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silverryuan · 3 months ago

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Jamil Viper with Carl! Yuu from Llamas with Hats, ft. Octavinelle Trio

I can't say that everyone is not dying in this one 💀...

Warnings: Blood & Gore, Violence, Swearing, Cannibalism

• I was torn between choosing the reader to be isekai'd as a llama or isekai them as a llama beastman. I'm just gonna go with beastman cuz I thought it'd be funnier if they could talk. I also made them less murderous. There's also a collab with other characters from Filmcow 😉.

• There's a high chance that Jamil has heard of you through Kalim. The boy said he witnessed a llama beastman causing a fire and a monster running around during the ceremony. Great, he went through the trouble to prepare a welcoming party for the freshmen and now he has to fix Kalim's robe. He just hopes that Kalim won't forget what he said about the new schedule tomorrow.

• Kalim forgot. Again. Of course he would.

• Kalim forgot about the sudden change of class schedules and spent the entire morning wandering to wrong classrooms. Jamil just received his text message after class and texted back the room number. Kalim did not reply or read his message. Luckily, Jamil remembered that he turned on the location in Kalim's phone just in case for these types of situations. He tried tracking him down but Kalim kept moving, so he ran as fast as he could to catch up with him.

• Jamil finally see Kalim not moving in the courtyard. When he caught sight of Kalim, he sees another person next to him... A beastman? He approached you two and called Kalim.

Jamil: "Kalim!"

Kalim: "Jamil! There you are! How'd you find me?"

Jamil: "I turned on the location on your phone, remember? I texted you the room number, why haven't you read it?"

Kalim: "Oh, I thought that I'd find the classroom myself but it looks like I got lost more, hehe!"

Jamil: "Honestly, I thought you were... Who is this?"

Kalim: "This guy's trying to help me out!"

Carl! Yuu: "Nope, I'm just as lost as you are. I didn't even know we even got class."

Jamil: "Who are you?"

Carl! Yuu: "I'm Carl! Yuu. I'm just a regular llama guy with a hat, yup. A totally normal beastman. Nothing comes after that because of how normal I am."

Kalim: "I've got an idea!Why not just come with me and Jamil? We could go to our classrooms together."

Carl! Yuu: "Oh hey, that's a great idea. Why haven't I thought of that."

Jamil: ".... Kalim, come here for a sec."

• Jamil pushed Kalim away from you. They went a distance farther from you and Jamil whispered to him.

Jamil: "Kalim, have you met them before?"

Kalim: "Uhh... no?"

Jamil: "It's the llama beastman you talked about causing arson at the ceremony!"

Kalim: "OH! Now I remember!"

Jamil: "Sshh! They might be as unhinged as Floyd. Thank the Sevens they didn't harm you."

Carl! Yuu: "Why are we whispering?"

Jamil: "Gah!"

• He was right. You were as unhinged as Floyd and were as nosy as Azul. If you have those obnoxious two's personalities then whatever you're hiding must be as fucked up as Jade's. He doesn't want to assume but he does want to be cautious. If you easily caused arson, then that means you're worse than that monster at the ceremony.

• Kalim insisted that you three should join at the cafeteria for lunch and here he is, sitting beside Kalim who lost his appetite after you opened your lunchbox. Jamil smelled an odor coming from your food. It smells like something is... Rotting?

Jamil: "Kalim, your next class is... Sevens, what is that smell?!"

Kalim: "Eugh! C-Carl! Yuu, has your food gone bad? I-I can buy you lunch if-"

Carl! Yuu: "No thank you, but this is what I usually eat. It's my favorite."

• Jamil looked at your lunch and his eyes widened in disgust. What was in your plate was raw meat still wet with blood. The foul odor eventually reached the noses of the nearby tables and the students moved farther away from yours.

Jamil: "CARL! YUU, WHAT IS THIS?!"

Carl! Yuu: "Would you believe that it's melted and solidified jellybeans?"

Jamil: "NO, I WOULD NOT BELIEVE THAT."

Carl! Yuu: "Red milk?"

Kalim: "N-No 😰...?"

Carl! Yuu: "Some of Crowley's tears?"

Jamil: "CARL! YUU!!"

Carl! Yuu: "Fine... It's raw meat. And a bit of blood. And mold."

Jamil: "I CAN SEE THAT!"

Kalim: "I-i-it's rotting! You can't eat that!"

Carl! Yuu: "Yeah, you're right. I should've brought the fresh one. This one is actually one of the leftovers from yesterday. The blood may have gone cold, but it makes the meat taste sweet. Do you want to try some?"

Jamil: "NO!"

Carl! Yuu: "Dang, that was rude. You don't have to shout, you'll disturb the others. Want some, Kalim?"

Kalim: "...😰... N-no thanks..."

Carl! Yuu: "Alright. More for me then."

Jamil: "WHAT MAKES YOU THINK IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO BRING THAT HERE? WHAT KIND OF MEAT EVEN IS THAT?"

Carl! Yuu: "... You don't want to know."

• The smell and racket made the Cafeteria Ghosts kick you out. Jamil made an instant mental note to himself and Kalim to never cross paths with you again. Unfortunately, during a class collaboration, you became lab partners with Jamil. Jamil was irritated but he has to work with you for the grades. Honestly, same.

Jamil: "Ok. This is fine. This won't turn out bad if you just calm down... Hopefully this will turn out well-"

Carl! Yuu: "Hey Jamaica, what happens if I accidentally devoured a mandrake because I mistook it as a live form of food and shoved random potions in the cauldron causing it to rain acid and melt the ceiling while simultaneously making the students fall unconscious due to decreasing brain function, again caused by said acid rain. And I also managed to defy gravity and to attract several flamingos from Heartslabyul, as well as the vultures from Savanaclaw because of the substance emitting from the cauldron, and now they are brutally fighting each other while defying gravity. Hypothetically?"

Jamil: "............................"

Carl! Yuu: "Judging by your lack of response, I guess I haven't done enough and should've add my leftover meat into the cauldron. This question is not hypothetical, by the way."

Jamil: "NO SHIT."

Crewel: "CAAAAARL! YUUUUU!!!"

• HOW? JUST. JUST HOW? HOW ARE YOU SO GOOD AT GETTING ON PEOPLE'S NERVES? YOU'RE BASICALLY WORSE THAN THOSE OCTAVINELLE IDIOTS COMBINED! AND EVEN THEY'RE AFRAID OF YOU! THE HEADMASTER IS A LOT MORE STUPID THAN HE THOUGHT. WHY ARE YOU NOT EXPELLED?!

• It got worse when you wreak havoc at Scarabia. Is that even possible?!

• During winter break, he doesn't let you in the kitchen. When he heard your loud-ass cat talking, he immediately instructed the students to bar the door as to not let you in. The students were confused and were hesitant. Why is Jamil scared all of a sudden? But it was too late, you and Grim are already in the kitchen.

Grim: "Woahh! What's that smell? It smells good!"

Carl! Yuu: "Yeah, you're right. Hi, Janet. Is there any meat around? Preferably raw ones?"

Jamil: "GET. OUT."

• Talk about bad timing as Kalim walks in to check on the food for the winter break parade. Jamil massaged his forehead to lessen the impact of another headache and continued to cook.

Kalim: "Hey Jamil! I'm a little hung- Oh! Hey, Carl! Yuu! How's it going?"

Grim: "Ya forgot about me! Grim, the sorcerer extraordinaire! Carl! Yuu here is my henchman!"

Jamil: "...Ugh..."

Kalim: "Nice to meet you too, Grim! What are you guys doing here?"

Carl! Yuu: "Grim's stomach was making the rumblies and I was craving for something that only meat can satisfy."

Kalim: "U-uh... Wow, you sure like meat, huh?"

Grim: "Fnyagh, I wanted premium tuna but the headmaster won't give any!"

Kalim: "Is that so? Tell you what! How about I invite you to Scarabia and we'll have a party!"

Jamil: "NO!"

Carl! Yuu: "Sounds awesome."

Grim: "Really?!"

Kalim: "Yeah, really! And Carl! Yuu... I'm sorry for the incident from the cafeteria. Your food was bad and we were so loud that you couldn't eat your lunch properly because the ghosts kicked you out... But I guess everyone has different tastes when it comes to food, right?"

Jamil: "THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!?"

Carl! Yuu: "It's ok."

Kalim: "I'll make it up to you by inviting you to the party! It's gonna be so cool! We'll eat and dance all day!"

• You had fun at the party. Grim ate until his stomach was full, not unlike in Ramshackle where you sometimes try to feed a dead cat to Grim. What was the cat's name? Lucifer? Lucius? You kind of forgot. You've never had this much raw meat on your plate before (although you must eat in a separate room so that everyone won't lose their appetite). Usually you had to hunt something and eat it but this tanned party-goer saved you the trouble.

• The Scarabia residents almost got their hands bitten by you. They are all puzzled on why you only wanted raw meat but they guess that it's a beastman thing... Wait a second, aren't you a llama?

Carl! Yuu: "Hey Kalim."

Kalim: "*yawn* Yep?"

Carl! Yuu: "... Thanks for the party. I honestly don't remember when was the last time I had fun without the blood and all. I haven't seen Grim this happy before. Maybe I should improve on my party-hosting... You know, I had this roommate named Paul and he--"

Kalim: "😴"

Carl! Yuu: "Kalim? Kalim? Kalim? Kal-Oh, you're asleep. Must've partied hard. Goodnight, Kalim."

• Timeskip to the part where you and Grim are captured by the hypnotized Scarabia students and were forced in a cell. Jamil had enough. It didn't take long for him to run out of patience and hypnotized Kalim. Grim tries to escape with a spoon and you decided to help him than wait.

Grim: "Fnyagh... No! The spoon's bent! Carl! Yuu! What are we gonna--"

Carl! Yuu: "...ughh...uhhh...."

Grim: "Hey, don't just stand there!... W-wait! Are you vomiting?!"

Carl! Yuu: "...Blegh!"

Grim: "Eww! Gross!"

Carl! Yuu: "Wow. It's been a long time since I throw up from a full stomach."

Grim: "... I-is that a key?!"

Carl! Yuu: "Yep. I snatched it from that Scarabia student earlier."

Grim: "Why didn't you do that in the first place?! And is that a... a f-f-finger?!!"

Carl! Yuu: "Oops, I must've bitten his finger off too."

• You two finally escaped the cell and snuck into the treasure room. You and Grim grabbed the magic carpet and ran from the pursuing residents. Both of you stumbled in Mostro Lounge, crashing into a table or two. Azul and the Tweels do not want to deal with you right now...

Jade: "Azul."

Azul: "Yes?"

Floyd: "They're back."

Azul: "............. Fuck."

Floyd: "Aren't you gonna do something?"

Azul: "Why are you asking me?! Just throw them outside!"

Floyd: "I don't wanna! They're gonna bite and eat my other ear!"

Azul: "Jade?!"

Jade: "... I also do not want to. Not after what they did to my poor terrariums."

Azul: "Why are you passing this problem onto me?!"

Floyd: "Who else is gonna talk to that freak?!"

Jade: "Certainly not us."

Azul: "...*sigh*. Fine, but you two are going to pay later!"

• Even before his Overblot, Jamil took notice of your relationship with the Octavinelle Trio... Floyd, who was in a bad mood, threatened to squeeze you one time and you bit off his ear. Jade became interested in you by the amount of food (mostly meat) you can consume in a minute. He tried to trick you into taste testing the dishes he made for free, when in fact, he laced some of them with poison.

• Jade was fascinated that your body withstood the poison and decided to experiment more. But you've reached your limit and started bashing people's heads on the tables, ripped off the Octavinelle banner and painted it with the students blood, and then declared a revolution. Azul ordered Floyd to throw you out but you began hitting the eel with the dorm leader's own cane. You then smashed the aquarium, resulting a flood within the dorm. People were seeking higher ground to avoid drowning while you were dancing on a buoyant wrecked door.

• After evacuating the residents, Jade swam to his room to save his precious terrariums but it was too late. You were using a swordfish how the hell did that get there? to drunkenly fence the terrariums. They shattered and Jade has to watch in horror as you ate his mushrooms and shards of glass. It took Leona, Riddle and Azul to physically restrain you.

• That day became one of the darkest times Mostro Lounge has ever faced a crisis. And to think all of this happened in just HALF AN HOUR. Azul blamed you for all of this mess but the headmaster covered for you... Jamil also took notice that every time you commit these atrocities, you'd try to put far-fetched reasons for your actions. Your smile still brings him shivers down his spine. He still can't believe you were the one that helped ended Overblots for the school. He thought that you were most likely the one that caused them.

• The Octavinelle Trio never want to deal with you again. Until today... Azul approached you cautiously, casting a magic shield around him just in case. He wasted no time in calling you out on your trespassing.

Carl! Yuu: "Hey Azul, long time no see. I know that we weren't on good terms after what happened to the dorm, even though it was still your vice dorm leader's fault to poison me, but hear me out--"

Azul: "Carl! Yuu, what made you have the right mind to step in Mostro Lounge? After all that chaos you've unleashed? The amount of employees you've nearly killed?!"

Carl! Yuu: "I do not kill people. That is my least favorite thing to do."

Azul: "Don't give me that excuse! We STRICTLY told you AND the headmaster that you are banned from entering this establishment. Now if you please, just leave--"

Carl! Yuu: "What do you mean Azul? I'm not in the lounge."

Azul: "Yes you are! You're standing by the doorway!"

Carl! Yuu: "No I'm not. I'm standing outside. See this line by the doorway? I'm standing on the other side. Not on the lounge's side."

Azul: "That doesn't count!"

Carl! Yuu: "Yes it does."

Azul: "No, you're still in the establishment!"

Carl! Yuu: "But I didn't step on the other side. Therefore, I did not enter."

Azul: "We literally heard you crashing into the tables!"

Carl! Yuu: "That must've been a phantom."

Azul: "You and Grim flew in here with a magic carpet!"

Carl! Yuu: "False, we were standing here waiting for you. The carpet must have flight skills as horrible as yours."

Magic Carpet: "😠!"

Azul: "Ugh, this is getting us nowhere... What do you want?!"

• You negotiate with Azul to help you with your predicament but he refused, afraid that you are capable of causing financial problems for the lounge... Until you mentioned Jamil. He was curious about Viper and Al-Asim and decided to hear you out.

• After shooing off the chasing Scarabia students, he listened to your negotiation and as it turns out, you have a grudge against Jade for attempting to poison you and no matter how delicious the poison tastes, you still haven't forgiven him. Jade also held a VERY DEEP grudge against you after you destroyed his terrariums and doesn't want to work with you. Azul feared that if your grudge against Jade will create a conflict, it'll pull Mostro Lounge along with it. So he has no choice but to give you temporary alliance, much to the twins' dismay.

• With the Trio's bait & trap and your annoyingly gruesome abilities combined, you successfully made Jamil have a mental breakdown 😃!........ Okay, he's laughing, that's probably too successful 😨....

• And here we go again, another Overblot. Defeating Jamil was a bit more difficult than you expected now that he's hypnotized every Scarabia resident, and now he has an army to corner you. Jamil then whooped your asses to the ends of the dessert.

• Azul was in a mild panic, pulling his hair out and walking in circles, he kept on rambling on how his plan had failed, how he never should have helped you, and how to figure out a way out of this dessert. Kalim was just bawling out the feeling of betrayal and was in denial of Jamil's grudge against him. Jade and Floyd were on the verge of abandoning all forgiveness and proceeded to try and strangle you.

Carl! Yuu: "Huh."

Azul: "HUH? HUUUUH?! THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY AFTER THAT?! WE'RE STRANDED IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE, MILES FAR AWAY FROM THE DORM, A FUCKING OVERBLOT IS ON A RAMPAGE, AND ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY WAS HUH?!!"

Carl! Yuu: "No, I meant huh, I could have sworn I smelled orphan blood."

Azul: "NOT ANOTHER WORD OF YOUR NONSENSE!!"

Kalim: "WAAAAAAHHHH!!! W-w-why J-Jamil?! sob! Whyyyy?! I trusted youuuu...sob... WAAAAHHHHH 😭!!!"

Grim: "Caaaarl! Yuuu! Do something! I wanna get outta here!"

Floyd: "That's it... I'm gonna kill this motherfucker right here."

Jade: "Not if I kill them first 🙂." ← Look of pure bloodlust.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

• A blood curdling roar was heard and a creature made out of raw meat flew down... IS THAT A DRAGON?!

Carl! Yuu: "Aha! I knew I smelled orphan meat! Well, crisis averted!"

Azul: "...W... W.... WHAT IN TWISTED WONDERLAND IS THAT?!!"

Carl! Yuu: "Oh just a meat dragon that I've been working on. What do you think?"

• ... That night, Azul concludes that logic does not apply when you're around. The twins put a pin on when to strangle you after the Overblot. Kalim is even more traumatized after you told him what the dragon is made out of in detail. Grim just sighed to himself since he thought that you weren't planning on using the meat dragon.

• When you got here, the place was reeking and dripping with blot and for some reason, you are tempted to bite into it but Grim stopped you. Azul thought of a distraction while Jamil ordered everyone to praise him until you ruined it. Everyone was complimenting him on how handsome, talented, and sophisticated he is meanwhile you complimented on how his newly inked skin will taste better if you either boil or fry it.

• Jamil realized that the cannibalistic compliment was from you and became alert. Azul and the other deadpanned at you, practically tired of your bullshit. Jamil attempted to whoop your asses again, this time permanently. The meat dragon charged toward him but the Overblot monster crushed and tore it to pieces. Everyone braced for impact but the attack never came. Everyone looked to see Jamil looking at something.

• Why did Jamil.... A... Crack?! In the sky!? ....

• Everyone turned to you, knowing that this is definitely one of your doings. You tried denying it but eventually revealed that you may have created a crack through space time. Azul was about to argue with you but Jamil interrupted with an attack. Jade and Floyd used this momentum to shield Azul and attack Jamil. Kalim shouted that they do not have time for arguements and that they must do their best to defeat Jamil.

• As the crack grew bigger, another flying creature that looks like a giant otter come falling to the ground... marshmallows?

Pink Marshmallow: "The otter won't fly!"

White Marshmallow: "Great, not again! Now where the hell are we?!"

• Talking marshmallows!? This has got to be one of your creations beside the meat dragon.

Pink Marshmallow: "Oh shoot! It looks like these randos are attacking this rando."

White Marshmallow: "Finally! We can attack people as much as we want!"

Pink Marshmallow: "Can we eat them too?"

White Marshmallow: "What, are you kidding? Let's set them on fire!"

Pink Marshmallow: "Ugh! We always set fires! It's boring!"

White Marshmallow: "Let's just beat up this guy and be done with it!"

Pink Marshmallow: "AAAAHHHH!!!"

White Marshmallow: "AAAAHHHH!!!"

• For some reason, these... Things joined in on the fight, which doesn't really help much until the white marshmallow pulled out a knife and begins to stab Jamil's leg and the pink marshmallow ran to bite Jamil's snake hair. It was horrifying to watch but at least he didn't die.

• After a harsh battle with blood and sweat, morning comes, the skies finally cleared up and Jamil's magic was broken. The ink was out of Jamil's body and the monster disappeared. Kalim threw himself on Jamil and cried out his apologies. Azul checked everyone for injuries and gladly, no one was hurt... Too much.

• Post-Overblot, The Octavinelle Trio's alliance with you has come to an end as they went back to Mostro Lounge and hopefully, you'll eat befriend them in the near future. Kalim has repaired his friendship with Jamil and now, Jamil won't be holding back his talents.

• He's gotta say, it was horrifically bad knowing you but you saved him and for that he's somewhat thankful towards you. At least you didn't kill Kalim. He may not remember a thing from his Overblot but he does remember you trying to skin his face.

• Speaking of Kalim, he asked you at Kalim's victory party about why you chose not to kill anyone for now. You replied that you wanted someone to acknowledge the effort you made with your... Macabre art. He guesses that you have a that complex where serial killers want attention for the crimes they commit.

Jamil: "I don't get it... I don't get you... I don't know if I can ever understand why you keep on doing this... I don't know how you'll benefit from making these... why? Just why?"

Carl! Yuu: "Possibly because I am a dangerous sociopath with a long history of death, violence and genocide."

Jamil: "............"

Carl! Yuu: "............"

Jamil: "That explains a lot. You do have a problem..."

Carl! Yuu: "You're right. I have a problem. I have a very serious problem. I don't know how you keep forgetting that, Jennifer."

Jamil: "Ugh, my name is Jamil!"

Carl! Yuu: "Oh, it is?...I thought you were a woman."

Jamil: "How could you not know that? And why would you think I'm woman?"

Carl! Yuu: "Mostly the hair. Are you sure?"

Jamil: "Yes!"

Carl! Yuu: "Yeah, I didn't know that. I'm in the wrong here. I suck..."

Jamil: *sigh*

• When he got to learn more about you during the VDC arc, he's come to a conclusion that you do these things as an impulse. That you have some kind of mental disorder that revolves around normalcy and sociopathic tendencies. You believed that killing things are what you are good for and nothing else. You're afraid that if you'll be admitted to a mental facility, you'll just be a normal llama guy with a hat.

• But look at what progress you've made! You've befriended people and made new enemies, you turn your cannibalistic behavior to a minimum, try to cause less damage, and even developed some hobbies aside from killing things! You can see people more than just bodies filled with blood and meat.

• Grim got used to your abnormalities but you got to remind yourself that if you did something unforgivable and got expelled, who will take care of Grim? So he became one of the motivations for you to change your habits.

• You and Jamil became frenemies. On days you take favors from Jamil in exchange for meat and on other days, he'll argue with you about Kalim's safety. However, you'll still involve them in other atrocious project of yours. But it became less bloody poor Kalim. He doesn't know if you've learned to be more civilized or that you've learned to hide your unhinged tendencies better. He cooks for you sometimes as to lessen your affiliation with raw meat.

• Jamil gifted you a new hat on your birthday since he noticed that your old hat is worn out and you loved it! It looks just like your old hat but fancier. Ah, this takes you back to day you met Paul--

• ..........................................................................

• .........................................................

• ..................................Let's not talk about him.

• You're still fighting the need to stab and eat everything. You need to control your hunger. You need to control your impulses. Besides! If you've become normal, you'll see him alive and well again! Right?

• This was all he ever wanted... A normal friend. A normal day. A normal life. Right?

• He won't have to shout your name every time you do something wrong again.

• ...Right?

• What happened to the marshmallow people? Well, let's just say that they didn't make it to the end and are in a better place now...

Carl! Yuu: "BUUURP!"

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xerotiny · 9 months ago

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Room for Two // No Saint No Saviour #1

Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader (#1 in psychopath au)

Warning: smut, dom!jongho, sub!reader, sociopath!jongho, naive!reader, stalking, very obsessive level of stalking and manipulation, Jongho is a psychopath, so he's cuckoo and desperate, manhandling, masturbating, masturbating to clothes, rough sex, unprotected sex, deep throat/ throat fucking, spit play (just a bit), pussy slapping, use of cuffs and chains. Stockholm syndrome. (Yikes)

Note: this is a little unhinged, so proceed with caution. Also, as per the request and many more options given, I chose psychopath au. Well borderline psychopath. Oops. ps: grab yourself a snack because this is long. :) Not proofread.

Requested By: from wattpad.

Gist: when your best friend's boyfriend decides to move in with her, you're left with no other choice but to find a new place for yourself. Of course, because three's a crowd. You do find a perfect new place, courtesy to your coworker who you didn't know existed till now. But maybe it was better if you hadn't interacted with him at all.

Song rec: I Want To by Rosenfeld.

Word Count: 21,474

"I hate that you have to move out," your best friend, Na-Ra sulks watching you zip one of your bags.

You heave out a sigh and proceed to your other bag, this one was overflowing with your clothes; it's going to take a lot more than just simply zipping it around. Stumbling through the cluster of boxes, you sit on top of the bag and tug at the zipper. It comes halfway through and then gets stuck. Genius move.

"I have to move out because—" you keep pulling at the zipper, using all your force to close it. Even if it wasn't. "—you and Yeosang are little freaks who just can't keep it in their pants."

"Touché," Na-Ra mocks, leaning back further against the headboard of your bed, which unfortunately you'll have to leave behind, considering your new apartment is fully furnished.

You glare at her, and she pouts, teasing you further on with her quiet mumble, "let me have some fun, babe," her smile widens, "we're in our honeymoon phase, if not now than when?"

You shrug, struggling with the zipper because you were hell bent on closing the bag. Besides, your arm had started to strain and ache under the stress it was subjected to, not that you were going to learn anything from it. Listening to your friend's words, you force yourself to roll your eyes and glare at her.

"You've got your whole life ahead of you to do whatever with him," you hiss through your gritted teeth, "but no! You are kicking me out of your apartment for some average dick."

