Ferris wheel you were supposed to kiss.

He nudged you playfully, and you met his gaze. “I was counting down the days until I saw you again,” he confessed softly.

You returned his smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “I missed you too.” He took your hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to your palm, his lips lingering longer than necessary before he pulled away.

He intertwined your fingers and looked up to the night sky. “You can see The Great Bear from here,” he remarked.

Following his gaze, you noted how Ursa Major shone brightly against the dark canvas of the sky. “Have I ever told you the story behind that constellation?” you asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he shook his head.

With a grin, you turned to him, relishing the moment. “In Greek mythology, Zeus once fell in love with a nymph named Callisto. When his wife Hera found out, she turned her into a bear.”

“Sounds like something you would do,” Haechan snickered.

“Except I would turn you into the bear,” you elbowed him playfully.

“Oww!” he laughed, rubbing his side dramatically.

A comfortable silence settled around you as you enjoyed each other’s company. Leaning against him, you closed your eyes, letting the peaceful moment wash over you.

“I love you,” he whispered, a soft vulnerability in his voice. Sitting up, you looked at him, his expression revealing that he was about to say something that he shouldn’t. You could see the longing in his eyes, how he yearned for you. He still wanted more.

Before he could voice his feelings, before he could reopen the wounds you both had worked so hard to heal, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was electric, you knew you couldn’t say it out loud so you put all your love and heartache into the kiss.

His hands held the sides of your face firmly, anchoring you in place as he refused to let you pull away. With a fervor you had almost forgotten, he deepened the kiss, a low moan escaping him as your tongues danced together. It was a sound so full of desire it sent heat pooling low in your belly. You couldn't help the slickness that dripped into your underwear.

You found yourself whining into his mouth, and the low growl that rumbled from his chest only encouraged you further. You fought to maintain control, willing your hands to stay in your lap. You knew the moment you touched him you wouldn’t let him go.

His fingers found their way to your waist and pulled you onto his lap. Your hands scramble to grip onto the rail behind him. The car swayed wildly with the motion of your bodies. A part of you tried to speak, to remind him that this was dangerous but he only pulled you back into the searing kiss in response. You didn’t complain when he started grinding you down against him, you had forgotten how well you fit together. You could feel his hard length pressed against you, and the realization made your head swim. You hadn't been touched like this in what felt like an eternity, and the sensation was overwhelming.

His hands began to roam your body, mapping out every curve. When he cupped your breast, a soft moan escaped your lips making him shudder. The world around you disappeared, and all that mattered was the way his hands trailed down your waist, gripping your ass possessively. The way his hips began to thrust up in desperation had you seeing stars. He held you there, utterly lost in the way you felt pressed against him. You gripped the railing tighter, your fingers bending the metal beneath your grasp. You had to stay in control.

You managed to whisper a single word against his lips, "fuck." His hand had trailed under your shirt, sending shivers of delight down your spine. But as much as you wanted to continue, the way the passenger cart was creaking was starting to worry you. You pulled away, using your strength to push his chest. You had him pinned, his back against the seat. For a fleeting moment, his eyes flashed a deeper shade of red, a hint of a growl forming on his lips, raw desire evident in his gaze.

You stood your ground, a playful smirk on your face. "Down, boy," you said with a raised eyebrow.

"This thing is old, it's too dangerous to stay up here. Come on, we need to get down," you said firmly, the reality of the situation snapping him back to attention.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” he replied, trying to mask his frustration with a hint of amusement.

You sit still in haechans lap until the cart stops moving. When the cart slowly ceased its swaying you sighed in relief, grateful that the groaning of the rusted cart had silenced. However, just as you began to relax, a sudden crash startled you—the door fell off its hinges, clattering loudly as it hit everything in its path on its way down to the ground.

You jumped at the sound, heart racing, and exchanged a panicked look with Haechan. The spell of the previous excitement diminished, and you both burst into laughter.

“See what I mean?” he said. “This place is a death trap!”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of thrilling, don’t you think? A little dangerous excitement?”

"You're crazy," he teased, helping you off his lap as you two made your way down.

“You loved every second of it.”

You made it to the ground safely, and as you turned to Haechan, curiosity etched on your face, "Hey, have you presented yet?" you asked. As a golden-eyed wolf, Haechan held a neutral status, but it was possible for his eye color to shift to either red or blue once he presented - red for an alpha, blue for an omega.

He looked at you with a questioning expression, "No, why?" he asked.

You teased, "No reason, I just thought it would be cute if your eyes matched mine."

“Ah, like a couple's item,” he said, a grin breaking across his face.

“More like a friendship bracelet,” you corrected.

“Or like matching wedding rings,” he countered, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Like matching t-shirts,” you playfully curved him again.

His expression shifted slightly, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “You want me to be your alpha, is that it? Want me to dominate you?” His words hung in the air, full of just the right amount of flirtation.

You knew he was joking, but the way he said it stirred something deep within you.

Desperate to regain your composure, you shot him a playful glare, trying to mask your reaction. "Very funny, Haechan," you replied, rolling your eyes, though the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you. The tension between you was thick, a swirl of playful teasing and underlying desire, and you both seemed acutely aware of it.

“Just imagine it,” he continued, leaning closer with mock seriousness. “Matched for life. You, me, and our golden-eyed offspring.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Keep dreaming.” Even though you tried to shake off the feeling, you could sense your face getting hot.

Noticing your reaction, Haechan's eyes crinkled at the corners, and he looked at you with a pleased smile. “Oh? You like that idea, huh.” He teases.

You stalked off, leaving him to follow beside you with a knowing smirk. "Shut up or I will kill you," you threatened, trying to mask your emotions.

"That's against the rules, you know that, babe," he tuts. "Besides, I'd like to see you try. You vampires aren't so scary, you know."

"Another challenge? You don't get sick of losing, do you?"

"I won the first one," he shot back, a flicker of pride in his voice.

"I let you win," you replied.

A fire ignited behind his eyes. "You did not let me win."

"If that's what helps you sleep at night," you teased, pushing all the right buttons to rile him up. He was super competitive so it was easy.

He leaned in closer, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. "Okay, fine, you wanna play like that? I got a game for you. We have a few more hours before sunrise. You down?" The devilish smile on his face was one you knew better than to trust.

"Depends on what it is," you replied, crossing your arms defiantly.

"You think you’re faster and stronger than me, so let's put it to the test," he proposed, his grin broadening. "If I manage to rip your shirt off, I win. If you can evade me for a full hour, you win. Like that running man show we always watched."

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. "What the hell? You just want to take my shirt off!" you argued.

"Then you better not let me catch you," he shrugged.

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide the challenge that sparked within you. "Fine, it will be fun knocking you down a few pegs anyway."

He gave you a minute head start, and without hesitation, you took off, the ground fading beneath your feet as you covered hundreds of yards in no time. The scent of pine and damp earth filled your senses, and with every stride, you pushed yourself to create as much distance as possible.

But even with your impressive speed, you knew you couldn’t hide your scent from him; the bloodhound instincts of a wolf would always lead him straight to you. You would have to rely on your speed if you wanted to win, there was no point in hiding. You listened intently to the sounds of the night, and soon enough, the heavy gait of Haechan, now in his wolf form, reached your ears. He was fast, closing the gap between you with each passing second. You continue running. You fly through the trees, running, jumping and swinging between the branches. You propelled yourself farther and farther, you had been running at full speed for 30 minutes just to keep him off your heels and it was starting to annoy you how easily he was able to keep up. You had 30 more minutes and you were sick of running. You had to outsmart him if you wanted to win.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you decided to lead him to the place where you knew you could gain the upper hand: the fun house. You had been there before, giggling and disoriented off pixie dust during a fairy rave.You got trapped in the funhouse for hours.

You circled back, running until you were back at the amusement park. The giant tattered circus tent of the fun house comes into view and you look behind your shoulder to make sure Haechan was following. He was close, a few yards back.

As you rounded the corner into the funhouse, you felt a surge of confidence. With your last burst of energy, you darted through the maze of mirrors, instinctively weaving and dodging obstacles while leaving your scent against every reflective surface. The idea was solid; if you covered the place with your scent, he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint where you were. You hid at the end and waited.

A soft growl echoed through the maze, and the sound of Haechan's frustration made you suppress a giggle. When he entered the mirror maze, it was as if the walls began to close around him, reflecting his struggling figure infinitely. You could hear him bumping into the mirrored walls and howling in annoyance. He's about half way through when he gives up and decides he wants to go back before he realizes he can't. He's too deep inside now and he's stuck.

“Stuck already, big bad wolf?” you thought, grinning to yourself.

He lets out a howl when he bumps into another mirror. You have to hold in your laughter. Time began to slip away, and after about twenty minutes of him navigating the maze, he finally broke through to the exit.

When he finds you waiting at the exit he speeds towards you. You curse under your breath, you only had a few minutes left now but you couldn't outrun him. You're able to get back to the forest, hoping the natural obstacles of trees and bushes might buy you the time you need but it doesn't.

He charged at you, and with a yelp, he tackled you to the ground. You laughed uncontrollably when he shifted back to human, completely naked and utterly unbothered by his state.

The forest floor was cool beneath your back, the damp moss pressing into your skin as you struggled against him. It was chaos, a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter, one moment he was on top, and the next, you had somehow reversed your positions. The thrill of victory rushed through you as you caught his hands, using your strength to roll him onto his back while you straddle his waist.

A triumphant smile spread across your face as you taunted him, “Give it up. Only a minute left.”

His lips curled into a sly smirk, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. “I’m letting you win,” he insisted, echoing your earlier words with a gleam of defiance in his eyes.

You leaned down, your hair brushing against his cheeks as you whispered in his ear, “Oh, is that why you’re under me? What happened to dominating me?”

His gaze flickered, a flash of something feral erupting within their depths. Before you could react, he was moving—too fast, too strong. In an instant, he flipped you onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. The other tore at your shirt, you gasped as he ripped your shirt from your body.

“Not so tough now are you?” he says, his smirk widening. But there's a flicker of something else in his eyes as they roam down to your chest. “Looks like I win.” His voice drifts away, leaving a thick silence between you.

You lie beneath him in the tatters of your shirt, your bra and a pair of low-rise skinny jeans. You can’t help but notice how hard he’s becoming against you. Your gaze trails over his exposed skin and lingering on the hard lines of his muscles until they reach his length. You bite your lip at how red the tip of his dick was.

“I guess you did win,” you breathe out, your voice heavy with tension. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the raw effort it takes for him to hold himself back. “But I think a victory like this deserves a prize.”

And then his mouth was on yours, fierce and demanding, stealing the air from your lungs. You moaned into the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair as he pressed his body against yours. Twigs and leaves tangle in your hair but you didn’t care. You needed him—needed this—more than anything. He broke the kiss abruptly to undress you, his lips trailing down your neck, teeth grazing your collarbone before sinking in just enough to make you gasp. A shiver ran down your spine as his claws pricked at your skin, trailing down your side before retracting, leaving only the warmth of his palm groping your breast roughly.

“Haechan,” you whimpered, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer.

He breathed you in deeply. “I could smell you,” he murmured, his voice raspy. “The moment you saw me, I could smell how much you wanted me. But you always want to play the good girl, don’t you? The rule-follower.” His lips found your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe as he added, “Want to act like you don’t like me… but look at you now.”

You whined again, your nails digging into his shoulders as his mouth moved lower, kissing, licking, biting—claiming every inch of your body as his. He wasn’t gentle, but you didn’t want him to be. His tongue traced the curve of your breast, sucking and teasing until you were writhing beneath him, begging for more.

He trails his kisses down your body until his head is between your thighs. He lifts your legs over his shoulders and got comfortable. You see it for certain this time, his eyes glow crimson. His gaze stays locked on you the entire time as he works his tongue between your folds, collecting your slick and slurping noisily on your juices. He sucks ruthlessly at your clit and you're no match for his strength when you try to close your legs around his head. His claws dig into the skin of your thighs as he holds you open. His tongue is so slick and he's basically drooling as he devours you. The entire lower half of his face is soaked. You throw your head back in pleasure and claw at the ground beside you.

“Yes Haechan!” You moaned as your hips kicked up and grind against his tongue. You chase your release unashamed.

You were always weak to his touch but there was something about him now that just made you want to submit to his every order.

When he sat up, plunging two fingers deep inside you, you rode your high out on his fingers, your legs trembling with the force of your release. You lay there, spent and shuddering. Your legs are shaking pathetically when he sits up. The moon behind him shines its light down on him. He obscures the view enough for it to look like a halo above his head.

The red in his eyes is nothing but devilish as he licks his lips. “Turn over.” He commands.

You didn’t hesitate, rolling onto your hands and knees as he positioned himself behind you. His hands gripped your hips, claws pricking at your skin as he pulled you back against him.

He was everywhere—his hands gripping your hips, your hair, your throat—filling you completely, stretching you in ways that made your vision blur. Each thrust was punishing, driving the air from your lungs and drawing a symphony of moans and gasps from your lips. You were certain he would have broken you if you were human.

This was exactly what you had needed. You liked it rough, and in the past, while Haechan did his best to indulge you, he was afraid of hurting you. He didn't know you were a vampire; he didn’t know you could take it.

You could feel the same doubt begin to cloud his judgment as his touch became lighter and his thrusts shallower as he noticed just how rough he had been. In a sudden surge of frustration, you whipped your head back, baring your fangs to make it unmistakably clear what you were and what you could handle. “Do I need to remind you of what I am?” you hissed, your voice low and thick with desire. “Don’t hold back.”

The last remnants of his control snap, and he thrusts into you roughly. A heavy hand pushes your skull down into the damp moss while the other maintains the perfect arch in your back, elevating your hips as he fucks into you. Your eyes roll back, lost in pleasure as he mounts you, his hips snapping relentlessly against you over and over again.

His grip tightens, pulling you back to meet each primal thrust. He was treating you like a rag doll, and you loved every minute of it. It hurt good, the pain reminding you of what it felt like to be alive.

With a fierce handful of your hair, he pulls you up, leaning down to press hot, wet kisses against the side of your mouth. His grip moves from your hair to your neck, his fingers constricting around your throat choking you. You smile up at him, your expression wild and hungry as he takes you.

He was so deep, you could feel the delicious ache of him inside you, as if he were going to tear you apart. You haven't been to recharge so you know that the marks he left wouldn’t fade immediately. You wanted to admire the bruises on your skin for days, to remember him long after he had pulled away.

You don’t think there’s a single coherent thought behind his eyes, just a primal urge to stuff you full. He’s mumbling into your shoulder, biting the skin there before sinking his teeth in, and you whine, clenching down hard around him. His eyes roll back in ecstasy as he releases deep inside you, his body seemingly on autopilot, his hips continuing to thrust rhythmically as if driven by instinct. He pushes deeper and deeper, fucking you until the mixture of your combined release seeps out around his thick cock. With a violent shudder, you cum so hard your cunt pushes him out momentarily but he’s back inside you in seconds, helping you ride your high.

“Stupid puppy, fucked himself dumb?” you tease with a smile.

He's too far gone to register your insult. He pulls out, flipping you onto your side, sliding himself in between your legs, straddling one while throwing the other over his shoulder. He grips your thigh tightly and fucks into you again, still impossibly hard. You could never get enough of him. He hugs your leg as he thrusts, and you reach down, circling your clit, the pressure building again as his breath comes out in ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good. I don’t think I can stop. Please, don’t make me stop,” he whines, the desperation in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You pull him down to connect your lips. The kiss is raw and hungry, filled with teeth as you try to kiss him but every thrust that jolts your body upward makes it difficult. You could feel yourself growing closer and you cum again, soaking his length even more. He follows soon after, burying himself deep within you as he releases his hot cum, his body twitching with the force of his release.

Hours slip by in the haze of pleasure, the sun beginning to rise by the time he finally pulls out. He’s out cold, and the fangs and claws that once decorated him are nowhere to be seen; he looks entirely human now, vulnerable and peaceful.

Whatever power he had, he’s completely drained himself of it. You’re spent too, but you gather just enough strength to stand. The sun is creeping higher and you have to get home before it fully rises, or you risk losing the last remnants of energy you have left to make the run. You consider waking him to say goodbye but he looks too peaceful. You prayed he would understand your reasoning.

Ultimately, you slip away, making it home just before the sun breaks the horizon.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The past couple of weeks have left you feeling rejuvenated, like there’s a hidden spring in your step that wasn’t there before. Sooyoung, your ever-observant best friend, quickly pieces things together. You haven't mentioned your encounter with Haechan at the amusement park yet—mostly because you know she would freak out and bombard you with a million questions. Honestly, you didn’t need your best friend knowing just how much of a slut you were for your self-proclaimed mortal enemy.

Sooyoung's knowing smile has been ever-present, and you glare at her from across the couch while she takes a sip from her coffee mug. “What?” you ask, feigning annoyance.

“Nothing. Nothing,” she replies, her eyes flickering back to the movie, but you can sense her amusement. A few moments pass, and, unable to contain her excitement, her gaze shifts back to you, her smile widening.

“Okay, seriously, what is it?” you exclaim, shoving her playfully.

Sooyoung shrugs, taking a long sip before speaking. “That’s a nice mark you’ve got there on your shoulder. Who’d you get that from?” she asks pointedly.

Your expression falters as you realize that your shirt has slid off your shoulder, revealing the bruise he left behind, the one you had tried to cover with makeup. You curse under your breath.

“No need to be ashamed, girl. I knew the day was coming sooner or later!” she laughs. “But if you think you’re leaving without telling me what happened, you’re high off pixie dust.”

You bite your lip, a smile breaking through. Before you know it, you’re giggling and screaming, overwhelmed with excitement. Sooyoung smacks you lightly on the arm, her own laughter ringing out. “No way, tell me! He got you kicking your feet like that?”

You spill everything that happened and by the end of it, Sooyoung is standing up from the couch. “We need to go out! He broke your dry spell, this calls for a celebration!”

You playfully smack her on the butt as she turns toward the remote to switch off the TV. “Shut up,” you laugh.

You can hear the bass thumping even before you step into the old, abandoned church. City vampires know how to throw the best raves, and you’re not surprised to see half of the city’s paranormal packed inside.

Sooyoung drops her cloak, her wings unfurling gracefully across her back as she shrinks down a few sizes. At parties like this, no one bothers to cloak. Within the weathered walls of the church, every supernatural creature is free to shed their human facades and embrace their true forms. You allow your eyes to gleam a deep crimson, fangs brushing your bottom lip as you lose yourself to the pulsating rhythm of the music.

Hours slip by before you even realize it. The music here is enchanted—not so overwhelming that it would keep you dancing to the brink of exhaustion, but just enough to carry good vibes throughout the crowd. It also amplifies the high from the pixie dust, ensuring that everyone who joins in the dance has a good trip.

“I'm gonna go find a pixie! Want to come?” Sooyoung asks over the pulsating beats.

“Nah, I’m good,” you say, waving her off. She nods and heads off into the crowd while you make your way out back to get some fresh air.

Stepping outside, you spot a few couples making out against the building while others drift in quiet conversation. One familiar figure catches your eye. Jeno was leaning against a tree smiling at something on his phone.

Curiosity piqued, you walked up to him. “What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Looking after my pack. Why are you bothering me?” he replies, not bothering to look up.

“Just making small talk, you infuriating mutt,” you roll your eyes.

“Your boyfriend’s also a mutt, so how’s that make you feel?” He shoots back.

You glare at him, feeling a pang of irritation. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” you snap, afraid the wrong crowd might overhear.

“Right, that’s too bad,” he smirks, finally looking at you.

“And why is that?” you grit your teeth.

“You didn’t know? He presented. He’ll be going into rutt soon and he’s gonna need a mate if he wants to survive it.”

Your stomach drops. You didn’t need to ask what he presented as, it was obvious.

“You know, my dad’s been trying to find someone compatible with him.” Jeno says, an edge of satisfaction in his tone.

“And that’s probably going as well as it did for you,” you shot back. “Your sorry self is still alone. What, are you jealous that you'll have to jerk it solo during your rutt?” Venom laced your words.

Jeno’s smile grows wider, and he knows he's hit a nerve. “Don’t be too sad when he stops coming around. I warned you,” he says, shoulder checking you and heading back into the party.

You felt sick. If what jeno said was true Haechan would be looking for a mate to satisfy his rutt. Just like that your world crashes down around you. You go back inside and look for Sooyoung. When you finally locate her, it’s in the storage room, where she’s wrapped up in a makeout session with Renjun, a pixie you recognize as her casual fling.

“We need to go,” you insist, cutting right through their moment.

Renjun pressed a lingering kiss to her neck as she glanced past him at you, surprise flickering across her face. “Aww, but it was just getting fun,” she pouted.

“Well, I’m heading home,” you state flatly. “I don’t feel good.” Without waiting for her to pull herself from Renjun's embrace, you race home

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It had been days since you heard from Haechan; he wasn’t answering your texts or returning your calls. It was rare for him to be home anymore, so you weren’t surprised to find his place empty when you went to check on him. Had his rutt already begun? You cringed at the thought and quickly shook it from your mind. If he were in rutt, they would have found him someone to lay with by now.

You realized that constantly thinking about him was driving you crazy. You needed a distraction. You left your home and headed to the library, but all you could think about were those late nights helping him study within those four walls. You decided to visit Sooyoung, hoping she could take your mind off things, but she had taken too much pixie dust at the last party and was still coming down from the high.

There was only one place you knew where you could silence your thoughts. You needed to recharge. Maybe if you slept long enough, you could forget about what Jeno had told you, maybe even forget about Haechan.