"Above average," she corrects you, "he's not that small you know." Her voice gets louder somehow, "besides, you yourself volunteered to move out!"

"Yes, because I don't want to be a third wheel. And Gross. That's T-M-I." You emphasise, "I would be the least interested person in your sex life, although some part of me already knows too much. Sometimes I wish I could burn my ears off, because of all that I've heard."

"Does the chaos sound like music to your ears?" she instigates, letting out a soft chuckle; she wouldn't let you know it, but the sight of you wrestling with the bag was certainly entertaining for her. "You're going to rip your hands out if you force it so much."

"Instead of being all smarty pants, why don't you come help me?" you groan, and she giggles softly, hopping off the bed.

She stands by the edge of your bed, gandering around till her heart drops; she'd miss you, and she had made it known to you for the past few days. Rummaging her eyes through the messy room, she suppresses a chuckle and shakes her head. Your room never stays messy, you were more of a perfectionist than keeping everything haphazardly strewn around. Well, you were OCD about all little things around you, which would make sense why you constantly strived for perfection.

Na-Ra walks over to you, stepping through the boxes carefully and crouching down in front of you; the flounce of her dress flutters around her when she sits down and casts you a hopeless glance. Her lips quiver just enough to make you realise how painful her trapped sentiments were. It must be tormenting for her to see you go, after all you two were best friends since high school. Your friendship with her has lasted forever, till either of you graduated from college, and got a job.

"I'm going to save you some tears," she begins, a pout casing her lips, "so, no melodrama. There are no bitter goodbyes, only cheerful farewells."

"This is not a farewell, come on," you assure her with a smile, "we'll meet all the time. I'm literally twenty minutes away from you. Give me a call. Set up a place. I'll be there. Probably, meet for a drink or something."

Her pout softens. Dragging on with her silence, she lets out an amused chuckle before playfully punching your arm. "Of course. How can I forget you don't function without liquor in your system."

"Hey! I never said anything about booze." You retaliate, defending yourself, "it's all on you. Though on the contrary, I think booze is just what I need right now because I've got work tomorrow."

"And what?" Na-Ra continues to laugh, "you're going to meet your new landlord half-buzzed out of your mind."

"As if 'sober-me' would have enough grit to talk to him," you mumble, your cheeks heating up at the mention of your landlord. "I think we both agreed he's adorable as fuck."

"He's cute," she shrugs, "just not my type. Hey, but there's nothing wrong with you liking him."

"I don't like him!"

You huff out, breathless and tired from pulling the zipper close. Taking a deep breath, you slide yourself off the bag and fall on the floor, right in front of your friend who offers you a smug smile.

"Na-Ra, I really don't like him," you state, sternly as so to make a point, "I didn't even know of his existence until Yunho told me he was looking for a tenant to sublet his spare apartment." Pausing shortly after, you fidget with your fingers and heave out a sigh, "and then my desperation got the worst of me. I agreed to it without thinking or looking into his background. But if Yunho says he's a great guy, then he is. Maybe. I trust Yunho."

"You'd have to be some different kind of unbothered and pathetic to not know he existed as your coworker," she snides.

You roll your eyes, leaning back into your unzipped bag, and frowning softly, "don't blame me, he's a tech guy and I'm in the management department. There'd be no reason for us to meet, unless I have any issues with the software or my computer."

"Which I assume you never needed." She deadpans, checking the time on her wristwatch before tapping your thigh in urgency, "well, we better get to work. Is this the last of your luggage?"

"Yep, these boxes and two bags; other stuff has been moved already." You gander at your half-closed bag behind you, "I can't get this bag to close, so guess it's just one now."

"I'll bring it over when I get the time to. Does it have something important?" she questions, and you shake your head, "nothing that I need urgently, just some spare clothes and kinky underwear I stopped wearing after, you know..."

The way you trail off sends an immediate jolt of remembrance in her; she doesn't want to respond to it, but also doesn't want to keep you in the loop of reminiscing those sullen days. You catch the littlest of distortion on her face, the kind which makes her seem like she's sad or melancholic. And you thought this won't be a sad goodbye. You dust yourself off from the ground, given you were thinking about your past; in a way to elaborate, the past you were thinking about was the time when you broke up with your boyfriend. Many would tell, you were the perfect couple, but perfect doesn't seem to cover the improper cracks and absurd excuses—nah, it brings out suspicions. Three years into the relationship and you got to know he had another chick to entertain all along. Heartbroken but not really broken with your dignity, you left him, no matter how much he begged you not to.

In retrospect, you were done being the naive and gullible deer everyone used to their own gain. Not that you could say the same thing about your work life now. Ever since you had befriended a certain person, you were starting to understand the functioning of lying men. The knowledge authentically supplied to you by your work friend, Jeong Yunho. To say the least about him, he was a giant teddy bear, always towering over you and giving you unwanted hugs. Some being bone crushing too. Your friendship was a little delicate, but you were always on good terms with each other. When he heard your woes on your living arrangements, considering you had sieved through most of the details, he quickly came up with a solution.

His response to you was, "hey, if you're in a fix, I heard Jongho is looking for tenant to rent his spare apartment to. You should talk to him."

And your initial reaction was, "Jongho, who?"

It was not entirely your fault to not be up to date with what goes in your workplace; besides, Jongho was a tech guy, belonging to the cyber security team who had a different schedule compared to you. In the end, things do turn out for the better. You were merely an acquaintance with Jongho, the current dynamic being changed from strangers since he called you over to show you around his spare apartment. You couldn't complain much, and to be fair, there wasn't much to complain about either.

The spare apartment was neat, clean, and well maintained, to top it off, it was even furnished so you had nothing to worry about. As Jongho chattered your ear off, he mentioned that he had possessed the apartment from his late aunt, from her will. He didn't know what to do with it since he had already bought an apartment in the same building (after liking how perfect his aunt's apartment was for him) and had settled down properly. It would be an unnecessary bother to move out, given he hadn't just rented it but in actuality, bought it under his name.

Jongho was a sweet guy, he had a great personality, a good sense of humour and his cheeky smile was so infectious. The day you met him, you were totally swept away, not just by his geeky appearance but because of his character. He respected you, your decisions, made you feel comfortable even though you were practically strangers at the beginning—overall he had left his mark on you. The good kind of course. From that day onwards, you and Jongho started talking at your workplace; a new friendship in the making while Yunho left out, of sorts. He did not bring it to your attention, however.

A few more days of talking, frequent coffee breaks spent at Jongho's desk, and the unprecedented lunch 'dates', you were a little smitten with Jongho. Who wouldn't be? Jongho was a dreamboat, fitting to your expectations of what and how a man should really be and foremost, he was the greenest flag from all the stupefying caricatures you had dated in the past. Including your cheating ex.

All that aside, to say you were a little excited to move into your place, would be an understatement. You had been looking forward to it from the day you finalised the deal with Jongho. Okay, you can't really validate your feelings based on how good of a man he was. For all you know he could even be a serial killer, or a psychopath. Well maybe you shouldn't think too dark about it. Or maybe you shouldn't have discarded that thought the moment it popped in your head.

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

"You know, if you had told me beforehand, I would've come over to help you," Jongho says it as a matter factly, smiling at you with the same warmth as he did when you two first met.

And just as that time, he was peculiarly happy and proud; you observed him from head to toe, admiring him and his sense of fashion. Clad in a simple navy-blue cardigan and black pants, he made very little efforts to look this pretty. Not to mention, his black rimmed glasses which were thick and sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose. You were pleased with him, and his littlest of efforts. Other than the obvious fact that you were starting to view him in a different light.

"Eh, couldn't trouble you," you grunt while picking up a box from the trunk of your car; pouting silly, you watch Jongho pick one too regardless of you telling him not to. "You're really stubborn, aren't you?"

"What can I say? I don't like doing what told to," he chuckles, his teeth on display, "and what, do you think I can't carry this box, which feels like it's filled with feathers, up five flights of stairs?"

"No, I did not mean it like that," you defend your initial remark, knowing it was a mere request from you to him.

"I'm very much secure with my masculinity, buttercup," his lips twitch to a teasing smile, "though it doesn't make sense to mention it afore you."

"To reassure you, I wasn't questioning your masculinity," you giggle, "it was more of a formality. You know, can't let you do any of my things because you've already done too much for me."

"That's all balderdash."

He waves you off, holding the box in one hand and using the other to close the trunk of your car, while making sure you weren't standing any closer to it. The sound of the slam makes you flinch, in bewilderment however more in fear; his brute strength would be surprising, surprisingly strong to know you'd be helpless against him if he ever tries something on you. Which, a thought, you again considered to be the folly of your mind, because why would a guy like him do anything against your will? Mistake.

The two of you, walk inside the lobby of your new apartment complex, technically it was his too. According to your knowledge, Jongho owned a place on the seventh floor while his aunt's apartment was on the fifth floor. An accented mahogany table sits empty upfront, probably the reception desk or something. Adjacent to the desk, lies a wall with mailboxes: golden doored, metallic numbers of the apartments, and the acrid stench of something rotting. You were taken back by it, by how that particular area reeked of rotting flesh, but the entire place smelled moth-eaten, stale as if. This sure leaves an eldritch sense of horror in you, because at the time of your first inspection, this place was nothing alike to what you're witnessing right now. Regardless, you decide to push it down, not bothered by the fetor, or the forsaken desk in front.

Jongho guides you to the stairwell, veiled behind a heavy looking door; the elevator is out of order, unfortunately. Even after countless complains to the manager, the elevator hadn't been repaired or had any signs of mending. Jongho pushes the door open, grunting under his breath—the door did seem heavy and substantial, no wonder his cheeks were flustered by an inch when he ushered you in.

"Ladies first," he adds.

"Oh why, thank you kind sir." You bow your head a little, joking along with him.

Jongho lets the door close behind you, and continues, "you know, I chose to help you. So, it's my responsibility to make sure everything is perfect."

"I think you've done enough; I have nothing to complain about." You start climbing up the stairs, with him in your pursuit; you glance over your shoulder and offer him a genuine smile, "besides, I was pretty ignorant about...you. To think I didn't know you even existed until Yunho brought it up."

Jongho's eyes darken only for a moment, only so for you to catch a flash of uncertain turpitude in them. Feeling a sense of unease crawl your spine, you stare straight ahead and hasten your pace up the stairs; not so quick for him to get suspicious.

"It's alright," he dismisses, voice sullen, "everything happens for a reason, doesn't it? If your friend's boyfriend hadn't moved in with her, or if you hadn't brought up your living situation with Yunho, I doubt you'd ever have noticed me."

"What's your agenda?" you scoff, "you're making me feel bad about myself."

"Dearest apologies," he mumbles, "I meant to infer that you and I were destined to meet, one way or another."

"When you put it like that, it doesn't make me seem so...selfish." You mutter under your breath.

To your assumption, you must've climbed up two floors; and it confirms when you pass the landing area for the second floor. Jongho is still walking behind you, noticing you, wanting to keep you engaged in a conversation. He doesn't really say anything for a minute however, bating you in the silence of nothing till you heave out a sigh and grow tired of it.

"It's just weird how one thing leads to another," you break the silence, "it's almost like a fate's blueprint, you were ordained to meet each other at this given time, in this given situation."

Noting the hesitance in your tone, Jongho bites back on his concern and questions you diligently. "Are you having second thoughts about the move?"

"What? No!" you're too quick to dismiss him off, not because he had pressed your nerve, but rather because you didn't want to seem ungrateful. "This is the best decision I ever made. Trust me."

"Agreed, otherwise you'd be stuck listening to the very annoying and loud moans of your best friend. I know it infuriates you." He chuckles, "don't worry, the walls here are thick so you won't be needing your noise cancelling headphones anymore."

"That's right..." you chortle along him with, which soon dies to a sudden burst of tranquility upon realising an odd point about him.

You halt in your steps, standing still in the landing between the third and fourth floor, unmoving till he calls out your name.

"Why did you stop?"

You turn around to face him; you were sure he could notice the drain of colour from your face, or even how delicately your lips were trembling to get your words out.

"It's kind of odd how you know..." you drag your words into a whisper, "I never mentioned it, did I?"

You never mentioned it to him before, never told him you wore headphones while going to bed. Was that just a coincidence? Or was it his hunch? Though, on the contrary, was he keeping an eye on you? The latter option just feels wrong, so you fling it straight out the window.

Jongho's face twitches with reluctance for a mere second before his lips curve into a flattering grin. "It's only obvious you'd be using them while sleeping, if your roommates are too loud. Agreed you didn't mention it particularly, but you did tell me that they were stuck in a honeymoon phase. Why else would I even say it?"

"Makes sense," you shrug and continue on with your walk, not giving it much thought anymore.

Jongho heaves out a sigh of relief, appeased by his piddling attempt to cover up his mistake. Nonetheless, he knows he has to use his words with utmost restraint and choose them well before speaking. He can't have you doubting him, suspecting his good character over the silly rashness of his avidity towards you. Like a shadow, he creeps behind you, never letting you know of his presence; he's foreboding, professing predisposition to the ordeal of what he painted as 'work of destiny'. Was it really the work of destiny to get you two together?

Only time would tell.

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

"Cool place, babe." Na-Ra comments, ogling around your living room with her boyfriend strapped to her waist. "Very niche, I must admit."

Her boyfriend, sticking to her waist like some parasite, pouts and lets out a sweet-sounding chuckle, "I agree. A humbling abode for a woman like you. Suits you well."

"Oh, why thank you, Yeosang." You roll your eyes, "I still need to work on some stuff, decorate a couple of crooks and crannies."

"Puh-lease," your coworker's snort resounds from the couch, "you flipped this place over from an abandoned domicile to an elaborate habitat of pink."

"Geez Louise, Yunho," you deadpan, "if you abhor pink just let me know. I'll redo everything in black—just like your soul."

"That sounds like too much work," his brows tuck together while he replies, "and too many efforts. Don't waste them for my sake."

He tugs on the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning it further till he reaches second button; Yunho's tall stature sits awkwardly on the couch, his legs spread in front of him, while he slouches just a little against the back of the couch. Lethargy is quite evident on his face, regardless he proffers you a giddy smile and asks you to hand him a bottle of beer. It was his third one of the nights, there were many more to come.

You scoff, moving away from your friend and her boyfriend, to get yourself a drink from the snacks table you had arranged. Picking out two bottles of beer, you hand one to Yunho and settle down next to him. The day was here, the day where your best friend whined on about how you should host a housewarming party; regardless of you renting it. So, there you were, a little after midnight, relieved from your day job, hanging out in your new apartment with your friends. Except for Jongho. You couldn't find him anywhere after work and thought the only feasible thing to do was to leave a voicemail on his phone.

"I think you should really get on with the balcony," Yeosang snides, coming to sit on the chair next to the couch with Na-Ra tucked by his side; he settles down comfortably first and then pulls his girlfriend on his lap. "It has a good view of the city, and the sky. Maybe lay out a carpet, get a swing chair and add some plants to spice it up a bit."

Na-Ra nods her head, "talk about having a perfect romantic setting."

"Guys, I hear you," you roll your eyes, "unfortunately the reins to make any updates around here are with Jongho. I can't do anything without his permission."

"He won't mind the minor changes," Yunho shrugs, chugging a good deal of his beer while making eye contact with you, "bet he'd get on it with you, knowing he has a soft spot for you."

"Bullshit," you mumble, guzzling your beer down, "he doesn't have a soft spot for me."

"Oh, yeah. He doesn't. He doesn't have a soft spot for you and he didn't just help you out with your living situation." Na-Ra speaks up, "he didn't feel bad when you told him you never noticed him in your workplace. And he helps you out with everything and never says no. Yep, that sums it up, he doesn't have a soft spot for you."

"Says a lot about him," Yeosang simply pouts and shakes his head, "one would have to be really oblivious to not notice the signs."

Na-Ra gets up, going to grab a couple of beer bottles, chiming to her boyfriend's remark, "don't worry, she's always been a little naive about those things." She comes back and returns to her place, rightfully in Yeosang's lap and raises her bottle to you, giving the other one to her boyfriend, "it took her two years to realise Song-Wook had been flirting with her. So, I won't be surprised if she takes another two years with Jongho too."

"Damn, kid. Two years?" Yunho snickers, tracing the tip of his forefinger on the rim of the bottle, "two years to fathom a dick had been dallying with you? Well, Jongho better be upfront with you if he wants to have a shot with you."

"Don't you have something better to do?" you glare at Na-Ra first, then at Yeosang, and finally, Yunho. Grinding your teeth, you murmur out a tired sigh, "my love life is one one's concern. And it shouldn't be either."

"You think we won't be concerned after that ugly blowup with your ex?" Na-Ra says, sipping her beer, "that jerk was cheating on you."

"Are we talking about...?" Yunho trails off, keeping his now empty bottle of beer on the coffee table in front of him.

You nod at him, indicating he was on the right track; noticing your sullen eyes, he proceeds to say something, but it's lost in the slightest tremble of his lips when the doorbell buzzes loud. The intercom chimes in next, speaker propagating a man's voice laden in static.

"Hey, it's me. Jongho."

You get up from the couch and march your way to the front door. This seemed weird to you because Jongho knows the passcode to the door already. Why wouldn't he use it to let himself in? Brushing those doubts away, you begrudgingly open the door and find Jongho standing with his hands occupied in holding a small box. The shimmering ribbons on it could certainly provide you with assumptions and predictions.

You usher him in, he mumbles a soft 'thank you' to you before slipping out of his boots and into the house slippers you lay out for him. He's walking right behind you, carefully holding the box in his hands while you guide him to the living room where the others' smiles were hinting at something else. Jongho places the box on the coffee table and sits next to Yunho on the couch; eyeing Na-Ra and Yeosang with much vacillation of his trust, he turns to you and offers you a benign smile.

"My hands were full," he begins, "otherwise, I would've let myself in." Looking around, he notices a couple of things but doesn't voice out his thoughts, instead, he fixates his eyes on you. "Am I late to the party?"

He sounds guilty. You wave him off, striding over to sit on the extra chair next to the couch; bringing your legs up, you pull your knees close to your chest and wrap your arms around them.

"Not really," you reassure him, "we were just cracking some fatuous chatters and nothing else. You didn't miss a lot."

"Well, I hope I didn't," he chuckles and leans over to untie the ribbons on the box he had brought with him. "I'm not so up to date with these gatherings, so I just got a cake. Everyone likes a cake, right?"

Yunho coos, "so adorable of you. A little sweetness is what we need."

"And a heck lot of calories," Na-Ra comments.

"Which you'll be burning off once we get back home," Yeosang adds, and everyone groans except for Na-Ra.

"Please, we don't need your sexual innuendos ruining our peace," you grumble and run your hand over your face. Composing an adorable smile, you glance at Jongho and muse, "that's really nice of you, Jongho. But you didn't have to get anything. This is more like a make-believe party I was forced to host, cause some people here are really stubborn."

You glare at Na-Ra and all she does is rolls her eyes and drinks more of her beer.

"So, you expect me to come empty handed?" Jongho retaliates, opening the box to reveal the cake in it. "Ouch, that hurts."

"I didn't mean that," you whine, defending yourself. "You're playing a very risky game, Jongho."

"And it seems like I'm winning?" he mocks, carefully picking the cake out of the box and placing it on the table. "Well, to your new beginnings in this house."

You watch Jongho as he pulls out a small candle from the pocket of his pants and takes its cover off before stabbing it through the cake. The candle sits in the centre, while Yunho lights it up with his lighter he usually has on himself; Na-Ra and Yeosang are the bystanders, observing, acknowledging.

"Okay, make a wish," Yunho jokes when Jongho brings the cake to you, "not exactly what I expected I'd be saying."

Jongho stands next to you, leaning over while holding the cake in front of you; with a nudge of his head, he brings it a little closer to you and you blow out the candle. And no, you did not make a wish as Yunho asked you to, which you were regretting because you really wanted to make a wish. Applause resounds from your guests, Na-Ra cheers a phrase which is incoherent, and inaudible, considering how lost you were in Jongho's eyes. The warmth of hazel in them is contrasting, a lot—but there's avidity in them, bringing you closer to him. You're leaning, inching your way to him to touch his lips, at least your heart was forcing you to.

"Let's cut the cake, shall we," Yunho announces, making the two of you flinch and pull back.

"You guys have fun," Na-Ra pipes in, however, dejected. "I have to be early for work tomorrow. Duty calls, sadly. I'll be around quite often. So, don't be disheartened."

"I'm not," you deadpan, but soon soften yourself when Na-Ra and Yeosang get up from the chair to leave.

"Yeah, before we leave, I got your luggage," she winks, hinting at something and you do catch up on it, "I left it in the trunk and thought I'd have Yeosang bring it up while leaving."

"Oh, more luggage?" Yunho questions, "how many bags do you have, jeez."

"Just enough for my clothes," you shrug, "under some unforeseen circumstances, I had to abandon this one there."

"Yeah, by unforeseen you mean haphazard work of stuffing all your clothes into one bag, so the zipper doesn't close," Na-Ra jokes, both of them now at the front door. She lets out a soft chuckle, "okay, we better leave before you murder me with your eyes."

"I wish it worked that way. But if you don't visit me often, then I might," you threaten her playfully, getting up from the chair and going to engulf her in a warm hug.

Na-Ra embraces you tighter to herself, returning your enthusiasm; you keep yours and Yeosang's hug a little short. The two of them are out of the front door when Jongho interrupts your last whiling farewells.

"I think it's better if I tag along and get the luggage myself. You won't have to make a double trip up." He stands next to you, by the open door. Offering a small smile to Yeosang and Na-Ra, he too then slips in boots and leaves with him.

Na-Ra waves you off energetically, appearing a little disappointed with how things had to end tonight. Nevertheless, she doesn't let it show on her face as she's leaving with Yeosang, and Jongho in their pursuit. You flash them one last smile and shut the door; a sigh parts your lips regardless and sulking you return back on the couch next to Yunho. He hums a soft tune before grasping your shoulder, pressing his fingers to massage gently before sliding his hand to your back.

"You're not alone," he whispers, "but I can tell why you'd feel lonely."

"Five years living with her," you continue, merely in a mumble as you look at him, eyes showcasing your glum heart. "Five years and we separate now. We've been childhood friends, you know. Never went by a day without each other."

"Nothing could've prepared you for this day," he shrugs, pulling you close to his chest, giving you a much-needed sympathetic hug. His scent dithers your senses to nothing, a bit calming but that's all it was. "Female friendships are precious, endearing even."

You nod, tracing your hand along his which were wound tightly around your waist; you were starting to creep up on the sense that this hug wasn't anything close to friendly. Though, at the moment, when you were too lost in dwelling on your memories with Na-Ra, you didn't mind staying a bit longer, not that you cared since he was trying to blur the line of friends and lovers between you two. It wouldn't come off as a surprise, you were well aware of Yunho's adoration for you, but maybe you always pushed it aside since you viewed at him through nothing but a friendly gaze.

The serenity in the moment is too loud, too rapturing for you to notice someone walking in through the front door. When the gentle lock of the door clicks, is what makes you flinch and pull away from Yunho, eyes straining across to find Jongho's silhouette standing at a distance from you two. He holds onto the handle of your bag, knuckles going white from how tight he held. Squeezing till his fingers are all around the handlebar, he fixates his glare on you, both of you for that matter. A haze of dark crosses his eyes, submerging in the warmth they once held, and disappearing almost too quick for you to puzzle out. His lips curve, almost in a dainty manner before they're delving deep into his cheeks; that maniacal smile, the touch of just a little crazy was driving fear into your spine.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asks, rolling the bag out of his way, before fixing his eyes on Yunho.

The older doesn't make a sound, not even a as he scrambles to his feet and dusts his shirt off. "Yeah, no, nothing at all. I was just leaving."

It seemed like he was weighing his words carefully, trudging to the front door before grabbing his coat from the rack next to it; Yunho offers you a gentle smile, yet it was indiscernible to the course of his and Jongho's interaction. He shrugs on his coat and leaves without uttering a single word, stranding you bemused amid the living room. Jongho's apparent smile had turned a little inane for you.

"He didn't have to leave in such a rush," Jongho says, "anyway, are you in the mood for some wine?"

The sudden contrast in his words and demeanour causes to rift in between, driving countless doubts in your mind till they're diminished to nothing by Jongho's gummy smile. His eyes are trained on you, intensely piercing as if to manipulate your mind into his own. Striking out the possible cynicism in your head, you nod and curl your lips frailly so to reassure him.

"Sounds good to me."

"Of course," he chides, "I believe I have an unopened bottle lying somewhere around in the kitchen."

"Oh," your lips round themselves, voice barely audible. "That was yours? I recall seeing it in the cabinet above the stove; I did not open it and instead chucked it in the fridge."

"No worries."

He waves you off, disappearing in the dimly lit hallway and making his way into the kitchen. After listening to some shuffling around in there, his footsteps muffle and ascend from the hallway, emerging out with two glasses for wine and the bottle itself. Instead of placing the glasses and the bottles on the table, he nudges his head in the direction of the balcony; the balcony adjoined the living room with full length doors sliding open and close. You follow his suit, walking a step behind him.

Cold shivers run down your spine when he leads you out on the balcony; a scenic view awaits you, that is if you consider the dilly dally of empty streets as scenic or even close to it. The moon is hung high in the sky—a cloudless sky. Stars are prominent in the dark, and the moonlight shudders along to illuminate your surroundings. Jongho helps you down on the floor, laden with a dusty carpet, probably serving its purpose from the beginning. Taking a beat to himself, he settles next to you and places the bottle and glasses in between you two.

"It has always been a perfect place to share wine with someone," he murmurs against the night wind, which kisses your face and stings a little. "Needs a little revamping, however. You know to make it a little more mawkish."

"I'd agree," you relate, looking around till your eyes are back on him.

He doesn't make a sound; save for the mumbled grunt he lets out while unscrewing the cork on the wine bottle using his car keys. Pop. The cork comes off, slipping out the rim. Jongho's lips twist in a lopsided smile as he pours you a glass first and hands it to you; preparing the other glass for himself, he keeps the bottle aside and clinks it with yours. You take a sip, relishing the bittersweet taste of the wine before bringing the glass away from your lips. Jongho stares at you a minute longer than he had intended to, peering at you to notice all your details. He adores the tiny scrunch of your eyebrows, or the way your lips tremble when you wince out from the unsweetened taste of the wine. Taking a sip for himself, he stares straight ahead; not much to the view, nonetheless he admired the dusky sky of the night.

You had an inkling that you were biting back on, a petty notion about him acting out on his envy when he saw you with Yunho. It was a friendly gesture on his part, wasn't it? Still and all, you couldn't figure out the exact sentiments of Yunho's hug—it'd be little strung out of you to consider it being more than a chaste sentiment. Howsoever, you couldn't resist overthinking and drowning yourself in it, till you're turning to him and biting on your lower lip.

"What you saw with Yunho..." you mumble, getting his attention.

His eyes are affixed on you, lips contorted to a frown, "hey, it's none of my concerns. I've seen you to share some physical affinity. Wouldn't have been surprised if I were to catch you two making out."

Even if his words were inspiring, you couldn't help but notice the abstruse tone laced to them, or the fact that his eyes were dismal and fatalistic. You wonder, or it does seem to astonish you how easily and deliberately the colour in his eyes changes, almost in a fraction of a second.

"I'm not that close with him," you shrug and take another sip of your wine. "Agreed, we've been hanging out a lot and he keeps me company at work, but there's nothing between us."

"And you thought I'd be interested in knowing that because...?" he instigates, taking you off guard.

You stumble in your words for a second, observing how his thumb rubs circles on the glass he holds. Murmuring to yourself, you look away from him. "Because, maybe, I think, or speculate that you might..."

"I might?"

"You might have a crush on me."

There you said it. Your heart palpitates so hard in your chest, your mind is a blur, and your voice is trapped in your throat; could you even recover from whatever his response might be to your unsolicited assumption? He would have to speak to know what he really thinks of your blabber. But, upon hearing nothing from him, you tilt your head with remaining courage in yourself and find him staring at you instead.

"What?"

He chuckles, his shoulders convulsing with it before he chugs down the entire glass of wine; he leans closer to you, too close to let his breath fan your cheeks. Even so, with his lips ghosting yours, you couldn't comprehend the diminished distance between you two. What would it take for a kiss to happen in this moment? A simple tilt of anyone's head? Or a leap of faith?

"I thought I was getting ahead of myself by not confessing," he simpers, "everyone knows except for you. It was so obvious."

His wispy words were hot on your cheeks. Sadly, the glare of moonlight on his glasses made it hard for you to read what his eyes entailed. You could be assuming right now, but you were starting to gamble on the kiss. Does he mean for it happen? Do you mean for it happen? It's a perfect setting overall, cold night, moon in the sky, stars glimmering, and all while the city falls asleep. Undeniably beautiful. Something out of a fairy tale.

"I mean, I'm an airhead. Who didn't even know of your name before..." you mumble under your breath and tuck yourself closer to him, keeping your glass aside.

"I think we should take a veto on the whole 'not knowing you before you offered to help' trope." He laughs out softly, bringing his hand up to cup your jaw and then eventually your cheek. "I'll admit. When I saw you and Yunho sticking to each other like that, I was jealous. Only a tinge. Felt it rage in me. It would've pensively killed me if you two had..."

"Kissed?"

"Yeah." He tugs himself to you, putting his glass to the side to cup your face in both of his hands now. His warmth spreads under your skin, tickling your senses till they're numb. "Maybe, the longer you wait the sweeter the fruit tastes."

You hum along and extinguish the mere distance between you two; the touch of your lips is cold at first, but the warmth of his palms endearing your cheeks makes up for it. The mere brush of your lips drives you wild, enamoured with the thought of kissing and sucking them. Without much hesitance, Jongho pulls back and hooks his finger under the arms of his glasses to flick them to a side. And once they were off, he dives in to capture your lips in a kiss ever so sensual for you to decipher.

His hands slide to your waist, placing themselves on the either side to help leverage his body into yours. The moment your body collides with each other, the untapped heat comes alive and inflames your soul. You could hear the minor shuffling of your clothes; of the shirt he wore and your lace top barreling into one another. Jongho's hands tighten on your waist, pushing himself closer to deepen the kiss; you angle your head to make it easier for him, easier for him to slip his tongue in your mouth.

Stifling on a giddy titter, you bring your hands to his shoulders and then gently tug your fingers around his neck. Though, in meagre seconds, you're dragging them across to tangle them in his silky locks. Jongho lets out an amused laugh, though it gets muffled when his tongue drones over yours and rubs against every corner of your fervent mouth. You're far too gone to realise how delicate his touch was, how delicately one of his hands had slipped past the hem of your top. His fingertips were searing on your skin, sizzling with a want, a desire to caress and kiss every inch of you.

Regardless of how heated and passionate the kiss was, or how intense your feelings were for him, you pull back. Your heart grows heavy, stubborn to the increasing coldness between you two; Jongho's glides out of your mouth, a few saliva strings joining your lips together. He doesn't let his disappointment show on his face, he doesn't seem disappointed at all. There's a sheepish smile on his face and it sort of, recites the tunes of his heart.

"I wish..." you trail off, breathless while resting your forehead against his, "I wish we could let this escalate. But..."

"But?" he whispers, both hands now under your top, thumbs rubbing circles on your skin. Comforting.

"I'm not sure about us, yet. I don't want to dive headfirst into this and later on realise that we weren't meant to be together." You speak your heart out, however, it does baffle Jongho, only to the slightest.

You thought he'd throw a tantrum, argue, make you realise your worries were nothing but piddling hoaxes. But he doesn't. He doesn't go along with your fears and offers you a warming smile, the archetypal one which makes you forget about your woes and terrors. You could call yourself dramatic, but with guys like Jongho, your insecurities always resurfaced; guys like him, the ones who put you above everything else, make sure you're loved by them, are rare. Your trauma from loving all the wrong guys is still very much alive in your mind. It goes without saying, you'll need time to heal, or get used to Jongho's love.

"It's okay, moonpie." You chuckle at the allotted nickname, and he continues, "you still have scars from your past, and as much as I know, scars don't heal. They leave ugly marks behind; and nothing about you is ugly to me. Never in my eyes. You can take your time, figure out what you want and be determined. Having a loveless relationship, which you only agreed to because you didn't want to hurt my feelings, would be equivalent to being thrown in a prison for a crime you didn't commit."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

"The shower was working just fine yesterday," you whine, agitated by the struggle of buttoning the cuffs of your shirt.

"It's fine," Jongho assures you, "I've called the plumber. He'll look into it, make necessary repairs and fix it before you're back from work. Okay?"

"Thanks a lot, Jongho," you mutter in urgency, still struggling with the buttons on your cuffs. "Thanks for letting me use yours."

"No problem." He adds with a dainty chortle, "you're welcomed any time."

This was turning into a nightmare, the way your clothes weren't cooperating with you, just as the shower didn't in the morning. You would have no reason to be in Jongho's apartment, in his lavish and spacious bedroom if not for your shower breaking down early in the morning. These series of unfortunate events were predestined to fall through on an important day for you, on the day you were expected to be punctual, professional and comme il faut. Only a few people from work were alerted about the meeting with the board of directors, you were one of them. Jongho wasn't likely needed, even having received an email from the company saying so, he didn't really bother to attend the meeting and took a sick leave. And looking at him, all hale and hearty, you surmised he just didn't want to be at work today.

"I can't believe you lied about your sick leave," you roll your eyes, bending over to catch your reflection in the mirror of his dresser. "I mean, this meeting sounds crucial and there you are, skipping on it like you don't care."

You watch him shift in bed, propping himself against the headboard while holding a book in his hands; his glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, yet he uses his forefinger to push the further up. There's an unreadable expression glinting in his eyes, and of course, the glares of his glasses make it hard to discern. He doesn't really answer your question or show slightest of interest in what you had been yapping about. Because, he was solely focused on your figure, on the way your skirt hugged your hips and carved out your body, how the top few buttons of your blouse were undone to expose your cleavage and how tempting you appeared to him as you were bent over to fix your earrings in the mirror.

"Cat got your tongue?" you glare at him through the mirror, finding his gaze fixed on you too.

He shakes his head, almost on an instinct, "too focused on reading this book."

"The book you've kept closed for the past thirsty minutes?" you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. For a fact, you were already aware of his thirsty eyes lurking on you.

He clears his throat, "I'm reflecting on the parts I've read."

"Of course you are."

"I'm not lying." His cheeks turn red as you keep your eyes on him. "Whatever, aren't you getting late for work?"

"Thanks for reminding me again," you roll your eyes, yet again, checking yourself in the mirror one last time before stepping away. "How do I look?"

You wait for him to give you his feedback, impatiently dragging your hands across the lower half of your blouse, which was tucked in the risqué black pencil skirt hugging your butt and thighs. He wouldn't have a chance to say otherwise, he doesn't really have to because watching how sensual your professional wear was, he bites back on a wince and shakes his head.

"Are you sure you're dressed formally?" he asks, keeping his book aside on the nightstand next to his bed. "It might send a wrong message to the board of directors."

"Are you talking about the blouse?" you muse, "it's not that revealing. Come on."

He heaves a defeated sigh, watching you tug at the collars of your blouse to let your chest jut out even more. "Fine, you look absolutely stunning. Still professional. So, best of luck."

"Thank you." You wink at him and trudge away from the dresser, "in any case, I'm leaving. You call the plumber and get my shower repaired."

"Yes, ma'am." He gives you a two-finger salute and giggles softly. "Now, go. You've got an important meeting waiting for you."

"Right, right."

With that, you leave his room, eventually slipping out of his apartment and taking the stairwell to yours. It has been couple of weeks of now, if you were keeping a count, then it was now your tenth week since moving into Jongho's spare apartment. Things have been better, they're smooth; your situation has improved a lot, compared to living with Na-Ra and her boyfriend getting it on every single time of the day and night. Every dark cloud has a silver lining, your silver lining was your new apartment and hanging out with Jongho a lot, but your dark cloud would have to be how Yunho had suddenly distanced himself from you. Of course you had never had any issues with him, you were close, always have been, but there was no logical explanation to why he had turned a cold shoulder to you, out of nowhere.

You aren't bothered by him as much, not because at least you got to see him at work and talk a little (confined to only work related). Getting in your apartment, you grab your necessary things, one of which was your purse and a work file, and hastily leave too. No second look overs in the mirror, or no breaks for grabbing a quick snack from your refrigerator, you're out of your apartment in a blink of an eye. You were in a hurry, and it was starting to show.

Jongho throws the sheets to a side, kicking his legs off the bed and strolling casually around and out of his bedroom; he was astounded by your presence, a lot. He was however glad to help you out when you needed it the most. Even if it meant he had to create your problems to offer his help. Now, you might not want to go on Jongho's innocent mien, or the front he puts on for his helpless victims to gain their trust and resolve. Jongho, in the society's minds, was this perfectly shaped and well-behaved person; though to the contrary, one who has witnessed his darker, steeper, creepier parts of life, could tell he's one son of a bitch.

A sociopath is what they call the people who are severely antisocial, with no regard for morales. Or, as what Jongho's therapist had once called him. Jongho had attachment issues, it rooted from his childhood, amongst his family; it grew and thrived in his mind, until his obsessions took over. Jongho would obsess over people. First, it was his mother, then his girlfriend and now you. He was obsessed with you, very much inclined to be with you at all times.

You thought Jongho extended a helping hand out of sheer desperation or love? Think again. Everything had been planned, by his evil mind from the start, from the day he had seen you in a cafe with your best friend, from the moment you walked past him at work; Jongho had always had his eye on you at work, obsessed with you, and moderately aggravated by your ignorance towards him. It might seem coincidental to him, having seen you in the cafe the first time, then finding out you were his coworker in the same company—a mere coincidence. Or fate?

Jongho had his planned nailed down to the T. He knew your girlfriend's boyfriend would move in with her, well considering he had allegedly constructed it to happen, he knew you would find a new place to move in because of their ruckus, and of course, he knew you would turn to Yunho, who mind not, was his accomplice in this whole thing. Ha, and you thought Yunho genuinely wanted to help you. Silly you.

Turning a corner along the long stretching hallway, Jongho enters a room; he closes the door shut behind him and walks on further to the various screens blaring on a wall. There are approximately fifteen screens, all showing the black and white reels of your apartment. Yeah, he had fitted several cameras in your apartment before you moved in, at various angles, getting all good shots of you. He sits down on the chair placed in front of the screens, pushing his glasses up, he starts going through each of the screen for your silhouette. Knowing you aren't in your apartment, he still double checks, wanting to be sure of it. Once he knows you really not there, he gets up from chair, tugs on the sleeves of his cashmere sweater and smirks devilishly to himself.

He has a perfect opportunity now, to sneak into your apartment and indulge in his darkest of desires. Standing in front of your apartment door, he punches in the code and enters; he makes his way around, leisurely strolling till he's in your bedroom. Ah, the broken shower, which wasn't really broken—he had only turned its water supply off. Jongho's smirk keeps growing into his cheeks, a sense of satisfaction over taking his heart before his lust and detrimental obsession kicks in.

Sauntering in your bedroom, he comes across your laundry basket strewn in a corner. Clothes overflow, the flap of the basket remains half open, and bits of your lingerie sticks out. He crouches down on his knees, pushing the flap open to see it for himself. The strap of your lacy bra was tucked out of the basket, under which he hooks his finger and gently pulls out; his gaze admires the flimsy fabric, the floral pattern of the net and how it would cover nothing of your skin when you'd wear it. He was picturing it, shamelessly pitching a tent in his pants. He couldn't help it. Keeping your bra aside, he fishes through the rest of the clothes and finds your lacy knickers too; so, your bra and these panties are a pair, he thinks to himself before pushing himself off the ground and going to sit on the edge of your bed. Not before he makes sure to shut the blinds of the window to keep his actions hidden behind the scenes.

One of his hands held onto your panties, and other clutched the sheets under him; he brings your panties close to his nose, to get a good sniff of your scent, a scent which had driven him to his madness. His cock strains in his sweatpants, painfully confined in his briefs. He wants to pull it out, he wants to do the unthinkable, all for you. Jongho does exactly what his mind had been playing on replay for the past two minutes now. Fantasising about you, and your body, he reaches down and starts palming his cock through his pants, making it harder as he thinks about you. He then tugs at his sweatpants and briefs, his cock springing out to hit his lower abdomen. Glancing down, he knows how hard he had gotten by just your clothes, and it was pushing him to his edge. He probably isn't even embarrassed to admit the truth about what he was going to do.

Jongho wraps his other hand around the tip of his cock, his thumb rubbing circles on the tip before his fingers slide down along the shaft. Stroking himself, he gets himself harder than before, stiff enough to jerk himself off. He relaxes in your bed, arching his back. The palm of his hand engulfs himself entire, and keeping his pace steady, he starts rubbing it back and forth. Veins on his shaft bulge out in a few seconds, and he hisses at the cold and calloused sensation of his hand.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, his voice a mere whimper as he brings the tempo of his hand up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

He screws his eyes shut, tight enough to picture more of your naked body, to imagine himself getting sucked off by your pretty little mouth; he's seen every inch of your bare body, every time you'd be in the shower or would soak in the bathtub. He's in love with your body, so much, so madly. Sweat starts dripping down his forehead, a few strands of his ebony hair sticking to his skin, while his lips tremble chanting your name. He has your panties pushed up against his nose, taking eventual sniffs of it to drive himself crazy.

With a few quick paced strokes, he switches his rhythm and drags them out, going around the tip to massage it a little; precum starts dribbling out from his slit, and his hand spreads it along his shaft. His cock, glistening with his precum, is still very stiff and eager for the release, yet Jongho keeps his pace slower than before. He takes a deep yet trembling breath in, convulsing his lungs to the sheer pleasure he was deriving out of this. His face was flushed, cheeks red, lips quivering, eyes shut closed and his skin shining with a fresh coat of sweat; he needed more, he needed you. Loosening his fingers around his cock, and pulling his hand away, he brings his other to wrap your panties around him. The soft and warm feeling of your panties pushes him into his carnality, inching him closer to his release.

Tightly wounding his fingers now, he picks up the pace and goes hard; his moans are beginning to fill up the room, his eyes are swelling with tears till a few cascade down his cheeks, staining his skin. He's close. So very close. And the way he was dragging your panties up and down on his cock, was starting to get to him. With few more concise and fast paced strokes, he starts bucking his hips into his hand, fucking himself better. He knows he'll come undone any second now, realising how badly his cock had been pulsating in his hand. Everything blurs to nothing when he twitches, his body shuddering as he lets go. Streaks of white cover his hand, bits of it running down your fingers and a lot of it drenching your panties.

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathes out, his whimper sounding melodious to the empty room as he peels his eyes open. Heaving a wispy laugh, he glances down at his hand, full of his cum and your panties ruined by it. "You'd look so pretty squirming under me, while I'm...oh, fuck."

His mouth falls open, jaw slack, as his vivid imagination was starting to make him hard again. There's still time for you to get home, he wouldn't mind going another round. This time however, he keeps your panties and picks out your bra, spending another hour of his time masturbating and fucking himself to your thoughts, to the very vile imagery of you in his mind.

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

You were pacing back and forth, chewing on your nails as Jongho sits on the couch, shifting his eyes to your oscillating body.

"My lingerie is missing." You mumble, showing no signs of stopping in your movements. "The red set of my lacy underwear is gone, disappeared into thin air," you spell out with panic lacing your words, "what kind of pervert would do that? How is that even possible? I locked my door, there was no way anyone would have broken in to steal my underwear."

Jongho hums, relaxing back in the couch and feigning to be in deep thought. He doesn't utter a word. A criminal would keep his mouth shut under the fear of being unraveled. Jongho has your underwear, the red set of your bra and panties is lying in his wardrobe, sullen with his cum and reeking wildly of his scent. He's been jerking off to them every night since he got his hands on them, it's vile, it's disgusting but it's his way of loving you.

"This is maniacal, Jongho. I'm scared of living here now," you stop in your steps and stare at him. "I'm scared." The last of your words sound more like a whisper and that makes Jongho fake his concern even more.

He gets up from the couch and heads to the kitchen to bring you a glass of water, or what you think he was getting for you. You sigh and sit on the couch instead, placing your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands; you were frustrated, annoyed, frightened of your situation and how it was affecting you. Jongho walks out in mere minutes, bringing a glass of water to you. He hands you the glass and you take it without any doubt or having a reason to doubt him. Taking eventual sips, you feel yourself calming down bit by bit. In no time, the glass is empty and sits on the coffee table in front of you. Jongho watches you keenly, resisting the very urge to smirk. His straight face showed no emotions, no signs of impatience that he felt in his heart, but staring at you with his ravenous eyes, he only masqueraded his concern.

"Feeling better now?"

"I guess," you shake your head, returning back to having it slumped in your hands. "But this is outrageous, Jongho. Who could—just, I need some time to recover I think." You mumble, and your head was starting to get heavy.

Jongho notices your unease, and how dizzy you were staring to get. On the other hand, you were confused as to why you were suddenly starting to feel the discomfort; this issue wasn't that serious to begin with, yet you were starting to feel the aftermath of stressing out too much. It's really concerning to you how your lingerie got stolen, only one pair of it, however. You hadn't noticed it missing till after a few days from your important meeting, when you were searching for it to throw it in the washer.

You feel numb, your head throbbing with an unwanted ache till you're seeing stars in your eyes; breathing gets harder for you, your lungs burning and your throat suffocating you. This was sudden, but it was bewildering. Your vision turns blurry, your lips shaking and your heart pounding in your chest. Jongho stands in front of you, doing nothing, standing still on his spot till he's sure you're knocked out. And you are, in few more seconds, darkness shrouds your eyes, your mind switching off and your body falling limp to the side on the couch.

Was there something in the water?

You were never so comely with darkness, nor were you so fond of feeling lonely and scared. Not remembering how you ended up in this situation, feeling yourself lying in something soft, something constraining your movements and the kind of familiar scent tingling your nose. Squinting your eyes, your distorted mind starts waking up; the dull ache in your head isn't gone, but it isn't too intense to make you groan in pain. When you're fully conscious of your surroundings, you find yourself in a comfortable bed, way too comfortable; the mattress has sunken to your weight, the sheets on your body are and soft and warm. In the dimly lit room, you notice the details and find everything quite too familiar. A room, with a window and its drapes drawn over, with a dresser and a closet, with a layout so familiar.

When it finally creeps up to you, your body jerks off the bed. Sitting upright, you scrunch your brows together and find it astounding to be in Jongho's room. What had happened that led you here? Did you pass out and he brought you to his apartment? But then why would he bring you to his apartment? That doesn't make sense. He could've tended to you at your own apartment. This certainly doesn't feel right.

And it shouldn't either.

Not when you find one of your hands shackled in chains. A broad cuff is wrapped around your wrist, the metal cutting into your skin, and a long chain dangles from it to the headboard of the bed. What the fuck was this? You start panicking, your breath hitching and your mind going point blank; your anxiety starts getting the worst of you when realise you're still your old clothes. The same spaghetti sauced stain tank top and shorts you had worn when you called Jongho over regarding stolen lingerie.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, what the fucking shit is this?" you grunt through your gritted teeth, wanting to cut off the cuff from your wrist.

You're still panicking, caught up in the daze of escape instead of keeping your senses perched on other things. Let's say for the surrounding. It's beyond your comprehension to understand when a certain man walks in, muffling his footsteps against the floor and shuffling around to stand by the edge of your bed.

"Oh, you're awake, now. Are you, moonpie?" he murmurs, "I was starting to get tired of waiting around for you."

You could discern the soft pout on his face under the haze of dimmed lights. He leans over, towering with his broad shoulders on your body, making you feel small and puny.

"How are we feeling?" his worry is bittersweet, an underlying intention evident to your mind. "Hopefully, better. You've been asleep for a day or two." He shrugs his shoulders as if the words mean nothing to him, "who's keeping a count? Your friends? Yunho...?" he heaves out a chuckle, shaking his head, "probably. No, it's right. They must be concerned. Actually, he must be really worried considering he was in on this."

There's a beat of silence, and you decide to fill it in, having been unbothered by his jeering phrases. "Jongho, what is this? What kind of sick joke is this?"

You tug your hand, the chains shackling and creating a buzz around, a sound he was so delighted to hear from you. He traces his thumb across his lower lip, his eyes glazing only for a second on your face before they rummage to gander at red marks on your wrists. The cuff had really eaten your skin off, in a way, it looks tormenting and painful—something he surely finds himself relishing.

"A joke?" he mocks, "Moonpie, why would you think any of this is a joke? I'm doing all of this for you."

He sits by edge of the bed, and you scamper to press yourself against the headboard, wanting to be away from him or his touch even. This was something out of a movie, a low-budget thriller movie where the protagonist gets trapped by a psychopath and is subjected to all kinds of torture by them. How ironic is that? You were stuck in that situation yourself, wondering what Jongho's mind was constructing in every passing second. Given your interest in watching all sorts of documentaries, you knew you had to play your cards right, choose rightful words to get your way in this.

"For me?" you gasp on a breath, "Jongho, this is fucking crazy. You're fucking crazy—"

"—am I? Am I fucking crazy to think I can protect you from the world?" he growls, somewhat keeping himself composed, "I've seen how the others look at you, with their lust-filled eyes and the untamed desire they have for you. I can't let them taint you too. You're far from being corrupted, never in my eyes."