It wasn’t until you reached the cemetery that you realized tonight was a full moon. If Haechan had truly gone into rutt, it would officially begin tonight. A wave of bloodlust washed over you as tormenting images of Haechan with someone else flooded your mind. Maybe he was right; perhaps you and Hera did share some traits after all.

You could become deadly when you were jealous.

You locked yourself in your coffin, fighting the urge to storm into werewolf territory and tear them all apart. They weren’t the only ones who became stronger under a full moon.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The lid of your casket slid open, and when you locked eyes with the person who dared to interrupt your sleep, a primal urge to rip his throat out surged through you.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey, wait!” Mark shouted, jumping back several feet. You rose from your coffin, the scent surrounding you immediately igniting a rage.

The last thing you wanted to smell upon waking up was mutt.

“What the hell are you doing in my territory?” you snapped, your voice icy cold. “This breaks the treaty, and I have free rein to murder all of you.”

You scanned the graveyard, spotting Ten, Johnny, and Yangyang standing several yards away. Jeno and Jaehyun were closer, but not close enough to be within your reach, unlike Mark—who was either brave or incredibly stupid for waking you.

“Guys, I told you this was a bad idea,” Mark whined.

“She likes you the most; she would have killed me already if I'd woken her up,” Jeno replied, arms crossed.

“You have five seconds to explain what’s going on before I use your hide to make myself a coat,” you threatened, your patience wearing thin.

“It’s Haechan! He needs you!” Mark exclaimed, hands raised defensively.

You dropped your guard. “What? What happened?” You asked, stalking closer and gripping him by the front of his shirt.

“He’s in rutt. We tried to find him a partner to help him through it, but he refused. He’s getting more and more agitated as the days pass, and usually, the rutt would be dying down by now, but it isn’t,” Mark huffed, worry etched on his face as he recalled the events.

That idiot—what did he think he was doing?

“Dad thinks he’ll drive himself insane if he keeps refusing his urges,” Jeno butts in.

“How long has he been like that?” you demanded.

“Three days,” Jaehyun spoke up. “As much as we don’t like it, he’s our brother, and we can’t lose him. You need to go to him.”

“You waited three days to find me?” you yelled, incredulous.

“We thought he would break eventually, but now he just becomes aggressive if an omega tries to come near him,” Johnny explained, cautiously stepping closer now that he was certain you wouldn’t try to kill anyone.

“Well, let’s go,” you said, preparing to run off, until Jeno stepped in front of you. “If you like your head being on your shoulders, I’d move.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? If he hurts you, he’ll never forgive us for bringing you to him in this condition,” Jeno continued, his concern evident.

You flashed him a confident smile. “Fully charged.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

This time, when you crossed into werewolf territory, the atmosphere was far less hostile. Jeno and Jaehyun led the way and eventually brought you into a secluded room where a heavy door stood, carved with symbols that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. You could feel the whispers of magic, familiar and foreign all at once. To the side, a hidden passageway led down a narrow set of stairs, the faint echo of your footsteps reverberating off the stone walls as you descended.

“You’ve been keeping him locked up underground?” you questioned, a wave of memories from your past life flashing before your eyes.

“This is where we all go during the first rut. It can be dangerous,” Jaehyun explained. “The same goes for newly turned werewolves. If they can’t find control, the only way to keep everyone safe is to let them weather the storm down here.”

You finally reached a door at the end of the hallway. Jaehyun paused, the concern etched on his face deepening. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not scared, if that’s what you’re asking,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“Well, we’ll be out here if you need us. Just yell,” Jeno said. He handed you a key, it's cold metal feeling heavy in your palm.

The door loomed before you, heavy and imposing, its surface cool to the touch as you reached for the handle. You stepped into the room, and your heart sank at the sight of Haechan. He was lying on the bed, shackled to the floor, but the chains were long enough to allow him some space to move around.

His red eyes snapped to you the moment you entered, studying your figure in the middle of the room. He was barely dressed, clad in nothing but a pair of briefs, and the covers beneath him were shredded to pieces. The remnants of furniture lay scattered around, completely demolished, and the walls bore deep, angry scars. Some looked like old wounds, while others appeared fresh, no doubt done by Haechan.

A sheen of sweat coated his tan skin, his hair matted to his forehead. Before you could process it, he was in front of you, moving faster than you’d ever seen him. If you had been any closer, he might have reached out to grab you. He thrashed against his restraints, hands straining towards you in desperation.

You weren’t afraid; there was no hesitation as you stepped into his embrace.

He pulls you close against his chest, his grip possessive and strong. He was burning like a furnace against you. “I missed you,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost unrecognizable. “I’ve been waiting, holding on for you.” You can feel his arousal pressing stiff against your stomach. Your body reacts immediately to him, your nipples harden and you can feel yourself getting wet.

“It’s okay, let go,” you reassure him, using the key Jeno had given you earlier to unbind him. “I trust you.”

As the last of his shackles clatter to the floor, he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slams you against the nearest wall. He bites your lip before he rips your shirt down the middle, pulling away just enough to attach his mouth to one of your breasts, his other hand eagerly exploring your body. He humps at your leg pathetically, dragging his cock over the rough fabric of your jeans.

You fumble with your pants, realizing too late that you should have chosen something with easier access. His patience wears thin, and with a flash of claws, he impatiently rips the crotch from your jeans. The cold air immediately hits your wet core, and Haechan inhales deeply. He drops to his knees in seconds, shoving his nose deep in your cunt, he wanted to drown in your scent.

“Haechan,” you gasp, instinctively pushing his head away.

One of his hands grips both your wrists tightly, pinning them against your lower stomach as he leans in closer, inhaling your scent like it’s the sweetest perfume. You glance down to find him stroking himself, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

He buries his face deeper, forcing his tongue between your legs. You can feel the tip of his tongue prod at the tight rim of your asshole. Heat rushes to your face as you try to close your thighs, but he pulls back only to bite your thigh in warning.

“Don’t fight me. You’re going to lose,” he huffs.

You shiver at his command, surrendering as you throw a leg over his shoulder. He instantly resets his focus, lapping at you while moaning in appreciation.

“God,” he exhales, the muscles in his arms straining as he grips himself tighter, strokes growing rough and desperate. His eyes screw shut in frustration. “Not enough, I need you.”

He manhandles you, turning you to face the wall and pressing you firmly against it. Your jeans cling uncomfortably to your skin as he grips your hips tightly. In one deep thrust, he’s inside you, and it feels like he’s rearranging your guts. He feels different from before—thicker—and you can’t help but rise onto your tiptoes with every deep thrust. You brace yourself against the wall, palms flat against the surface.

“You don’t know how bad I wished you were here. I needed you,” he grunts. His thrusts grow more aggressive. “Where the hell were you? Huh?” His grip tightens in your hair, forcing you to look back at him.

You whimper, brain fogging as he stretches you open. “I’m here, Haechan. I’ll always be right here.

You feel the familiar heat building within you, and his fingers find your clit, rubbing in tight circles. “That’s right, baby. Give it to me.”

You come hard and he pulls out, dropping to his knees to lick deep inside you as he ate you out from the back. He wanted to taste every last drop of you and you would let him suck you dry.

You don't realize he's thrown you on the bed until you're staring at the ceiling, the tattered sheets beneath you. He crawls towards you, like a predator about to catch his prey. Gripping your ankle, he pulls you closer, ripping your pants off. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his lips.

He sinks back into you, and you wrap your legs around his waist, rolling your hips against him, your nails raking down his chest as he takes you.

“Mmh fuck.” He whines.

His mouth drops open in pleasure and you can tell he appreciates the way your pussy grips him. He looks like hes on cloud nine as he fucks you into the bed. You were exactly what he had been needing these past few days. You grip the hair at the back of his nape and pull. He moans breathlessly and his next thrust is so sharp it knocks you up the bed a few inches.

“Alpha,” you moan.

He grips your thighs, pressing them against your chest, holding you in place as he ravages you. The sound of the bed creaking fills the room with each thrust, the headboard connecting rhythmically with the wall. He doesn’t relent, his hand gripping your chin to make sure you’re looking at him. “Say it again.”

“Alpha!” you scream as he abuses your cunt.

“You’re mine,” he growls, capturing your lips in a quick messy kiss. “Say it.”

“I'm yours, only yours.”

As he releases his grip on your face, he pulls your hair, making you watch as he thrusts between your legs. “Look at how you take me. So fucking beautiful.” He growls.

He quickened his pace, raw and desperate, and the bed shakes beneath you.

“Shit” you scream. You dig your nails into his shoulder and take it. You cling to him, your breaths coming in short gasps as pleasure builds low in your belly. His lips find yours again, silencing your moans as he fucks you with an intensity that borders on pain. But it’s perfect—it’s everything you both needed.

You don't even get the chance to warn him when you come around him, clamping down impossibly tight. He fucks you into the mattress, unable to hold back and the bed shakes so forcefully it gives out under you, collapsing to the ground with a loud creak. He doesn’t look up, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t care.

He buries his face into your neck and chants your name. You could feel him swelling inside of you and he bites down hard onto your shoulder hips stilling as he spills into you.

He rolls you on top of him but stays buried inside of you. Knotting you to make sure not a drop of his cum spills out. You take a look around the room, your shredded clothes lay haphazardly on the ground and the bed lies in splinters below you. You laugh breathlessly before snuggling closer to him.

“I'm sorry I was so late,” you say. “When they told me you were in rutt I thought you would take someone else.”

“Never. You’re the only one I want. The only one I’ll ever want.”

You smile, tracing patterns on his chest. “Good. Because I’m not sharing.”

He laughs, the sound warm and rich. He looks at peace, his eyes no longer clouded with desperation.

A loud knock echoes through the room.

“Haechan!” Jeno’s voice calls from outside the door. “If you're back to normal We need to talk. Now.”

Your body stiffens at his voice. You had forgotten they were out there.

You feel Haechan’s body stiffen as well, his grip on you tightening. “What is it?” he barks, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

“It’s serious. Dad found out about her being here. He’s ordered everyone to the meeting hall… including her.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It isn’t until much later that you and Haechan muster the energy to finally roll out of the bed, or what’s left of it. You find yourself dressed in his clothes, feeling a little shy. The walk to the meeting hall is quiet, but Haechan’s hand remains firmly intertwined with yours, offering a sense of strength and support.

At the head of the room stands jeno’s father, the pack leader.

His eyes shift from Haechan to you, studying you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. You had assumed it was his orders that brought you here, but maybe not.

“You,” he says, his voice low and measured. “Come closer.”

Hesitant, you move forward, Haechan’s hand reluctantly releasing yours. The alpha steps down from his platform, circling you slowly.

“Do you know,” he begins, stopping in front of you, “how rare it is for a werewolf in rutt to resist an omega’s scent? Even more so for three days?” His tone isn’t accusatory, it’s almost… impressed.

You swallow hard, unsure of how to respond. “I… I didn’t realize…”

“And yet,” he continues, ignoring your stammering, “he endured it. Refused every omega offered to him, tore himself apart fighting his instincts—for you.” He pauses, his gaze piercing. “Do you understand what that means?”

Your breath catches.

“It means,” he says, his voice softening ever so slightly, “that you mean more to him than anything else. More than his instincts. More than his own survival.” He turns to Haechan, who’s standing rigidly nearby. “Isn’t that right, son?”

Haechan doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.” His voice is steady, unwavering. “She’s mine. And I’m hers.”

The alpha stares at him for a long moment before nodding, almost imperceptibly. Then, he turns back to you. “If one of my sons is willing to endure hell for you, then I can see no reason to stand in the way of this bond. I give you both my blessing.”

The room erupts into murmurs, shock rippling through the pack. But the alpha silences them with a single raised hand. “Anyone who challenges this decision will answer to me directly.” His gaze sweeps across the room, daring anyone to speak against him. No one does.

Haechan steps forward. “Thank you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

The alpha nods again, his expression unreadable. “Take care of her,” he directs towards Haechan before turning back to you. “And take care of yourself. If this is the path you choose, then make sure you’re strong enough to walk it.”

You nod at him, still in shock as haechan picks you up off the ground in a tight hug.

Mark and Ten approach, clapping Haechan on the back. “Guess you’re part of the pack now,” Ten teases you playfully.

Jeno steps forward too. “Don’t think just because my dad likes you that I do.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around Haechan’s neck. “It will be a cold day in hell before we’re friends.”

“Just ignore him,” Johnny says with a chuckle. “If the chief says so then you’re family. We’ve got your back whether he likes it or not.”

Jaehyun nods in agreement, a reassuring smile on his face. “If anyone tries to come between you two, you can rely on us.”

A smile blooms across your face. All the fear and worry you once carried begins to lift. You felt safe knowing they had your back. Vampire or werewolf—let them come. You’re not fighting by yourself anymore.

808 notes · View notes

sooniebby · 7 months ago

Text

ఌ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆

W.C › 6.9k

Warnings › Riki is an OC. Bottom male reader. Reader has a cock. Reader last name is Tanaka, just cuz I’m lazy. Using some Japanese sparingly, feel free to correct me, I’m in no way fluent lol. Translations at end. Hints at parental abuse, nothing extreme for this ch.

Plot › Scents have always made you nauseous, until you smell a certain playboy

Kinks › A/B/O, scenting, dry humping, brat taming/brat behavior, fondling, rutting

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭:

𝙅𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝘼𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙤𝙩

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

➝ 抑制剤を補充する

𝟑:𝟑𝟎 𝐀𝐌

➝ 抑制剤を補充する

𝟓:𝟑𝟎 𝐀𝐌

➝ 抑制剤を補充する

𝟖:𝟑𝟎 𝐀𝐌

❝ 聞いているか, (Name)？ ❞

The sputtering of the fan shook you awake as you rubbed your eyes, trying to ignore the glaring sun seeping through your blinds. Your roommates soft snores brought an odd sense of comfort as you tried to slow your breathing.

You were okay. You were okay.

A meow caught your attention as you glanced over to see Ume, your roommate’s rag doll curled up on the couch near your feet. Your roommate, Furukawa Miya, was on the floor, curled up with a bottle of wine.

Right. Miya was given a bottle of wine by her mother as celebration for her finally moving out. Though she was just moving in with you—she was out of the house. At least that’s what her mother said.

“Morning, Ume. Did I wake you up?” You whispered, leaning over to scratch underneath her cheek. Ume purred and stretched out, her butt rising in the air as her tail curled.

“Nnnnnngh… No~ it’s my wine… no….”

You looked over at Miya, rolling your eyes as she continued to clutch the wine bottle as if it was her baby. You’d worry about her later. As you slipped off the couch, grabbing your phone off the pushed away dining table. There were multiple texts from Miya’s mother, stating that you two better not have finished the wine in one day.

The empty bottle of wine was now being French kissed by Miya.

You’d answer her mother another time.

Ume followed you to the kitchen as you scrolled through the rest of your messages before your thumb stopped at a certain name. You froze, staring at the name as if it would hopefully change or maybe you were reading it wrong without your glasses.

お母さん

↳ Did you replenish it ？ (6:45 AM)

No hello, no fucking how are you? You shut off your phone and slammed it on the kitchen countertop. Some mother she was. You felt the urge to yell when you noticed Miya was awake, cuddling the bottle of wine to her chest as she looked around in a sleepy daze.

Her short dyed purple hair was every which way, her eyes puffy due to how late she went to sleep.

“(Name)-Kun? Sum’ hap’?” She slurred her words, shakily standing up and pattering over to you in the kitchen.

Any sort of anger you had fizzled away as her tangy citrus scent slipped through the air, tickling your nose. You greedily sniffed it and shook your head, grabbing a cup of water to give to her. Miya was an alpha despite her short stature and cute looks.

Most alpha scents made you nauseous. Always strong and acidic. And while Miya’s had an acidic taste, there was still a sweetness to it compared to other alphas. Besides, you’ve smelt her since middle school, you probably just grew a tolerance to her.

“Just my mom.”

Miya’s posture straightens up at the mention of your mother, her doe eyes widening as she grabbed the cup of water. “What did she want?”

“Replenish my suppressants.”

“Is she paying for it?” Miya scoffed, downing the water in seconds.

“She sent me some money.”

“How much?”

You hesitated for a moment before sighing. “3,107 yen.” It wasn’t much compared to how expensive suppressants were these days.

Miya sputtered, her glare returning as she grabbed some cat food from the pantry. “Only that much?! That can’t even pay half.”

“I know.”

“Did you even tell her that suppressants have gotten expensive these days? Especially after the government said it was dangerous for us?”

“Mhm.” You rubbed the bridge of your nose. “Told her that things have changed. I can only get suppressants oversees unless I want to get it from the black market. She just told me to do whatever it takes.”

“Stupid bitch.”

You only chuckled at Miya’s comment. Five years ago, Japan had banned suppressants. Though, it was only a select few. The suppressants you took completely shut down one’s body. Erasing all scents, heats/ruts, and anything that made someone an alpha or omega.

And that, was now illegal. It didn’t even make its users a beta, just a husk of what they should’ve been.

You used to take those suppressants, Limited X, frequently. Two per day when you lived at home. Now you only took one every two weeks. You had tried to stop after leaving your parents home but you had a relapse and nearly died if Miya hadn’t taken you to a hospital.

And in a way, you didn’t want to stop taking them. It wasn’t like you hated the thought of being an alpha or omega but you liked being invisible, not affected by the scents of others.

“It’s fine. I took the last one yesterday. I’ll order some tonight.” You said, glancing over at Miya.

“Will you… try to stop again?” She whispered, a look of worry in her eyes.

“No. I’ve already been taking it my whole life. I’m pretty much ruined now. Doubt I have a scent.”

Miya sighed. “Don’t say that. Even if you don’t have a scent, it can’t be good to be taking these. What if… what if you try to join a pack or even mate with someone? They can’t bite your scent gland, it’s not even developed.”

“I told you. I’ll be alone. I’m not a beta, alpha, or omega. I’m nothing. Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Okay.” She whispered. “But it doesn’t hurt to try again… I’d help you this time.”

You didn’t reply.

It was too late for you. You reached up and gently palmed the back of your neck, touching the rigid skin that didn’t soften like many others.

Citrus didn’t do much to calm you now.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Miya… Why did I have to come with you?” You whined, gripping Miya’s sweater as she rolled her eyes. Miya had dragged you to a student hangout at a sushi restaurant. The professor of Miya’s philosophy class decided to hold it, mentioning that he’d pay for everyone.

You didn’t understand why at first, what teacher has the money to do that, but you soon realized why when you noticed there were only ten students. Plus, it was happy hour.

The students didn’t seem weirded out that you were there though the professor immediately said he wasn’t paying for you. Fair.

“You need to go out more! It’s good to make friends.” Miya said, grabbing a sushi with her chopsticks and feeding it to you.

You pouted. “I only need you.”

“Oi, I can’t get a girlfriend because you keep clinging onto me! They think I’m a taken alpha!” She whined, despite this, she continued feeding you sushi. “I want a girlfriend! Alpha, beta, omega, I don’t care.”

“Go to a mixer.” You said bluntly, nuzzling your nose into her sweater. The scents of omegas and alphas were swirling into one in the restaurant. Even the betas muted scents were attacking you. It was overwhelming, too much for you to handle.

Miya’s citrus scent didn’t bring much comfort, it wasn’t enough to combat the stench. She was wearing scent blockers. One of the few alphas that actually cared about overwhelming omegas and betas with their scents. Couldn’t be said about these other alphas who seemed to be proudly pushing their scent out.

You also wore scent blockers. But not ones that help mute one’s scent. You wore ones that gave you a scent. It was a generic minty scent that lots of betas had.

Almost everyone had a scent. It would be odd if no one could smell anything off you.

These type of scent blockers were also hard to find and expensive. Especially if you wanted one that blended into your skin tone. You glanced at the white scent blocker that was on Miya’s lower part of her neck, larger enough for anyone to just see if they glanced at her.

You closed your eyes, leaning in closer to try and get more of her tangy scent when something sweet tickled your nose.

An omega?

“Watanabe-San, you came?”

“Ah, Watanabe-Kun, why’d you come!! You’re gonna steal all the omegas!”

“Shut it, Tachibana! Watanabe-Kun, sit next to me!”

“Watanabe! Didn’t you have a date?”

“Date? Watanabe and a date? You mean a one night stand?”

“Students! Keep it down,” Professor Naoki bellowed, calming down the students.

You didn’t move your head to see who was coming in. But you felt the cushion beside you shift as a person plopped down. A waitress came by with refills that you almost forgot about the new person entirely when she gave you another mock tail.

You couldn’t drink while on the suppressants. That’s why Miya was the only one who drank wine the other day.

“Hey, Watanabe!” You felt Miya’s chest vibrate as she began talking to Watanabe. It was slightly comforting that you could’ve fallen asleep. Your hand gripped at her sweater as you nuzzled closer into her shoulder.

“Is that your omega?”

“Eh?”

You froze, pulling away from Miya to finally get a look at Watanabe. “Omega…?” You whispered, hoping your tone didn’t come off as you being angry. Omegas already dealt with so much bullshit these days, you didn’t want the omega classmates to think you were disgusted at the idea of being mistaken as one.

“Watanabe, (Name)-Kun isn’t an omega,” Miya said, giggling slightly. “He’s a beta. And we’re not dating! We’re… a pre-pack!”

Watanabe hummed, his eyes flickering onto you. You flinched—finally getting a better look at him. A soft mop of black hair that looked a bit wet. Did he come here in the rain? Judging by his wet jacket that was bundled on his lap you believed you were right. A mole underneath his left eye. Mono-lid eyes that gave him an almost cat like look.