And there it was, the flash of ambiguous darkness in his eyes, the way it acridly makes your spine tingle. Even if it had lasted for mere seconds, you knew where this was headed, you were starting to figure him out; vaguely, but gradually. You needed to be levelheaded and cautious.

"All those days and nights of watching you, reading you, getting to know you, they were some of the best times I've ever had. You didn't even know I was there, like a shadow lurking behind you. Everywhere you went, I was there. I couldn't get enough of you, never actually." He adds, "I don't want to hurt you, I would rather die than hurt you. I just want to keep you close to me, away from the hungry stares of your so-called friends. You'll be safe here."

You hadn't realised when his hand had traced up your leg and rested on your thigh, but maybe you were too immersed in his words and thoughts to notice anything at all. Too immersed in his words and thoughts, the raw sentiments of his demented mind, you were in fact drowning in the aftermath of believing him, of ever interacting with him.

"You'll always be safe here, moonpie." He rubs circles on your thigh, thumb pushing into your flesh, "I'll go get something for you to eat. You must be hungry. You are hungry, aren't you?"

Your lips were sewn shut, heart practically in your throat at the way his tone and voice had changed. The clear shift from being obsessive to concerned caught you off guard. Jongho offers you a sweet yet deadly smile, his lips curling like the Cheshire Cat before he walks out of the room and leaves you in utter chaos. Confusion, despair, disgust, and your nicking anxiety had already started to get the worst out of you.

To think Yunho was into this all along, shatters your heart even harder. Now that the room was completely filled with silence, you could hear the minute shuffling happening outside. Jongho is probably preparing the food for you, and as much as you hate to admit it, you were indeed hungry. Your stomach growls at the thought of food, mindlessly thinking about what he had or was bringing for you to eat.

After a few minutes of waiting, the door rattles to him entering inside; he's soft on his feet, but his presence is heavy and intimidating. When he stands by the edge of the bed, holding a tray in his hands, he offers you a small smile before placing it down in your lap. You notice the contents then, a meagre meal of carbs, protein and fibre: pieces of chicken steak, some sautéed vegetables and mashed potatoes. To accompany the food, there was a small can of soda.

This was a filling meal, he really had thought it through, from the food itself. How long had he been planning this? He must be enjoying the sweet taste of his victory, which menially isn't anything but the decadent fulfilment of his efforts and hard work.

Jongho sits down on the edge, giving you enough space; even so you were pressed up against the headboard, not wanting to be any closer to him. The tray in your lap is warm, and you could vaguely discern the mist rising up from the food. Had he cooked it? Or had he just ordered it from outside? Besides that, your worst fear was getting drugged again. Had he drugged the food?

"I'm not hungry," you state, softly.

"But you need to eat, moonpie."

"I don't need anything from you."

He grunts, "you're really impossible to deal with."

Steering himself away from you for a mere moment, he lets his head hang low and shakes it; an amused chuckle follows, reverberating till the time stands still and you're taken back by him.

"Jongho!" you call out, the chain rattling as you brace your hands against his chest.

He had leaped over to you, shoving you into the headboard till your back hurt. One of his hands held down your shoulders, by pushing it hard against your chest. While his other hand grabbed your jaw, forcing you to stay in place.

"You should listen to me," he grunts in your face, pressing his fingers and thumbs into your cheeks to get your mouth to open. "If I tell you to eat, then you eat it, damnit. Don't make me say it twice. Next time, I might not use my words."

He lets go of you, crawling away from your body and checking the tray of plate, whether it had made a mess on the bed or not. Lucky for you, his enraged actions weren't as haphazard as you'd expect them to be; if there had been a mess of food in the bed, who's to tell what he'd do to you. In odd times as these, it's certain to agree with every wish of his, oblige every word he speaks and never go against him. He is volatile, waiting to blow up in your face any moment if you even move wrong. So, you have to weigh and measure every consequence before talking to him and carrying yourself around him.

Using your free hand, you pull the tray properly on your lap and pick at the food with their bare fingers. No spoon, no fork, no knife. He knows how to play. And he knows it well. Standing up on his feet, leaning over the edge of the bed, he strokes your shabby hair away from your eyes and offers you a gentle smile. In his mind, he hadn't been violent towards you. Acting as if he hadn't just pushed you up against the back of his bed and threatened you with his malignant anger.

"Good girl, now was it so hard?" his fingers caress a side of your face, slipping down your cheek to your lips. "Don't make me use force against you, moonpie. I don't like it. I can't stand the thought of bending you to my ways. Just...be a good girl for me, okay?"

You nod, picking out a piece of chicken steak he had cut and putting it in your mouth. It was hard to chew, no matter how soft the meat was in your mouth. Swallowing it was going to be even harder.

"Finish it, hmm?" he insists, stepping back till he finds himself sitting on a lounge chair by the door. "I'll wait until you finish everything on your plate."

Already having a hard time to swallow, you somehow manage to nod at him. Little by little, piece by piece, with your greasy fingers you finish most of the things in the plate. You still had a spoonful of mashed potatoes in your plate, the vegetables and meat were almost done with too.

"I've got all day," he sighs, dreamily as if, he wasn't getting tired of watching you and it was starting to show. "I'm not going anywhere. You can take as much time as you need."

Only the thought of him staring at you all while you tried to finish the plate, gave you an icky sensation. Your back was covered with sweat, your clothes were soaked in sweat too. Disgust was the last thing you wanted, but it was rather a feeling sticking to your spine ever since you had gained your consciousness.

"Done." You mutter, a sense of victory taking over your mind but soon dissipating into glum and hopelessness; he had gotten up from the chair, taking short strides toward you.

He was inspecting the empty plate, closely enough to not miss out anything. How sickeningly frightening was that? Even worse, how much of a sicko was he? You could have never guessed of his freakish predicament in the beginning, could've never imagined there's a devil hiding behind the warm gummy smile of his. Your current situation was pointing to the otherwise. On the spectrum of luck, you were stuck in the bottom half where misfortunes awaited you.

"Ahh, good girl." He mutters under his breath, patting your head before taking the tray out of the room with him. "I'll be back soon. Don't make a sound."

You were left alone in the dimly lit room, a room harbouring no light of sort; the window was draped shut apparently with black curtains, and the only source of light for you was the lamp on the nightstand next to you. As one your hands had been cuffed to the wall, you couldn't reach out to the nightstand or the drawers below it. You were hopeful the drawers might have something of your use, something to get you out of the cuffs.

Rummaging your eyes further, you find the dresser shrouded by darkness in a corner. The setting of this room had been tampered with, you'd know and are sure of it since you were in here before. This was Jongho's room, the very room you had used to get ready for your meeting once. You remember the dresser being situated next to the bed and not in that corner; you also recall using the bathroom adjoining this room, meaning the door which you keep second-guessing about, leads to the bathroom.

Besides the grim darkness, and melancholic sentiments, you were starting to panic. Your mind kept flooding with constant fear of death, or even worse, being assaulted by an unhinged man—you've seen it all in the documentaries before. Maybe, watching them wasn't a total waste of time. Regardless, you kept going back to your friends, and Yunho. The man who seemed so harmless at the beginning, had now been placed under a different light for you. How could you be so naïve and gullible? How could you trust strangers so easily?

You knew this wasn't the right time to guilt trip yourself; these kind of mistakes happen and can't be avoided either way. The weight on your shoulders is already anchoring you down when you start getting drowsy too. No doubt the food was drugged. Was it really? Or were you just feeling sleepy after eating the carbs? The worst part of it was, it doesn't take you more than a minute to fall asleep, your body falling limp in the bed, against the mattress while the sheets pool around.

This has to be the worst. Most definitely.

You had no clue how long you were out for, but when you came to terms with your conscious, your body was aching immensely. It could've been because of your sleeping position, how strained your body was when you slept curled against headboard. Though, you were less bothered about your body and more concerned about your bladder; you wanted to use the bathroom, urgently.

Bracing yourself, you proceed to heed out his name. At the beginning, your voice does not even reach your own ears, and takes you countless tries before knowing you could yell out his name.

"Jongho...!" it sounded a little weak, however you could hear the door squeaking at the hinges when it's opened.

Jongho walks in, looking concerned and bewildered, his eyes were wide, and his lips trembled like a loose leaf on a branch. "What is wrong?"

"I need to—I need to use the bathroom," you mumble.

Letting out a sigh, he walks around the bed and pulls out the top drawer of the nightstand. He retrieves a pair of handcuffs, the ones usually used by cops; approaching you, he nudges his head for you to hold both your hands out. You oblige as told to only to find him cuff your hands together before unlocking the broad metal cuff around your wrist which was adhered to the chain on the wall.

"Come on," he tugs on the cuff, pulling you along with it to another door.

You knew the door led to the bathroom, so when he unlocked it with another set of keys, you weren't so surprised to find yourself in it.

He pushes you inside, and closes the door, standing on the other side before hailing out to you, "make it quick. And don't even think about doing anything funny."

You gulp, audibly so. Quick on your instinct, you start looking around, hoping to find something of your use. But to your unseeming surprise, the cabinets were empty, the drawers were locked, and the cabinet mirror was a reflection of your harsh reality. Your skin was starting to dry, peeling at places, especially on your hands; your lips were chapped and bleeding, there were bags under your eyes, your hair was greasy and smelled a little. Everything was so...disgusting to you. Even your own reflection. The mirror was a glimpse to your future, no matter how much you tried to, you weren't getting out of here. Never out of his sight, his mind or his prison.

Now, you had completely given up, having no strength in you to continue fighting or think of ways to escape him. You finish relieving yourself and wash your hands, splashing some of the water on your face too. Hearing a knock bang on the door, you flinch and tremble in fear.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah," you whisper, pulling yourself together and hastily walking out.

Jongho stands right in front of you, arms folded on his chest and his eyes narrowed onto you. "I'm not going to cuff you again, you're free to move around this room."

He must've weighed all the consequences of keeping you tied in the room. As much as that is very thoughtful of him, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being trapped here all day and night. At this point, what was day and what was night? You couldn't make out the time, the windows were bind with dark curtains, there were no clocks in the room for you to even know the time or date. All you could rely on is your own sense of calculating and counting the days. Or maybe, you could just ask Jongho.

The man helps you get to the bed before dragging himself to the door; standing by it, he offers you a small smile before mumbling, "rest well, okay? I'll be back tomorrow with breakfast for you."

So, it was night after all.

You absentmindedly reflect to his smile with your own, getting in the bed and snuggling in the warm sheets. The door closes behind him as he leaves you in the dark, and once you're sure he's out your earshot, you cry. You hug your knees and cry, till your cheeks are stained with sheer agony of your tears.

This was hell.

And you really needed to get out of here.

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

You were starting to keep a track of his behaviour; not knowing how many days it had been since you were held captive by him, you still wanted to figure out how long you had been here. It would make sense for you to count the days from your last encounter with him, though for that, you would have to know how long you were knocked out for when he drugged you. Even so, counting from the time you had finally regained consciousness, it seems like it had been more than two weeks since you were here.

More than two weeks. Right. And yet, none of your friends had tried searching for you. Or maybe they had, they were on their way to seek you out. Although, Jongho was always one step ahead of everyone, he must've distracted them. The thought of your best friend and her boyfriend did come to your mind, but as usual, Jongho's advances would make you push them to a dark corner and never let those thoughts resurface.

Keeping a track of the days was easy, you only had to count the number of meals he was providing you. Jongho gave you three meals a day, the breakfast would be simple enough, consisting of an omelette and sometimes rice, the lunch and dinner were both proportionate of carbs, fibre and protein. You were glad he was offering you good food. But that was least of your concerns and nothing to be glad about.

Jongho allowed you to take a shower six meals before; thankful to that, you felt a bit fresh and dressed yourself in neat clothes. Again, the clothes had been bought by him, just as he did with every other thing. The clothes you wore were simple too, a cotton dress reaching to your calves and your brand-new underwear inside.

You were nicely dressed and showered today too, sitting by the edge of the bed and waiting for Jongho to come in with your lunch. Over the time, as irrational as it would sound to any sane person, you were starting to feel something for him. Affection? Maybe. Your soft spot for him was brainwashing you, not that he had already done with a few simple tricks, but you were starting to warm up to him.

Jongho made sure to make you realise how bad the outside world is, and how safe you are here with him. He never touched you without your consent, never made you feel threatened again; because you were starting to obey his words, his wishes, you were becoming his trained pet in a way. In the span of two weeks, you couldn't even recognise the change that had taken over you. If you could compare your old self to this one, you'd be stunned beyond measure.

But it wasn't that bad.

You listen to him. He doesn't threaten you and you don't get punished. Suffocation takes over you every time you try to reminisce of the day you had missed to obey him and had met with a ruthless punishment. As much as it is detrimental for you to remember it, you know the trauma won't leave you. Ever. You faced the punishment because you did not finish your food one time. He dragged you to the bathroom by your hair, filled up the bathtub with water till its brim, and drowned you in it. You could feel the water penetrate your lungs, shorten your breath, give you a dizzy headache. After the torture was over, he cradled you in his arms like a child on the bathroom floor, feeling guilty and ashamed of what he had done to you.

He never punished you after that. Ever. Even raising his voice at you made him feel guilty and embarrassed, so he spoke to you in humbling tones. Days were different after that incident, you thought he'd be more erratic than usual, but to your surprise he wasn't. Jongho has a good game, a very strong one to alter your perception on him. You couldn't pinpoint when it was, but you were surely feeling some type of way for him.

"I'm here, I'm here," he sings, pushing the door open while bringing in a tray of food. "I agree, I'm late. But I had a couple of things to take care of. Are you hungry?"

You nod, licking your lower lip. "I am. I thought you weren't going to come today."

"Babe, I'll always be here for you," he chimes, setting the tray on the bed first. Pulling the lounge chair closer to the bed, he sits on it and fishes out a key to unlock your cuffs. "You've been a really good girl for me, I'm thinking we won't be needing these anymore."

You took a breath of relief. The thought itself was freeing, no confinements on your wrists, no struggles, no pain, no marks on your skin. He lets the cuffs fall down on the floor, clinking softly against it while he tugs at your hands and pulls you in his lap. However, the glare on his glasses makes it hard to read his eyes, you never know when he might change his mind, and considering that, you wanted to be prepared to take on anything he flung at you.

"Jongho..."

"Shush..." he buries his face in the crook of your neck, biting and nicking your flesh till bruises start staining your skin. "I've been waiting for a long time to gain your trust. Craving your touch..." he intertwines your hands together, "I won't do anything unless you're ready. I want you to feel safe around me."

"I do," you mumble, leaning back into his touch, "I've started to feel safer around you than before."

"Is that true?"

"Do you want me to prove it?"

"How would you prove it, babe?" he asks, licking up a stripe on your neck, his tongue warm and slick with his spit.

You slip out of his lap, falling on your knees in front of him to slot your body perfectly in between his legs. He spreads them wider, letting you accommodate the space before running a hand through your hair. A sly smile stretches his lips, making you gag a bit, regardless, you let him do what he wanted to. His hand cups a wide of your face, before sliding down to grab your chin and pull you up only a bit for your lips to meet.

The kiss was hungry, wild, desperate, his lips were sucking on yours with an unquenchable thirst, while you pushed yourself into him to deepen the kiss. Your hands were on either of his thighs, but out of nowhere, you find the warmth of his own grab yours and force them behind your back. He holds your wrists in one of his hands, using the other to swiftly pick up the fallen handcuffs. You could hear the muffled sound of metal clinking, alerting you. Unfortunately, you weren't as quick to pull yourself out of his trap, or his arms; he places the cuffs on your wrist and tightens them.

His teeth sink into your lower lip, biting hard till it bleeds into his mouth. A satisfied moan rumbles in his chest, and he pushes himself away only a bit to flash you a conceited curl of his blood-stained lips.

"I like it this way," he murmurs, running the tips of fingers on your arms behind tugging on the link between your cuffed hands. "Don't worry too much...I won't hurt you. It's neither that I don't trust you. But I better be safe than sorry."

You stifle the urge to make a retching sound, wanting to flee the moment he's too immersed in whatever you had to offer. In other perspective, you nod your head and peer at him, putting on a helpless ruse and pouting so that he would continue the broken kiss. He did not needed to be told twice, however. His lips are back on yours, biting, sucking, lapping, both of your teeth clattering against each other until he cups your face and forces you to open your mouth. Instantly, his tongue slithers in your warmth, sending chills down your spine. You knew he was eager and desperate, very much so to hear you moan under him.

The vagrant and insatiable hunger in him was clearly evident in the way he was devouring your mouth. Stroking the back of your neck with one of his hands, he tilts your head behind to give him better control over you and his tongue thrusting down your throat. His other hand stays warm on your cheek, slowly and gradually falling to your shoulder while his fingers dig in your skin through the flimsy material of the dress.

He takes a deep breath, pushing himself away from you to realise what he was doing and what he wanted to do next. This time, you did not need to know it twice; the way his eyes lingered on yours for a minute longer before trailing down to his crotch, that told you many tales of what he wanted you to do. Swallowing thickly, you suck on your lower lip to resist the dwelling dread in the pit of your stomach. On a much contrary note, you were starting to get aroused and wet, your panties already drenched with your arousal. What did it take for you to be on your knees for him? His lustful eyes? His ravenous desire to make you his? Or, in fact, were you growing reminiscent of the time you had spent with him prior to this catastrophe that struck you?

"Open wide for me, okay?" he smugly whispers, keeping one hand on the back of your neck while using the other to unzip his pants.

You're helplessly stuck in between his legs, counting your breaths till you'd be suffocating on his cock; it wasn't a pretty picture in your head, but just the thought itself made you even more wet. This would have to be some sick sort of fantasy for you. Why else would you be thinking of erratic things towards your captor? In the dark side of your mind, the way Jongho had behaved with you in the past days, made you feel all sorts of things. Maybe it was the lack of human interaction, or the fact that you were away from your friends for so long, that your mind had fallen in love with the idea of what Jongho was.

Jongho tugs at the waistband of his pants, pulling them down with a few more tugs till they're pooling around his folded knees. You catch the glimpse of briefs tenting against his erection; again, something going hand in hand with disgust and lechery.

He brings his hand to your jaw from the back of your neck, and thumbs your lower lip, forcing you to open your mouth. You yelp, letting the pain of his fingernail digging in your fleshly lip, while watching him pull his briefs down. His cock springs out, eagerly. Jongho muffles a grunt while trying to push his briefs down and once he was done, he nudges your head close to his crotch.

"Be a good girl for me, like you have been for the past days."

His voice seems drunk of lust and craving, seeming raspy and heavy. You lick your lips, pushing yourself further this time to let the tip of his cock brush your lips; you don't open your mouth to take him in the instant, rather you stay, keeping your lips shut to let him rub his cock all over your mouth. The feeling was distasteful in some way, until the warmth of your mouth engulfs the littlest bit of his cock. Only the tip of his cock pulsated in your mouth, and you licked at the slit to elicit a soundful moan from him.

His touch burns on the back on your neck, holding it tight to keep your head in place while he bucked his hips into your face. Continuing with it, inch by inch his cock plunges in your mouth, till the tip hits your throat.

You gag, almost immediately. "Nnnghh..."

"Fuck." he mumbles, throwing his head back while his mouth falls opens. He even takes a moment to throw off his glasses on the floor, not bothered in the slightest to know if they landed smoothly or not. "Your mouth feels so good—so good around me, moonpie. So soft, so warm...fuck."

Leaving you to gag on his cock, he picks up the pace of his thrusts; every time he pulled out, it gave you a fraction of second to breathe, though when he pushed back with all his strength, you felt like you could suffocate. Your lungs burned, aching for air, your hands were strained behind your back, and your mind was foggy to realise any of it. What your conscious could filter was pure pleasure and desperate need for attention.

Jongho's cock was buried deep in you, stretching out the walls of your throat; you raise your tongue to the roof of your mouth, licking along the underside of his shaft as he continued to thrust in and out your mouth. The seething urge to bite down on his cock was immense in your mind, and even if you did, you knew it would not grace you with prettiest of consequences. So, you let that thought drift and oblige, doing what you had only learnt from watching porn.

"Want to breathe?" he asks as if he was going to do you a favour by pulling out.

Regardless, when you nod, he does pull himself out of your mouth and gives you a minute to breathe. You cough, feeling your throat itch while drool coats your chin and mouth; saliva strings dangle from your lips to the tip of his cock, which apparently had gotten redder and appeared to gleam with precum.

"Jongho..." you mumble.

"What? Is it too much for you?"

You shake your head, "I need you too."

"You need me, huh? Then show me what your mouth can do." He grumbles, nudging the tip of his cock against your lips.

You are back to wrapping your lips around him, lowering yourself down his veiny shaft and choking as it hits the back of your throat again. This was probably the most you had gotten inside your mouth. Now, tasting the saltiness from his precum, you roll your tongue on the underside of his cock. Licking and lapping while he rammed himself in and out of your mouth.

"Ah, fuck," he growls, the sound resonating from his chest as he throws his head back and his brows draw themselves in together. "Who knew this mouth was—oh, fucking hell—who knew this mouth was capable of driving someone wild."

You moan while his cock his confined in your throat, constrained to feel the mere vibrations of your whimpers and groans. Tears start pricking at the corners of your eyes when his pace picks up again; he bucks his lips, thrusting steadily to retain his rhythm. Too lost in the pleasure, both of his hands entangle in your hair and push you against his pelvis, your nose crushing on his pelvic bone and the bits of his pubic hair tickling your skin. It was rough, but pleasurable in a way.

While Jongho fucked into your mouth, your knees were tired from scrapping against the carpeted floor, your arms were numb from fettered behind your back. His cock slides deeper in your throat, slotting perfectly with the concise thrusts. Your lips were starting to sting from the stretch, as compared to the beginning. But minutes were starting to turn into hours, and you were still getting throat-fucked by him.

As his moans grew louder and the air in the room got heavier, you came to terms with the reality; Jongho peered down at you, a thin sheet of coat on his skin shimmering in the dim lights, while his brows remain stitched on his forehead. His lips trembled to speak something, but before he could even get his words out, you felt his cock twitch. He was close to his edge, and the thought of him cumming down your throat was least likely in your head.

Regardless, you couldn't do anything about it since his hands had already restrained you from moving your head back. Jongho's thrusts became placid and loose, surrendering to the pressure of his orgasm. Though, he doesn't give into the temptation and rather pushes you off; he pants heavily, letting his chest heave up and down. You were breathless too, but the way your throat had been abused, you start coughing from your lungs. Your chest burns, your throat has gone sore, and you couldn't feel your arms at all. Spit, drool, whatever fluids your mouth had, they were all staining your chin and lips. The opulent strings of saliva were connecting your lips and his cock, correction, his veiny and thick cock, which had fucked the hell out your throat.

For a man like him, his cock is sure girthy and thick, lacking in length however that couldn't be any of your concerns since he had a great technique.

How pathetic you were. This man has you captive, he's bending you to his ways and benefit, and you're gushing about him. Jongho seemed so harmless in the beginning, especially when you had no idea of his existence. Now, looking back to those days, it all plays out to a fever dream. Unlikely. Unfortunate. And, vague. Knowing him had bitten you in the ass, making you realise how careful you needed to be around people.

"I had imagined things—I had fantasised of the ways I'd use this mouth," he breaks your trance, hooking his thumb in your open mouth before pulling you up by it.

One of his hands comes quick to wrap around your waist as he picks you up; he guides you on his lap, your dress fluttering till he despairingly pulls it up to your waist. Your drenched panties exposed to his eyes, while you're adjusting yourself on his lap, making sure his cock hits your lower stomach.

"I hope it didn't disappoint you," you smile, hazy and clearly intoxicated with pleasure. "My mouth...my mouth can do wonders."

"Don't doubt that," he grins, placing both his hands on your waist, "but now I need to know what this little body can do..."

When his words are dragged into a mere whisper, he slides his hands to the back of your dress and tears it down. The sound of them tattering against his force, fill up the room, not that the melodies of your pants and grunts had already created a ballad; the damaged pieces of your dress start to slip off your body, revealing nothing but your lingerie. Jongho basically ogles at the sight, wasting no time in ridding you of your bra and filling his hands with your supple flesh.

"I used to see this body every day, aching to touch," he whispers, blowing air on your hardened nipples before swallowing one of your tits whole in his mouth.

"To shuck," he muffles his words, teeth sinking in your skin as he keeps kneading your other tit. "To phinch..."

His words were still discernible. Pulling back, after leaving his teeth marks around your tit, he smears some of his spit on the tip of his fingers and pinches your nipples. The coolness of spit was tantalising the rising warmth of your body; you were grinding on his bare thigh, letting his cock rub against your lower abdomen. He was rock hard and that was driving you insane. His hands slip from your chest to your back, resting in the curve before sliding further down to cup your butt.

"Jongho, please..." you whimper, bucking your hips into his in a desperate need of release.

"Yes, darling," he chuckles softly, rubbing his thumbs on either of your buttcheeks before giving them a gentle squeeze. "You're going to get it. Have patience."

Squeezing your ass tighter, he lays his palms flat on your skin and offers it a good hard smack.

You wince at the sting searing on your skin, "fuck—that hurts."

He didn't care.

Not giving it much thought, he proceeds to slide your panties to a side, keeping the other hand still on your ass.

"Christ, moonpie. You're dripping. You've even ruined your panties." He lets his middle finger trace your wet slit, rubbing it slightly to get you off.

Unconsciously, you start grinding on his finger, wanting to feel more of the friction and the demeaning pleasure you were seeking from it.

"Jongho, just fuck me already." You desperately drag out the movement of your hips, his finger sliding in and out of your slit before it protrudes into your cunt. "Hmm, fuck."

"I don't think my finger would be enough for you."

He shakes his head, snapping the straps of your panties with one meagre tug and letting the torn pieces fall off your thighs. It gets you moaning again, first you were high on the lust after sucking him off, and now, his raw intentions of tearing everything off your body. Without hesitating, or heeding you of any warning, he aligns his cock with your cunt; you take the hint a second later, pushing yourself forward for the purpose of ease.

He had no problem slipping into your tight cunt, after all, your arousal was flowing out like water; you were sure, as his cock inched in you, your juices were dripping down your inner thighs, leaving a shimmery trail behind. You were not prepared to endure the stretch from his cock, definitely not, regardless of your arousal coating every layer of your warm flesh. However, Jongho bottoms out the moment you sink lower onto his lap.

"Fuck, this cunt is a little tight for me," he groans, smirking at you.

"Shut up," you say out of breath, already struggling to adjust to his size.

He wasn't big, but he was girthy, stretching you out quite well. Taking a deep breath, you notice the mellow ache dissipating into sheer pleasure, and you start moving. Jongho bites back on a moan, watching you through his half-lidded eyes. He puts his hands on either side of your waist, giving you a leverage to increase your pace. You start off with rolling your cunt onto his crotch, letting cock stretch you out even more before riding him.

Jongho grabs your jaw, tight enough for his fingers to sink in your cheeks before pulling you towards him and capturing your lips in bloodthirsty kiss. The fervent heat shows in the way his tongue pokes inside, in despair of tasting your mouth; he heaves out a satisfied moan into your mouth when he catches up on the traces of his cock on your tongue. In a way, it riled you up, making you go harder.

The kiss breaks apart with Jongho pulling himself away, a smirk curling his lips in devilry, while his eyes are fixed on yours.

"You better watch your mouth," he warns you for what you had said before, "I have different ways to ruin it. Considering—ah fuck."

Not bothered to listen to him, you were chasing your orgasm, switching from rolling to bucking your hips up and down on cock. You lifted yourself and then sank back, every time, it gave you a feeling of emptiness before you were full again; the tip of his cock would ram deep into you, but not as deep as it would go if he tried to thrust himself into you.

"Playing a risky game, are we?" he mumbles, still holding your jaw and forcing you to open your mouth. Gurgling a good amount of spit in his mouth, he aims it at yours and the cold wad of his spit trickles down your throat. "I know how to tame a brat like you."

He lets go of your jaw and places his hand on the small of your back, supporting your body as it rocked up and down on his cock. You increase your pace, straining your hips almost as the light in his eyes is swallowed by darkness. It wasn't the first time you had come across noticing such ungodly indication in his eyes. He'd frequently show you his true colours, his true intentions, his raw emotions and the wicked schemes.

"Yeah? Then you better fuck me—better fuck me like you mean it." You whimper, your body shuddering.

Nifty tremors spread under your skin when he bucks his hips up, thrusting his cock into you. He plunges himself deep inside, a visible bulge now forming on your mound and on your lower abdomen. You did not expect yourself to prompt him so badly and quickly, though whatever it was that had gotten him on edge, you weren't complaining.

"I better have you making a mess on my cock, now."

With that, he increases the pace of his thrust, ramming his cock as deep as he could and eliciting the perfect melodious moans out of you. At this point, it was safe to say that you were no longer sane; you were never sane to begin with, no sane woman would let her kidnapper fuck her into the oblivion. You were letting Jongho do exactly that, letting his cock wreck you with almost no dignity as you ride him. Or so you thought you were. Jongho ceases his movements, keeping his eyes on you to know your rhythm and need.

And as he waited, scrutinising and perusing your tearful eyes, one of his hands comes clashing down on your cunt, slapping perfectly over your mound and slit; he waits a beat to notice your reaction, content with the way your jaw was open slack, and your eyes were rolling in the back of your head. Who thought it would make you mewl? Having his cock stuffed in you was one thing, but having him slap your bulged out cunt, was another. Both were pleasurable, but the latter was sending you to paradise of pure bliss.

Smirking to himself, he prepares to slap your pussy one more time. The sound of your skin and his fingers meeting was ravishing, echoing in the room along with your loud whimpers, which would soon turn to cries. Jongho absolutely loved watching you cry, he loved the way your tears stained your cheeks and how red they'd get after; he continues to proffer slaps to your cunt, all while bucking his hips into you. He had found his rhythm in doing that, alternating between thrusting his cock and smacking your cunt.

"Jongho, fuck—that—that fucking hurts," you cry, closing your eyes to let your tears cascade down your cheeks.

This was too much for you to bear, the immense pleasure piling on your body while bit back on the urge to release. Your body lurches into his chest and you rest of your head on his shoulder, realising he was still clothed on his upper half; not bothered by it, you too, resume rolling your hips into his, earning a mellifluous moan from him.

"If you keep doing that, I'll cum," he grows in your ear, pressing his lips against your temple as you laid your head on his chest.

His arms were around your waist, giving him a better grip to thrust into you; within seconds, his pace becomes animalistic, not faltering one bit. A familiar knot ties itself in the pit of your stomach, hot and tight, just waiting to come undone by force. You let out a small scream before pushing yourself back from his chest and looking at him, pleading him to end this suffering. He knew what he was doing, or had been doing, he was prolonging your orgasm, making your lower belly ache with desperation.

But now it doesn't seem that way. Keeping his pace steady, still wild and raw, he plunges deep into you to undo the tension in your stomach. You heave out a series of breathless moans, before giving into the temptation of release, finding your juice splash around his cock and dribble down your inner thighs. A bit of your orgasm drenches his briefs, while a few drops squirt on his chest, soaking the shirt. You were so done for, already aching to compose your breathing.

The hard part's over. But, feeling Jongho's cock pulsate intensely with every single thrust, your body starts coiling again. Familiar kind of heat rises in your gut, crawling up your spine and before you could even realise, you were preparing yourself to cum again. Back-to-back? It was something difficult for a guy to attain, yet here you were. You were sure the both of you would be releasing at the same time. Confined in your velvet walls, his cock numbs your rationality, heavily striking at one specific spot till you're crumbling in his arms. You heave a deep breath in, chest convulsing erratically when the wave of your second orgasm overcomes the aftershock of the first one. You've done it again, made a mess on his cock while he still stayed buried inside you. The feeling of being filled up to the brim, while your juices trickled down his cock and his skin, was causing your body to spasm.

Reeling out of the pain and pleasure, you find Jongho smirking at you, letting out voiceless grunts and snickers to belittle your conscious; cumming for the second time, without him trying to overstimulate you, was certainly a victory on his side. Jongho's cock twitches one last time with long and hard thrusts, and in a second's time, he's releasing himself into you. The warmth of his seed coats your walls, squirting a little deeper in your lower gut, while he slowly starts to pull out. Gradually, he slides out completely and holds you close to his body.

You were out of energy to initiate anything, already lethargic and sore. Exhaustion gets the best of you, and the only thing you remember before passing out, how dirty and slick you felt, how his cum was all over your cunt and your inner thighs, how pathetic you were to let this happen. Of course, the post orgasm clarity was making you feel guilty and rather than confronting it, you let it demean you while he stroked your back, fingers caressing your skin ever so lightly to help you relax. For a meagre second, your body eases into his, your head falling onto his chest as you collapse on him; his half-erect cock rests on your stomach, slowly going limp with the passing time.

"You were such a good girl today," he coos, a sole finger tugging at the links between the cuffs on your wrist. "Maybe it's time we got rid of these altogether."

"After all, you won't be wanting to escape now."

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

The very selective memories of him were echoing in your head; the first time you had bared yourself in front of him, let him have his way with you, the time he concluded you would never want to get out of here, away from him. And as much as you'd hate to admit he was right; you were starting to regard your old plan of escaping his clutches. To be honest with yourself, you had been gone beyond the point of return. Because every time he came to your room, you were hopeful you'd fuck, and your hopes were turned to reality when he'd fuck you to the ultimate paradise whenever he came to drop you a meal.

Basically, you had gotten used to him. As much as the pavlov's theory, every time he entered you room with a tray of good food, you'd be on your knees to satisfy him. And that did not disappoint him. At all. The two of you had gone beyond, diving headfirst into this dynamic where either of you relied on each other's body to sate your mental dwelling. You were never the one to complain, neither did he, not when he was getting to use in every way, he had desired from the time he had first laid his eyes on you.

Though, it was a forlorn mistake to give yourself into him. There were wicked consequences of those actions, leading to what seemed like addiction from both of your sides. You don't know how long you had been with him, months maybe? But after that one day, the very first time you had let him touch you in all the sinister ways he had planers to, you were madly into him, made to believe he was the only one capable of keeping you safe from the outside world. Pathetic.

To be sullied by a man like him, was to be ashamed and to be burned to ashes; you were embarrassed to admit it, your captor had stolen your heart and locked it in his cage, and the key to it was his six-inch girthy dick you'd drool over every time he was with you. Yeah, to conclude, you were his cum-slut, taking in every inch of his cock whenever he got in the mood to fuck you. Seemingly, you felt dead inside when he'd not show up to your room, feeling guilty and disgusted in yourself, because why else won't he come to you? He needs you just as much you needed him.

The concepts of days and time were all mangled for you; having no idea how many days or months you had spent with Jongho, you sit quietly in your designated room. You were waiting for him of course, because your biological clock had also been hampered with. Your heart would know when he'd come and when he'd go, when he'd want to fuck you, when he'd take efforts to clean you and give you aftercare. This surely was fucked.

You hear muffled sounds from outside, some clattering of dishes, some clinking of cutlery and another man. It was strange, at first you believed you were hearing things, that you had finally gone mad trapped in the dark room. But, when the voice booms for the second time, you were sure there was someone else in this house apart from you and Jongho. And it was a man. A man you had familiarised yourself at your workplace for months.

"Where the fuck is she, Jongho?" Yunho's voice sends chills down your spine, as it's too powerful to be heard from the other side of the apartment. "I know you've kept her here."

"She's not here," Jongho speaks up, and his muffled voice is followed by the sound of plates crashing.

"Listen here, you little shit. I never knew of your fucking intentions before; if I had, I would have never talked to her about you." Yunho's growl is loud, shattering your eardrums, for some reason, you could picture him clutching on Jongho's collar, forcing himself into his face as he continues, "I practically served her on a silver platter for you. So, if you still think your life is precious, tell me where she is."

"Yunho, you've got it all wrong. I don't have her." Jongho's persistent with his lies. "Look, I'm stressed too. She's been missing for three months already, everyone's worried about her well being. It's not just you..."

"Don't bullshit me!" Yunho screams, his voice coarse and deep. "I know she's here..."

After that you couldn't hear any of their voices or their yells, it was only sheer silence. What must've happened? Curiosity gets the worst of you and slide off the bed to press your ear against the door, wanting to listen a little closely.

Nothing.

There was pin drop silence on the other side.

And you feared, amongst the dwelling serenity, the door rattles quite harshly, causing your body to flinch and you take step back. Every nerve of your mind was consumed with fright, and sheer terror; you panicked, anxiously waiting for the door to be knocked open by someone of the two. Partly, you were scared to find Jongho on the other side. But, if it was Yunho, as you thought he was the one confronting Jongho, then you'd be relieved.

But...

Would you really?

If your memory serves you right, he was an accomplice in Jongho's crimes, helping his way to you. So, would you really trust him? Would you be relieved to find once he barges in through that door? Would you be willing to leap into his arms and hug him? The time would only tell because the hinges of the door had fallen on the floor. The person's brute strength had treated the door like a cardboard sheet, and it easily falls over, thudding against the floor.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, breathing ragged and your lips quivering; you take a few steps back, stumbling to the bed as a silhouette walks in.

"Oh, god. It's really you." You were sure that was Yunho's voice. "Fucking hell, we need to get out of here. Okay...here, take my hand."

Through the corners of your tearful eyes, you find him extending his hand over to you. Hesitations knocks your heart, but the remaining clarity of tour consciousness coaxes you to take his hand. It was Yunho after all; the very tall, handsome man from your work you could rely on for everything. To hell with your doubts about him, if he's here to help you, then maybe you should trust him. And trust him is what you do. He's dragging you out of the room, guiding you down the hallway to the living room.

Yunho's broad back covered you from witnessing a still scene in the living room. When he halts all so suddenly in his steps, you prevent yourself from colliding into his back and lean over to gaze at him in confusion. And your confusion grows to sheer horror when you find Jongho lying on the ground, blood pooling under his body which seemed to only grow with every passing second.

"What the fuck..." you mutter under your breath, your heart shattering bit by bit as you take in the view of your so-called lover lying lifeless on the floor. "What did you—what did you do, Yunho?"

The said man turns to glance at you, shaking his head as his voice turns grim and serious. "I'm trying to save you. This is nothing—the depths I would go through to keep you safe..."

"You—you...moonpie, don't leave me," Jongho's words are caught in his throat, moreover, he's disgruntled from all the pain.

Yunho's already tugging on your hand, having it intertwined with yours as tightly as he could to make sure you won't fall back into Jongho's trickery. He was right, knowing you would pity the man who had captured you and held you captive for months, you would pity the criminal because he was nothing short of kind to you.

In actuality, Jongho had done nothing wrong to you, right?

You shake your head, wanting to stay behind to help him, but to your despondent heart's desire, you couldn't get yourself to snatch your hand from Yunho's grip. Jongho's clothes were drenched in blood, his shirt soaking the crimson shade as much as it could; he was stabbed in his chest by a long shard of ceramic, probably from the mess of broken plates on the ground. Yunho keeps dragging you to the main door, but your attention was all on Jongho, how listlessly his eyes fluttered, and the slight tremble of his lips was heart wrenching...till it turns to a sullen smile, only widening thereafter.

Why was he smiling?

You were growing concerned.

It was then when you were forced to turn around, when you saw his eyes close forever, the contrasting crimson against the marble floor growing by twofold; he was long gone, and that sure as hell put you in a state of panic. Yunho's fingers dug into your skin, showing no signs of easing out, not until he had you in the passenger's seat of his car and him behind the wheel. It was nighttime. The moon was high struck in the sky, and the stars were nowhere to be seen; this was your first time witnessing the moon in so long, that everything felt foreign to you. The fresh air, the sounds of the crickets chirping, the empty street, the spot where Yunho's car was parked, all of it was so out of the ordinary that you were suffocating. The reality was tough to digest, but you still couldn't fathom that you were out of that sunless room, out of the turbid silence and hearing things you thought you weren't capable of.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" Yunho starts inspecting your body with a haste, tugging at the collar of the dress you were wearing and studying your skin.

"I'm fine," you mumble back, comprehending the sound of his voice and his touch.

"What the fuck..." he grumbles, finding your skin littered with bruises and cuts, all the hickeys from your time together with Jongho.

The cuts weren't exactly deep, and Jongho would only leave them behind for the purpose to intensify the pleasure between you two. They were almost healed, with murky scabs forming already. You wanted to push Yunho's hands away from you, wanting him to stop perusing your body as you were ashamed to show it to him.

"What were you thinking?" he shakes his head, pulling himself back to loosen his coat from his shoulder. He wraps it around you, and you start to shiver; not because you were cold or anything, because it was your first time feeling genuine affection instead of the feigned one. "This is atrocious."

"How did you find me?"

"The better questions here should be, are you okay? Did he do anything to you? What...what the hell happened?" he sighs, "we were all so worried about you." Taking a deep breath, he turns right ahead, and you do too, "the cops were useless to us after two days, you know. Because Jongho had made sure your case appears to them as a runaway and not abduction."

You quietly listen to him, facing the front and watching the night pass you by. Everything was still new to you, after months of spending your time confined in a room, of course it was natural to feel strangled in the open air.

Yunho grips the steering wheel, tight enough for his knuckles to turn while. "Your apartment was unscathed, so it was clear no one tried to abduct you. They ruled out every suspicion on Jongho because of the evidence. A lot happened after you went missing—when the cops gave up, we tried to find clues in your apartment."

Silence covers the two of you, like a warm hug from a blanket, before he decides to break it. "Na-Ra and her boyfriend never gave up; they tried calling your hometown and asking your whereabouts. I was busy going through your apartment and Jongho...he always found a way to divert our investigation."

"Until one day he got too squirrelly when we asked him about you. It was only logical to, he was your neighbour and your landlord...it made sense," his voice breaks, "he never let us in his apartment either. My suspicions only grew from that moment."

"He said..." you speak up, glancing at him to find him resting his head on the steering wheel; but hearing your voice he turns his head to face you. "He said...he had been planning this for a while. Kept an eye on me. Watched my every move."

"He surely did," Yunho lets out a satirical chuckle, "bastard had cameras installed everywhere in your apartment. Even your old one. It creeped out Na-Ra."

"You don't say," you whisper, looking away.

"He has a spare room in his apartment; filled with screens, you know, all those cameras keeping an eye on you," Yunho mutters, "I should've known it before, he was obsessed with you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so eager to help you out."

"Were you in on this?" you question, catching him off guard.

"Why would I be in on this?" he gasps, "I wasn't. He told you I was, didn't he?"

You nod, pursing your lips together. "I don't know what to believe anymore. I can't even tell if I should trust you or not."

"You should," he mumbles, "as a friend I was worried sick about you."

"I don't doubt that."

"Really, trust me. I'm not going to hurt you." He repeats himself.

"I know you won't but..."

"But?"

"What about Jongho? Is he really—"

"Dead? Yeah." He sighs, as if he had been holding it for long. "I aimed for his heart; pretty sure I got it."

"So, you killed him?"

"I already told you; I would go to any extent to keep you safe." He murmurs.

"So, what do we do now?" you ask because you were starting to panic.

You look at him, and he had been staring at you for a long time. He shakes his head, letting a smile cross his face, "we do nothing. We have no choice. Someone will find his body; the rot makes it easier to."

"And about you, you will have to restart your life pretending nothing happened."

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #smut #atz #choi jongho x reader #choi jongho smut #choi jongho #psychopath au #request #jongho x reader #yunho x reader

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alkalineapparition · 4 months ago

Text

Dark Signs

Psychopath.

Sociopath.

Antisocial Personality Disorder.

But in the darkness, there is a small spark.

You.

i.e. Sociopath Ghost falls in love with you.

18+, MDNI

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keehomania · 5 months ago

Text

therapeutic (테라퓨틱) — lee taeyong (이태용)

✧.* 18+

the mind, a vast labyrinth, held within its delicate folds the secrets of every human experience. it was a realm both familiar and foreign, a place where memories danced like shadows on ancient walls, where emotions ebbed and flowed like the tides, and where thoughts wove themselves into the fabric of reality. in that particular domain, the boundaries between the conscious and the unconscious blurred, creating a landscape that was as treacherous as it was beautiful.

for centuries, humanity had sought to understand the mind's inner workings, to decipher the language of neurons and synapses that whispered the truths of existence. yet, despite all the knowledge amassed, the mind remained an enigma, a force capable of both creation and destruction. it could be a sanctuary, a place of solace where dreams flourished, or a prison, where fears and anxieties festered in the dark corners, unbidden and unwelcome.

why do i think the way i do? why do i behave the way i do? why do we find ourselves begging the question, that three-letter question—why? too long has it been a double-edged sword, that question. those who ventured too close to the edge found themselves lost in a labyrinth of their own making, searching for a way out that sometimes seemed impossible to find.

the mind was both a protector and a betrayer. it could shield one from the harshness of reality, crafting illusions and fantasies that soothed the soul. but it could also turn against its owner, unraveling the very threads of their being until they were left exposed, vulnerable to the relentless onslaught of their inner demons. the mind could be a gentle guide, leading one toward healing and self-discovery, or a merciless tormentor, dragging them deeper into the abyss.

the path to mental well-being was not a straight one; it twisted and turned, often doubling back on itself in a confounding maze. it required courage to traverse, or facing the darkest parts of oneself, the fears and doubts that lay hidden beneath the surface. it meant confronting the wounds of the past, allowing them to bleed so they might eventually heal. and it meant accepting that some scars would never fully fade, that they were as much a part of the self as the mind that bore them.

the office you called your own was a home of sorts, a place where the issues of the outside world were left at the door, and the echoes of troubled minds found solace. it was a space curated to ease the burdens carried by those who sought your counsel. the walls were painted in soft, muted tones—an earthy beige that mimicked the comforting embrace of nature. sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting a gentle glow that softened the edges of the room and made it feel safe, inviting.

your desk, though functional, was devoid of the sterility one might expect in a clinical setting. instead, it was adorned with books—volumes on psychology, philosophy, and the occasional novel that you found particularly stirring. there was a small plant, a gift from a patient who had once come to you in a state of complete disarray, now thriving under your care much as she had under your guidance. everything in the room was carefully chosen to exude warmth, from the plush armchairs that encouraged relaxation to the subtle scent of lavender that lingered in the air, a calming presence in and of itself.

patients came to you from all walks of life, each bringing with them a story woven from the threads of their experiences, traumas, and desires. there were those who arrived at your doorstep with their defences up, their walls built high. but you had a way with people, a way that transcended the clinical distance that often characterized the relationships between psychiatrist and patient. you didn’t just listen to them—you heard them, truly, deeply. you took in not only their words but also the silences between them, the unspoken fears that hid behind carefully chosen phrases, the way their eyes darted away when a subject became too painful to confront.

your reputation had spread quietly, almost organically. it wasn’t that you were a miracle worker or that you possessed some mystical ability to cure what ailed them. rather, it was your presence, the way you made people feel seen and understood without judgment, that drew them in. you never approached a session with preconceived notions or diagnoses waiting to be confirmed. each patient was a blank canvas, and it was your role to help them paint the picture that best represented their truth, no matter how fragmented or abstract it might be.

pills had always been a contentious issue for you. the pharmaceutical industry, with its glossy advertisements and promises of quick fixes, had never sat well with you. to you, the mind was not a machine that could be fine-tuned with a simple dose of chemicals. it was a complex, ever-evolving entity, influenced by experiences, environment, and relationships. you believed that true healing came not from numbing the symptoms but from addressing the root causes, from understanding and untangling the web of emotions and memories that led to a patient’s distress.

when the need for medication arose—and it did, at times, arise—you approached it with the utmost caution. you prescribed only the smallest doses necessary, believing firmly in the principle of ‘less is more.’ and even then, you coupled any prescription with a robust plan of therapy, ensuring that the medication was merely a tool to assist in the journey, not the journey itself. the low dosages you recommended rarely led to backlash, and your patients appreciated your restraint, knowing that you were not one to dole out pills like candy but rather used them as a last resort.

it was in your interactions with your patients that your true skill shone. each session was a dance, a delicate balance of guiding and listening, of leading without forcing. you never rushed them, never pushed them to confront more than they were ready to face. instead, you let them set the pace, allowing the conversation to flow naturally. and when the time came to delve deeper, you did so with a gentleness that put them at ease.

park minhyuk, a man in his early forties who had walked into your office carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. his face was lined with the stress of a life lived under constant pressure, his eyes betraying a deep-seated weariness. he had been referred to you by a friend who spoke highly of your methods. the first time he sat across from you, he looked hesitant, almost skeptical, as if he didn’t quite believe that talking could help him.

“i’m not sure this is going to work,” he had said, his voice heavy with doubt. “i’ve been to therapists before. they all just tell me to take some pills and come back in a few weeks.”

you leaned back in your chair, studying him with a calm, measured gaze. “i’m not here to force anything on you, mister park,” you replied softly. “i’m here to listen, and we’ll move at a pace that feels right for you. there’s no rush.” he had looked at you then, really looked at you, as if searching for something, some sign that you were different. you met his gaze steadily, offering nothing but the quiet assurance that you were there to help, not to judge.

over time, he began to open up, slowly at first, testing the waters. he spoke of his job, the immense pressure to succeed, the constant fear of failure that gnawed at him day and night. he talked about his family, the wife and children he loved dearly but felt disconnected from, the guilt that weighed on him for not being more present in their lives. as he spoke, you listened—not just to his words but to the pain behind them. you noticed the way his hands clenched and unclenched when he talked about his work, the slight tremor in his voice when he mentioned his children. and when he finally began to talk about the darker thoughts that sometimes crept into his mind, the moments when he wondered if it would be easier just to disappear, you didn’t react with shock or alarm. instead, you nodded, acknowledging his feelings without judgment.