“Beta?” He suddenly asked. “You don’t smell like one.”

“What are you talking about, Watanabe-Kun?” An omega chimed in. “Tanaka-San smells just like a beta! Minty fresh. You can smell me if you want to smell a real omega.” She giggled flirtatiously, earning a round of oohs from the others at her bold behavior.

An alpha laughed, Tachibana—you remembered, “Watanabe-Kun always had a weird sense of smell. You sure you aren’t just smelling a nearby omega?” He asked, sliding over a glass of beer to Watanabe.

Watanabe stared only at you, as if he was watching you, analyzing you. “Mhm. Maybe I was.” He said, turning his attention over to Tachibana who sat across from him.

With his eyes off you, you suddenly felt the freedom to breathe. You tried to recall the sweet scent from earlier but found it to be drowned out.

Miya beside you was chatting it up with a few of her other classmates, blushing at a pretty omega girl whenever she leaned in close. Shit.

You wanted to tough it out a bit longer but the scents attacked your noise and it became too much to handle. With shaky legs, you stood up, gently patting Miya on the head and leaving the restaurant.

The cool rush of air slapped you in the face as soon as you opened the door. The clap of thunder ringing as rain pattered against the roof of the restaurant. Fuck, you didn’t have an umbrella.

But the rain offered a nice break from the smell of alphas and omegas. Rain didn’t have much of a smell to others but it brought a sense of ease to you. You stood there for a moment, just enjoying the serenity of it all.

As you began to contemplate running to the subway, the smell of something sweet was back. It was the same one you smelled before it got muted by the others.

Sweet honey?

It reminded you of Japanese Apricots. You couldn’t help but giggle slightly, that’s what Ume was named after. Maybe that’s why you liked it.

“What are you laughing about?”

A gasp left your lips as you turned around, seeing none other than Watanabe standing behind you. Your feet slid on the wet staircase and you feel yourself stumbling back. You try to reach for the stair railing to stabilize yourself but it was too slippery from the rain.

A strong arm grip your waist as you’re pulled back, crashing into Watanabe’s chest instead of the concrete. Your nose scrunched against his shoulder as your hands subconsciously grip his shirt. So close, you were so close that you could properly smell him.

Ume.

Japanese Apricot.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a muffled whine, pressing yourself closer to him. He smelled so sweet. Alphas never smelled sweet. It was always strong, tangy, or even acidic. But he was sweet. Sweet like honey. Sweet like a strawberry cake. Your lips parted as you gently bit his jacket.

“In public?” You felt him whispering against your hair. “Do I smell that good?” Your body flinched as you looked up seeing Watanabe with a cocky smirk on his lips. Words seemed to escape you as you tried to say something but could only notice the scent blockers on his neck.

The same white scent blocker Miya uses.

But… why does his scent smell so strong?

It felt as if he wasn’t even wearing one.

“So you are an omega?” He asked, tilting his head.

You frowned, pushing him away roughly. He didn’t flinch but still released you, putting some distance between you both. “Not an omega. I don’t know what came over me. Won’t happen again.”

“Mhm. Whatever you say.” He said, shaking his head.

“What… are you doing outside?” You whispered, trying to calm down. Your body felt fidgety for some reason. You didn’t know why, you weren’t surrounded by the stench of other alphas and omegas. Though you couldn’t smell Watanabe with him even a few inches away from you.

So his scent blockers do work…

“Smoke.” He said, waving a pack of cigarettes.

“Smoke…? Don’t smoke near me.”

“I didn’t know you owned the place. Weren’t you leaving?” He pulled out his lighter, pressing one cigarette to his lips and lighting it with ease.

You glared at him, already smelling the nicotine attack your nostrils. Without much thought, you reached over and snatched the cigarette from his lips, dropping it to the ground and crushing it with your sneakers. When you looked back at him, he was staring at you, mouth agape with his lighter still in his hand.

Your actions suddenly replayed in your mind as you bit your lip, realizing you just overreacted. An apology was just on the tip of your tongue when Watanabe chuckled, shoving his lighter into his jacket.

“You’re bold, Tanaka. Is this your way of flirting with me?”

“I’m not flirting with you!” You yelled, blushing slightly. “It’s raining… I can’t leave even if I wanted to.”

Watanabe hummed as he looked out at the rain. “Your alpha okay with you leaving?”

“She’s not my alpha.”

“Aren’t you two a ‘pre-pack’? She’s still your alpha, omega. It’s not safe for non mated omegas to walk home so late alone.”

“Huh?” You muttered, glancing over at him. “Haaah?! What are you even blabbering about, stupid alpha?!”

Watanabe stared at you as if you were a dummy. “Do you even know what a pack is…? If you’re in a pack, the alpha of the pack is your alpha until you’re mated, dumbass.” He rolled his eyes, hands twitching towards his pockets. You could tell he was upset over not being able to smoke.

Oh well! He could smoke later.

“I’m not an omega, dumbass! I’m a beta! B-E-T-A! Beta!”

“Why are you lying? Being an omega isn’t terrible.” Watanabe said, his face suddenly serious. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared straight at you. “Seriously, you just got drunk off my scent, no beta does that.”

“I did not! Your scent is disgusting! Just like those alphas in there,” you pointed at the restaurant door. “I haaaate your scent!”

“You’re so childish.” Watanabe muttered, pulling out his pack of cigarettes once more. You glared at him, eyes squinted as you silently dared him to light one. He paid you no mind, easily pressing one onto his lips as he flicked on his lighter.

Maybe it was the mock tails. Maybe it was the fuzzy feeling in your brain that still swirled around from his scent.

You reached over and pulled the cigarette away from his lips and tossed it behind you. Your hands gripped his face as you squished his cheeks, causing his lips to purse into a pout. You felt a ghost of a giggle at the tip of your tongue but you pushed it down to keep up a furious facade.

“Stop! Don’t smoke in front of me, got it?!” You yelled, leaning up on your toes to look him straight in the eye. Watanabe stared at you with a look of shock.

The rain began to lessen, reaching a soft decrescendo. His skin felt soft in your hands. Your eyes flickered to his lips before quickly moving back to his eyes. You didn’t notice the rise in his eyebrow as his right hand slipped the pack of cigarettes back into his pocket before reaching out and grabbing you by the waist.

A gasp left your lips as you released his face, grunting when he pulled you close. Your face pressed against his shoulder, near the scent blocker. Japanese apricot swirled around you once more and you felt yourself melt in his arms.

Ume.

Ume, Ume.

“You shouldn’t act so brave.” He whispered. “When only a whiff of my scent turns you into putty.”

You only whined in response, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Watanabe hummed as he leaned down, nuzzling into your neck. His teeth grazed your skin. You flinched, wanting to pull away in fear he’d bite you but you only felt something tear off your skin.

Watanabe pulled away with your scent patch between his teeth. He used his free hand to pull it out and examined the patch with a curious eye. “Never seen any like this. You bought this oversees or something?” He laughed, tossing the patch into the grass nearby.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to mention no littering. His scent was all you could really think about.

“You smell different compared to any omegas I’ve ever been with.” He said. “It’s so faint… almost couldn’t smell it at first.”

Other omegas?

The serenity that once blanketed you was torn apart. Other omegas? Your alpha—no, no! He wasn’t your anything! You ignored all of the bile rising in your mouth as you pushed him away, glaring at him when he tried to reach for you again.

“Is this how you get your omegas? Huh? Force your stinky scent on them until they get drunk?”

“Ha? Every omega that I’ve been with has been consensual.” Watanabe growled, suddenly standing tall. You gulped, realizing what your words could’ve implied.

It wasn’t rare for certain alphas, and even omegas, to force their scent on someone. After a while, the scent could force the person into a drunk like state—even worse, a heat or rut.

However it wasn’t easy to do. Your scent had to be potent. And even then, it wouldn’t work on everyone. People were weak to certain scents. You remember Miya stating lavender scents seemed to send her into a daze from just a few whiffs.

“S-Sorry… I didn’t mean it like that.” You whispered. For some reason, you didn’t want him angry at you. The mere thought that he could be angry was anxiety inducing.

“What’s your problem? Why is your scent so weak? Why are you so scared to be called an omega?”

“I—”

“Riki-Kun? Is that you?”

You looked over to see a pretty girl holding an umbrella, her doe eyes staring at you and Watanabe. She was cute. So cute and omega like. And she was on first name basis with him? You felt bile rise in your throat and you quickly covered your mouth, feeling tears well in your eyes.

What the fuck? What the fuck was this feeling?

“What are you doing out here alone, Rina-Chan? It’s late.” Watanabe asked, a look of worry on his face.

Chan…?

Rina-Chan?

りなちゃん….

You pulled off your jacket and placed it on your head before sprinting away, ignoring Watanabe and Rina’s shared confusion. You kept running, running and running as your feet splashed into puddles. Rain sprinkled down onto you, soaking your jacket and in turn yourself. It was hardly a true cover.

The apartment door closed behind you as you took a deep breath, finally reaching home in record time. Water pooled your feet as you slowly toed off your sneakers. Rina-Chan? Rina-Chan….

You couldn’t help the bitter laugh that left your lips. The hell was wrong with you? You were jealous? Over a guy his classmates literally said had a one night stand? Omegas were flirting with him unabashedly.

Why were you jealous?

Your feet shifted just a bit before you felt a squeeze in your abdomen. A scream left your lips as you collapsed onto the floor, curling into yourself as the pain began to transfer around your body. Tears pricked your eyes as you gripped your stomach, whining and crying about the pain.

It felt so similar to when you had stopped taking Limited X. But it didn’t make sense, you took it not even a week ago. Your whines turned into wails as your breathing began to quicken. Needed someone.

Needed Miya.

Riki…

Were you… really an omega?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

➝ 抑制剤を補充する

𝟔 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐠𝐨

❝ どんだけ役立たずなんだ！ ❞

“You never do what I’ve asked of you.”

“I’m sorry—”

“—You think a sorry can fix this?!.”

“I…”

“Your father screams at me like it’s my fault! It’s you that didn’t do what was needed! But it’s my fault, huh?! Hah?! Are you trying to make a fool out of me?”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“Shut up. Don’t you ever be like your sister, got it? That slut. She should’ve been the only disgrace… but you show up. A late bloomer at that. Get out of my sight.”

“Please… I’m sorry….”

“Get out!”

抑制剤を補充する。。。。？

“(Name)-Kun? You gotta drink this, okay?” A cup of cool water is pressed against your lips as you gently lift your head, eagerly gulping it down. It soothes your burned throat as you cough, curling back into your body on the bed. Miya gently pats your back as she rests the cup on your night stand.

“I was able to get… Limited X. It’s not your usual pack. Only four capsules. I made you take it last night.”

You hummed, closing your eyes. “Mhm… Thank you.”

“I talked to your professors. Told them that you’re sick.” Miya sighed softly as she picked at her nails. “Do you need anything else? You should really visit the hospital…”

“No. They’ll just tell me to get off Limited X.”

“They’d be right…”

You didn’t answer her.

You felt her eyes watching you before she patted your back, leaving your room. A heat. You had felt the small fraction of what a heat will be. It’s crazy. You felt as if you’d die. But you didn’t understand why you were suddenly forced into one.

The thought of Watanabe creeped into your head. Him? His scent alone? So silly. It was so silly that you could’ve laughed if you had the strength to.

Your body curled into itself as you gripped the bedsheets beneath you.

You missed the apricots.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

A cool bottle of strawberry milk is pressed against your neck, causing you to shriek. Miya laughed as she sat down beside you, placing the bottle near your notebook. You got a few glances from the other students in the library but everyone was mostly set on ignoring you.

“Special delivery!” She said, smiling.

“Ah, thanks. I haven’t had strawberry milk in forever!” You twisted off the cap and took a quick sip, humming at the sweet flavor coating your taste buds.

Miya hummed, “it wasn’t me. Watanabe gave it to me.”

“Eh…? He gave it to you?”

“Mhm. Told me to give it to you. He asked if you’re okay.” She pulled out her own textbook and notebook, getting straight to work.

You could only stare blankly at her. Watanabe? Your eyes flickered at the cold drink in your hand as you tilted it around. There wasn’t a note or anything on it. Why would he give you something?

“Did he say anything else?”

Miya didn’t look up from her notebook. “Nah. He walked away before I could ask why he was giving it to you. Some alpha.” She muttered, rolling her eyes.

A slight grin pulled on your lips. Miya really did act like your alpha. Watanabe was probably right in her being your alpha before you got mated. But you pushed the thought away, you’d never get mated. Didn’t even have the scent gland for it to work.

“Oh,” Miya suddenly turned over to face you. “Did something between you two at the party? Watanabe kept asking about you when you were out last week. You’re not even in my philosophy class.”

You shook your head, your voice rising in pitch as you answered with a quick, “no!”

Miya’s eyebrows rose as she stared at you with an unconvinced frown. “No? Okay… if he bothers you, come to me. I’ll defend your honor.”

A giggle left your lips at the thought of Miya’s short stature going against Watanabe’s taller frame. That would be a fight you’d pay to see.

“Mhm. Thank you, Alpha~” You teased, grabbing her arm and nuzzling into her shirt.

“Oi!! Not in public! You’re scaring away my potential mate!”

You only laughed. “There’s not even any omegas here. Not the one you like anyway.”

Miya blushed slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Sure…”

お母さん

↳ Why haven’t you responded？ (4:00 PM)

↳ You need to replenish your suppressants. (4:01 PM)

↳ Don’t make me tell your father (4:01 PM)

↳ Call me, now (4:03 PM)

“I’ll be right back.”

You grabbed your phone, your knuckles whitening as you stormed out of the library. Your feet carry you to one of the empty classrooms nearby and kick the door shut behind you. The phone immediately starts ringing, her name appearing on the screen. Like a curse, she never leaves you alone.

It rings for a second longer before you finally answer it, pressing it against your ear. “What?”

“‘What?’ Is that how you speak to your mother?”

“Unless you are calling about my grades, why are you speaking to me?”

“Tch, ungrateful brat. Have you restocked on Limited X? It can’t possibly be that expensive.”

“You haven’t bought it in years, you don’t know just how expensive it is to get it from fucking America.”

“I know you aren’t raising your voice at me, Tanaka (Name). Are you suggesting that you know more than me?”

“You…” A struggled groan left your throat as you tried to calm down. Just talking to her sent you like this—making you feel as if you were insane. Why couldn’t you have a normal mother? “Please, I have to focus on groceries, tuition, and my rent. I can’t spend everything on stupid fucking suppressants.”

“You think I care? You were the one to refuse our help to pay for your tuition. You decided to go to a lesser known college. You decided to get your apartment without your father’s permission.”

“Because I knew you’d use that shit against me! I’ll refill it, okay? I’m getting paid next week. Please, don’t call me unless needed.”

“You little… Why are you ignoring your brother and father? You won’t even tell us your address? But you let that Furukawa around you.”

“Stop it… please you’re making this more difficult. Why can’t you be a normal mom?”

“Normal mom?! You listen here, (Name). I’m the best mother you could ever have—a purebred alpha female. I did everything for you even after you disappointed me—”

Your mother’s droning was cut short when your phone was snatched from your grip. You look back to see Watanabe, his gaze blank as he pressed the phone against his ear. When did he even get here? Any semblance of a thought was gone as you watched him grin at something your mother said.

“Hello, I’m assuming you’re Tanaka’s mother? You’re quite loud.” He asked, staring right at you. Just what was he doing? You reached out to try and stop him but he easily grabbed your wrist, pulling you close so you could rest against his chest. “Who am I? Your future son-in-law. Good bye.”

He ended the call and slid your phone in his back pocket, a sly smirk on his lips as he laughed. His free hand reached up and grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you to rest your face right on his shoulder. Your body tried to protest but his scent instantly attacked your nostrils.

Any fight was gone in a flash as you melted against his body.

You stood against his body for a moment or so, being gently swayed.

“It’s okay.” He suddenly whispered, patting your back. “You’re safe.”

“Ngh?” You whined, noticing the wet feeling on your cheeks. Tears…? You reached up and wiped at your face. You’ve been crying for a moment judging by how wet your face was. The tears just reminded you why you ignored her so much. Why you tried so hard to move out on your own terms.

Watanabe tried to pull away from you but you quickly gripped his shirt. The sound of a low growl filled the empty classroom. Your eyes widen in shock. You… you made that sound? You’ve never made a sound like that before, especially after taking Limited X.

A teasing smirk pulled on Watanabe’s lips. “Mhm? My omega doesn’t want me to go?” He laughed, gripping your chin between his thumb and index finger, making you look up at him.

My?

My omega?

A slight rumble rose in your throat at his words. What the hell was this? Watanabe could tell you were a bit fearful and he only rolled his eyes.

“You’re purring, nothing deadly.” He said, tapping your cheek. “Seriously, were you raised in the woods? Why do you know nothing about your body?”

He didn’t hear everything? A sigh of relief left your body. He must’ve came in during the end of the conversation. The thought of him knowing that you took Limited X sent a panic inside your heart.

Everyone viewed Limited X as terrible. Alphas even more so due to their protective nature. You feared him knowing would send him into a rage.

Wait.

Wait, why did you even care about him?

Suddenly the closeness of his body against yours became too much. You pulled away and held a hand out, making sure he didn’t try to come close again.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Watanabe hummed. “Why are you apologizing? I liked it. I want to hear you purr again. I can fall asleep to it.”

You blushed at his words. “You…! Don’t you have an omega waiting for you?”

“Omega?”

“‘Rina-Chan’… but knowing you, you have more after her!” You glared at him, crossing your arms underneath your chest.

“My sister?”

“…EH?!”

“Rina is my little sister.” Watanabe said, a look of disgust on his face. “Gross, Tanaka. Did you really think she was a past fling of mines? I don’t let just anyone call me by my first name.”

Embarrassment flushed through your body. Oh god. Oh my fucking god. This was mortifying. Watanabe laughed cruelly behind you as you whined and stumbled over to the nearby teacher desk, needing a moment to process the situation.

You really just called his little sister a past conquest…

“But… why does she call you by your name? Wouldn’t she call you Onii-Chan?”

“I find the title cringy.” Watanabe said bluntly, pulling out his phone as he began to text someone. “But is that why you ran away that day? Were you… jealous?”

“I’d never be jealous over a playboy! I have higher standards than that!”

“Sure.” He walked over to where you stood pressed against the desk, caging you in. You blushed, leaning back as he leaned in closer, your noses touching. “I haven’t talked to anyone since I met you.”

“So?!” You pouted, eyes looking at anything but him.

“You feel it. I know you do.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against your neck, earning a strangled gasp from you. “I don’t know if it’s love, but I felt like a school boy when I saw you for the first time.”

“School boy…?”

He hummed, nipping near your scent gland. “Thought I was having a heart attack. Your scent is hard to notice but I’ve always had a great sense of smell. I don’t know how your scent is muted even when I’m so close.”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly why. You were more shocked that he could smell anything. Curiosity crept in your head as you finally glanced down at him as he continued to nuzzle near your scent glad. “What’s… my scent?”

“You don’t know your scent?” He whispered, causing you to flinch. Fuck. “…Purin. You smell like Purin.”

“Purin…? Like the pudding? I smell like pudding?” You couldn’t help the slight laugh leaving your lips, your head tilting back.

Watanabe didn’t seem to find it as funny as you. “Omegas usually smell like food, typically desserts. Or flowers.”

“You smell like Japanese Apricot.”

“I know. I smell myself everyday. Got many teasing remarks for it.” His hand left the table as it suddenly gripped your thigh, warning a shriek from you at the sudden movement. “But you seem to enjoy it, huh? It makes you drunk.”

You watched with wide eyes as his hand slowly traveled up your thigh, resting right on your crotch. A strangled moan left your lips as he rutted his palm against your growing bulge.

“Stop me, Tanaka. Stop me before I go too far.”

His cat like eyes stared up at you, his face devoid of any sly emotion. You could see a tightness in his jaw. Everything in your body thought back to what your mother taught you. What would degrade the Tanaka family name.

“(Name)…” You whispered, biting your lip. “I… don’t wanna be a Tanaka to you.” Your hands gently reach over and grip his shoulders, pulling him close.

“You won’t be.”

You rut your body against his, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He only hummed and pulled you even closer. Your crotch rutted against his—a hopeful shiver leaving your body as you feel his bulge. Soft kisses are pressed against your skin as his hands dig into your waist.

Sounds of soft breathy moans fill the classroom as your hands trail his body, settling on gripping his hair as he rutted against you. Your bulges rubbing together with the pained jeans acting as a barrier you wanted to tear apart.

The wind is knocked out of you as he slammed you against the desk, knocking away the papers that cluttered it.

You can hear him growling, his nails clawing the polished wood beneath you. It wasn’t enough. Sure you had always imagined dry humping as something hot but your body didn’t need it right now. It wanted more. It needed more.

“Mmh, more…” You whimpered, tugging at his hair. “Fuck me. Please.”

His rutting slowed as he chuckled, burying his face in your neck. “Can’t. I don’t have a condom.”

“You care about protection?!” You whined, arching your back against the desk.

“You’re so…” He bit down on the curve of your neck, earning a silent moan as your nails dug into his back. Good thing he still had on his jacket.

He pulled away and tugged at your jeans, letting your cock plop free. Your tip was already leaking pre-cum, coating your tummy. You watched with a bated breath as he pulled down his own jeans and boxers. The sight of his cock sent you into a frenzy.

It was huge. But that was normal. Alphas had big cocks.

But it looked so thick. It dwarfed your mere three inches. He pressed his cock against yours, smirking at how tiny you looked near his. “So cute.”

You glared at him but you couldn’t ignore the slight swelling at the bottom of his cock. His knot. You never knew that alphas knots were always there even when not in rut. It looked a bit smaller but you knew it must’ve swelled during rut.

A greedy thought filled your mind at the thought of feeling his knot. Would it hurt? How big would he stretch you?

He pulled you close and gripped your legs, pushing them up to rest on his shoulder. His cock slipped between your legs as it rubbed against your cock. A strained hiss left your throat as you felt the arousal building up all over again.

“Be good and keep quiet.” His thrusts were slow, only needing one of his hands to grip both of your thighs. You shivered and gripped at the desk beneath you, your toes curling at the pleasure. The friction hurt—that wasn’t a shock but the pre-cum became some sort of lubricant.

His hips slammed into you, sending you upwards but he easily pulled you back down. Your moans filled the room as your toes curled, cock rubbing against his dejectedly. The thought of cumming untouched wasn’t something you ever wanted but you wondered how pleasurable some rutting could make you feel.

Your moans became a crescendo as each thrust became stronger, shaking your body with the force that you could only assume was of an alpha. There was growing wetness you felt near your ass but you couldn’t question it at the moment—wanting to cum already.

“Ah, ah, ah….! Alpha, Alpha, gonna cum…” You whined, your hand reaching up to grip at his arm for some type of purchase. This orgasm didn’t feel normal—it felt stronger than anything you ever experienced. Was this the orgasm of an omega?

He grinned, his breathing stuttering as he picked up the pace. “If you act like this from some rutting… I can’t wait to hear you when I fuck you. Your scent is finally becoming potent.”

“Ngh…? My… ah! Wa—Wait..!”

You let out a loud scream, quickly covering your mouth as your back arched. Your cock squirted against your stomach as the orgasm attacked your body. It felt like an out of body experience—something you couldn’t give yourself.

Those online posts you used to read from omegas didn’t seem so far fetched anymore…

The sound of a loud grunt caught your attention as his cum spilled your stomach next, coating the inside of your thighs and cock. Your legs felt like jelly as he released his grip on them, gently moving them down to rest on the desk.

You felt weird. It was a good and bad weird.

You just had sex in a classroom. With Watanabe Riki. A playboy. A playboy who somehow been able to smell a scent off you.

“Watanabe…?” You whispered, glancing over at him as he began to clean you off with his jacket. You didn’t have the mental capacity to scold him for unnecessarily dirtying his clothes.

“Riki.” He hummed, pulling up his pants.

The familiar rumbling in your chest returned. “Riki… Riki… hehe…” You giggled, biting your lip. “Ngh… what was I… ah… Riki… was this… a one time thing..?”

“I told you, I don’t let just anyone call me by my name.”

“Then…”

“I’m courting you. You accepted the first gift.”

“What?” You whispered, trying to sit up to look up at him properly.

“I told you. Furukawa is your alpha at the moment. I had to give the courting gift to her… and she gave it to you, that means she approves of me.”

To your shock, Riki seemed way more… traditional than you thought. A playboy like him courting through such a way was interesting. Riki was nothing compared to anything you could’ve imagined.

You tried to say something when the familiar pain in your gut came back with a vengeance. A shrill animalistic scream left your throat as your body spasmed, rolling off the desk. Riki quickly caught you before you hit the ground. He was yelling something but you couldn’t hear him.

It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

You took the pill. You took the pill. You took two.

Ume.

Your face was suddenly pressed against Riki’s neck, your nose right on his scent gland. You could smell everything. His scent blocker was off. There was nothing muffling Ume anymore. Somehow, his scent calmed you down. Your body was still killing you, your stomach churning and cramping but his scent acted like a medicine.

“(Name)!”

There was muffling, two voices speaking in a swirl. Citrus began to mingle with Ume, swirling around in a dance like the voices.

Miya…?

The pain continued to ravish your body but having the two scents that brought you peace made you calm down.

Your two alphas.

They smelt so good together.

You felt your body be shifted around as the scents began to sour a bit. Just as you were being carried somewhere, you felt something wet soak your boxers. You didn’t even realize they had put your clothes back on.

Wet.

Something wet and sticky.

Slick.

Riki’s back!!! I like this new version of him so much more. Yes this will have multiple chapters. Technically it’s not a slow burn in romance, but a slow burn in penetrative sex! Hope yall like Miya cuz she will be your platonic alpha lmao. Comment if you wanna be tagged for pt 2!

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life25 @tehyunnie @lanoslamp @sweetheart4you @chill-guy-but-cooler @ofclyde @remdayz @flurrina @smellwell @iwishtobeacrow @kiiyoooo @love-kha1 @star-3214 @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world @chososlittlestuttyboy @pookiemax

Translations:

抑制剤を補充する — “replenish your suppressants”

❝聞いているか, (Name)？❞ — “Are you listening, (Name)?”

❝ どんだけ役立たずなんだ！❞ — “How useless you are!”

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #male reader #oc x reader #mlm ns/fw #smut drabble #male bottom reader #original character

2K notes · View notes

ittybittyfanblog · 3 months ago

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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 2

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a–less–oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. A/N: Ok, I’ve decided to make this by series, so this one’s just going to be purely Sylus. I hope nobody minds the specific names/places/etc. I wanted to create a personality for the “player” and add a bit of backstory work (loosely based on yours truly lol) for the sake of storytelling, but there won't be any distinct description of the player’s physical appearance <3 Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, bouts of delusion

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

Riiiiing– RiiiNGGGGG––

...

“Huh… whazat—?”

A shrill—earsplitting, headache-inducing, completely fucking loud—noise wakes you up rather rudely from your peaceful slumber at… Jesus Christ, what time is it?

You blink your bleary eyes open, once… twice—fuck, all you know that it’s too goddamn early for all this ruckus. Groaning, you clumsily try to find the source of the unexpected wake-up call—quite literally in this case.

Your hand bumps the vibrating phone straight off the edge of the mattress – along with the charger cord still attached to it – and you cuss up a storm when you hear it clatter on the hardwood floor.

The ringing finally stops, and you’re perfectly content to just leave it there and fall back to sleep when, not even ten seconds later, the blasted thing rings back to life, taunting you awake.

Angrily, you wrestle against the threadbare blanket wrapped around your body like a warm cocoon, pushing yourself out of bed with all the rage of a sleep-deprived insomniac who’s been up til the buttcrack of dawn to grab your—huh, relatively intact—phone off the ground, while the charger cable swings haphazardly from the weight of the power brick on its tail end.

Without checking the caller, you swipe right to answer. “What?”

“Don’t use that tone on me, young lady,” Your mother grouses on the other end of the line. “It’s almost noon! Did you just wake up?”

Barely five hours of sleep. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shut your eyes and sigh. “No, mom. Sorry, just had a late night,” you clear your throat in an attempt to sound more composed. “What’s up?”

“Oh, dear. Is it because of work again?” Something akin to sympathy replaces the sternness in her voice, and you dread the all-too-familiar spiel that comes next. “You know, honey, there’s a job opening for a– what was it again? I have to double check, but it’s where your Auntie Helen works. You know your Auntie Helen—”

“Mom,” you interrupt, before she could go off on a tangent. “Work is fine, don’t worry. Why d’you call?”

“Should I need a reason to call my daughter who's living by her lonesome, a country away from—”

“Mom!”

“Oh, alright,” she finally relents, sounding slightly exasperated. “Were you able to book me and Jodie the roundtrip flight to Orlando? Your cousin’s wedding is barely a month away and I want all the documents ready by now, sweetie.”

Shit. “Ah— yeah. I’ll email you the flight itinerary in a bit, I’m just–” you catch sight of your protruding hamper, innocuous but an eyesore nonetheless, right by the doorway of your humble studio unit. “I mean, I just left the condo. To do errands and stuff. I’ll send the details to you when I get back home, okay?”

“Okay, honey,” she sighs. “You stay safe outside now. Don’t talk to strangers.”

“I am a perfectly responsible adult—” The call disconnects. “Hello? Great.”

You rub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes, fully aware that your day’s already started, despite your reluctance. Might as well get a head start on today’s agenda.

First thing’s first– brunch. Oh, it’s almost one. Lunch, then. I could maybe grab a hotdog from the corner store before heading to Landers. Oh wait, your laundry– gotta pass by the laundromat downstairs, too. Ugh, c’mon, chop-chop.

Just as you’re about to stand up from your supine position on the floor, another ping! pulls your attention back to your phone. “Mom, I swear–”

Ah, you’re finally awake. You’ve had a very long night, kitten. Take it easy for the day – make sure to get enough rest between errands.

I’ll know if you don’t.

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh! Um. That’s… new.

… Apparently another one on the growing list of “new features” from the latest update. It doesn't sound like an invitation for you to open the game, strangely enough. It's not a call to action to claim your daily stamina, nor a prompt for you to check your Galaxy Explorer rewards.

It’s nothing more than a greeting, really. Just one that’s particularly targeted at you, with unnerving accuracy.

You recall the weird (?) events from last night, and the now-erratic beating of your heart suddenly picks up a notch. From the unexpected dialogues to the outrageous amount of dias you’ve somehow ended up with—something you still think is some kind of glitch in the system—you can’t shake the feeling that you’re living out the plot of a Black Mirror episode, as fucking dumb as that sounds.

Not to mention during Quality Time, Sylus_v2.0 (as you so lovingly dub this version of him in your mind) had been acting more aware of you.

And you’re not talking about the pre-programmed glances that you usually get. No– it’s like he actually hears you.

He doesn’t say anything. But whenever you make a comment, or utter something under your breath, he reacts with a huff or a hum–depending on the context. If it’s a slew of expletives aimed at your boss, the reaction you’re met with is one of amusement. A snort; sometimes a quiet laugh, if you’re lucky. When you say something self-deprecating, however, it elicits the heavier sighs, the sharp clicks of the tongue.

At one point, you heard him make a low sound of dissent, something close to a... growl, almost, after making a casual joke about being just another cog in the machine and how offing yourself wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of late capitalism. As you oft do.

Your eyes met, and for a split second, it felt like you weren’t looking at just pixels. His gaze weighed heavy on you–almost accusatory.

It made you feel… naked, somehow. Perceived.

You recall how quickly you averted your eyes from his, face flushing hotly from a feeling you couldn’t put into words.

Bone-tired from last night’s (morning) overtime, you didn’t have the time to look up the news on this recent version update—although you really don’t remember any notifications in-game—so you quickly Google, “sylus acting sentient in rcent update loveamd Deepspace???” on your phone browser.

You scroll down for a bit, but none of the search results yield any relevancy, nor are they in any way similar to your current… predicament.

(Okay, so calling it a predicament is a little unfair. You’re not exactly complaining about anything per se. No complaints from you. At all.)

Deciding that you’d do a deeper dive on Twitter (X) at a later time instead – probably tonight when you do your daily login – you briefly press the side button to lock your phone… not without a final peek at the banner notification from Sylus.

You press your lips together in an effort to hold back the stupid giggle bubbling up your throat.

Unfortunately, all the self-control in the world can’t help you and your need to have the last word—from what even—so you ask aloud, to no one except the person you've deluded yourself into thinking is a valid recipient of your one-sided conversation:

“... Yeah? And what if I don’t?”

You’re not really waiting for a response (or were you?), but the nervous flutter in your stomach betrays the impatience you're trying to mask with casual indifference. It’s small, unassuming–but there.

Impatient for what, exactly, you’re not sure. But maybe, just maybe—

Feeling a bit braver now, are we? How bold. Care to say that to my face, sweetheart?

Oh.

An inhuman noise escapes your throat, embarrassingly loud, almost a keen, and you fumble with the device in your hand; the new banner notification still in full view—taunting you.

You don’t know what to think, you don’t know how to feel. You–

Spring up, like an agitated jack-in-a-box, and the sudden rush of blood in your head leaves you dizzy. You’re a molotov cocktail of emotions; one more bombshell dropped on you and you might just blow.

“I’m– later, okay? Uh,” Whew, girl, keep it together. “I need–I need to go.” You almost stumble as you speed walk towards the bathroom.

If you didn’t switch your phone to silent, didn’t make the conscious effort to ignore any incoming messages, notifications, and whatever else, in a rush to get dressed and go about your day as if it's just like any other weekend–nope, nothing unusual here–you would’ve seen one last cheeky reply:

Of course, sweetie. You take care now.

Don’t talk to strangers. X

Endnote: This one's pretty short, but I’m world-building, trust.

Thanks for reading!

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #self aware au #sylus qin

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heavenlyraindrops · 7 months ago

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☆ “ɪ’ᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ.” | ᴋᴇɴᴊɪ ꜱᴀᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ☆

☆ She said “fuck me like I’m famous”| Chapter one

☆ Warnings: fem!reader, afab!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, awkward!reader, reader is literally a hermit, no established relationship, not proofread, porn with like a drop of plot, they get slightly awkward after doing it but it’s ok <3 ☆ Word Count: 3.3k | Available on Tumblr & AO3

“Out? For dinner?”

You tore your eyes from your phone to look at Ami, who was watching Chiho roll around on the floor, immersed in whichever new game of pretend she had devised.

“Yes, dinner,” she repeated, then turned to look at you. “I’m meeting a… friend. Not a close one, but a friend nonetheless. And it would do you some good to meet new people, and to get out more.” She raked her eyes over you, from your baggy clothes to messy updo.

“What’s that meant to mean? I get out plenty often. I’m out right now with you, aren’t I?”

“‘Chilling out’ at my house twice every week isn’t exactly going out, [name],” she sighed, rolling her eyes as she stood up, stepping towards the kitchen. “You’re like a hermit.”

You furrowed your brows together. “Maybe that’s how I like it.”

You heard water trickling as it filled up her glass, and her voice drift down towards where you were sitting. “I tend to wonder if I’m your only friend.”

At those words you stiffened, eyes opening wide and shooting up, back straight. “What? Friends?” You spluttered. “I have friends. I have plenty of friends. You’re not my only friend.” The words tumbled out of you hastily, and then you paused, flashing her a charming smile, trying to distract her. “You’re just my favourite one!”

She rolled her eyes as she sat back down. “Well, you have awful taste.” She handed you a drinks can. Your favourite.

“Hardly,” you uttered

“Just- you focus on work too much, okay? You need to find balance.” She took your palm, uncurling your fingers and placing the cold can in your hand. “Just come to this dinner.”

“…Fine.” You dug your finger under the tab, trying to get it open. “Who even is this friend, anyways?”

“Kenji Sato.”

You stared at her.

She must have mistaken your silence and blank stare for shock, or stupor instead of a reaction to what you considered to be an underwhelming statement, because she just sat back, letting her words sink in. They did, not that they meant much to you.

“Who?” You said blankly.

She blinked, then leaned forward. “Uh, Ken Sato? The really famous baseball player?”

You took a slow sip of the drink- the carbonation danced on your tongue. “No idea who that is. I don’t follow baseball.”

“You don’t follow anything,” she pointed out. “You’re completely out of the loop.”

You threw your hands in the air, exasperated. “Just- look, is he someone I should be impressed with? Like, am I-“

“I’ve mentioned him once,” Ami cut in. “Played in the States, moved to Japan suddenly? I was wondering why, and mentioned it to you?” She narrowed her eyes. “Unless you weren’t listening.”

“No no, I was,” you said quickly, then frowned, furrowing your brow. “Wait, didn’t you interrogate him, once? Twice?”

“Thrice,” she corrected you. “And it's called an interview, not an interrogation.”

“Same thing,” you said indignantly, with another gulp of ice cold carbonated sugar. “And you’re sure he’s just a friend.” You eyed her, testing her for any telltale signs on her face suggesting otherwise.

She simply stared at you, unimpressed. “Yes.”

“Okay,” you said, stretching out the vowel, rolling it along your tongue. You stopped. “Okay, fine, I’ll come to your dinner thing.”

“Yes!” She said, sounding a bit too relieved. You stared at her. “Sorry, it’s just- I’m so glad you’re finally-“ she cut off with an excited, pleased noise.

You looked at her, concern for yourself creeping into your expression. “Am I really that-“

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Now, please put some effort into your appearance tomorrow night-“

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yes, do you have plans?” She didn’t wait for an answer, because she already knew it. “No? Thought so. Please put some effort into your appearance tomorrow night, because it’ll be worth it.”

“Uh huh,” you said slowly.

“I wonder if you even remember how to behave in a social setting,” she mused, and you smacked her shoulder.

That night when you got home and flopped down on your bed, pulling out your phone, your finger hovered over the search bar.

What was his name?

Kenji Sato.

You were typing in the words before you even realized it, and seeing the images, you froze.

Oh.

Shoving down any sort of deranged thoughts that could have been formulating in your head, you buried your face into your pillow and tried to fall asleep.

“[name]!”

“Ami!” You stuttered. Ami came towards you, eyes lighting up as she took in your appearance.

“You look really different,” she said, taking in your appearance. “Really pretty.”

You didn’t often wear clothes that were form-fitting or flattered your figure, but you’d decided that since it was a dinner with basically a celebrity, you might as well have put in some extra effort into your looks.

“Thanks,” you said, as she led you through the restaurant doors and to your table. Pausing, she turned to look at you.

“You look sick,” she frowned. “And nervous.” She clicked her tongue. “Maybe this really was a bad idea. I should have know you can’t handle-“

“No!” You almost burst out. “No, I mean, I can do this. It’s not that big a deal. I’m just meeting a new person, right?”

She nodded hesitantly, still frowning at you.

“Right. So, not a big de-“

“Hey, Ami.”

You froze, shoulders stiffening.

“Kenji.” Ami turned to him. You still hadn’t looked at him yet, eyes fixed desperately on Ami’s face. “This is [name]. Name, this is-“

“Ken Sato.” He held out his hand to you, to shake. You stared at his long fingers, then slowly looked up to his face. He was wearing this easy, charming grin. Your knees almost buckled. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

You grabbed his hand and shook it. “N-nice to meet you.” You both held your stare a few seconds longer than you needed to.

He raised a dark brow, and you could have sworn his expression had flickered with amusement before he turned back to Ami. “And here I was worried I was late.” He waved you both on towards the table, where you took your seats.

Ami was looking at you, frowning. You gave her a wobbly smile back.

Oh, fuck this.

“So, what did you say you work as, [name]?”

Kenji’s voice snapped you out of your haze, and you looked up at him, eyes widening. “Oh, I’m an, uh, I’m an author.” You stared hard at your food, then looked back up at him to gauge his reaction.

He just leaned back against his chair. “Cool.” His eyes were set on yours. You flushed. “What sort of stuff do you write?”

“Uh,” your eyes slid to Ami, who was looking at you expectantly. “Romance, mostly.” The confession made your cheeks burn but you were too much of a mess to lie smoothly, not that it had even occurred to you in the first place- and Ami would have teased you about it later.

But Kenji just formed a small ‘o’ with his mouth, then smirked. “That’s cute.”

“Is it?” You had to fight to not make your voice sound like a squeak. He just nodded, taking a bite of his food like it was nothing.

He’d said it so casually that Ami hadn’t even noticed, instead pouring herself more of her drink and commenting on how Kenji had healed up. You blinked, confused, and turned as he held his arm out, flexing it.

“Yeah, quicker than I thought,” he said. You could see the faint outline of his muscles through the fabric and were so prepared to just jump out the window, then and there. He must have caught you staring because, without turning his head, he locked eyes with you and fucking winked.

You bit your lip, rubbing your thighs together and trying to ignore every instinct in your body screaming at you to throw yourself across the table. “You got hurt?”

He dropped his arm back to his side, rolling his shoulder. “Yeah. It’s fine now though.”

You didn’t press any farther, just eating your food in flushed silence, trying to ignore the burning you could feel in between your thighs.

“How’d you get here, [name]?” Ami asked. You stared desperately at your phone screen.

“Cab,” you muttered, rubbing your hand on the back of your neck. The app was empty. “But there aren’t any available.”

You checked the time. Half past eleven. You shivered, the night air biting at your skin. Ami looked at you, concerned. “Should I drop you?”

“No. No.” Guilt ate away at your gut. “No, you need to get home to Chiho, and I’m in the completely opposite direction- it’s not worth it.” You stepped back, and you could feel Kenji look over your shoulder at your screen. He leaned down to your level, breath warm on your ear. You shivered again, but not from the cold. “I’ll just wait until something shows up.”

“What’s your address?” He tilted his face slightly towards you, before pulling away. You stared at him, then frowned at him slightly, opening your mouth to reply, but Ami cut in.

“Look, I-“ she glanced at her watch. “I really need to go.” She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, [name].”

You waved her off. “Don’t be.”

And she was gone, her car rolling off. You looked back at Kenji, and quickly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, mumbling your address.

He tapped something into his phone, and his face twisted into a satisfactory grin. “It’s on the way to mine. So I’ll just drop you.” He started walking down the street.

You stumbled after him. “Oh- are you- are you sure?”

He turned, walking backwards, in the same direction but facing you know as he shrugged, grinning. “Why not? Better than waiting around in the cold for a ride.”

“R-right.”

He led you to where a motorbike was parked, and you blinked. “You rode here on a motorcycle?”

He shrugged his blue biker’s jacket off, and without warning, draped it over your shoulders. “Yeah. Surprised?”

“I… don’t know.” Your face was burning at the action. “Are you sure…” you fiddled with the hem of his jacket.

He waved his hand at it dismissively. “Take it. You look cold.”

You fell silent. Then: “I don’t have a helmet.”

He reached into a compartment, pulling one out. “Spare. For situations like this, I guess. Comes in handy.”