“i understand that it feels overwhelming,” you said gently. “but it’s important to remember that these thoughts, as heavy as they are, don’t define you. they’re part of what you’re going through, but they don’t have to be the end of your story.” he looked at you then, a flicker of hope in his tired eyes. “you really think i can get through this?”

“i do,” you replied, your voice steady and sure. “and i’m here to help you find the way.” his journey wasn’t easy, and there were setbacks along the way. but he returned week after week, drawn not just by your words but by the genuine care you showed. and slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, he began to heal. he started taking more time for himself, reconnecting with his family, finding ways to manage the stress that had once consumed him. the transformation wasn’t immediate, but it was real, and it was lasting.

your practice grew, not because you advertised or sought out patients, but because word of mouth spread. people spoke of you with a kind of reverence, not because you were a miracle worker, but because you offered them something rare in the world of mental health—a safe space where they could be themselves, where they could speak without fear of judgment, where they knew they would be heard.

even those who had been through the harshest of environments—prisoners, veterans, people who had been hardened by life—found solace in your office. they recommended you to others, saying, “you should see her. she’s different. she cares.” and they weren’t wrong. you had found your calling, not in the pills or the textbooks, but in the people who sat across from you, day after day, baring their souls in the hope of finding some relief from the burdens they carried. and you met them with compassion, with understanding, with a quiet strength that reassured them they were not alone.

despite your skill in navigating the landscapes of other’s minds, there was a vast, uncharted territory within your own that you could not seem to traverse. you could guide others out of their darkness, yet when it came to your own, you were perpetually lost, stumbling through a fog that only seemed to thicken with time. it was a darkness that you couldn’t quite pinpoint, a gnawing emptiness that seemed to have no origin, no clear beginning. you often wondered when it had all started, but the truth was as elusive as the peace you sought.

perhaps it began when your father left. you could still remember the day he walked out, his shadow stretching long across the floor as the door closed behind him. the silence that followed was deafening, a silence that you had been trying to fill ever since. you were young then, too young to understand why he was leaving, too young to grasp the implications. but the abandonment had left a scar, a deep, festering wound that never quite healed. you wondered if that was where it all began, this relentless feeling of being untethered, of floating aimlessly in a vast, empty space.

maybe it was when your mother overdosed, her lifeless body found slumped over in the bathroom, surrounded by the remnants of a life that had spiraled out of control. you had been the one to find her, a memory that still haunted you, that still woke you in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. the sight of her pale, lifeless face was seared into your mind, a constant reminder of the fragility of life, of how easily it could slip through your fingers. you had been left to pick up the pieces, to make sense of the senseless, and in doing so, you had buried your own grief, your own pain, deep within you, where it festered in the dark.

there were your grandparents, the last anchors in your life, the last semblance of stability. their deaths had come like a storm, sudden and unforgiving, leaving you alone in a world that seemed to be crumbling around you. they had been your safe haven, the only ones who understood the weight you carried, and when they were gone, it felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath you. alone. that word echoed in your mind, reverberating off the walls of your empty apartment, a constant reminder of your isolation.

you hated being alone. it wasn’t just a dislike; it was a deep-seated fear, a terror that clawed at you from the inside. when you were alone, your mind became a labyrinth of dark thoughts and memories, each corner hiding another shadow, another demon waiting to pounce. the silence was unbearable, suffocating, so you filled it with noise, any noise that could drown out the voices in your head. you couldn’t stand the short sessions with your patients, craving more time with them, more connection, more distraction from the void inside you. the hour would pass, and you would find yourself wanting to reach out, to extend the session, to hold on to the connection a little longer, just a little longer. but you never did. you were their healer, not the other way around.

housework became a ritual of distraction, each chore accompanied by the blaring sound of music that reverberated through the walls, filling the empty spaces with melodies that drowned out the silence. without music, the house felt too big, too empty, too full of memories you didn’t want to confront. you couldn’t sleep without a movie playing in the background, the flickering light and the familiar voices lulling you into a false sense of security. the thought of lying in bed in complete silence, left alone with your thoughts, was unbearable. so, the movies played, one after another, their comforting narratives keeping the darkness at bay for just a little while longer.

but at the end of the day, when the music stopped, when the movies ended, you were left with nothing but the quiet hum of the empty apartment and the stark realization that you were alone. no parents to comfort you, no friends to lean on, no boyfriend to share your life with. just you. and it wasn’t enough. you had poured so much of yourself into your work, into helping others heal, that you had neglected your own wounds, your own needs. you had become a vessel, emptying yourself for the sake of others until there was nothing left for you.

your patients were the only ones who filled that void, the only ones who made you feel needed, wanted. they confided in you, trusted you, relied on you, and for a while, it was enough. but they were temporary, each one coming to you broken and leaving whole, while you remained the same, a healer who couldn’t heal themselves. when they got better, when they no longer needed you, it broke your heart a little more each time, even though you knew it was coming. it was the nature of your work, after all, to help them, to guide them, and then to let them go. but the letting go was the hardest part because it meant returning to the silence, to the emptiness, to the loneliness that gnawed at you, growing stronger with each departure.

you were sitting in your office, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room as you sifted through patient files and prescription bottles. the clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, but you barely noticed. the weight of the empty office felt like a cocoon, enclosing you in a familiar, if not comforting, solitude. the sterile smell of paper and faint traces of disinfectant mingled in the air, a scent that had become as much a part of your life as the darkness that you couldn't seem to shake.

the faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing louder as they approached your door. you knew who it was before she even knocked—a gentle, almost tentative rap on the door, followed by the soft creak as it swung open. “still here?” your manager’s voice was gentle, but there was an underlying note of concern that she couldn’t quite mask. hara stepped into the room, her eyes sweeping over the scattered files and the bottles of pills lined up in neat rows on your desk. the look she gave you was one you’d seen many times before—a mix of empathy, perhaps a touch of pity, and something else that you couldn’t quite place.

you didn’t look up immediately, your eyes fixed on the file in front of you as you made a show of scribbling a note in the margins. “just wanted to get as much work done as i could,” you said, finally glancing up with a smile that felt foreign on your lips, a practiced expression that you’d perfected over the years. she didn’t say anything at first, just watched you with those knowing eyes of hers. then she moved closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. the touch was warm, grounding in a way that made you want to lean into it, to close your eyes and let the world fall away. but you didn’t. instead, you stayed still, your smile frozen in place.

“you need to rest,” she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that made something in your chest tighten. she squeezed your shoulder gently before letting her hand drop back to her side. “i will,” you assured her, the lie slipping out as easily as all the others. it was what you were supposed to say, after all, what she expected to hear. but you both knew the truth, didn’t you? you weren’t planning on resting, not anytime soon. rest meant being alone with your thoughts, and that was something you couldn’t bear.

she sighed, a soft sound of resignation, and you could see the conflict in her eyes. she knew she should insist, should tell you to go home and take care of yourself. but she also knew what you would say, how you would deflect with that same smile and those same empty promises. so she didn’t push. instead, she gave you a small nod and fished a set of keys out of her pocket. “lock up when you’re done, alright?” she said, holding the keys out to you.

you reached out to take them, your fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment before she pulled her hand back. “i will,” you said again, and this time she didn’t bother to respond. she just nodded, casting one last glance around your barren office—the empty desk devoid of personal touches, the phone that never rang—before turning and walking out of the room. the door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone once more. the silence was palpable, pressing in around you, but you welcomed it. it was better than the alternative. you turned back to the files, flipping through them with the pretense of work, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in the fog that seemed to constantly hover just at the edges of your consciousness.

you let the minutes tick by, the hours bleeding into one another as you went through the same files, the same bottles, over and over again. you knew there was nothing left to do, nothing left to distract yourself with, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. not yet. not when you knew what awaited you outside—the cold, unwelcoming night, the empty apartment, the silence that you couldn’t drown out. but eventually, the futility of your actions became impossible to ignore. the same patient files stared back at you, the same labels on the bottles mocking you with their uselessness. you sighed, a long, drawn-out exhalation of breath that carried with it all the weariness you felt but couldn’t show. there was nothing left to do, no more excuses to stay.

reluctantly, you gathered the files and put them back in their proper place, the routine motions bringing you no comfort. the click of the lock on the file cabinet echoed in the empty room, a finality that made your heart sink. you picked up the keys your manager had left you, your fingers curling around the cool metal, and stood up. the room was dark now, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamps outside. you turned off the desk lamp, plunging the room into shadow, and made your way to the door. the hallway was just as empty as it had been when she left, the building silent save for the occasional creak of the floorboards. you locked the door behind you, the keys jingling in the quiet as you slipped them into your pocket.

the night air was cool when you stepped outside, unlike the stale, sterile atmosphere of the office. you tucked your hands into your pockets, your breath misting in the air as you stood there for a moment, letting the city’s sounds wash over you. it was late—nearly two in the morning—but the city was still alive, the distant hum of traffic and the occasional shout from a passerby reminding you that you weren’t completely alone.

but it didn’t bring you any comfort. if anything, it made the emptiness inside you more acute, unlike the vibrancy of the world around you. you weren’t tired, though you wished you were. exhaustion would have been a mercy, a way to escape the thoughts that clawed at you in the quiet. but sleep was as elusive as peace, and you knew that returning to your empty apartment would only make things worse.

so you let your feet carry you down the street, the familiar route to the small bar that stayed open late. it wasn’t much, just a hole-in-the-wall with dim lighting and a jukebox that played old songs, but it was something. a place where you could lose yourself for a little while, where the music and the people could drown out the noise in your head. the bar was nearly empty when you walked in, just a few regulars nursing their drinks and the bartender wiping down the counter. you slipped onto a stool at the far end, nodding in acknowledgment as the bartender approached.

“just a whiskey,” you said, your voice low, and he nodded, pouring you a glass without a word. you downed the first drink quickly, the burn of the alcohol a fleeting comfort, and ordered another. the jukebox played a song you didn’t recognize, the melody soft and haunting, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it. the chatter around you faded into the background, the clink of glasses and the murmur of voices becoming nothing more than white noise.

but the comfort was temporary, as it always was. the bar was closing, the bartender giving you a sympathetic look as he handed you your tab. you paid it without complaint, sliding off the stool and making your way to the door with a wave of thanks. the night was colder now, the wind biting at your skin as you walked back to your apartment. the streets were emptier, the city slowly falling asleep, and you found yourself wishing you could do the same. but as you reached your building, the familiar weight of dread settled in your chest. you unlocked the door and stepped inside, the silence immediately enveloping you, as it did every night.

you moved through the motions mechanically—kicking off your shoes, tossing your keys on the table, flicking on the lights. but the apartment felt as cold and lifeless as you did, the emptiness pressing in on you from all sides. you thought about turning on the television, letting the sound fill the void, but you couldn’t muster the energy. instead, you stood in the middle of the room, staring at nothing in particular, feeling the weight of the silence bear down on you.

it was suffocating, this loneliness, this isolation. it was a constant companion, one that you couldn’t escape no matter how hard you tried. and as you finally collapsed onto the couch, pulling a blanket around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it would always be. if you were destined to live your life in this void, surrounded by silence and shadows, with no one to share it with. the night stretched on, the city outside your window slowly quieting as it finally succumbed to sleep. but sleep didn’t come for you, not easily, not with the thoughts that swirled in your mind, the memories that haunted you. so you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, letting the darkness close in around you, wondering if there would ever be a way out.

the morning sunlight streamed through the narrow gap in your curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. you stretched awake, the familiar feeling of weariness hanging heavy in your limbs, but there was something different about today. it was as though a thin veil had lifted, allowing a sliver of anticipation to seep in. you had always been a person of routine, and the thought of returning to your office, of delving back into the rhythm of your work, brought with it a semblance of comfort, a fleeting escape from the solitude that plagued you.

you moved through your morning routine with efficiency, the motions almost automatic. the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as you prepared a simple breakfast—toast and jam, with a cup of strong coffee to wake your senses. the radio hummed softly in the background, a familiar companion that provided a semblance of normalcy. you dressed with deliberate care, choosing a crisp, tailored suit that made you feel professional and polished, ready to face whatever the day might bring.

the trip to the office was a brief but pleasant ritual, the city streets bathed in the soft morning light, the air carrying the promise of a new day. you relished the routine, the predictable patterns that offered a sense of control. as you approached your building, you caught sight of the familiar facade, the reassuring solidity of it grounding you.

but as you walked through the entrance, you were greeted by an unexpected sight. hara stood waiting in the lobby. her presence was unusual at this hour, and her expression was more serious than usual. you offered her a friendly smile, but she didn’t immediately return it. instead, she gestured for you to follow her to a quiet corner of the building. “you’ve been working hard,” she began, her tone carrying a note of cautious warmth. “and i wanted to have a word with you.”

you paused, a twinge of apprehension flickering in your chest. “am i in trouble?” you asked, the question escaping before you could second-guess it. hara shook her head, her lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “no, not at all. well, not yet,” she said, inhaling deeply as if gathering her thoughts.

your heart skipped a beat. “what do you mean?” the uncertainty in her voice sent a ripple of unease through you. “what’s wrong?” she took a moment to collect her thoughts, her eyes meeting yours with a look of barely concealed concern. “you have a new patient,” she said finally, her tone shifting to one of subdued excitement as she watched your eyes light up at the news.

“really?” you asked, a spark of enthusiasm igniting within you. it had been a while since you had taken on a new case, and the prospect of diving into a fresh challenge was invigorating.

hara held up a hand, her expression turning more serious. “don’t get too excited,” she said, her tone taking on a warning edge. “he’ll be your project patient for your internship at the asylum.” the words hit you like a cold splash of water. “the asylum?” you repeated, the dismay clear in your voice. “but i love working here. this office, this environment—i don’t want to leave.”

hara’s face softened, and before you could fully process what was happening, she stepped forward and enveloped you in a hug. the gesture was unexpected, her arms wrapping around you with a warmth and sincerity that contrasted sharply with her usual professional demeanor. for a moment, you let yourself sink into the embrace, the human contact a rare and precious balm against the isolation that had become your constant companion.

“i know,” she said, her voice muffled against your shoulder. “i know how much you love it here. but this is something you have to do for your career. it’s a good opportunity, and it’s important for your development.”

you barely registered her words, too caught up in the comforting proximity of another person. the embrace lasted only a few moments, but it was enough to stir something deep within you—a longing for connection, for understanding, for more than just the superficial interactions of your daily life. when she finally pulled away, you nodded, a sense of reluctant acceptance settling over you. “okay,” you said softly, the word carrying more resignation than agreement.

she gave you a reassuring smile, her eyes reflecting a mix of sympathy and encouragement. “i’ll call a taxi for you,” she said, guiding you toward the building’s entrance. “it’s best if you head over there now. and remember to keep an open mind. this could be a valuable experience.” you followed her outside, the cool morning air brushing against your face. she hailed a taxi and handed you the keys to the office, reminding you to lock up when you finished. you took the keys with a grateful nod and watched as she walked back inside, her figure disappearing into the building.

the ride was a blur of anxious anticipation and reluctant acceptance. the city passed by in a series of shifting scenes, the familiar streets giving way to more industrial landscapes as you neared the asylum. it was a place you had heard about in passing but had never visited—a cold, imposing structure that seemed to loom on the horizon, its architecture stark and unwelcoming.

the asylum loomed before you like a cold, implacable sentinel against the sky, its grim, grey façade cutting through the morning mist. you stood before it for a moment, taking in the sheer scale of the structure—an imposing monolith that seemed to absorb the light, casting long shadows that stretched over the cracked pavement. the windows were narrow, barred, and the walls bore the harshness of age and neglect. there was something distinctly unwelcoming about it, so unlike the warm, inviting atmosphere of your office.

you pushed open the iron door, and a chill seemed to emanate from the very core of the building. the foyer was austere and utilitarian, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant and something else—a faint hint of despair that clung to the walls and floors. the reception area was starkly lit, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare over the sterile surroundings. it was a far cry from the soft lighting and cozy furnishings you were accustomed to.

the receptionist sat behind a high counter, her demeanor as frosty as the environment. she looked up as you approached, her gaze assessing you with a detached scrutiny. her uniform was crisp and immaculate, adding to the air of clinical precision that pervaded the space. “name and business?” she asked, her voice flat and devoid of warmth.

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the chill that seemed to penetrate your bones. “i’m (y/n) (l/n), here for an internship as the asylum’s psychiatrist,” you said, your voice steady despite the uneasy flutter in your stomach. the receptionist’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her lips twisted into a thin, humorless line. there was something almost predatory in her gaze, a faint glimmer of disdain or perhaps even pity. “follow me,” she said curtly, her tone leaving no room for discussion.

you trailed behind her as she led you through the labyrinthine corridors of the asylum. the hallways were long and narrow, lined with peeling paint and heavy metal doors. the air was heavy, laden with the echoes of distant voices and the occasional clank of metal on metal. you could hear the shuffling of feet, the murmurs and cries of the patients—a cacophony of sounds that was jarringly different from the calm and composed demeanor of your previous office.

as you walked, you noticed the guards stationed at regular intervals. they were stern-faced and vigilant, their uniforms dark and imposing. their presence was a constant reminder of the control and surveillance that permeated every corner of the asylum. you felt their eyes on you, a silent assessment that made you self-conscious. you passed by several cells, their occupants visible through the narrow windows set into the doors. the patients inside were much unlike the composed individuals you were used to. they paced restlessly, their eyes darting with a wildness that spoke of untamed thoughts and unspoken fears. some shouted incoherently, while others simply stared blankly at the walls. the sense of chaos was eerie, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

eventually, the receptionist stopped in front of a heavy door marked with a simple brass plate that read “psychiatrist.” she unlocked it with a practiced twist of the key and pushed it open, revealing a small, spartan office. the room was a stark departure from the warm, inviting space you were used to. the walls were a dull, institutional green, and the furniture was minimal and functional. there was a plain wooden desk with a single chair behind it and a couple of metal filing cabinets against one wall. a solitary window, heavily barred, provided a view of the bleak courtyard outside. the light that filtered through was cold and uninviting, casting long shadows across the room.

the receptionist stepped inside and placed a folder on the desk. “this is your workspace,” she said, her tone as unfeeling as ever. “you’ll be lucky to make it out alive.”

her words were delivered with a chilling finality, and before you could respond, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving you alone in the sterile, unwelcoming space. the door clicked shut behind her, and you were left standing in the midst of the clinical bleakness that surrounded you. you stood there for a moment, absorbing the reality of your new environment. the emptiness of the room mirrored the uncertainty that was swirling within you. the asylum was a world apart from the comforting familiarity of your office, a place where every detail seemed designed to unsettle and disquiet. as you took in the surroundings, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for the warmth you had left behind and a growing apprehension for what lay ahead.

you turned your attention to the stack of files on your desk, organizing them with methodical precision. the papers were a jumble of case histories, treatment plans, and patient backgrounds. as you sorted through them, the muted rustle of paper was the only sound breaking the silence of the room. you had just begun to lose yourself in the paperwork when a sharp knock on the door startled you. the sound echoed in the otherwise still space, cutting through the quiet like a sudden gust of wind. you looked up, but before you could respond, the door swung open with a slow creak, revealing two guards.

the guards were as imposing as their environment, their uniforms sharp and unyielding. they moved with an air of efficiency, each holding an arm of the man who followed them into the room. your gaze fell upon him, and despite your initial wariness, you were struck by an unsettling calmness that seemed to envelop him. he didn't resist; instead, he walked with an eerie composure, his movements measured and deliberate.

the man was restrained in a straitjacket, his arms bound tightly and secured with a belt around his torso. the sight of the straitjacket, with its bold white fabric and heavy buckles, seemed almost surreal against the backdrop of the dull office. the restraints were a harsh reminder of the severe nature of his condition, yet his demeanor was unexpectedly serene. as he was guided to the chair across from your desk, you took the opportunity to study him more closely. he was a tall man, his frame lean but solid. his features were striking—a sharp, prominent jawline and high cheekbones that gave him a distinctly aristocratic appearance. his brown eyes, though calm, carried an intensity that seemed to pierce through the confines of the straitjacket, a depth that hinted at complexities beneath the surface.

there was an unsettling grace to his presence, an almost magnetic quality that drew your attention despite the circumstances. his hair was dark and neatly styled, falling in soft waves that framed his face. the contrast between his physical appeal and the harsh restraints was jarring, creating a dissonance that was difficult to ignore. the guards remained by the door, their expressions guarded and unreadable. they exchanged a brief, knowing look before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone with the restrained man. their departure was marked by the soft click of the door as it closed behind them, and the silence that followed was thick and heavy.

you were left in the room with the man, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. the office, with its cold, clinical ambiance, seemed suddenly smaller and more confining. you took a deep breath, trying to center yourself as you prepared to begin the session. the man’s calmness was a definite contrast to the environment of the asylum. he patient’s eyes remained fixed on you, a quiet challenge in their depths, as if he were assessing you as much as you were trying to understand him. you could sense a subtle tension in the air, an undercurrent of anticipation that was almost overwhelming.

you took a deep breath, the silence in the room amplifying the subtle rustle of papers as you mentally prepared yourself for the interaction. the restrained man sat calmly in front of you, his demeanor a striking contrast to the harsh confines of his situation. you cleared your throat, attempting to steady your voice as you introduced yourself.

“hello, i’m doctor (y/n) (l/n),” you said, your tone measured and professional. “i’ll be working with you during this internship.” as you spoke, the man’s lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. it was a smile that seemed to hold secrets, one that both intrigued and unsettled you. Hhs eyes glinted with an unsettling mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“lee taeyong,” he said, his voice smooth and articulate. the name struck you with the force of a thunderclap. you hadn’t recognized his face immediately, but his name was unmistakable. lee taeyong—an infamous figure known for his involvement in shootings and robberies. his notoriety had led to his confinement in a correctional facility after being deemed mentally unwell. your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your face go pale, the realization dawning with a cold, unwelcome clarity. taeyong’s keen eyes caught the shift in your expression, and a dry chuckle escaped his lips.

“have you heard of me?” he asked, his tone laced with a subtle taunt. you nodded slowly, trying to mask the tension that was creeping into your chest. “yes, i have.”

his laughter was dry and devoid of genuine mirth, a sound that seemed to echo with a dark undertone. “so, are you gonna cure me, doctor?” he asked, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. you squared your shoulders, forcing yourself to meet his gaze with a confidence you didn’t entirely feel. “there isn’t anything i can’t cure.”

his response was immediate, and he leaned in abruptly, causing you to flinch involuntarily. the sudden movement was unsettling, and you found yourself instinctively retreating. taeyong smirked, clearly amused by your reaction. “are you afraid, doctor?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. you steadied your breathing, forcing a calmness into your voice as you responded, “i’m not.”

his eyes widened slightly in surprise. “you’re too pretty to be a doctor,” he remarked, the compliment carrying an edge of mockery. you raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the conversation on track. “why do you think you’re unstable?”

taeyong’s expression shifted slightly, his demeanor becoming more contemplative. “i don’t think i am,” he said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “but everybody else does. they think my urges are abnormal.” intrigued, you leaned forward slightly. “what kind of urges?”

his eyes darkened with a certain intensity as he spoke. “i like the fear and the thrill,” he said, his voice carrying a chilling calm. “the screams, the way everyone is powerless against me. it’s exhilarating.”

your mind raced as you processed his words, but you decided to take an unexpected step. you reached for the straps of his straitjacket and began to unfasten them, freeing his arms. taeyong’s eyes widened in surprise. “what are you doing?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

you smiled, trying to project a sense of ease despite the underlying tension. “i thought you might be more comfortable without the restraints.” his gaze remained fixed on you, his expression a blend of astonishment and wariness. “aren’t you afraid i’ll kill you?”

you met his gaze steadily, feeling a strange sense of calmness despite the gravity of the situation. “i don’t think you will.” his brows knitted together in confusion. “how do you know?”

“because,” you said softly, “i don’t believe you’re a bad person.” the sincerity in your voice seemed to take him aback. his eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked genuinely disoriented by your kindness. the atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, a tentative bridge forming between the two of you.

taeyong leaned back, his posture relaxing slightly as he began to open up in a way that was both fascinating and ominous. he spoke of his past, his thoughts, and his perceptions with a raw honesty that was unsettling yet compelling. his words were a tapestry of dark desires and twisted logic, but there was an underlying vulnerability that made it clear he was grappling with his own demons.

as the session drew to a close, he looked at you with an unsettling blend of anticipation and something akin to respect. “i look forward to seeing you again, doctor.” he said, his voice carrying an eerie calmness. to your surprise, you found yourself looking forward to it as well. there was something about the interaction, the unexpected connection, that left you both unsettled and intrigued. as you watched him being escorted out by the guards, the weight of the session settled on your shoulders.

the morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of your apartment, casting a warm, gentle glow over the room. yet, despite the comforting start to your day, your mind was occupied with a singular thought—your next session with taeyong. the anticipation was a new and curious sensation, one that both thrilled and unsettled you. there was something compelling about his presence, a magnetic pull that made you eager to continue your interactions with him.

as you prepared for work, you found yourself contemplating how to make the next session more engaging, more comforting for him. the idea of a small gesture—something that might break through the cold walls of the asylum and create a connection—seemed to be the right approach. you decided to get him a gift, a symbol of the positive interaction you hoped to foster.

you ventured out to a small, quaint shop that morning, one filled with charming trinkets and comforting knick-knacks. your eyes scanned the shelves until they fell upon a small, stuffed kitten, its plush fur a soft, inviting shade of cream. it was delicate and unassuming, a small source of innocence amidst the reality of the asylum. you picked it up with a sense of purpose, imagining how such a simple object might ease the harshness of taeyong’s environment.

when you arrived at the asylum, the day’s routine felt different. the walls seemed colder, the atmosphere more oppressive, but the small stuffed kitten in your bag provided a small spark of warmth. as you approached your office, you were taken aback to find taeyong already seated in the chair, an unexpected sight. his presence there, so much earlier than anticipated, stirred a peculiar flutter in your chest. “you’re early today,” you remarked, trying to keep your tone light and neutral.

taeyong looked up at you, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “i couldn’t wait to see you,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of excitement that made your heart skip a beat. the sincerity in his words resonated deeply with you, and a small, inexplicable connection seemed to click into place. you felt a warm flush creep up your neck, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside, focusing on your planned gesture.

“i have something for you,” you said, reaching into your bag and pulling out the stuffed kitten. taeyong’s eyes widened with surprise and curiosity. “what’s this?” he asked, his tone a mix of intrigue and amusement.

you extended the kitten towards him, a smile playing at your lips. “it’s a little gift. i thought it might help make things a bit more comfortable here.” he took the kitten from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief, electrifying moment. as he cradled the stuffed animal in his hands, a look of genuine appreciation crossed his face. “i’m honored,” he said softly, his gaze fixed on the kitten.

you watched as he examined the plush toy with a sense of fascination. “i want you to take good care of it,” you said, your voice gentle. “if you can fight the urge to hurt it, then maybe you can fight the urge to hurt anything.” his lips curved into a mischievous smile as he toyed with the kitten, his fingers brushing over its soft fur.

“is that your way of challenging me, doctor?” he asked, his tone light but edged with an underlying seriousness. you nodded, trying to maintain a composed demeanor. “something like that,” you replied.

the session began in earnest, the conversation flowing with a new ease as taeyong’s attention seemed drawn to the small stuffed animal. he spoke of his past, his feelings, and his thoughts with a candor that was both unsettling and revealing. his insights were intertwined with moments of dark humor and cryptic reflections, making it clear that he was a man of contradictions. at one point, as you listened intently, his hand, still holding the kitten, brushed against a stray strand of hair that had fallen across your face. the touch was fleeting but intimate, a gesture that caught you off guard. you looked up to meet his gaze, finding a depth in his eyes that was both intense and vulnerable.

“i meant what i said earlier,” taeyong said, his voice softening. “you’re too pretty to be a doctor.” you blinked in surprise, trying to process the compliment amidst the complexity of the situation. “what do you mean?” you asked, genuinely curious.

his expression remained earnest, his eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity that was rare in such an environment. “you just don’t seem like someone who should be confined to this place. there’s something different about you.”

the moment lingered between you, charged with an emotional undercurrent that was difficult to define. despite the oddity of the situation, you felt a surprising warmth in his words. it was an acknowledgment of your humanity amidst the dehumanizing environment of the asylum. as the session drew to a close, you gathered your things, the small stuffed kitten resting on the desk between you. taeyong’s gaze followed you with an almost reluctant admiration, and there was a sense of anticipation in the air as you prepared to leave.

“i look forward to seeing you again,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of genuine hope. you nodded, a small smile touching your lips. “i look forward to seeing you too.”

with that, you watched as taeyong was escorted out by the guards, the connection between you both lingering like a faint but persistent echo. the asylum, with all its harsh realities, seemed momentarily softened by the unexpected bond that had formed. as you left for the day, the small stuffed kitten seemed to symbolize a fragile bridge between your world and his. you just weren't aware of how sturdy, nor how fragile, the bridge really was.

the weeks that followed your initial session with taeyong felt like a delicate dance, a precarious balance between professional distance and the growing, unspoken connection that had begun to develop between you. each session became a complex interplay of emotions and revelations, and you found yourself increasingly invested in his progress.

you had begun to believe, with a cautious optimism, that taeyong was making strides. the sessions were marked by moments of genuine insight and self-reflection from him, which seemed to indicate that he was grappling with his inner turmoil in ways that were both constructive and revealing. there was an undeniable progress, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope every time you saw him approach with that enigmatic smile.

during one particular session, you found yourself immersed in a conversation about his past, his regrets, and his aspirations. taeyong, with his characteristic curiosity and sharpness, suddenly shifted the focus of the conversation. “what about you, doctor?” he asked, his voice carrying a tone of genuine interest. “what do you struggle with?”

the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you hesitated. it was unusual for a patient to turn the spotlight onto you, especially someone like taeyong, whose own issues seemed so consuming. you took a deep breath, searching for the right words to encapsulate the truth.

“i suppose,” you began, struggling to find a way to articulate your feelings. “i've been lonely my whole life.” taeyong’s eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, the hardness in his gaze seemed to melt away. “no woman like you should ever feel lonely,” he said softly, his tone laced with an unexpected gentleness.

his words struck a chord deep within you, and you felt a sudden, almost overwhelming rush of emotion. you looked up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and curiosity. before you could fully process the weight of his statement, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “do you feel lonely with me here?” he asked, his voice a low whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

your heart pounded in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears as if to drown out the rest of the world. the proximity of his body, the intensity of his gaze, and the warmth of his breath combined to create a heady cocktail of sensations. you fought to maintain composure, but the answer came out more as a breathless confession. “no,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

taeyong’s fingers, moving with deliberate slowness, traced a path along your neck. the touch was light but electrifying, a sensation that left your skin tingling and your breath catching in your throat. “you shouldn’t,” he said, his voice carrying an almost imperceptible note of possessiveness.

the weight of his touch, the intimacy of the moment, and the raw honesty in his words created a potent mix of emotions that overwhelmed you. as the session drew to a close, you found yourself grappling with a tumult of conflicting feelings. the professional boundaries that had once seemed so clear were now blurred, and you were left with a gnawing sense of guilt for finding comfort in a connection that was fundamentally inappropriate.

the room seemed colder as you watched him leave, the reality of the asylum returning with its harsh, unyielding presence. you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the echo of his breath in your ear, and the weight of his words in your heart. the session had brought a confusing mixture of warmth and unease, and as you locked up your office and walked out into the night, the loneliness you had tried so hard to combat felt more intense than ever.

as the days turned into weeks, the asylum’s sterile corridors and echoing chambers seemed to shrink in comparison to the burgeoning world of emotions you experienced during your sessions with taeyong. each encounter with him became a delicate interplay of professional duty and personal connection, weaving a complex tapestry of emotions that you struggled to fully comprehend.

the sessions grew more intense and revealing, both for you and for taeyong. you could no longer ignore the way your heart would race in anticipation of each meeting. the way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the way his presence seemed to fill the room with a bright energy—it was impossible to deny the deepening bond between you.

in one particular session, taeyong sat across from you, the small stuffed kitten now a constant companion in his hands. the stuffed animal had become a symbol of the connection you shared, its presence a silent witness to your evolving relationship. “you know,” he began, his voice carrying a hint of introspection, “i’ve been thinking a lot about what we’ve talked about. you’ve managed to get me to see things differently. i never thought i’d say this, but i think i owe you more than just my progress.”

you looked at him, your heart skipping a beat at his unexpected confession. “what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice steady but filled with curiosity. his gaze was intense, his eyes searching yours with an earnestness that was both disarming and endearing. “you’ve been patient with me, more patient than anyone else ever has. i think,” he paused, choosing his words with care. “i think you’ve made me feel things i didn’t know i could still feel.”

you could feel the weight of his words settling over you, a mix of excitement and apprehension. “and what is it that you feel?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. he took a deep breath, his fingers absently stroking the kitten. “i feel understood. cared for, in a way I never thought i’d experience again. it’s strange, but i think i’m beginning to look forward to these sessions more than i should.”

the admission struck a chord within you, and you felt a mixture of joy and sadness. joy at the progress he was making and sadness at the realization that your growing affection for him might blur the lines of your professional role. during another session, you found yourself struggling to maintain your composure as taeyong’s attention shifted to you in a way that felt increasingly personal. he leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he spoke.

“you know,” he said, his voice low and intimate, “i’ve noticed something about you. you seem different when we talk. there’s something in the way you look at me. something more than just concern.” you felt your cheeks flush, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement swirling within you. “what do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

his eyes softened, and he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours. “i think you care about me more than you let on. and i can’t help but feel the same way.”

the admission hung in the air, charged with an electric tension that was impossible to ignore. you felt a surge of emotion, a tumult of conflicting feelings as you tried to process his words. it was both thrilling and terrifying to acknowledge that your feelings for taeyong had grown beyond the boundaries of professional detachment.

as the session continued, his demeanor shifted. he seemed more relaxed, more open, and the connection between you felt more tangible than ever. the way he would smile at you, the way his eyes would linger on yours—it was clear that the emotional bond between you was deepening. you struggled with the guilt and the moral conflict of your growing affection for him, knowing that it was inappropriate yet feeling a profound, undeniable connection.

the day you arrived for your next session with taeyong, you felt an unusual sense of anticipation. the asylum's cold corridors seemed to blur as you walked briskly toward your office, your mind already filled with thoughts of the conversation you hoped to have. but as you reached the familiar door, a pang of anxiety hit you when you noticed the room was empty.

your heart sank as you turned to the guards stationed outside the office. “where’s taeyong?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm despite the growing concern. the guards exchanged uneasy glances before one of them responded. “they’ve decided to test their luck with another psychiatrist today. wanted to see how he’d react.”

a cold wave of dread washed over you, and you felt a sharp pang of heartache. before you could ask for more details, the silence of the corridor was shattered by a deafening crash. your heart raced as the sound of shattering furniture and frantic shouting reached your ears.

without a second thought, you sprinted down the hallway, your footsteps echoing in the sterile space. as you rounded the corner, you saw the scene unfolding in your office. taeyong, his face a mask of determination, was wielding a chair above his head, his muscles tensed in a show of raw strength. the psychiatrist lay sprawled on the floor, his face a picture of shock and pain. the guards were shouting, their voices a blur as they rushed toward taeyong. “what happened?” one of them demanded, their tone filled with both anger and concern.

his gaze, sharp and intense, found yours amidst the chaos. “i told you,” he said, his voice carrying a fierce determination, “i wanted to see doctor (l/n).”

the room seemed to freeze for a moment as his words sank in. he was swiftly restrained and escorted back to his cell, leaving you standing in the doorway of your office, your heart aching at the sight of the broken scene before you. the guards, now dealing with the aftermath of his outburst, left you waiting alone in the hallway. time seemed to stretch endlessly as you stood there, your mind racing with a tumult of conflicting emotions. when taeyong was finally brought out again, his demeanor was calmer, though his eyes held a deep, unfathomable intensity.

he looked at you with a mix of curiosity and something more personal. “what were you doing there?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with an edge of disbelief. you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze. “i was waiting for you,” you admitted, your voice soft but earnest.

his eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his features. “seriously?” you nodded, feeling a strange blend of relief and apprehension. “yes, seriously.”

once back in your office, the atmosphere felt charged with an electric tension. you sat across from him, your heart pounding as you tried to make sense of the events. “why did you crash out like that?” you asked, struggling to keep your voice steady. “you were making so much progress.”

taeyong’s expression softened slightly as he reached for the small stuffed kitten that had become a symbol of your sessions. he held it up, its soft fur unmarred by the recent issues. “because,” he said, his voice softening with an intensity that made your breath catch, “i’m in love with you.”

the confession hung heavy in the air, and you felt a surge of conflicting emotions—shock, confusion, and a deep, aching resonance. you stared at him, unable to fully process the gravity of his words. “i am too,” you said finally, your voice trembling with the weight of the admission.

without another word, he leaned forward, his gaze fixed on you with a fierce, unyielding intensity. his lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. it felt wrong, a violation of every professional boundary you had sworn to uphold. yet, the raw, desperate need to connect, to feel something beyond the crushing loneliness that had plagued you, overpowered your sense of propriety.

the kiss was intense, filled with a mix of longing and desperation that made your heart race. his lips were warm against yours, his touch both gentle and insistent. every brush of his mouth, every caress of his fingers, seemed to echo the depth of the emotions you had both been struggling to contain. as the kiss deepened, you felt a wave of conflicting emotions—guilt and exhilaration, fear and desire. the world outside faded away, leaving only the overwhelming intensity of the moment. the walls of the asylum, the rules you had so carefully adhered to, and the boundaries you had maintained all seemed to crumble in the face of the unexpected connection.

taeyong’s hands slid up your body, cupping your tits over your blouse. his thumbs brushed against your nipples, which hardened immediately under his touch. you gasped into his mouth, your body responding with a fiery hunger that was impossible to ignore. his touch was rough, yet tender, as if he was afraid of breaking the fragile bond that had formed between you. his words from earlier played in your mind, and you felt a thrill of arousal that was as surprising as it was undeniable. you pushed back from the desk, the chair scraping against the floor as you stood to face him. your hands found the hem of your blouse, lifting it over your head to expose your bra. his eyes raked over your body, dark with desire. “you have no idea,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “how long i’ve wanted this.”

you stepped closer to him, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. it fell away, revealing your full, round tits. taeyong’s gaze was glued to them, his pupils dilating as he took in the sight. he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he licked one nipple, then the other, his tongue flicking and teasing until you were moaning with need. your hands found his hair, pulling him closer as his mouth closed around one nipple, sucking hard.

his hands moved to the button of your pants, and with trembling fingers, he unzipped them. you stepped out of them, feeling a sense of vulnerability that was both terrifying and thrilling. he pushed you back onto the desk, his mouth moving down your body as he kissed and licked a trail to your center. his fingers found their way inside your panties, stroking your wet folds.

his tongue darted out, tasting you for the first time. you moaned, arching your back as he explored you with a fervor that left you breathless. he was rough, yet precise, his touch speaking of a hunger that matched your own. you could feel his erection pressing against you through his pants, and the thought of his big dick inside you made you wetter still. his fingers moved to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that had you panting. your hips rocked against his face, desperate for more. “please, taeyong,” you begged, your voice needy and wanton. “fuck me. make me feel alive again.”

his only response was to stand up, his eyes never leaving yours as he unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. his cock sprang free, thick and hard, and you felt your mouth water at the sight of it. he stepped closer, positioning himself between your legs, and without preamble, he pushed into you.

the sensation was overwhelming—he was so much bigger than any man you had ever been with. it was a stretch, a burn that bordered on pain, but the pleasure was so intense that you didn’t care. you gripped the edge of the desk, your nails digging into the wood as he began to thrust, hard and deep. his strokes were punctuated with dirty talk that made you feel like a whore, but it only served to make you wetter, to make you want him more.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, feeling his cock fill you completely. his breath was hot and ragged against your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. “you’re mine, doctor,” he growled. “no better cure than this pussy, fuck.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, and you knew that this was a line you could never uncross. but in that moment, as you felt him thrust inside you with a roar of pleasure, you didn’t care. he was close, his thrusts sloppy as his fingers pulled your hair, your whimpers making his dick twitch.

his hand slid down to cup your ass, his grip tightening as he pounded into you. your tits bounced with every impact, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin as he whispered obscenities in your ear. it was a symphony of degradation and lust, and you were the eager conductor, urging him on. your pussy was tight around his cock, gripping him with every stroke, and you knew you were close to the edge.

suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and needy. you looked up at him, your eyes glazed with passion, and he smirked. “turn over,” he ordered, his voice gruff. you complied, turning onto your stomach and spreading your legs, the cool desk against your burning skin. he stepped behind you, his cock nudging at your entrance again. without warning, he slammed back into you, making you cry out.

the new angle was exquisite, his cock hitting deeper, reaching parts of you that had never been touched before. you pushed back against him, your body begging for more. his hands gripped your hips, his nails digging in as he picked up the pace. “yeah, take it like that, like the slut you are,” he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and command. your cheeks flushed at the words, but you found yourself pushing back even harder, eager to prove his words true. with every thrust, he whispered filthy compliments about your body, his grip on your hips tightening as he fucked you like he owned you.

his hand reached around to play with your clit, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you. your moans grew louder, filling the room. the sound of skin slapping against skin was the only music in the air, a rhythmic crescendo that grew more intense with every second. you felt your orgasm building, your pussy clenching around his cock. “that’s it, doctor. cum for me,” he encouraged, his voice hoarse with lust. and with a final, brutal thrust, you did, your body shuddering with the force of your climax. he followed shortly after, his seed spilling into you, marking you as his.

once the tremors had subsided, he pulled out, leaving you gasping for air. you felt the stickiness between your legs, a reminder of what had just transpired. as you looked back at him, you saw the smug satisfaction on his face, and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger. but it was quickly drowned out by the addictive thrill of the power exchange. you had never felt so alive, so desired. it was therapeutic. and as he stepped closer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, you knew that this was far from over. there was an unspoken promise in his eyes, a challenge for you to come back for more. and you knew, without a doubt, that you would.

as taeyong straightened his clothes, his gaze never left you, the intensity in his eyes as present as ever. he was murmuring something under his breath, and you had to strain to hear his words amidst the whirlwind of emotions you were trying to process. “i feel as if you’ve cured me,” he said softly, his voice carrying a sense of genuine relief.

you blinked, taken aback by his declaration. “are you serious?” you asked, your voice a mixture of disbelief and hope. he nodded slowly, a small, almost serene smile playing on his lips. “yes, i am.”

the room seemed to hold its breath as he began to dress himself, each movement deliberate and composed. your own heart raced as you grappled with the weight of his words. the promise of cure and the possibility of something more twisted together in your mind. he turned to you, his expression serious yet tender.

“i need you to do something for me,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “anything,” you replied without hesitation, your voice firm despite the storm of emotions brewing within you.

taeyong’s gaze softened slightly, and he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “i need a machine gun.” the request hit you like a jolt. “a machine gun?” you repeated, trying to comprehend the gravity of what he was asking.

“yes,” he confirmed, his voice steady. “if you don’t want to help me, i understand, but i need one.” you were silent for a moment, the enormity of his request settling over you. the ethical and legal implications were enormous, yet the urgency in his tone and the trust he placed in you compelled you to respond. shaking your head, you met his gaze with determination. “i’ll do it.”

taeyong’s eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and gratitude. he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “thank you for curing me.”

the warmth of his touch lingered long after he had left. that night, the enormity of hia request weighed heavily on you, but you were resolute. if this was what he needed, then you would find a way. the loneliness that had plagued you seemed to intensify with the knowledge of his needs, but it also spurred you into action. you spent the evening making discreet, cautious inquiries, your mind racing with worry and determination. you knew the gravity of what you were doing, the potential consequences, but the promise of alleviating your own profound sense of loneliness and his plea drove you forward. finally, after hours of careful navigation through back channels and clandestine meetings, you acquired the machine gun. it was a heavy, ominous object, wrapped in layers of secrecy and dread.

you stored it securely in a hidden compartment of your bag, the weight of it pressing down with a disquieting sense of finality. the next morning, you arrived at the asylum with a mix of dread and anticipation, knowing that the day’s session would be unlike any before. entering your office, you saw taeyong already seated, a patient yet expectant look on his face. your heart skipped a beat as you approached him, the hidden weight of the machine gun in your bag seeming almost to pulse with your anxiety.

“good morning,” you said, forcing a smile. “good morning,” he replied, his eyes immediately catching the glint of anticipation in yours.

you sat down across from him and carefully extracted the machine gun from your bag. his eyes widened in surprise and then satisfaction as you laid the weapon on the desk before him. “i didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he said, his voice a mix of awe and approval. “you said you needed it,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “i wouldn’t let you down.”

taeyong’s gaze softened as he reached out to touch the machine gun, his fingers brushing over the cold metal with a sense of reverence. “thank you,” he said quietly. “i knew you were the right fit for me.” the session continued with a shift in atmosphere. taeyong seemed more at ease, his demeanor less guarded and more open. the conversation flowed with a new ease, and you felt a strange sense of fulfillment. the machine gun, despite its ominous presence, seemed to be a catalyst for something deeper between you.

as the session drew to a close, you found yourself reluctant to leave, savoring the brief moments of connection and understanding. you had made significant strides with taeyong, and the realization that he trusted you so deeply was both exhilarating and unsettling. the rest of the day was spent in a haze of reflection. you sorted through files and paperwork, your mind frequently drifting back to him and the connection you shared. the solitude of your office seemed less oppressive, the quiet punctuated by thoughts of him. each task felt like a distraction from the growing realization that, in taeyong, you had found a source of profound connection.

in the quiet of your office, surrounded by the mundane tasks of your work, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had shifted. the loneliness that had once felt so encompassing now seemed to have been touched by the fleeting moments of intimacy and connection you had shared with him. you were less alone than you had been before, and yet, the path you were on was fraught with moral and emotional complexity.

the night fell over the asylum with a chilling, almost suffocating stillness. you were at your desk, sorting through a mountain of paperwork, the dim light casting shadows over the piles of files. the routine of your task offered a semblance of normalcy, a brief respite from the whirlwind of emotions and decisions that had consumed you lately. you were lost in the monotony of sorting and filing when an unsettling noise shattered the silence.

the distant sounds of gunshots, crashing furniture, and frantic screams pierced through the walls. your heart leapt into your throat as the reality of what was unfolding outside became painfully clear. Instinctively, you ducked under your desk, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you tried to stifle the rising panic. the noises outside were chaotic, a cacophony of violence and fear that seemed to grow louder by the second.

taeyong’s plan had taken shape, and the asylum was in disarray. he had enlisted the help of several other inmates, each fueled by the same chaotic energy that defined taeyong himself. the sound of gunfire rang out intermittently, each shot a reminder of the danger that now surrounded you. the air was thick with tension, and you could hear the muffled sounds of struggle and conflict as the inmates carried out their rebellion.

the commotion grew closer, and suddenly, two figures burst into your office. your heart pounded in your chest as they grabbed you roughly by the arms. you struggled against their grip, your cries of protest barely audible over the tumult outside. they dragged you to your desk and, despite your frantic attempts to break free, began restraining you with the belts from straitjackets. the leather straps cut into your skin as they bound your arms and legs to the desk, rendering you immobile.

you pleaded with them, your voice trembling with fear and desperation. “please, don’t do this. let me go. i’ll do anything.”

the inmates remained silent, their faces impassive as they completed their task. the office, once a place of calm and control, was now a prison, its familiar surroundings now oppressive and alien. as the last of the restraints were secured, the door creaked open, and taeyong stepped into the room. his appearance was striking against the backdrop of screams. he was calm, almost serene, despite the mayhem that had unfolded. the sight of him brought a mix of relief and dread. you gazed up at him, your eyes wide with terror as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

“taeyong,” you said, your voice quivering. “are you really gonna kill me?”

he walked towards you with an unsettling calm, his expression unreadable. as he neared, he paused, his gaze locking with yours. “i’m not going to kill you,” he assured, his voice soft but carrying a chilling edge. “i just need to hurt you enough to make sure you’ll be mine.”

the words hung heavy in the air, and your heart raced as you watched him produce a small metal device from his pocket. the sight of the electric shock equipment made your blood run cold. it was an instrument of pain, and its presence signaled a new level of cruelty.

to your surprise, taeyong’s expression softened, and he took a step closer. “i know you thought you were helping me,” he said, his tone almost apologetic. “but now it’s my turn to help you.”

the device was cold against your skin as he pressed it to your head. a jolt of electricity surged through you, and your body convulsed involuntarily. the sensation was overwhelming, a harsh intrusion into your consciousness. you felt your mind slipping away from the present, a series of fragmented images and memories flashing before your eyes.

your mother’s face appeared, her eyes filled with pain and sorrow. then, your father, followed by your grandparents, each visage a poignant reminder of loss. the images shifted and morphed, replaced by a vision of yourself with taeyong. you were working together, your roles reversed, with him now a cured man, living with you in a semblance of normalcy. the visions continued, showing a future that was both alluring and terrifying. you saw yourselves speeding down a highway, the police in hot pursuit. the trunk of your car was filled with money, a symbol of the danger and thrill that had become intertwined with your relationship. the exhilaration of the chase was intense, but it was overshadowed by an undercurrent of dread.

the final image was the most haunting. you saw yourself detached, your love for taeyong twisted into something unrecognizable. the thrill had turned into a grim reality, the danger of your actions reflected in the cold, hard truths of your choices. the vision was a cruel reminder of the consequences that awaited you, the stark reality of a future bound by the darkness you had embraced.

as the electric shock subsided, your body trembled uncontrollably. your mind was a whirlpool of conflicting emotions and revelations. you felt a profound sense of numbness, the shock leaving you disoriented and frightened. the room seemed to close in around you, what used to be a familiar space now a prison of your own making. in the end, you wished it had killed you. death seemed more reasonable, more promising, than what the future had in store for you.