“Situations like this?” You echoed, as he stepped towards you, setting the helmet down over your head and fastening it tight. Your heart was going a million miles a minute.

“When I have to make sure a pretty girl like you gets home, obviously,” he said casually, but the look on his face betrayed his nonchalant tone. He clambered onto the bike. “Come on, then. Get on.”

You blinked, face burning even harder than before, but did as he told you to.

“Thanks. For taking me home, I mean.”

He looked up at you as you pulled the helmet off your head, imitating the action himself. A strand of hair fell in front of his forehead. “Don’t think about it,” he shrugged, and your grip on the helmet tightened as you clutched it to your chest.

“Oh, but I will.” You dropped your voice to a husky whisper, and watched his jaw clench. Oh thank you god, I remember how to flirt. Kind of.

Now it was his turn to become flustered, as he gave you another grin, shaky this time. “Really?” He asked, voice hoarse. You stepped back, towards your house.

“You should come inside,” you suggested. “It’s not that late.”

He raised his eyebrow. “It’s almost midnight,” he laughed, but didn’t object to your offering, licking his lips nervously. You paused your walk up towards your front door, turning and looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, fuck this,” he muttered, abandoning the bike and walking towards you. Your stomach exploded into a flurry of butterflies as you both hurried towards your front door.

You bit back a whimper as his lips crashed onto yours, kissing you with a hunger you hadn’t been met with before. The door hadn’t even shut before his hands were on your waist, dragging you close to him- and then it was, and he pinned you against it, your back pressing into the ridges of the wood.

He pulled away, both of your breathing ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours, eye contact unwavering. He cursed under his breath. “Sorry- I should have- I should have asked.”

You were barely able to move your mouth, shaking your head lightly. “It’s fine,” you breathed, and his eyes flicked back down to your lips, grip on your waist tightening. “You didn’t have to.”

“God, you’re-“ he choked on his own words. “You’re pretty.”

You didn’t have time to respond before his mouth was capturing yours again, heat burning all over as one of his hands wandered to grip your nape, holding you steady. His teeth grazed your lip and you gasped, but he pulled away, pressing kisses all the way down your jaw and collarbone, leaving a trail of blooming bruises in his wake. His other hand fell from your waist to hip, pressing you close up against him, and heat pooled in your core.

“Ken,” you managed to whisper weakly through the dizzying haze clouding your mind. He paused, teeth pressed against your skin, and he leaned back up to you, ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear, humming. “Are you sure this is a g-good idea?” Your voice was shaking. He frowned, pulling away, and his fingers dug into your hips.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” His voice was husky with desire, eyes trained on your every movement. You could feel his breath on your skin. You opened your mouth, searching for a reason, but couldn’t find any. He trailed his fingers down your neck, brushing over the marks, to the collar of your top, tugging at it. “Come on.”

You stumbled after him, shedding the jacket, ignoring it as it fell to the floor, and he pulled you down onto the couch with him, hands on your waist. You fell into his lap, straddling him. He grinned. “Still can’t find a reason?”

“…No.”

“Then just relax,” he told you, lips still pressed against your jaw, fingers creeping beneath the hem of your top. “Because I’m about to make you feel really good.”

At his words you bit back a moan, sucking in a harsh breath as you bit your lip, involuntarily rolling your hips against him. He hissed, tipping his head back. You were certain his hands were going to leave marks everywhere they touched, feeling them dig into your hips as you dove onto his neck, suckling and biting, anything to repay the affection he’d shown you earlier.

His hand fisted your hair, gently but firmly tugging you back and away. “Stop it,” he hissed. “Just let me do my thing, okay?”

You looked at him, confused, and slightly hurt, until he quickly pressed a reassuring kiss to your lips. “I said I’d make you feel good, so just sit back and let me, got it?”

You didn’t argue with him, not when he flipped you around so that your back was pressed against the couch, or when he sank to his knees, pushing your legs open, letting out a shaky breath as your skirt hiked right up your thighs.

He let out a breathless laugh. “You’re wet,” he teased, his hot breath hitting your skin. He pressed a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, making you shiver, then another, each one lasting longer before the one before, leaving marks littering all over your inner thighs. You bit your lip- the mere sight of his face in between your legs was enough to get you dripping, even more than you were before, and he seemed to notice, because he let out an amused chuckle.

“Wh-what?” Your voice was broken, and hitched when he pressed his thumb to your clothed clit, sending a jolt of pleasure into your cunt. He smirked at your reaction.

“Nothing,” he murmured, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your soaked panties, tugging them slowly down your legs. Your teeth pressed down on your bottom lip harder. His eyes flicked up to meet your expression. “What? Nervous?”

You didn’t reply, just shaking, and he let out a slow breath, pressing his lips back against your inner thigh as his expression softened. “Don’t be, baby.” His lips curled back into his signature grin. “I told you you could relax, remember?”

You flushed, and nodded.

Without warning, he dove in, lips pressing down on your clit. You whimpered, not even enough time to react before his tongue licked a long strip up your entrance, making you twitch and spasm, throbbing pleasure aching. Your legs instinctively pulled together but he forced them back apart, tongue tracing slow patterns across your bundle of nerves, eyes hooded with lust as he watched your flinch and gasp.

You let out a broken whimper of his name, and felt him tense under you- but he didn’t stop his movements, slipping his tongue in between your folds, stretching you out with his fingers. You bucked your hips, but he grabbed your hip with his other hand, pinning you down to keep you from moving. “Shhh,” he whispered, his low voice sending vibrations into your core. You let out a desperate moan- it took everything in you to not desperately start grinding against his face. He chuckled slightly at your pitiful state, turning his attention back to your dripping cunt, slipping a finger inside. Your back arched, hand flying to your mouth to clamp over it. A finger slipped inside, curling to hit that sweet spot- you almost saw stars.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, screwing your eyes shut. “I think I’m gonna cum-“

He simply hummed at your words, the vibrations of his voice sending another shockwave through you, lapping at you like he was hungrier than before, fingers pumping in and out at a steady pace. You knew what he was saying.

Go on. Cum.

And you did, a broken cry of his name slipping past your lips as the orgasm crashed over you, legs shaking as he drew out your high for as long as possible. And when you finally came down he pushed himself up, towards you, capturing your lips in another feverish kiss.

You could see the shaky movements of his chest as he breathed heavily, feel his boner pressed up against you, his face flushed and burning to the touch. You pulled away.

“Are you… shoud I…” You reached for his zipper, despite the fact your voice was heavy with fatigue but he just shook his head, laughing breathlessly.

“No, no, I… don’t worry about me.” He cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I’ll just- where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the corridor, first door on the left,” you mumbled, slumping back. He stood up, adjusting your head on the couch.

“Okay, I’ll- I’ll be right back.”

You heard his footsteps hurry away and the door shut.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed, with you laying on the couch, drifting in and out of consciousness, when you heard his footsteps approach you again. You looked up at him drowsily.

“Hey.” Your voice was barely audible. “You should stay here for the night.”

He opened his mouth, but didn’t object, even when you waved him over to lay next to you. You settled on top of him, laying your head on his chest. His arm looped around your waist.

“[name],” he muttered. You lifted your head. “Is this just a… one time thing?”

You tilted your head. “Do you want it to be?”

He frowned, then shook his head. “No. No, I don’t.”

You smiled. “Me neither.”

☆ A/N: visit either the first tag or the pinned post to find the other chapters!

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sturniqlo · 7 months ago

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Needy- C.S

summary: y/n has been hornier than usual and her bump turns chris on even more

cw: cursing, SMUT; unprotected p in v, breeding/pregnancy kink, oral f!receiving, fingering, oral m!receiving, cowgirl, cream pie, spanking, soft!dom chris

an: no plot, just pure smut. i need to go outside after this😵‍💫

masterlist | positive masterlist

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

fifteen weeks pregnant

Y/n has now entered her second trimester and her mood swings have definitely went down a notch. It's now rare that she gets them. Her belly has become more noticeable so she's been wearing longer t-shirts and oversized clothes whenever she has to film or go somewhere public. Chris has been nothing but the best at supporting Y/n through everything.

Ever since Y/n's belly has become more prominent, Chris was in love with it. He always had his hand resting over her belly. Whenever they went to bed, he spooned her, with his hand on her belly, they were laying on the couch, he was laying in between her legs rubbing her belly.

Y/n has also been more... needy to say the least. She would constantly rubbing her ass against Chris' clothed dick and he grew hard right away. Or, she would always sit on his lap, whenever she saw that he was in the living room man spreading, and start kissing him all over until eventually their clothes were on the floor and they were a sweaty mess. Chris was in the shower? She was joining him until she was pressed up against the cold tiled wall.

"Baby." Y/n whined, wearing a small spaghetti strap tank with tiny shorts that ride up, exposing her ass. This time around she was also getting very hot around the house to the point that she would just wear a bra and underwear. She climbed on his lap, and Chris' hands immediately went to her hips. "What happened?" His thumbs massaged her hips, making her more wet. "I need you." She wrapped her hands around his neck, placing a few kisses on his jaw while she slowly rocked against him. "Yeah? This morning wasn't enough for you, hm?" He teased. "Mm-mm. Please, Chris." She's now kissing his neck, running her hand up and down his chest. "Go to the room, and lay on the bed, okay?" He taps her ass. She quickly nods and places a kiss on his lips before making her way to their bedroom.

She lays on the bed, holding herself up with her elbows as she waits for Chris. Seconds later, Chris comes into view, closing the door behind him. He climbs on the bed, spreading her legs so he can be between them. He dips down and kisses her neck, Y/n's elbows give up and she lays down, putting her hands in Chris' hair, tugging as she knows how much he loves it. Chris groans against her neck and he's harder than ever. He grabs the bottom of her shirt and yanks it off, exposing her bare tits.

He wastes no time to bite, suck, and lick them. Y/n, a moaning mess, wraps her legs around his waist and pushes his hips down to her clothed core. "Patient, baby." He says. "Please, Chris. I need you." She whines, arching her back. Chris, stops sucking her nipples and comes off with a pop noise. "Can I taste you?" He lick and suck on her neck. She nods. Chris' hand trails down her torso, stopping at her belly before trailing down to the waistband of her skimpy shorts. He pulls them off and is met with her cotton thong that has a wet patch.

"Look at you, so wet f'me." He lays down on his stomach, putting her knees on his shoulders. Chris hovers over her heat and his breath makes her shudder. He kisses over her clothed core and moans. He loved how she got wet quicker. "Chris, please." She whines again. Pushing her hips her towards her face. He hooks a finger through her thong and moves it to the side. Finally, he sees her wet folds, glistening with her arousal. "Who made you this wet, babe?" He places light kisses on her clit and she gasps. "You- fuck, you did. Made me so fucking wet." She moans as he licks her. Chris sucks on her clit and groans at her taste. The vibration of his groans makes Y/n moan louder.

"Holy shit, baby. Keep going." He licks down her slit and pushes his tongue into her dripping hole while his fingers play with her puffy clit. Her eyes roll back and her back arches off her bed. "Chris, oh my god! I'm so close." She tries to close her legs around his face but, the hand that isn't playing with her clit pushes them open. "You taste so sweet, fucking love this pussy." He spits on it and spreads it with his fingers, entering two fingers into her and sucks her clit back into his mouth. "Don't stop, don't stop. Please don't fucking stop!" She chants.

After a couple of more seconds, she clenches around his fingers something she always did when she's about to cum. "Be a good girl and cum for me, baby. Make a mess on my fingers." He slurps her juices. With one final thrust of his fingers she cumming. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming. Fuck." Her legs tremble, and she tries to close her legs but he forces them open once again. He takes his fingers out her hole and lick them clean before dipping his tongue into her dripping hole.

"Did so good for me, my good girl." He mumbles against her skin and he kisses his way up to her lips. They smash their lips together and Y/n can taste herself on his tongue. Chris take her tongue and sucks on it, knowing how much it riles her up. She automatically moans. The grip on her jaw loosens and he legs go of her tongue to pull his shirt off. Y/n somehow flips him on his back and she straddles his waist. Going down to kiss and suck on his sweet spot. In the process, he whimpers once she's found his sweet spot. Chris feels her smirk against his neck and he spanks her lightly, making her moan. "You dirty girl. You love being spanked, don't you?" He rubs over the heated spot.

"Fucking love it, do it again." She cups his face, kissing his lips. "Beg for it." He mumbles against her lips. Y/n stops kissing his and instead trails down to his jaw. "Please, Chris. I want you to spank me. Please, I'll be good, I can take it. I prom-" She gets cut off with a spank to the same spot before, and one right after on her other cheek. "Thank you, love it. So much." She kisses down until his waistband and looks up at him for approval and he nods. She slides his sweats down and is met with his cock springing up. Y/n takes him in her hand and lightly squeezes him.

"Fuck." He groans. She continues to squeeze him until she spits on his pink tip and watches it dribble down to the rest of his length. She wraps her mouth around his wet tip and sucks it. Chris loved it. Slowly, she took more of him until she couldn't. Bobbing her head up and down, spit was dibbling down her chin and her eyes were glossed over from the pressure. "That's so good, you love sucking my cock, don't you?" He wraps her loose hair around his hand, yanking her off his dick so she can answer. "I love it. Love making you feel good." She says. Chris guides her head back down and she goes to where she left off. A few sucks and bobs of her head, Chris is ready to cum. "Baby, I'm about to cum. Keep going- shit!"

Y/n soon feels the warm liquid of his cum fill her mouth and she swallows it. Still hard, she goes back to his lips to kiss him. His hands roaming her naked body. "Can I ride you? I want you in me." She whispers against him. "Yeah? You wanna ride me?" Y/n nods. "Go ahead." He gets comfy as Y/n grabs his dick and lines him up with her entrance. She slowly goes down and she feels him stretch her. They both moan. Once she has him fully in. She starts to move. She sits back on his thighs and moves her hips back and forth making them both moan. She continues to do that until she gets off his knees and bounces on him. With her tits in his face, he kneads one while he wraps the other with his mouth.

Minutes go by and they're both a moaning and panting mess. Chris starts to take notice of her slowing down so he takes control. He flips them over gently, without him slipping out and starts to thrust into her. "O-oh fuck!" She moans. Chris looks down to where they're connected and sees his glistening cock going in and out of her. Suddenly the sight of her swollen belly catches his eye and he moans, knowing he fucked a baby into her. "Look at your belly- shit- you like that I fucked a baby into you? Now everyone will know you're mine, yeah? Fucked you so good I got you all full and pregnant." He groans, running his hands over her bump. "Yes, I'm yours. All yours." She scratches his back.

"Fuck, I'm so close." He moves his hands to the sides of her head and kisses her damp neck. "Me too, don't stop." She sighs. "You feel so good, I feel so full." She moans into his ear. "Fucking pussy was made for me, wasn't it?" She nods. "Just for you, nobody else." She whines, feeling the tightness in her lower belly. "Feel you squeezing me, cum for me, baby." He continues to thrust into her. "Yes! Yes- fuck. I'm cumming. Shit! Don't stop!" She gasps, arching her back, her neck is exposed and Chris sucks on her neck, leaving a light mark. "I'm- shit! I'm cumming!" Chris rides his high, his cum painting her walls. Y/n lies underneath him. watching his face as he cums.

Chris slowly pulls out and they both hiss from how sensitive they've become. "Sorry, baby." He whispers. He looks down and sees him cum start to drip out of her. He audibly moans at the sight. "Think you can give me one more?" He lays next to her. Running his hand up and down her thigh.

"Give me a couple a minutes".

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strawberrymatchawhore · 10 months ago

Text

baby

summary- babying your "tough" hubby rafe.. maybe some freakydeakyness at the end

note- this is the complete opposite of the rafe ive been writing about LMAOOO.. this man is SO BAD help me

it was 2am and you were in your bedroom scrolling on your phone, a random netflix show playing in the background. you've been waiting for your husband to get home for hours, being the wife to the chief of police did have its negatives. this was one of them.

you heard footsteps walking up the stairs and immediately turned off your phone, throwing the covers over yourself you pretend to be asleep. the door opens and you feel the weight of the bed shift.

"hey baby. sorry for getting home so late" rafe says giving your forehead a kiss, you jokingly ignore him.

"c'mon now i know youre awake.. get up and hold me." he begged tiredly, you couldnt help but giggle at how desperate he sounded.

"fine." you mumbled into the sheets but stayed in your position, he hugs you putting all of his weight on your body.

"okay okayy, i got it. now get off me you fatty." you whined, pushing his large frame off of you. you leaned against the bed frame and opened your arms, the both of you adjusting to a more comfortable position. which was the both of you propped up against a pillow.

"im so tired." he yawns into your chest, you played with his hair as the both of you stayed in silence.

"i know you are, you need a day off. youve been working too hard." validating him, his hand plays with the ribbon of your pajama shorts.

"see? youre still in your uniform, youre gonna make the bed dirty." you patted his back and drew circles on it.

"what, you want me take it off? if you wanted to see me naked you couldve asked sweetheart." he looked up at you and smirked. you glared at him, lightly slapping his arm.

"not what i meant.." you blushed.

"youre so cute you know that rafey, honestly when i look at you i just want to eat you." you confessed and massaged his temples, his face nuzzles into your chest even further. clearly he was blushing as well.

"i dont know how i got so lucky, im so glad i have a such a beautiful boy in my life. everything about you is just perfect." you cooed admiring his sculpted face, the way his plump lips curled into a smile.

"stopppp" he whined. you couldnt help but pull out your phone and take a picture. because if you didnt, who wouldve believe that your 6'2 husband loved to be babied like this? not like you were going to show anyone, its just for your eyes only. you wanted to cherish this moment forever.

"did you just take a picture?"

"let me see it." he shot up and reached for your phone. you put your phone under your pillow and laid on it, making sure he wasnt able to grab it. the two of you started play fighting.

"nooo please, you look so cute. let me keep it!!" you laughed, he started to tickle you. and you slowly started to fall off the bed. your legs wrapped around his waist and dragged him down, if you were gonna fall he was going to come down with you.

the laughing coming from you both died down and you looked up at him, what a funny position. you both were on the floor and he was in between your legs hovering over you.

rafe leaned downed and passionately kissed your lips, his hand starts to play with your shorts. you eventually pull away and slap his hand.

"nuh uh. go shower first. you stink." you got up to your feet then helped your boyfriend get up as well. you looked up at rafe with your head tilted, what was this man plotting?

"not unless you join me.. you cant say no" he quickly said and grabbed you by the waist. hoisting you over his shoulder and carrying you to the master bathroom.

"ahhh! rafe stop!!" you busted out laughing, kicking your feet as he practically dragged you to the shower. he put you down and turned on the warm water, it poured over you both. you furrowed your eyebrows.

"great now my clothes are all wet." you pouted crossing your arms over your now soaked tank top.

"more reason to take it off... lift your arms f'me"

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe x y/n #obx fanfiction #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #obx #rafe smut #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron concepts #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron obx #outerbanks blurb #husband!rafe

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cherienymphe · 21 days ago

Text

Worth It

Topper Thornton x Reader

Summary: After finally finding the strength to end your toxic relationship, Rafe thinks he can win you back, no idea that you've been sleeping with his best friend.

warnings: Non-Con, mentions of cheating, toxic relationship, semi-public sex, jealousy, secret relationship, mentions of side of Rafe x reader, kook!reader, non canon ages, p*rn with a plot

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

➥ Can this be read as a one shot? Yes! Can this be read as a follow up to Escapism? Also yes!

⭑

You hated the way tears spilled over as Topper forced you to stare into his eyes. You blamed it on the alcohol in your system—your inability to fully control your emotions, right now. The living room was only lit from the glow of the TV, a movie playing that all three of you had long stopped watching, but you could see the blond—and the determination on his face—perfectly.

“Topper,” you quietly gasped, pushing your arm against his neck. “Stop. Rafe-.”

Your words were cut off in your throat with one particularly hard thrust from him, his hips smacking against yours as he fucked you on the floor of Rafe’s living room. The other blond was in the shower, slightly tipsy himself and none the wiser to what was happening downstairs. Topper snapping and taking matters into his own hands wasn’t surprising. Knowing how he could sometimes get about you, you’d expected it at some point…

Just not here and now.

After a tumultuous eight months with Rafe Cameron, you finally found the strength and resolve to break up with him and keep it that way. He was an okay friend, but he’d turned out to be an even worse boyfriend. The constant lies and disrespect and betrayal had finally gotten to you and pushed you to do something about it that didn’t just involve fucking his best friend.

No one was happier than Topper when a month went by and you still hadn’t given in to Rafe’s half assed apologies and pleas.

It was when it finally started to sink in for everyone that you were serious this time. Rafe wasn’t going to win you back this time, and especially not with the sorry excuses of apologies he always gave. You could see it in his eyes every time you were around each other—the barely contained anger and disbelief and most of all the aggravation that he couldn’t do anything about it.

To the public, you were a single woman.

It was a different story behind closed doors.

Topper never had a problem crawling into your bed every time Rafe hurt you, so he especially had no qualms about it now that you and the toxic blond had broken up for good. He could touch you and kiss you and fuck you without abandon. You no longer had to worry about the sound of Rafe’s knocks interrupting you or being quiet when he was asleep just down the hall or refusing sex with him because you were still sensitive from the feel of Topper’s cock only an hour before.

You and Topper were in heaven…

Until Rafe decided that he wanted to actually put in the work with earning your forgiveness.

“I treated you like shit,” he’d said to you one day, shocking you. “I always have and I know that and…you were right to leave me. You should’ve left me after the first time I cheated.”

There’d been a time when you would’ve killed to hear those words coming from Rafe’s mouth. Now though, now you didn’t care. Even though he didn’t know it, you’d gotten back at him in the best way possible, and it was only made better because that’d never been your intent. You hadn’t wanted to ‘get back’ at Rafe that night Topper told you about the other blond and some girl. You’d just been heartbroken…and craving the touch of another.

“Well…thank you for saying that,” you’d responded.

It was sincere. Even though you were at a place where you didn’t need to hear those words anymore, they were still nice to hear all the same. Rafe had nodded as he gazed at you, both of you in your own world away from the rest of the party.

“We’re over, and I get that now, but…we were friends once.”

You’d looked down at that, gathering where he was going with this and wondering how you and he could ever be friends again after all he’d done to you…and even you to him. He’d been your friend once but that hadn’t stopped him from cheating on you and embarrassing you and just overall treating you like shit. You were friends once but that hadn’t stopped you from sneaking around with his best friend once you found yourself at your breaking point with Rafe’s behavior.

“Look, I miss us being around each other and actually talking, you know. And I know I don’t have anyone to blame but myself, but I miss it…” your gaze met his. “I do, and I’m serious about showing you how sorry I am this time.”

You thought it was…nice.

Topper disagreed.

“We both know Rafe,” he spat at you that same night. “You know better than this. The normal routine isn’t working, so now he’s trying something different, and if you think Rafe has any interest in being your friend, I swear to God, Y/N, I will lose any respect-.”

“I am not some stupid bimbo! You don’t think I’ve considered that?” you threw your hands up. “...but I don’t see you cutting him off as a friend anytime soon, so unfortunately I still have to be around and interact with the man who broke my heart. That’ll be a lot easier now that he’s not trying to kill me with his mind every time we’re in the same room.”

Topper hadn’t had a response for that because it was true. Despite how awfully Rafe had treated you, he was still part of your normal circle—the two of you having way too many people in common—and it was something that bothered you but the alternative was isolating yourself from the people you cared about, and that just wasn’t fair to you.

It was obvious then that Topper wasn’t happy with the turn of events, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He was forced to sit back and watch as Rafe played nice with you and talked to you like nothing had happened and even flirt with you in that way he used to back before you dated. He hated it, and it was obvious long before tonight, but with alcohol flowing and trips down memory lane, Rafe got too comfortable.

…and right there in front of Topper, the other blond had thrown his arm around you before pressing his lips to your cheek.

It was only with your quick thinking that the kiss landed on your cheek instead of your lips, and picking up on the change in atmosphere, Rafe had pulled away.

“Shit,” he’d mumbled with a chuckle, running his hand through his hair. “I think I need to sober up a little bit.”

Neither you or Topper paid him much attention as he talked about needing a shower, completely oblivious to what he’d just done. You and the remaining blond merely stared at one another as Rafe made his way upstairs—his family out for the night—and it was only when you heard the bathroom door shut that Topper pounced. A hushed argument turned into something more, Topper’s anger only getting worse by the second, and you couldn’t hold in your pained gasp when his hand twisted into your hair.

Topper’s lips were on you, and his other hand was pushing at the skirt you’d put on this morning. He was a man with tunnel vision, completely uncaring about your ex—his best friend—just upstairs in the shower. No amount of times mentioning that seemed to matter, and despite the fact that you were not in the mood to have sex with Rafe so close by, Topper had reached his breaking point.

His fingers had started to curl inside of you before you knew it, one hand hanging onto him to keep from falling and the other pulling on his wrist as a means to get him to stop. Despite your slight inebriation, your feet had firmly planted on the floor to prevent Topper from pushing you down because you knew that it was over the moment he managed to get you onto your back.

With every push of his fingers into your walls, you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter, his movements becoming smoother as his fingers and hand became slick with your juices. His teeth scraped at your neck, causing a shudder to travel up your spine, and you felt his thumb join his other fingers, circling around and over your clit. The way he massaged that bundle of nerves had you faltering, and Topper saw the opportunity and took it.

It was how you found yourself on your back, literally pushing at him and pleading with him to stop.

“I don’t care,” was his only response when you mentioned Rafe the first time.

You did though, and for the first time, you found yourself genuinely resisting him and trying to get him off of you. Your skirt was hiked up around your waist—the shirt you were wearing ripped open—and Topper had long pulled at your underwear and twisted them and stretched them to give him access to push his hard cock into you. You’d almost been unable to swallow down the choked gasp that threatened to escape your throat.

He was slow in fucking you at first, distracted by the way the length of him repeatedly disappeared inside of you. He always loved that, watching your cunt greedily taking him, watching the way you dripped around him and made a mess on the pink shaft. Every protest mumbled from your lips went ignored, and it was only because you could still hear the sound of Rafe in the shower that you didn’t panic.

However, mentioning Rafe again had the man on top of you changing his pace. His thrusts grew in temp, pushing himself into you and pulling out quicker and quicker. Topper had long discarded his shirt, his shorts pulled down to his ankle as he curved his hips against yours.

“Fuck,” he cursed, grinding himself against you. “Stop talking about Rafe, just stop.”

Your forearm was pressed to his neck, tears in your eyes as you attempted to get through to him.

“He’s right upstairs,” you angrily whispered, voice panicked. “Are you crazy? Get off of me!”

It came out louder than you intended, but you’d have a much easier time explaining to Rafe what a possible noise was than what he’d see if he came down the stairs at any moment. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that the thought turned Topper on, his blue eyes glinting in a way you’d never seen as he continued to plunge his cock into you. Every time he pulled his hips back until only the tip of him remained just inside of your folds, you could hear the wet sound it made. When he thrust back into you, the squelch reached your ears, and you were too terrified to linger on how that normally turned you on.

You could only think about Rafe hearing the same thing and going on a rampage.

When Topper pulled back, you foolishly thought he decided to listen to you, but instead he only rested on his knees, his hands grabbing your thighs and yanking you closer. The moan you let out was loud and breathy, the action having caused you to feel the tip of him deep into your gut, Your legs rested over his own thighs, and Topper’s fingers dug into your hips as he jerked himself into you over and over.

Your chest was heaving, and you didn’t miss the way his hooded eyes traced over you, taking it in. Your toes curled with every push of his hips, and faintly, you could hear the distant sound of water running. A blue glow was casted over Topper’s tan skin, evidence of how much time he’d been spending in the sun. under any other circumstance, you’d reach out to run your hands over him.

Not tonight.

“Topper, please,” you breathlessly sighed.

It almost sounded like you were begging him for more, but as it were, you were begging him to stop being an asshole and get off of you. Your gaze trailed over his face and the intensity you saw there. His lips were parted, and his tongue rested just on his teeth as he looked down at you and enjoying the sight of you taking his cock. Your eyes traveled down his chest, taking note of the sweaty sheen it held.

Your gaze eventually stopped.

You watched the way his cock slid in and out of you, almost transfixed by the sight. He stretched you out so good, always had, and it was hard to ignore the way your body buzzed and your heart fluttered and your stomach tightened. You were torn between wanting to give in and adopt his ‘fuck Rafe’ mindset and trying your hardest to push him off of you.

You and Rafe weren’t together anymore, but him catching the two of you would open a whole can of worms that would ruin the dynamic between you three far worse than anything Rafe had done. Rafe had done you dirty so many times, and it didn’t matter that you’d only cheated on him with one guy. It was the right guy—the only guy that would turn his world upside down in the capacity that he’d turned yours. You didn’t want to experience the fallout of that.

More tears spilled over.

“You look so pretty like this, you know that?” Topper wondered, shifting and leaning over you as his hand circled your neck. “Panicked and teary-eyed and absolutely squirming on my cock.”

“Topper, I am begging you,” you tearfully pleaded, grabbing his hand and using your other to push at his chest. “Rafe…”

“You know what? I want him to see, and I’m tired of pretending like I don’t.”

Your eyes widened at that.

“It’d be more than what he deserves.”

The animosity and venom in his tone shocked you, and you didn't react to him brushing your tears away with his thumb. His nose brushed against yours, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he started fucking you harder, putting way more vigor into each thrust.

“He’s done nothing but treat you like shit…and he thinks he still can,” the blond quietly said, and you heard the sound of the shower turning off upstairs. “I want him to see me fucking the shit out of you.”

He reached down, gently pinching your clit and taking pleasure in the way you moaned.

“I want him to see me stretching you out and burying my cock into this pussy that only gets wet for me…”

Your eyes rolled at his words, and you almost forgot why you wanted him off of you so much.

“I want him to see me come inside of you,” Topper moaned, burning his face into the crook of your neck. “I want him to know that I’m spilling into you and you’re greedily milking me for every drop. I’ll happily tell him all the times I’ve done it.”

You shuddered at that, your nails digging into his arm.

“All the times I sent you right back to him with my cum between your thighs.”

“Fuck, Topper.”

You didn’t know if you were saying that in a good way or bad way. You didn’t know why, but you had never realized just how much animosity Topper held for Rafe. You supposed that he’d have to have a healthy dose to repeatedly fuck his girlfriend, but you’d always thought that had more to do with Topper’s feelings about you and recognizing that Rafe simply wasn’t good enough for you.

However, considering that the three of you were once the best of friends, it made sense that Topper would grow to hate Rafe more and more every time he witnessed him putting you through hell.

“I’m going to fill you up and I don’t care who sees.”

His words were doing a good job of convincing you, and you felt yourself caring less and less too the longer Topper fucked you towards your high. You felt your own hips lifting in time with his to meet his thrusts, getting to a point where he held himself still while you fucked yourself onto his cock.

Rafe had hurt you so much, and yes while his actions of tonight were probably driven by alcohol, he clearly thought he’d get the opportunity to hurt you again. He clearly thought you’d give in, and you two would be right back where you were three months ago. Not only did that make you angry, but it hurt. Choosing to try and be friends again was way more than he deserved, and once again, he was attempting to take advantage of your kindness.

For the first time ever, you wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt you.

Really hurt him.

…and when you found yourself on top of Topper, you didn’t care. He was lifting his hips up into you, one hand on your breast and the other on your hip to help guide you up and down his length. The tip of his cock was hitting something inside of you that had you gasping for breath. You couldn’t stop the breathless gasps and softs mewls that left your lips, eyes half closed as you fucked Topper in Rafe’s own house. You were making a mess on his skin, but you didn’t care.

You didn’t care that you were dripping around him, the inside of your thighs sticky from your juices. You didn’t care that your bra was askew as Topper pinched a hardened bud between his fingers. You only cared about pressing the palms of your hands against his chest to ground yourself and make it easier to bounce on top of him. You only cared about chasing your climax, feeling it come closer with every stroke inside of you, and when you tightened around him—Topper spilling into your eager cunt with a groan—you didn’t care when you looked up and fixed your gaze towards the stairs, locking eyes with his best friend.

#topper thornton #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton fan fiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #obx fanfiction #Austin north #obx #obx imagine

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laiiaaa · 2 years ago

Text

CINNAMON SUGAR — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen comes home to you late at night. Luckily, you manage to stay awake.

length 2k

contents absolutely zero plot, literally just a sweet n cute n sappy moment existing in a vacuum, holy shit so much fluff i might die (got the idea for this while listening to margaret & let the light in by lana del rey n it's realllll obvious), too many kisses to count, this is what he'd be like after intensive therapy i reckon, not proofread so be nice

Carmen opens the door to the bedroom carefully, minding the creaky hinge in the middle of the night. Moonlight peeks through the window, caught at the right time when the city doesn’t block its path into the apartment, giving just enough glow to the room to see you fast asleep in bed. It’s late, he realizes, even later than usual. He needs to work on that.

He makes his way to the bed, stopping at your side to kneel beside you and simply adore you: the curve of your nose, the plush of your lips in that pout you wear only when you’re asleep, the eyelashes laid against your cheeks.

You stir when he presses his lips to your temple, a soft groan pulled from your lips. “…Bear?”

“Yeah, ‘s me, baby.” Even at a whisper, he thinks he’s too loud, and with his rough and tired hand he brushes over the top of your head just light enough to keep you sleepy.

A drowsy hand reaches out from under the covers to smooth over the contours of his face, tracing along shadows made hazy by a few hours’ rest. “You coming to bed soon?”

“Almost,” he murmurs, smoothing a palm up your exposed arm to hold your hand steady. He pulls ever so slightly away from your palm, only to turn to land gentle kisses against its soft skin, worshiping the pieces of you that treat him with more care than he thinks he’s worthy of. “Needa take a shower first, alright? But I’ll be right back.”

He could’ve done that much by now—could’ve cleaned himself, rid himself of a day's work before seeing you—but truthfully, waiting any longer would’ve driven him mad. He would’ve been itchy in the shower, skin aflame knowing he could’ve felt your touch by then, arms and hands jittering to have your curves beneath them. His lips trail down to your wrist before he turns over your hand to kiss the backs of your fingers.

“Okay,” you answer, muffled by the blankets and pillow and the squeak of the floorboard as Carmen stands back up.

He makes his trip quick and quiet. He brushes his teeth and swipes up a towel while the water heats up, leaving just enough time to hang it on the hook and strip before hopping in. There’s a beat where he closes his eyes and just breathes, clears his mind of the day’s stress, lets warm water saturate his hair and cascade down his back. He lathers his hair with shampoo—the one you bought for him once to free him from the chains of 3-in-1 and that he’s been purchasing ever since to keep you happy—before cleaning the rest of his body, all while thinking about how much better it’d feel, how much more relief he’d get if it were you beside him under the stream instead of just his thoughts. But with the shampoo and soap down the drain goes that idea, much like the fleeting thought of using conditioner. You’ve yet to get to him on that one, especially at a moment like this, when time is of the essence and you’re waiting on him. Maybe another night, when you take your own product and swirl it around his curls; if it gives him an excuse to stay with you just a few minutes more, he’ll do it.

He hops out of the water like it’s acid and wraps the towel around his waist after drying himself to avoid trouble in the morning (you hate when the floor gets wet, and even if it wastes time, he’ll be sure to prevent that). Out goes the light again as he walks into the hall, sneaking back into the bedroom to get dressed into briefs and nothing more—you’ll keep him warm enough under the blankets.

It’s only then—when he peels back those final layers—that he realizes he’s been smiling the whole time.

Once he’s settled into the grooves of the mattress, chest to your back, you’re turning around to curl into his torso, like a magnetic field brought you there.

“Hey,” he coos, “Y’don’t have to move f’me, yeah? Just sleep, baby.” Moved by your eagerness, his arms curl around you, one along your waist as the other nicely fits comfortably into the space between your neck and shoulder.

And yet you shift a little more to cast an arm against his chest, his heart beating beneath your palm, head on his shoulder with a leg hooked onto his hip, split halfway between mattress and his body. “ ‘S more comfy this way, Carm.” You sigh and breathe deep into his skin. “You smell good, too.”

He can’t even lie well enough to convince himself his heart doesn’t run a million miles faster when you cozy up to him like this, caught in a space part fatigue and part love, with your hums ringing in his ear. “ ‘S that shampoo you got me a while ago…Sometime this week—” he yawns, and if he weren’t dying to hear your voice a few more times, he’d be a little more thankful for sleep coming so easily— “Sometime this week we can go t’the store, you can pick out another body wash f’me to try, too.”

“Mm, I’d like that.” You smooth your hand from his chest to his neck and shoulder, massaging there gently where he gets sore as a barely-there kiss lands to the skin beneath you. “How was it today?” The restaurant. His headaches. Richie’s mood lately. The flow of the kitchen. The strain in his back.

“Was alright,” he answers, as honestly as he can, soothing himself by brushing a hand up along your spine. “Real busy, so I didn’t get to leave ‘till late, ‘m sorry.”

“ ‘S alright, I stayed in and just relaxed for the night.” You snuggle into him a little deeper, and he thinks he could melt. “I was gonna ask you to bring something home, but it’s a weekend, so I didn’t wanna bother you in a rush.”

“What’d you want?”

From your lips comes a light and airy giggle, milliseconds of the best sounds he’s ever heard. “I just wanted some fries, honestly…didn’t feel like going out.”

“Heh,” he laughs, smiling while his eyes stay glued to the ceiling—as if looking at you would make the moment disappear. “I would’ve picked ‘em up for you, ‘r at least had Fak get ‘em to you.”

You yawn in tandem with the tailend of his thought, so your answer’s a bit softer. “Uh-uh, I like them better when you make ‘em.”

“Yeah? ‘ve I been pampering you too much?” He teases you, adds on a kiss to the top of your head as he squeezes you a bit tighter, but it’s all a ruse to cover up how much faster his pulse is when you say those words, like all the work he’s put in—all the love he has for you—makes its way to the table for not just anyone, but for you, the one person he’s sure matters more than the rest. More than those fucking stars, more than Chef of the Year, more than any critic’s review, more than he can wrap his head around; he feels it in his chest and that’s enough.

“Of course you have,” you agree, peeking up at him and craning your neck to plant your lips to his jaw, savoring it long enough to leave a smirk against his skin. “You’re always so sweet to me, Bear—” one more quick peck just beneath his ear— “love when you cook for me.”

He thinks he could pass out like this, with the last thing he hears being those words, but his fatigue seems to serve as an anesthetic that lets him soak it in for a bit longer, running his free hand through damp curls while a heavy, giddy sigh leaving his lips that lets you know he hears you, that he loves telling you he loves you through his art, that he lives for the smile on your face when he stays home for a few hours longer to make you breakfast. Yet with all the time spent having his shell soften for you, he can’t always find the right words, so he settles for the next best thing: “Y’know, uh…Marcus’s been playing around with recipes…”

He feels you smile against his chest, knowing what’s to come. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, an’ I’d never let ‘im serve ‘em, ‘cause, y’know…” He loses himself for a moment in the lull of your fingertips tracing mindless shapes into his chest. “They don’t fit the menu…but uh, he made these…these rolls today…”

“Mhm? ‘M listening…”

Carmen knew that, of course, from the faint kisses you peppered between breaths. He lets the fan whir through the gaps in his thoughts. “I think you’d like ‘em, he had some classic cinnamon, ‘n…a blueberry lemon goin’…”

“That sounds really good,” you whisper, the syllables lengthened from a shared lack of sleep.

“I know,” he drawls, and he’s a little too proud of himself for once when he adds, “Which is why I said I’d let ‘im fix up the lemon recipe a few more times if he made a batch for you.”

“Did you really?” The dazed smile comes through in your voice, a bubbliness to it that tells him he made the right call.

He figures that’s why he’s so drawn to you—all the right calls come easy to him, the effort feels natural and unpracticed, unlike the tar that builds in his throat when it comes to so many other people. With you, being good is anything but demanding. “ ‘F course, baby…”

It turns him to a puddle, the sweetness that drips from your fingertips, so he cradles your wrist carefully in his hand and lifts it to his lips to show it the love it deserves before urging the hand to busy itself with the tufts of hair behind his hear, to which you happily oblige. You twirl a lock around your finger, performing a methodical spiral, and even though he knows by the time it dries it’ll stick out from the mess like a sore thumb, he’d stop breathing before pulling your hand away. It’s soothing, that pattern. It stokes the fire in his gut that makes him feel a little less lonely when you’re not around.

“I brought…” He yawns again, his eyelids growing heavy. “I brought you some of the cinnamon rolls…Sugar liked ‘em…they’re on the counter for you tomorrow mornin'…” He’s not sure whether it’s your doing or the hours of stress endured throughout the day, but he knows this is the most relaxed he’s ever been, laying with you and doing little else other than indulging in your tender touches and shy kisses.

“Thank you, my love,” slips away with breath, sotto voce, as Carmen leaves brief kisses to your hairline.

And he thanks God for being able to do it even with such an intense fatigue washing over him—at least part of him does, the part that’s still awake—because the movement lets you tilt your head and graze your fingertips by his jaw, bringing his lips kindly to yours for the first and last time tonight. Somewhere in that beautiful tangle there’s a mutual agreement: an unspoken Goodnight, I love you, in the mix, a finality in his offering and your gracious thanks that doesn’t warrant anything more than your head tucked neatly into his neck, left to bask in the comfort of his arms wrapped around you.

Just like any other night with you, he can sleep peacefully with the unconscious push and pull of your bodies intertwined. He knows that by morning, you’ll still be in his arms, in the bed you share, waiting on your good morning kiss from under the covers.

And he’ll still be beneath your warmth, his mind fuzzy and full of tenderness, every part of him dying to marry you.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fic #carmy berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto imagines #carmen berzatto imagine #the bear #carmy the bear #the bear fx #the bear x reader #the bear season 2

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monster-disaster · 2 months ago

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[tentacle] Monster under the bed +1

tentacle!monster x human!Reader Good to know: smut, no plot

Previously: [tentacle] Monster under the bed - Your new house is full of surprises.

Summary: You can't help yourself, you try out the bed again.

The silence presses down on you as you hover in the doorway. Your hand is on the wooden frame, fingers trailing along its worn surface while your eyes are locked on the bed. It is a familiar sight, yet it feels different now as if the air around it carries a weight of its own. It looks just as it did a few days ago: white sheets stretched taut, invitingly soft blankets spilling over the sides, and the dark, robust frame grounding it in place. Nothing feels out of place, but you know the truth. You experienced it. And damn, you want it again.

The last several days blurred together in a haze of legal jargon and endless paperwork, but even with the constant demands of sorting through your aunt's will, the memory of your first night in her house, well, now yours, lingered in the back of your mind like a shadow you couldn't quite shake off. Though, with so much to do, you hadn't let yourself dwell on it. So, instead of settling in the upstairs bedroom, you'd chosen the couch in the living room. It wasn't exactly comfortable, you have to buy a new one as soon as possible, but it was your only option since you didn't have the time or energy to face the monster under the bed.

But this night is different. The house seems quieter now, broken only by the steady, rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs, and the air feels alive, heavy with waiting and unspoken anticipation. It wraps around you like a charged current. Your stomach tightens with excitement and nervousness as your gaze remains fixed on the bed. Its crisp white sheets and soft blankets seem to glow faintly in the dim light of the room, inviting and taunting. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you pull the edge of the plush towel tighter around yourself. The fabric is soft and warm against your bare skin.

Something about the room feels different now as though it’s holding its breath along with you, waiting for you to take the next step.

"I can't believe I'm going to do this," you murmur under your breath. Your voice wavers with a mix of disbelief and determination as you take slow, deliberate steps further inside the quiet room. The towel slips from your grip, falling silently to the floor in a soft heap around your feet. You step over it without a glance, the cool air brushing against your bare skin, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

Stopping beside the bed, for a long moment, you just stand there, and then, with a quiet exhale, you climb up onto it. The mattress shifts slightly under your weight as you move, your breathing shallow as you settle on your knees. You let yourself sink into the position, your legs folding beneath you while your hands rest lightly on your thighs. The sheets feel cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the lingering heat of your body. Your eyes roam the edges of the bed, tracing its shadowed lines as the anticipation builds. Every creak of the floorboards, every whisper of wind outside, feels magnified as you sit there, waiting.

Your breath catches, and your heart beats faster. The tension in the room is thick enough to hold you in place.

And you don't have to wait for long.

With growing tension, you watch as the familiar dark purple tentacles begin to emerge from beneath the bed. They move, curling and twisting on the soft sheets, tracing lazy paths along the blankets. Their slick texture glimmers under the dim light of the room. You can see the ripple of muscles as they get closer and closer.

You don’t realize you are holding your breath until your lungs protest, burning with the strain. "Okay," you gasp. Your hands fidget nervously in your lap, fingers twisting together as you force yourself to remain still. "You won't hurt me," you add, though the words are more for your own benefit than anything else.

The gap between you and the tentacles continues to shrink, each second stretching longer than the last. Your muscles coil, every fiber of your being instinctively anticipating the touch, the moment they make contact. It feels like an eternity, but finally, they reach you. The first touch is almost tentative, the tips of the tentacles grazing over the smooth skin of your knees. The featherlight touch sends a shiver through your spine. Then slowly, they slide upward. Their movement is fluid as they glide over your thighs, tracing the curve of your body with a surprising gentleness. You inhale sharply, your chest rising and falling with the rhythm of your shallow, quick breaths while they wind around your waist. Their cool, slippery length leaves a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your arms lift slightly and instinctively to give them more room to roam. Your fingers tremble as you hold yourself steady. The tension in your body is palpable, every nerve on edge as you watch their movements, your gaze fixed, unwilling to look away.

“Oh,” you sigh softly. The sound escapes you before you can stop it.

The tentacles move with intent. They explore you, curling and across your bare skin. They graze over the sensitive curves of your breasts, flicking and licking your nipples until they are hard, tender pebbles. The limbs coil around your soft flesh, kneading and groping.

You are completely absorbed in the sensation, so much so that you don’t notice the tentacles slithering up between your legs. They press forward with a delicate persistence, spreading your thighs apart in the process. The sudden rush of cold air against the damp heat of your center jolts through your body, sharp and biting. It punches an airy gasp from your heaving chest, and your hips instinctively shift, seeking more contact. The delicate press of the tip of the tentacles is a subtle reminder of just how much control you’ve lost and how much you don't care about it at all. The two limbs explore your pussy, gliding along your folds. You shudder with delight, taking a deep, sharp breath when one tip brushes over your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud over and over again.

"Oh, fuck," you groan under your breath, looking down at the tentacles stroking up and down between your legs. Even the sight is enough to take your breath away, but feeling them spreading your own wetness between your thighs is more than you can bear without moving. Your hips rock on their own accord, searching for the friction that has you moaning when you feel one tip at your entrance, prodding. Your head falls back as you feel it press inside you, your hand automatically reaches down, your fingers curling around the tendril that ripples and shifts under your touch.

The two limbs wrapped around your thighs tighten their grip, keeping you open and utterly exposed. The firmness of their hold contrasts sharply with the softer touch of the ones exploring your chest. They knead and tease your breasts, their movements deliberate and slow, drawing shivers and soft gasps from your lips. The other tendril in your pussy pushes deeper within you. Its girth stretches you, filling you with a tantalizing pressure that leaves you dizzy with arousal.

For a long, endless moment, you forget everything else, completely consumed by the overwhelming fullness. The last several days, and even the fact that you are kneeling naked on the bed to get fucked by a monster hiding under the bed somehow, all fades into the back of your mind. Your fidgeting grows more desperate, every motion sending jolts of pleasure through you, making it impossible to stay still. The tendril inside you moves with maddening precision, stroking against spots that make your vision blur. Your thoughts dissolve into a haze of heat and need. Time halts for a heartbeat, only to whirl around you when a second tendril presses against your slick, needy entrance. Its tip is unyielding yet gentle, testing the limits of what you can take. The stretch is intense, teetering on the edge of too much, yet your body responds with a rush of heat and involuntary shivers. Your hips twitch, caught in a helpless rhythm, trying to adjust to the new intrusion even as the first tendril continues its maddening exploration. They move in perfect synchronicity, each thrust and grind forcing you to confront just how far your limits can be pushed. A sharp cry rises in your throat, raw and trembling, and your toes curl. Your muscles twitch, and the burning coil in your stomach makes your spine arch. Each thrust feels deeper, more intense. Your mind swims in the haze of pleasure and surrender. And then, just when you think you can’t take any more, they adjust, angling perfectly to hit that spot deep inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. Your entire body twitches, caught in the tidal wave of pleasure as the tendrils inside you find their mark again and again. Each calculated thrust sends bolts of ecstasy coursing through your veins, building a pressure deep within that demands release.

The limbs holding your thighs tremble slightly, adjusting their grip to keep you perfectly positioned, vulnerable, and utterly exposed to their relentless attention. The tendrils inside you work in tandem, their movements a perfect symphony of pleasure and teasing control. The ones stretching your soaked, trembling walls pulse gently, creating a rhythm that stokes the heat building in your core.

Above, the tendrils on your chest shift their tactics, tugging and rolling your hardened peaks between soft, textured tips. Every squeeze sends ripples of arousal straight to your pussy. Your hips buck instinctively, seeking more. Every movement pulls you deeper into their grasp.

A strangled moan escapes you. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps as the pressure inside crests higher. They sense your mounting release, the way your body quivers and clenches around them, and their pace shifts. They become faster and more insistent.

Your body tenses, your vision blurs, and the world seems to shatter as the climax crashes over you in waves, leaving you trembling and utterly spent in their grasp. Your cries echo in the space around you, raw and unrestrained. The tendrils inside you slow their movements but don’t withdraw, their presence a constant, throbbing reminder of the pleasure they’ve drawn from you.

The limbs holding you begin to loosen, though not entirely, as if reluctant to release their claim. The tendrils inside you withdraw slowly after several seconds. Their departure is just as intense as their intrusion. The emptiness they leave behind sends a pang through your body, a mix of relief and longing that leaves you unsteady. As they retreat, their lingering touches trace along your skin, leaving trails of cool, slick sensations that make your body shiver. Your limbs feel boneless, your mind hazy, lost in the aftermath of their relentless attention.

Soon, they disappear under the bed, leaving you trembling and breathless.

#monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #teratophillia #monster fucker #terat0philliac #monster smut #tentacle x human #tentacle x reader #tentacle smut #tentacle monster #monsterfucking #tentacles #monster fucking #grimbrook

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xoxochb · 14 days ago

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percy and sweet girl leave the bed for once????

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

a gasp cuts through the air. a copious amount of water fills your eyesight, you close your eyelids tightly.

“perseus! what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

he laughs. but he loves you, so he hands you a towel. thankfully, you take it and wipe your eyes of water.

“thank you.” though your voice lacks any real happiness.

you throw the towel somewhere on the floor and open your eyes back up to see percy grinning widely in front of you. you scowl in return.

“keep glaring at me, sweet girl, your face’ll get stuck like that.”

“I dislike you.”

“then tell me why you’re bathing with me.”

you blow a raspberry and let the back of your head rest against the edge of the bathtub. it’s comfortable like this.

“c’mere, sweet girl.”

percy takes your hand into his and pulls you up from your position, tugging you closer to him. you take your legs up to your chest and rest you chin on your knees. with this, looking to percy, your eyes appear doe-like.

he likes that, it’s shown through his smile. his green eyes look into your own.

“are you just gonna stare at me or are ya gonna speak to me?”

you ponder for a moment. “stare.”

he hums and rubs his thumb over your knuckles delicately. “okay, sweet girl, you do that.”

you crack only the faintest of grins. his eyes glimmer with mischief and you don’t doubt that he’s plotting something whether that ranges from a dirty joke to something genuine.

but you choose to ignore this for the moment and enjoy the sight of his eyes. green as the sea, holding a lighter shade when he looks at you, but you realized when in the sun they appear darker.

absentmindedly, your lips curl upwards. you bite your lip to prevent it from going any farther.

but percy noticed, of course he notices. “you’re smiling.”

“don’t ruin the moment.”

“I’m not ruining it, I’m letting my gen—”

“stop right there.” you lift your head from your knees. despite your words, your smile contagiously remains on both your lips and percy’s.

“you knew that was coming. I know it, you know it.”

you shrug. “I did. but it’s still nice to silence you.”

you end up wishing you hadn’t thrown the towel earlier.

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #riordanverse x reader #riordanverse #riordan universe

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s-4pphics · 2 months ago

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the party. II (sevika + vi + abby)

SYNOPSIS: reddit: a place for thought-dumping and being horny WORD COUNT: 6.5K WARNINGS: sevika, vi, and abby play rugby(kinda minor plot tbh), oc is a crazy redditor and wears skirts, STALKING, 90% SMUT MDNI(dubcon + VOYEURISM!! + degradation + munching + mult orgasms + dirty talk + scissoring + fingering) recreational drug use/drinking, some cringe A/N: fuck it everybody finna be in this.... heyyyy guys another collab w lottie bc duh ART BY LOTTIE LOT I LOVE U DEAR @trackinglessons … also callback to scumbag!abby missing her bad a lil taglist :) @marvelwomenarehot0 @falrydyke @alittlextrahoney @professionalgirlk1ss4r

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 3mi

are college parties always this wild??

[f21] omg hey guys i’ve been MIA…

ngl i’ve been getting my shit rocked for the past 12 hours i see why ppl go on my strange addiction as therapy… i need to be publically humiliated so i can stop thinking ab sex. thats real conversion therapy…. anywho im outside the frat rn and uh it look lit n whatever but some dude jumped outta window from the 3rd floor n he might be dead idk i don’t have my glasses on lol he’s just laying there fr unbreathing …. he’s cute tho #FAKEGAY the line to frats r so long im literally freezing n im not near the entrance pneumonia incoming

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 14mi

finally inside…. i feel like im sneaking out for the first time😭😭 why do i feel so guilty like wtf is this a byproduct of being loved conditionally by family or sum idk whatever WE TURNING UPPPP

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 3mi

my girl walkedd up behind m e 2 kiss my che eeek and my other gi dl spanked me in front of every1…… i need to be spay

Quite familiar, squeezing hands land on your hips and your phone hits the sticky fucking floor and some bitch with stiletto pumps steps on your gahtdamn phone who the fuck wears —

“Where ya been?” The scent of Crown Royal nearly sends you into a frenzy — alfuckingmost, but your phone screen is still glowing bright and orange with your half-assed cry for help Vi is right fucking behind you

“Uhhh… oh y’know, explorin’, whatevs.” You try to kick your phone closer, but you just end up slipping on whatever substance dirties the floors. Your girlfriend catches you, though, as always — hollers, okay? Need some water?

And instantly, you’re horny. You needa nut. You politely decline the drink.

“Come smoke with us...” She proposes.

The bodies that surround you seem to move in slow-mo. Us who? 90% of the soccer, football, and swimming teams are here getting gyrated on but, oh, wait…

Sevika’s not in here… Or is Don Julio obscuring your vision? Is Don Julio a real person? A commander of the Crusades; A possible descendant of Julius Caesar. Hm…

Vi’s still waiting on your response. You use her expectancy as an excuse to bend over and grab your phone and you’re instantly disgusted. Your case clings to your fingers like glue. Instead of vomiting up all the poisonous liquids in your system, you accept it as a sign from the universe. Stop putting your fucking phone down! You clench your device in your hands. Shoulda brought a fucking purse.

“YEAH!” You turn to scream to Vi… right when the fake ass DJ decides to skip to the next song. A large number of people glance at you in confusion. At least no one told you to shut the fuck up!

Vi’s not embarrassed in the slightest. She laughs, in fact. She’s so endeared by you. Times like this are when you start feeling a little guilty for all the bullshit you’ve done. Just a smidge though. Still gotta get your rocks off!

“Yeah?” She cheeses against your shoulder.

“Yup!”

… What are you agreeing to, again? Vi’s a love witch: she forces your train of thought into obscurity with her beauty. Don Julio should not be tampered with any longer! Electricity travels up your arm when her hand circles around yours to guide you out and onto the patio, through the glass door and yeah, they’re blazing out here. It’s loud as fuck.

“SEV!”

You follow the sonic of Vi’s shout and your legs forget their function when you see your location.

Oh fuck. Wow. Okay fuck fuck holy fucking shit!

Very large tall big bulky muscular women overtake your view. The whole fucking rugby team is out here puff-puff-passing; Nothing but tatted arms and girthy biceps made for hunting teeth and legs legs legs everywhere. Did Don Julio slice your throat in the name of justice or whatever the fuck your high school history teacher tried to lie to you about and sent you to heaven? Dyke heaven?

28 eyes lock onto your cowering form, directly behind an unsuspecting Vi who waves, very lighthearted, very demure: meanwhile, war rages within you. The war of hormones and fertility and whore-ism—

“Hiiiiii—“

Vi’s so cute with her pink cheeks and slowly fading black streaked hair. Her pink is coming through, for sure! You should ask her if it’s natural. Seems to be so, truly, look at her roots! Barely even fried…

Anything to distract you from the questioning looks being thrown your way from very attractive women. All 14 of them await your introduction and you’re really wishing Don Julio never spared your soul—

“Who’s that?”

A girl with freckles — lazily kicked back with a heavily tatted arm and beanie points at you, unsmiling. No one’s smiling, actually. You shrivel up and die right there. You’re only a shell now. Soulless. Your spirit’s flying around in search of a new muscular thigh to ride on. You’re forced to hold in a dreamy sigh at the memory: on your bed, both your thighs locked around Sevika’s one while Vi guided your hips from behind.

“Don’t be rude! This is—“

Your eyes find Sevika’s while Vi fills in for you. Tinted red and trapped in delirium, but still Sev; her pupils scale all the way down your bare legs. Why does she look so good right now? Fuck your life!

There’s a big ass bong in her heavily ringed hands. What’s up with her and compression shirts? It’s December for fucks sake! Is she not cold? You sure hope not because she looks mighty fucking good holy fuck—

Find a distraction so you don’t hyperfixate on the invitation she’s so clearly throwing your way! Her lap is calling again, oh God, find something else quick quick quick!

“—And this is Abby!”

Oh.

Distraction detected. Abby… Abigail Anderson! A complete and utter virginity-obsessed train wreck, but a hot one! Campus raves about her like they’re paid to do so; Everyone still gossips about what she did to that soccer player a few semesters back: took her virginity and ghosted her… and the streak continued until one of her bed posts smashed that same soccer player for revenge. Messy, messy. Sick work on everyone’s part. You love it!

Abby woulda really liked you if she’d got to you sooner. Vi and Sev touched you first. You’re probably all used up in her eyes. She’s gross for thinking like that.

… Is it bad to say you’re kinda digging that? Just a tad! She looks so sweet and cozy where she sits on the lounge chair in a damn pink cashmere sweater! Who wears sweaters to a fucking rager!

Abby stares at your legs with the same intensity as Sevika, “Nice to meet yo—“

“I’M A LESBIAN!” You shout.

And the crowd goes silent. Bullet to the brain. Fuck Don Juilio! Sevika smiles, though. Abby laughs a little. “We all are, baby! Welcome to the winning team!”

“HOOPLAH!” You exclaim, much louder this time.

“… YEAH!” “WOO?” A few of their teammates whom you need so desperately attempt to support. Confused laughter explodes all around, and for the first time in your life, it’s not at you, but with you… you think! Just like that, their entire team relaxes in your presence… Don’t they?

You love lesbianism!

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 22s

um… hey yall. one of my huzz keeps looking at me like she wants to get me pregnant but im sitting next to her friend… idk i think they’re friends they keep giving each other dirty looks… my hu keeps glaring at her whenever she touches or talks to me directly…. or am i tripping idk chile i might be contact high. maybe it’s bc she’s blonde idk i think ppl hate blondes irl

anyway my sunshine is so cute when she’s drunk she’s like a big teddy bear…. i think. not gonna talk her punching some guy in the face earlier men deserve it. #MISANDRY

—

Vi’s eyes are on Sevika, but Sevika’s eyes are on Abby who has gotten very close to you on that couch, and her gaze is not inviting.

No one would describe Sev as possessive. She’s the complete opposite; very free-spirited, go-with-the-wind-of-her-vape kinda energy. Hooking up with people that don’t dangle off her hip is one of her favorite pass-times. She’s okay with you being around, tagging along due to her phone never being blown with messages asking if she’s coming to pick you up for the party, or demanding to see her again, or begging for flowers, and she was thankful. You showed up to the party alone, got drunk alone, danced alone until both her and Vi searched to ensure you made it safely. You’re charming… in a weird way.

Sevika finds it alarming how comfortable she’s become around you. She’ll admit it’s outta character — she’s not a people person, only clinging to those who’ve read and understood her deeply, and even then, it took ages to open up. She can’t help it, your eccentricity hoards space by force — you have your own little nerdy way of life but she likes that. Thinks it’s hot how little you care about being perceived… In some cases. There are moments where she can’t pinpoint where your mind wanders, and one of them is right fucking now.

You’re pretty chill for the most part, but she knows her teammate isn’t, so why the fuck are the two so damn close?

Abby’s naturally overbearing — your polar opposite, but you’re snuggled up like two peas in a pod: she’s all in your space, complimenting you, caressing your shoulder with care and ease because you’re allowing her to. Sevika’s track record isn’t the best — terrible, she’ll admit, but Abby’s could override the entire team’s history combined. She’s manipulative like that; lures people in with the scent of cherry blossoms and a smile that shines like crystals before devouring, staining her fangs in their blood.

The two of them drifted apart some time ago, but it seems they’re the only ones aware of their covert friction. They challenge each other in silence on the field, in front of their team, even in front of Violet; Coach pinned it as petty jealousy of one another initially, but they’d both rather be shot dead than admit that.

The scene plays out in front of a spectating but frazzled Vi. She adores both of her friends and loathes their disdain for each other, but when you put two domineering personalities together… this is what you get, she supposes. Their falling out was never grasped by her; one second they’re fine, the next they’re not, like an old, married couple. Sevika and Abby are usually able to keep their secret animosity under wraps so their coach refrains from questioning, but Coach isn’t here. Just bud and liquor and you. How could someone with so little understanding of human nature have this much control? She’s got no option but to respect it — what power you have.

Abby’s eyes move in an instigating triangle; from you, to Vi, to disgustingly smug at Sevika, then back to you. What the hell is she playing at? Vi catches Sevika’s gaze for a blip, and Vi, with a silent plea, shakes her head no.

Please don’t start. Please don’t just leave them be, she’s fine—

But her eyes shut in defeat when Sevika rises from her lone spot, jaw cinched tight when she approaches the two of you.

“HEY-O, Amazonian lesbo!” You sing-song between chattering teeth and jumpy legs. Sevika can’t stop the smile that puffs her cheeks. Poor thing, you must be freezing.

“Captain.” Abby greets with an arched brow and a tilt of her head while she pets the back of your neck. Incredibly mocking, and Sevika’s instantly annoyed.

“‘Sup.” She greets short and stiff before redirecting back onto you, “Cold, babe?”

“I’m freezing!” Sevika extends a hand, and you accept her warmth graciously, already being pulled from your seat, “Where the fucks the food!”

“No food, hon. Vi has Ritz. Go eat.”

“More like… Vi has the shitz!” You expel through wheezed laughter. Abby snorts from behind.

“HEY WHAT THE FUCK NO I DON’T— “

You laugh all the way over to Vi, leaving Abby and Sevika to mentally strangle each other in silence. Abby kicks her feet on the small table in front of her, arms extended on the back of the couch.

“She yours?” The blonde jerks her head in your direction, shoveling crackers down your throat while Vi rubs your back and observes them with caution. Abby sends her the toothiest grin. “Never seen you so in love. It's cute.”

“I’m not fucking in love, I just met her,” Sevika attempts causality, shoulders raising in nonchalance with her hands shoved in her pockets.

“So what’s the fuckin’ issue, babe?”

Sevika hisses, “You as usual. Leave her the fuck alone.”

“Or what." Abby smiles, and Sevika’s tempted to beat her face in, but she refrains; Vi will hate her til further notice. She throws her one last threatening glance before leaving Abby to obnoxiously laugh alone. When Sevika reaches you, she removes her jacket and wraps you in it.

She bites down a laugh when you shove your nose in the sleeve and sniff. She guides you inside, Vi trailing close behind.

—

“You seriously took a shit at a party?” You mock while you untie your shoes.

“Shut the fuck up, no I didn’t,” Vi shuts — and locks oooolala — some random pedestrian’s bedroom door before leaning back against it with folded arms. The walk upstairs was hectic; if Sevika wasn’t there to lead you all the way up the stairs, you woulda been trampled. The later it gets, the wilder the party becomes and to be honest, it’s scary down there. Too many people throwing up and trying to crowd surf!

“Rate your first party, babe. You look like you had fun.”

You fall onto the large, unmade mattress. You really hope cum doesn’t stick to your dress because don’t people fuck at parties? Or was that another movie myth? “I did… But I couldn’t find anywhere to pee and I think somebody was grilling hotdogs on the pool table—“

Your rambling diverts your attention, and Vi’s glad for it. Sevika’s seething from where she sits on the rolling chair across the room, pins Vi where she stands with scalding pupils. Sevika’s infuriating to deal with when she’s like this; faded and bothersome and jealous.

“—Yeah, I dunno, very fun though, despite the death.” You conclude, and their staring contest breaks for a second.

“THE WHAT—“ “HUH—“

“Yeah, crazy, I dunno if the cops were called or what but… yeah… OH, and I made a new friend!”

Vi stiffens when Sevika grills lowly, “Oh, did ya? Who?”

“Abby Anderson! Who'da thunk, right! She’s so nice and—“

“Abby, huh?” Sevika interrupts, eyes locked on an excited you. Vi silently begs you to shut up.

You nod with enthusiasm, “Yeah! Y’know those rumors or whatever don’t do her justice, she’s funny as fuck! Not mean at all!”

Sevika scoffs silently. Pulls her vape out her sports bra. Hits it with an attitude unbeknownst to you. You’re really trying not to salivate. “That’s not your friend… you know that, right?”

You glance at Vi in confusion, but she stares at the floor with a tapping foot, “What do you mean?”

She finally sighs. Here we fucking go.

“Exactly what I said.”

“… m’really fucking confused, right now. Why don’t you think we’re friends —“

“Because you’re not.” Sevika finally snaps, and you wince. She watches you stammer with blades for eyes. Is she really mad at you right now? “She’s not your fucking friend. You’re getting too fuckin’ comfortable.”

“I dunno if we’re friends either, if we bein’ real,” She gestures between the two of you, and your entire rib cage shatters from the pulses in your chest. Water builds in your ducts. “We’re… what d’ya mean we’re not friends?” Your throat dries around tears that may or may not flow depending on her answer.

She huffs, “I don’t think friends do what we do, baby. That’d be pretty fucked up, wouldn’t it?”

She’s playing with you. She has to be! You’ve grown so close in the past… 14 hours! Your sheets are proof of your inseparable bond! Sevika likes you just as much as you love Vi! She does she does they both do!

“I— I’m…”

“You’re what.”

“Sev, ease up, c’mon…” Vi interjects quietly, stares in displeasure. Defends you like a knight, and your tears finally fall. From overstimulation, from sadness, from gratitude? You don’t know but it’s too much. You wipe your face and salt soaks your wrist.

Sevika finally looks at you, still upset, “Stop crying.”

“I’m not crying, my eyes are peeing.”

“Jesus fucking—

Vi huffs pitifully before ushering to stand in between your legs and thumb to at your wet cheeks, every glide from her rings freezing your tears in place. Every cell in your body is prepared to confess their devotion to her.

“Relax,” She hushes before her tone drops to a whisper, “She’s being fucking stupid right now, ignore her.”

“Shut up.”

Vi ignores Sevika and pecks your nose before both your cheeks, and your heart explodes into some warm, gooey substance. Feels like slime. Pink, glittery slime. She plants two extra smooches on your forehead and chin just to be safe, and your smile stretches for miles in result. A fat one gets smacked onto your lips before they rest by your ear. The sludge in your chest instantly burns red hot and thin.

“Let’s cheer her up.” She whispers so lowly you can hardly hear.

“What’re we gonna do?” You say louder and Sevika snickers at your failed secrecy. Maybe she’s not upset anymore?

“Think you can take dick?” She purrs on your throat.

“Like… like, whatchu mean? Take a dick where—“

“The fuck are y’all talkin’ about?” Sevika husks around one last puff before laying her robotic spliff on the desk.

Vi’s head whips to face Sevika, “I’m settin’ us up. Say thank you, Violet.”

“Fuck you, Violet.” Sevika sasses.

“You might if ya fuckin’ behave.”

“Can I watch?” You snort ecstatically.

2 pairs of blank stares are thrown your way. You cough awkwardly, “Uh, so about this dick thing—“

Vi rubs the bridge of your tickling nose with a comforting finger, “I wanna see how much you can take if you’re down.”

“I can take a lot mentally, so I’m sure the same translates physically.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sevika wisps snarkily.

… That hurt a little. All you dream about is taking strap! What happened to following your dreams? How could they ever question your aspirations? You look past Vi, right at Sevika.

You want her to like you again! You like being liked! If this is what it takes, then so be it! You’re never drinking again after tonight, so you might as well use your courage for good! You don’t even know what you’re saying but Sevika’s just as surprised as Vi… Maybe it’s working? You can’t really tell.

“You can obliterate my, uh… um… my vagina walls as an apology… or something like that. Sorry for talking to Abby. I promise I didn’t think anything of it. I—ACHOO— sorry… I’ll take your dick, Sev. In my throat if ya wanna, or whatever. Coochie…” You shrug in suggestion, “Uhh, yeah. Do you accept my apology?”

Silence sets in the small space before Sevika explodes into laughter. Vi laughs so hard she falls face first on the bed, and you do stare at her ass. She’s wearing cargos! You sneeze again.

Sevika wipes her eye, “Can I get that in writing?”

“Write in this pussy… and whatnot?”

“Make sure to say whatnot when you cum on me.”

“Oh wow, okay, sure.” Whatever gets her going!

“Take that dress off. ‘S got Abby germs.”

You smile… and sneeze.

—

Life is great. Wow. Bless up for sure. You and Vi’s cooters are inches apart. You’re naked, she’s naked, and Sevika isn’t but she’s watching very closely from where she kneels at the edge of the bed and your thighs tremble from anxiety!

Your girlfriend’s fucking perfect; so scarred and strong and tatted and built. When you shakily peeled her tank off, almost-healed teeth marks rested in between her tits and trailed all the way down to her hip bones. Ouchie… You wanna do that to her!

Sex in porn can only train so much before you’re forced to get out and smash on your own. You’re a pro watcher, but in real life… You’re slacking, let’s say that, but neither Sev or Vi have made you feel bad about your clumsiness. You haven’t had the privilege to touch either of them due to their determination to teach; experiment on you for their own research, study you, but you hope to change that soon. Vi touches you like you’re married, and you wanna do the same; you don’t think she’s in love with you yet but she also could be. Her hands would be nowhere near the porn industry. They’re too delicate, not demanding or crude or evil — you’ve seen some crazy shit on the web, good heavens. Forever traumatized.

Her hands are tender where they stroke your chest. She can probably feel your heart beating in her palms. Right through your titty meat, how embarrassing.

Then she starts giggling like an angel call the fucking ambulance before you go into cardiac.

“You seeing ghosts?” She coos.

“Nope, just God.”

“I didn’t even do anything.”

“Don’t have to. I’m dead already. Thanks, uhh, internet.”

“Oh yeah? You’re dead?”

“… Yup.” Your voice drops a heavy amount when she takes your limp hands in hers. She extends them up her torso until they rest over her breasts, pressing your hands down so you can squeeze. Aneurysm incoming it’s hitting in your brain—

“How’s that feel, Casper?”

“… Oh, gee wiz!” You squeal.

Vi cackles with her head thrown back, “You’re so fucking cute, I’m gonna bite you!” You laugh with her even though you’re on the brink of death for the 40th time tonight — someone save you, you’re begging!

“I like how your hands feel.”

“I like how your tits feel.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup.”

“Yup,” She snickers and leans down so your titties smash together, “Gimme a kiss.”

Your lips pucker playfully, and she pecks them. Licks them a little and you grin. “I can’t wait to stretch you out,” Her voice melts in your ears and you shudder beneath her, “Gotta make sure you’re ready.”

“Be honest,” you whisper, embarrassed, “Is it gonna hurt?”

“You want it to?”

Your eyes meet the wall, “… No comment…”

Sevika chuckles while Vi comforts, “You’ll be fine, baby. We gotchu, okay? We’ll take it easy and go from there.”

“A-Are we about to scissor?”

“Uh huh, you excited?”

“Yes,” you groan.

Sevika caresses your sweaty forehead and your heart soars so high that it splatters on the ceiling like a gunshot wound, “You wet enough? Need some head first?”

“M’okay… wanna feel…”

“Then ask her nicely,” Sevika nods towards a smirking Vi. Her head tilts, awaiting, and you’re instantly reminded of Abby. She did that whenever she patiently waited for your response to her curiosity. Thank God Sevika can't read minds.

“Violet…”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I… can you, uh…”

What would a pornstar say what would a pornstar say

“Want me to fuck you til you cum?” She hums on your cheek and your heart thrashes in your chest.

“Yeah… want that.”

“Then ask me.”

“Violet…”

You feel her smile, “Yes, baby?”

“Can you fuck me until I cum, please?”

She plants a doting kiss on your cheek before separating from you to sit on the mattress with her knees pointed towards the ceiling, “Course I can. Sit up, babe.”

You follow like a klutz but you’re here and her pussy glistens right there and so does yours. It takes you a second to replicate her guidance, but you’re eventually comfortable; the two of you resting back on your palms, your legs spread far enough for Vi to sit comfortably in between, one leg crossed over yours. Your cooters are nearly high-fiving! You can see her clit jump!

“Gonna go slow, okay? Just do what I do,” She whispers, and you nod. You’re trying really hard not to stare at her pussy but it’s right fucking there in all its glory! It’s right there! Will she let you eat it one day? Will Sevika—

Your brain screams bloody murder when Vi closes the space between your nethers.

—

Sevika prides herself in being patient.

When something is foreign to her, she waits. Regardless of how dire or stressful a situation becomes, she’s often able to resolve it with stealth. She takes her time to plan and organize because it holds her hectic life together, and if that’s lost, so is she. It’s in her nature to be observant. It gets her answers, solves the riddles that wrack in her mind with ease all because she watched and waited.

That attribute could be the reason she allows you to remain a mystery. You waltzed into her life by accident and now she’s stuck wondering what it is you want from her, her best friend; a relationship? A dirty secret? It hasn’t been that long. You're still a stranger, after all. Call it an obsession; she still has trouble wrapping her head around what allures her to you. It’s a desire she has trouble describing. You're really, really weird, but somehow that makes you one of the most attractive people she’s ever met in her life.

You being on the brink of your second orgasm while her best friend practically rides you isn’t what entrances Sevika. There’s something about your character; you’re so blunt and comfortable and trusting. She would never allow herself to be as unguarded with a stranger as you are. There’s something something something that she’s determined to pull from you, prick from your brain.

Why are you really here?

Please, baby, oh fuck, yes —

Vi begs when she takes and you beg her to take and Sevika thinks you’re a match made in heaven. She watches the two of you close up, dangerously personal. How your urges force your bodies against each other; you push when Vi pulls and pulls when she pushes. Both your thighs are soaked with each other and Sevika would kill to be in between them.

Structure. You and Vi are combative in your own right and Sevika mediates your tension. It’s perfect. You fit in between them so well, slid between them like butter. Why would anyone come in and jeopardize that?

Her spirit slams back into her body when a soft hand curls around her wrist; there’s barely any pressure, a bit insecure, and she knows you’re nervous. Your eyes are on her, the pleading in them almost louder than your exclamations of satisfaction. Are you still mad at me?

For talking to Abby. Sevika should say yes — the ruthless part of her wants to so you’ll work harder, but she swallows it. The stare she gives you is hard, and your hand squeezes tighter on her. Sevika being mad makes you wetter, she can see it with every glisten between your legs. You look like you’re boutta cum again.

Fucking Abby… Always prepared to wreck something that’s perfectly made for her.

You were so quick to take both of them… Would that have been the case for Abby, too?

Okay, Sevie?

She immediately softens at Vi’s breathless inquiry, and she nods. Keep going.

Vi arches a brow with a suggestive smile.

We’re gonna cum for you, baby. Talk us through it?

Those eyes… Vi’s greatest weapon. How could Sevika ever deny her?

She never will, so she moves. Stands from the floor to climb in behind Vi because she’ll always be first and she’s mad at you; a vengeful hand encloses around her best friend’s throat while she whispers the filthiest shit in her ear. Calls her a slut before kissing her like she loves her. Tells her to fuck you harder. Show her who she belongs to.

Sevika’s tongue gets loose when she finds your gaze. You’re a fucking mess; the glitter on your lids melt down your fluttery eyes like tears. Your pupils are so apologetic and blown and searching for acceptance but she ignores you, and she thinks you might cry but she wants you to.

You want Abby so fucking bad? She’s right downstairs. Why would you waste your time up here? Obviously we don’t give you enough.

Sevika only says it because Vi’s distracted by her own euphoria, eyes dislodged in her skull with drool rolling down her cheek from how good you’re fucking on her, but Sevika takes care of it with her tongue. She should be watching Vi, but she watches you, cautiously eyeing the two of them like a frilled rabbit. She’ll rip you to shreds if you give her the chance. Any sign of weakness and you’re hers to tear apart, just like that. Limb from limb. She craves you.

Can’t take it, baby, ‘s so sensitive, Vi whimpers up at Sevika with her nails in your thigh, and Sevika kisses her forehead to soothe. Tells her it’s fine. Tells her to scoot over because she’s got you.

Vi doesn’t go too far. Slides in right next to you, actually. Your legs shake and your fingers curl around the mussed blanket. Sevika crawls to you, and you flinch when her hands latch onto your thighs. Your eyes are the same, but frantic. Please, don’t hate me, please please please. Your little sneeze is the icing on the cake.

Her grin is sinister. Excitement radiates off you.

Vi kisses your cheek and slides a sneaky hand down your torso, past your tummy and hips, touches right where you need it most, and your jaw slacks when she spreads you open for Sevika. Vi nudges your cheek with her nose, gets you to face her so she can kiss you, all dazed out and sloppy.

Such a good distraction.

A thick finger breeches your walls without warning, and you squeal into Vi’s mouth while she rubs your clit to pacify. Sevika has learned you pretty well, she thinks; knows exactly where to press to get your thighs clamping down on her wrist. She moans when your tightness chokes her; so slippery and aching and desperate on the inside. It matches your exterior perfectly. Your pussy’s begging her to give it to you. Nice and hard.

So she slides another one in; Vi can barely kiss you because you’re so loud so she tongues at your throat. Sevika knows you’re close; she can feel it, how hard you attempt to drain her, riding that edge.

Gonna take this dick like a good slut when we get home? She purrs.

Yes, Sevie, yes yes yes!

Sevika gathers spit in your mouth and it splashes all over cheeks and nose and mouth. She scoffs a laugh when your fingers lace through her slobber to greedily shove in your mouth, Atta girl, get me nice ‘n wet, feels real good, huh? Show me how much you love when I’m inside you.

More thoughtless bouts of pleasure are forced from you before Vi presses an aiding hand on your tummy. Sevika’s entire forearm is drenched in your scent, body knotted up tight as you thrash and cry and scratch all over Vi until red streaks down the side of her. She licks your tears from your cheek while your head hangs off the edge of the mattress and all Sevika can think about is making you keep your promise; taking her deep in your throat, hot and snug while you choke and slobber all over her.

They’re so hypnotized by you, the door opening hardly shakes them.

“Well, well, well!”

Everything stops… Well, except you, you’re still cumming… and Sevika’s still fucking you… and Vi hasn’t moved either. Maybe nothing stopped.

“Got all your dogs on a leash, don’tcha Cap?” Abby whistles from the door that was very much so locked. Abby’s seemingly unbothered by you on the brink of a second orgasm, your hand attempting to push Sevika’s body off yours, but Vi holds your wrist down.

“Hiii. How’d ya get in?” Vi questions while she shushes you, and Abby dangles a key off her middle finger. “Ellie sent me to get a bong replacement!”

“You live here now?” Sevika demands in annoyance. Fucks into you deeper. Smirks when you start wailing when she hits that spongy spot.

“I don’t. Ellie does. She just lets me in when she’s feelin’ lonely… You guys, too, evidently,” She gives you the filthiest stare, “Hey, dollface! Havin’ fun? I could hear you all the way down the hall!”

“Oh, God, Sevie, ‘m cumming again!”

“Yeah, ‘m sure you are,” Abby rasps and Vi giggles, “So, what, is she the team’s new communal pussy or somethin’?”

Vi tuts, “No… we’re just showing her how to do it herself.”

Abby squints skeptically, “… Riiight, right…”

Vi doesn’t catch the look Abby throws at you, but Sevika does, and she almost chucks one of your shoes at her face. A hyena preying on the injured. She can hear the devilish cogs turning in the blonde’s head.

“Don’t be like that, Abby, c’mon… friends in need?”

Abby smiles, “In need alright—“

“A-Abb — Y?”

Abby takes that as an invitation to come a little closer. Too close for Sevika, but you don’t seem to mind, “Yeah, honey, I’m here. Big meanie Sev’s doin’ ya in right?”

“Fuck yes—“

She hums scoffingly, “Uh huuuh, looks like it, make her proud—“

“Can you get the fuck out!” Sevika shouts, and you and Vi flinch. She sends Sevika a harsh glare.

“Jesus, calm the fuck down! Look,” Abby points at your fucked-out expression, “She likes it. Gamer freaks love this typa shit. She probably manifests having orgies in her diary.”

Sevika sighs in irritation and she pulls out before sitting back on her heels, silently taking in how your slick glues to her fingers, and you almost start sobbing but Vi comforts you. Kisses you quiet while she holds you close, whispers encouragement in your ear while you whimper. Abby takes the chance to ease in close to Sevika, right beside her, eyes gawking at her dripping fingers.

“Look, Cap, ‘m not the one to judge, but,” She shrugs, whispers right in her ear, “to put it light, she’s a desperate fucking loser, and what I’ve learned is that they love any bit of attention they can get. Makes ‘em feel good. You shoulda seen her earlier. She was almost in my lap ‘n all I had to say was she looked nice.”

Sevika scoffs, but she finally meets the eyes of her conniving teammate. She’s plotting; It’s in her smile. Abby nudges Sev’s arm with her own, “C’mon, let her have this. She’ll be a fucking vet in her little Discord servers. Make her a star.”

“You fucking disgust me.” Sevika says vehemently.

“Doesn’t look like it, Captain.” Abby scales down Sevika’s body and back up until she meets her eyes again. She’s wound up so tight and Abby’s drinking it all in. “C’mon, for old times sake.”

Abby nearly gets strangled right there. Old times sake: chasing girls together, fucking them together, whatever else they did that she wishes she could forget, but it’s her history just as much as it’s Abby’s. When Sevika denies her an answer, she snorts in annoyance before moving to sit on the edge of the bed, thigh right beside your head.

“Hey, baby, can ya look at me?” You take direction like a dream when you’re fucked out, eyes teary and face warm to the touch. Abby’s convinced you’d do anything to get on her good side at that point.

“Can you take some more? I think you can take some more,” Before she can even finish, you’re consenting, “Yeah, I know you can, such a sweet girl.”

Vi shudders with you, eyes glossy where they watch her, and Abby smirks down at her, “You are, too, as always.” The blonde gets her blushing.

She looks over to Sevika with a hand shielding her mouth. She whispers with a finger sneakily pointed at Vi, “I think your girl wants me, Cap. Still gonna kick me out?”

Sevika is prepared to say yes, but she catches Vi with her lip jutted, silently begging to let Abby stay while you tremble next to her. She exhales so hard it sounds like a snarl. Abby smiles.

“Do some shit I don’t like and I’ll fuck you up,” Sevika threatens, and Abby rolls her eyes. Sevika should know that she’s the last person to try and intimidate. She loves that; she’ll simply have to up her riskiness. Her finger blindly points at Ellie’s messy dresser. “There's some crazy shit in there, Sevie...”

Sevika sighs before standing tall to head to Ellie’s drawers. Her laundry isn’t even folded, just slung on top of the cheap wood, “‘m sure you’d know, fuckin’ dirtball.”

“Don’t flirt with me.” Abby’s heat wafts onto Sevika and she knows she’s behind her. Before Sevika can reach for a drawer handle, her wrist gets submerged in cherry blossom and red fingernail polish.

Her tongue loosens to cuss her teammate out, but Abby whispers before she can try, “Can’t leave evidence… Ellie’ll get mad at me…”

Sevika’s frozen; pink lips enclose around her fingers that drip and soak and smell of you. Abby swirls her tongue around the length of them, sucks them clean for her. “She taste good?” Sevika hums, and Abby sucks greedily in approval.

A tight moan rings from the bed and their eyes hunt for you and Vi. Abby gives Sevika one last kiss on the tips of her fingers. Vi’s on top of you with her hand gripped tight on your neck while she orders you where to touch. Your hand labors between her legs, sloshing deep in her wetness while she curses in your mouth.

Abby’s sly; takes the leap while Sevika’s distracted to drop to her knees in front of her, fingers already latching onto the fabric of her leggings. She hisses when a braun hand tugs at her hair, redirecting her gaze upwards.

Sevika’s breathes unsteadily. “You lock the door?”

The blonde sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. Sevika’s grip tightens when Abby’s head shakes in denial.

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