✧.*

a/n: requested fic!!! the smut part at least i really dk where i was going with this plot lol

54 notes · View notes

thequeenviana · 9 months ago

Text

Inkbound

CHAPTER 1

Pairings:

Yandere Taehyung × OC × Yandere Jungkook

Warning: This story is a work of fanfiction and is purely a product of the author's imagination. It does not depict any real-life events or individuals. While some characters may be inspired by real-life idols, their portrayal in this story is fictional and not representative of their true selves. Please note that this story may contain triggering content, including themes of abuse, gore, murder, humiliation, bullying, rape, and other mature and dark themes. Reader discretion is advised, especially for those under the age of 18. If you are uncomfortable with such content, it is recommended to refrain from reading and kindly disregard this story.

A painful cry escapes from Yana's swollen lips as her husband mercilessly beats her with his belt, the force of each strike leaving marks on her pale skin. Helpless and lying on the cold, dirty ground of the mansion's basement, Yana endures the brutal assault as this is not new to her. Her husband gazes at her with a mixture of disgust, hatred, and rage, his desire to kill her was evident in his eyes and actions towards her.

However, he knows it won't be that easy; he intends to make her suffer for all the harm she has caused his family, especially his beloved Nara.

Finally, he ceases his attack, observing Yana's battered state on the ground blankly.

Blood surrounds her body, as if she is bathing in her own pain. Yet, there is no trace of regret or guilt in his eyes as he coldly looks on her trembling figure. Yana, still crying in agony, curls herself into a ball, her body heaving with sobs.

A whistle suddenly reaches his ears,the sound echoing on the basement,but he pays no attention, refusing to turn around and identify the source. As the person approaches with a deadly smirk and an aura of danger, he stops and places a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder.

Overwhelmed with emotions, the younger man breaks down in tears, hastily wiping them away. The older man embraces him tightly, his gaze fixed on the bloody woman, who is still painfully breathing. Yana, lying on the ground, gazes blankly at the ceiling, numb to the presence of the newcomer, as she already knows who it is,and she's scared of this man more than the one who beats her up to a pulp just right now.

She can't number the tortures that he have done to her that made her traumatized but still her love for him won't ever change even though he even cutted off her two pinky fingers after he have accused her of stealing.

"I missed Nara, hyung! So much!" the younger man cries out, his tough facade crumbling. The older man gently pats his back, closing his eyes and suppressing his own urge to break down in front of this cruel woman.

"I know, Jungkook. I missed her too," he whispers softly, reaching for the gun concealed in his black pants.

"Let's put an end to this woman's life. I can't bear it any longer."

Jungkook nods, his anger evident as he swiftly turns around, crouching in front of Yana. With a voice filled with coldness and hatred, he grips her blood-soaked hair tightly.

"I wish it was you who was dead, not our love," Jungkook harshly says through gritted teeth.

"And I also wish I never met you, you clingy bitch," he adds, his eyes burning with resentment. Yana, in her final moments, looks at the two men, making eye contact with them. All she sees is pure hatred and rage, as ever since Nara entered their lives, they both despised her from the depths of their hearts, deceived by Nara's lies.

A faint smile appears on Yana's face as her entire life flashes before her eyes like a movie recap. In her mind, she wishes she could express her feelings to both of them, to tell them that she had been there for them from the very beginning. But in the end, they abandoned her, even after all the time she spent by their side. She loved them both, forever.

She wished she could bring back time, change everything and never met them, stay away from them and live her life to the fullest.

She broke her family,her parents heart for this mans.

She turned her back to her parents who's begging for her to stop her ridiculous actions,but she never listened for this mans.

She have wasted and pushed away her best friends who she believes that time was not supporting her but now she regrets it for not listening to them,

She missed them,very much and she wishes to just for the last time she can say sorry to them,one last time and hug them tightly.

"I wished you two had trusted me more, because I was the one who was there for you both from the start. But you chose to believe her over your own best friend," she silently declares in her mind. With her eyes closed, she smiles one last time.

'BANG!'

In the basement, the sound of the gunshot reverberates, marking the end of the woman's life.

"The end."

"Wait, what?!"

The young girl suddenly stood up from her seat, shouting in disbelief. The book she was reading was still in her hand as she stared at the last word, flipping the pages back and forth, hoping the author was playing a cruel joke with the ending.

"You've got to be kidding me! That's it?"

She continued to stare at the book, a pout forming on her red lips. Dissatisfied with the conclusion, she put the book down and crossed her arms in defeat.

"Yah!"

She yelled in surprise as someone shouted near her ear, startling her. Her flailing hands accidentally hit the intruder in the nose.

The unexpected hit made the person groan in pain and touch their nose to check for blood. She quickly turned around to see her younger brother, Jae, still touching his nose and moaning in discomfort.

She gasped and quickly moved his hand away to inspect his nose, sighing in relief when she saw it was fine.

"Why would you do that? You know how clumsy I am sometimes."

Jae scoffed at his older sister before grinning and sitting beside her. His attention was drawn to the book.

"Why were you cursing, sis?"

Jae asked, noticing his sister's disappointment. She huffed, crossed her arms, and looked down at the book.

"I just don't like the ending of the book. And stop calling me old sis! It's annoying!"

She said, lightly hitting his head. He groaned and playfully glared at his older sister.

"What, you're my older sister, so I'm gonna call you that!"

He retorted.

"But still, don't add 'old' to 'sis'!"

She huffed and looked away, as Jae chuckled at his older sister's childish behavior.

"Oh, come on, just tell me why you're upset about the book's ending."

He asked, resting his head on his arms on the table and focusing on his sister.

"Can you believe it? The girl in this story died just like that, without getting justice for that evil woman, Nara's lies. Oh, I hate her! But I don't like what Yana did in this story either."

She shrugged before continuing, as Jae silently and eagerly listened to her rant.

"Yana was too desperate in this story. She didn't even do anything to get revenge for what that woman did to her life! And also, she was so clingy to those men! Like, woman, there are so many men in the world, not just them!"

She paused, panting and reaching for a glass of water which she quickly gulped down before slamming it back onto the table, startling Jae.

"And! You know those men! If I were in her shoes, I wouldn't be that dumb to chase them desperately and lower myself to them! Ugh! If I were Yana, I would change the whole story and make her life have a happy ending, not her chasing those men desperately and throwing herself at them like a whore!"

She spoke quickly, as Jae frowned at his sister's frustrating words about the story.

"Maybe the author planned it–"

Jae tried to interject, only to be cut off by his frustrated sister.

"No! It's absurd! How can someone just end it like that without a proper ending and justice for the character!"

She rolled her eyes and looked away as Jae looked at her blankly, shaking his head and chuckling.

"You should sleep now," Jae suggested, patting her head before standing up and leading her to her bedroom.

After wishing his still-grumpy sister a good night, he left for his room.

On the other hand,Fae slowly trudged towards her bed, slumping onto it, her mind still preoccupied with the frustrating ending of the book. She grabbed a pillow, hugging it tightly as she lay down.

"If I were her, I wouldn't be that stupid!"

Fae muttered, rolling her eyes as she gazed out of her window. The tranquil night gradually soothed her racing heart, and sleep began to envelope her, leading her into a deep slumber that she would never forget her whole life.

The mansion was suddenly engulfed in a wave of panic.

The once peaceful silence was shattered by the noises that stirred Fae from her sleep. She frowned and groaned in annoyance at the disturbance, her mind still foggy with sleep. The murmurs of hushed voices filled the air, their whispers carrying an undertone of urgency and worry.

Gossip swirled around her, whispers of strange happenings that stirred the mansion's usually calm environment. Yet, Fae was too lazy to wake herself fully and investigate the cause of the commotion. Despite the intriguing rumors and the frantic atmosphere, she preferred the comfort of her bed, choosing to ignore the chaos and attempt to drift back into her peaceful slumber.

As Fae was on the verge of slipping back into a deep sleep again, her bedroom door suddenly burst open, causing her eyes to snap open in startlement. She gasped, quickly sitting up to see who the intruder was, her expression filled with anger as she prepared to unleash a barrage of words, determined to set this person straight and impart some wisdom about the importance of not disturbing a sleeping human, for God's sake!

But before she could utter a single word, her eyes widened in disbelief as she laid eyes on the furious man storming towards her.

"Young Master–"

One of the girls attempted to intervene, trying to stop the raging man from getting closer to Fae.'wait who were these people!' Fae couldn't help but wonder who these people were. Were they intruders? Are they being invaded?What was happening? Her mind raced with panic, but her thoughts were abruptly cut off as the man forcefully pushed the woman aside, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground. Fae's eyes widened at the sight, her heart pounding in her chest.

In an instant, the man's hands closed around her neck, squeezing tightly, cutting off her airflow. Panic surged through Fae's veins. She desperately tried to speak, to gasp for breath, but the man's grip prevented her from doing so. She clawed at his veiny, tattooed, muscular arms, her attempts at resistance in futile. She knew she stood no chance against this imposing figure.

"Who–"

Fae managed to choke out a word, only to be abruptly silenced by the man who was choking her.

"You! I told you to stay away from her! Yet, you hurt her again!"

He yelled, his eyes filled with a mixture of rage and....hurt? as he glared at Fae.

Confusion swirled in Fae's mind. 'Hurt who? What was this man talking about?' She couldn't comprehend the situation unfolding before her.

"Yah! Stop that!"

A manly voice suddenly shouted, and the man was forcefully pulled away from Fae. She gasped for air desperately, silently thanking the unknown savior who had intervened and saved her from the clutches of the man who had been choking her.

Fae's gaze darted between the man who had attacked her and the newcomer who had come to her rescue. As she looked around, she realized there were other unfamiliar faces in the room. Fear gripped her heart. Who were these people? And where in the world was she?

Questions flooded her mind, but before she could voice them, the man who had attacked her spoke up again.

"Let me go, hyung! This witch hurt Nara because of her jealousy!"

Fae furrowed her brow, her confusion growing as she looked at him with a mixture of frustration and bewilderment.

"Calm down, Jungkook!"

'Jungkook?'

The name struck a chord in Fae's memory, though she couldn't quite place it. She shrugged off the familiarity, still struggling to understand what was happening. Was this some kind of prank?

"How can I calm down? This bitch is crossing the line! She's hurting Nara because she's jealous of her!"

The man continued, pointing an accusing finger at Fae, who glared back at him, her anger boiling over as she stood up in bed.

"What did you just call me, you bastard?!"

Fae burst out angrily, her voice filled with indignation.

Everyone in the room gasped, their eyes widening at Fae's outburst. It was a rare sight to witness their young madam raise her voice, especially directed at someone like Jeon Jungkook,her love.

Jungkook himself froze in place, stunned by Fae's sudden outburst. Had she really just shouted at him? It was a new and strange experience for him, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. He continued to stare at Fae, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within him.

Fae rolled her eyes, her frustration still evident as she exclaimed, "GET OUT, ALL OF YOU!"

Her voice rang out even louder this time, causing everyone to flinch, except for Jungkook, who looked at her with wide eyes. He couldn't help but wonder what was happening. Why was his heart racing like this? And why did he feel a strange sense of hurt at Fae's words? It was the first time she had ever shouted at him and what's strange for him was he didn't like it.

Jungkook's mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation, but he was abruptly pulled away from the room, not fully comprehending what was unfolding.

Fae's gaze settled on the last woman who was about to exit the room.

"You!"

Fae called out, causing the woman to freeze in her tracks.

'God, I need to find out what's happening!'

Fae thought to herself, feeling utterly confused by the events that had transpired. She yearned for answers, realizing that this was not a prank anymore.The unfamiliar faces in the room made it clear that her family wouldn't orchestrate something like this, knowing how sensitive she was.

As she took a deep breath, preparing herself for the confrontation, a mix of fear and confusion coursed through her veins 'like the hell is happening,am I being kidnapped?oh hell no! that's not it and what the heck does that handsome man a while ago talking about?'

She only remembered sleeping in her room,then this!

She stepped forward, her voice steady and resolute as she addressed the last woman who had paused at her command.

"You! Stay right there. I need to know what's happening. I demand the truth.Did you all kidnapped me!?"

The woman's eyes widened, her expression a mix of surprise and fear at her young madam's exclaim of being kidnapped?

'Oh no,we need doctor Lee again' The woman thought with fear for the young woman's well being.

As the room fell into a tense silence, Fae's mind raced with questions. Who were these people? What had transpired to lead to this moment? And most importantly, why was she at the center of it all?But one thing she was sure of,she was kidnapped.

With each passing second, Fae grows annoyed as the woman still did not talk anything .

The woman looks here and there not meeting Fae's annoyed eyes.

"Young Madam,I think you need to take a rest right now. Your father will come here and he will answer your questions."

She quietly excused herself and left in a hurry as Fae grips her hair in frustration.

Fae stands up straight again and ignore what the woman had said.

'No!I need to go home,my family is probably waiting for me!'

With a determined mind, Fae cautiously stepped forward towards the door, her main goal being to escape from wherever she was and return home. She couldn't shake the feeling that her parents must be worried about her by now.

Casting quick glances around, Fae stealthily crept out, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of the people who had caused her distress. Fear gripped her as she worried they might catch her and lock her up.

As she ventured further, she noticed that the hallways were devoid of any people. Seizing the opportunity, she swiftly ran down the left hallway. However, her hurried pace came to an abrupt halt when her eyes fell upon a picture hanging on the wall.

"Wait... What in the world is this?"

Fae exclaimed in surprise, her eyes widening as she stared at the picture framed with a golden border.

"Is that me?!"

Horror washed over her as she realized she was in the photograph, surrounded by faces she couldn't recognize. A sense of unease crept over her, causing her to slowly back away.

But her retreat was interrupted as she bumped into a solid chest. Startled, she quickly turned around, only to find herself face to face with a strikingly handsome young man. She couldn't help but be awestruck by his appearance.

'Oh my god, he's so handsome!'

Internally fangirling, Fae found herself momentarily lost in admiration of the handsome man before her. 'wait where does he came from?I didn't seen him coming.' However, her focus quickly shifted back to her priority: escaping this imposing house and reuniting with her family, who she missed dearly.

Fae cautiously backed away from the man, catching his attention. He raised an eyebrow, surprised by her actions. It was the first time for him, as she had always been the one to throw herself at him, acting like a clingy leech. Her sudden change in behavior intrigued him.

"Jungkook told me what you did again, Yana," he said, his gaze turning cold as he took a step forward, cornering her against the wall next to the photograph.

Fae furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of his words.

'Jungkook again? No... no, Fae, that's ridiculous and did he just called me Yana?! Nope! It's probably just a coincidence,' she chuckled, momentarily forgetting the dire situation she was in.

Growing increasingly impatient and angry, the man punched the wall, not too forcefully, to bring Fae back to her senses. She flinched and became scared as she saw the murderous look in his eyes.

"W-what are you saying?!" Fae stammered, her fear palpable. There was a dark aura surrounding the man that made her tremble. Something in his eyes told her to run as far away as she could.

The man let out a dark chuckle, his deep voice resonating through the empty hallway. He briefly looked down, poking his tongue inside his cheek. Under different circumstances, it might have been attractive, but given the situation, Fae couldn't focus on that.

He looked up, glaring at her once again before speaking, "If you do that again–"

Fae had had enough. Before he could finish his sentence, she forcefully pushed him away, causing him to stumble back. Seizing the opportunity, she dashed away, leaving the angry, handsome man yelling for her to come back.

Gritting his teeth in anger, the man dusted off his expensive shirt and straightened it, glaring at the spot where Fae had disappeared. A loud commotion reached his ears, and he turned around to find a group of maids running towards him, panting heavily.

"Young Master Kim, pardon us, but have you seen Young Madam?" one of the maids asked, fear evident in her eyes from their frantic chase.

Raising an eyebrow, the man answered coldly, "I saw her running in that direction," pointing towards the path Fae had taken. With a smirk on his handsome face, he walked away, knowing full well that the woman's father, whom he had encountered earlier, would be furious after what he had said earlier. Punishment awaited her once again.

As he continued on his way, he heard the maids rush off in the direction he had pointed, their footsteps fading into the distance.

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k1radolly · 7 months ago

Text

#degradation k1nk #daddy k!nk #princess treatment #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis scream #billy scream #ghostface scream #ghostface #stu x billy #smiling psychopaths

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 24 days ago

Text

Silent Night

Word count: 750

Summary: Billy Loomis murdered everybody he ever knew. And he got away with it. Got famous even. Got a whole movie about him - about how he survived the now infamous Woodsborough Massacre. And every good movie needs a sequel. So he goes to college to make one. || Inspiration here.

Warnings: Murder. Billy Loomis himself is a warning.

An excerpt of a fic @hewwosidney and I are working on.

Grey skies.

Everyone says that winter is bleak and depressing, but he always thought the opposite. When those grey skies turn black and one can barely see the stars, when it's freezing and that starlight is just bright enough to illuminate the gently falling snow, when the whole world is quiet for once - that's the sort of time Billy liked the best. Those grey skies are low and close, intimate in a way. Like a secret.

The chill tinged his cheeks pink and chapped his lips, but he didn't much mind it. The cold was sharp, just on the edge of painful. It bit his cheeks, nipped at the corners of his lips. It never got this cold in Cali. He liked it. Savored it.

Dorms, businesses and various other functional buildings lined the streets on either side of him. They were all brick - old style, with small window panes and wrought iron railings on the stairs. Crooked wreaths and silver bells hung on doors and warm lights lined their rooftops. They sorta made him feel like he was living in A Christmas Carol. The Muppet one. He smiled to himself and shivered, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket.

The sky grew darker and his breath turned to mist in front of his face. Snow sprinkled his hair and brought silence to the world in white whispers. It caught on his eyelashes and made him chuckle. Though, he had to be especially careful now with his crutches. They clicked asynchronously with the crunch of his boot, the sounds reverberating off the old brick buildings. The only noise in the dark. Aside from his voice.

“Silent night… Holy night…”

The notes on his breath manifested in the air. He watched his crutches. Glancing up only occasionally.

His breath left his lungs slowly.

The snow fell.

The world got darker.

And darker. Closing in, getting smaller.

Shrinking into frame. Made for a great shot, really.

Billy saw her the next time he looked up. She passed beneath the warm yellow light of a street lamp, walking quickly through the dark and the snow. Deep auburn hair, pale skin. Cute little freckles and pink mittens on her hands.

She eyed him wearily for a moment. Suspicious like a smart girl should be. He flashed her a soft smile and her shoulders relaxed.

He'd always had a talent for that, he supposed - making girls relax.

“All is calm… all is bright.”

He let one of his crutches slip and pretended to recover quickly. His smile turned sheepish as his eyes met hers again. She laughed softly, smiling back with warmth.

She didn't cross to the other side of the street.

A smart girl would have.

As they passed each other, her hand gently brushed his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas,” She said.

He vaguely recognized her. She took English with him. Quiet. Always sat by the window and never bothered anybody. She was pretty. Like silver bells and Christmas lights. Pleasant, but ultimately uninteresting.

Cassie. That was her name.

So close to… Casey.

He took his shot.

Billy dropped one crutch and swept the other into her knees. She cried out but he was quick to cover her mouth and push her into the adjacent alleyway. Convenient. His other hand flew to his belt, swiftly drawing out the blade tucked away there. In one practiced movement, he shoved the freezing metal between her fourth and fifth rib on her left side.

Warm. They always were.

Her eyes were wide and she gagged into his gloved hand. He smiled at her.

Step by step he backed them against a dumpster as the life slowly left her body.

“Sleep in heavenly peace…”

When her legs gave out, he let her sink down to the ground. Large green eyes fluttered closed. Such a pretty little thing, but her plot importance was minimal. She should feel grateful to have some interesting screen time. Bit of a shame to lose an extra so pretty. The cold would keep her that way for a while. Billy wrenched the knife out of her and she collapsed against the brick wall beside her. She could have been sleeping.

She didn't have to die, he supposed. Not really. But then again, neither had Casey.

“Sleep in heavenly peace…”

He wiped the blade off on her jeans before shoving it back into its sheath.

Hobbling back out of the alleyway, he picked up his crutches and kept on walking.

The sky was grey.

The night was chill.

Her heartbeat stopped.

And her body wouldn't rot.

Thank you and Merry Christmas!

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south-of-heaven · 1 year ago

Note

Drew Mcintyre x Fem!Reader with “ you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.” ?

Stupid || Drew McIntyre x Reader

Summary: Ever since getting put in a tag team together, you and Drew have made it your mission to make each others life a living hell.

The animosity between you and Drew had been brewing ever since you were unexpectedly paired up as a tag team. Both of you were strong-willed, stubborn, and fiercely competitive. It was a recipe for disaster, or so it seemed.

Your tag team matches were filled with banter and one-upmanship. You tried to outdo each other at every turn, and it often led to chaotic situations in the ring. It was a strange dynamic that seemed to define your partnership.

Tonight, however, something felt different. The match had been hard-fought, and in the end, you secured the victory for your team. As the referee counted to three and the bell rang, an exhilarating rush of triumph coursed through you.

But as you stood in the center of the ring, celebrating with the fans, you couldn't help but notice Drew's intense gaze on you. He was watching you with an intensity that you'd never seen before. The look on his face was a strange mix of admiration, respect, and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.

Feeling mischievous, you decided to seize the moment. You grabbed a microphone, bringing it to your lips so that the whole arena could hear.

"You know, Drew," you began, your voice confident and dripping with playful sarcasm, "You want to kiss me so badly it makes you look stupid."

The crowd erupted in laughter, but Drew's expression didn't change. If anything, it became more resolute. Without a word, he dropped the microphone, stepped through the ropes, and made his way toward you.

You thought for a moment that he might try to attack you, but instead, he closed the distance between you and did something entirely unexpected. Drew McIntrye, the fierce Scotsman, pressed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss.

The crowd's reaction was immediate. Cheers, gasps, and whistles filled the arena. You were taken aback for a split second, but then you found yourself responding to the kiss, wrapping your arms around Drew's neck as the moment lingered.

When you finally broke the kiss, you were both a little breathless and more than a little stunned. The rivalry that had defined your partnership had taken an unexpected turn. It was clear that there was something more between you than just animosity.

Drew chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "Who's the stupid looking one now, huh?"

You couldn't help but laugh, and the tension that had defined your relationship seemed to dissipate. Maybe this partnership had more potential than you'd originally thought.

#drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintyre #the scottish warrior #the scottish psychopath #wwe fanfiction #wwe x reader #pro wrestling #wrestling #wwe

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elryuse · 9 months ago

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Yandere debt-collector Ahin and Son of in debt parents smut?

The Debt-Collector

YANDERE DEBT-COLLECTOR AHIN X MALE READER

The grimy apartment walls seemed to close in on Y/n as Ahin, the iron-fisted debt collector, sat across from him. Her crimson lipstick, a stark contrast to her pale face, stretched into a humorless smile. "So," she drawled, her voice like nails scraping concrete, "the Lee family couldn't cough up the measly sum they borrowed, huh?"

Y/n, a scrawny boy of 18, could only nod, shame burning in his throat. His parents, faces etched with despair, stood behind him, a silent testament to their desperation. They had signed the contract, their only son the collateral.

The first few weeks were a nightmare. Ahin reveled in her power, barking orders, doling out threats, and making Y/n clean her filthy apartment until his hands bled. Yet, a strange shift began. As Y/n diligently scrubbed floors and washed dishes, a flicker of something akin to…kindness sparked in Ahin's eyes. Maybe it was the way he never complained, or the quiet respect that shone in his terrified gaze.

One evening, amidst the drudgery, Ahin surprised him with a takeout meal. "Eat," she grunted, shoving a greasy box towards him. "You look like a walking skeleton." As Y/n hesitantly took a bite, a flicker of something warm bloomed in his chest – a desperate hope for normalcy amidst the terror.

Days turned into weeks, and the kindness became more pronounced. Ahin started treating Y/n with a possessiveness that sent shivers down his spine. She’d buy him small gifts, linger over him while he worked, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. He was a prisoner, yet a prisoner she seemed oddly…fond of.

Then, one night, Y/n woke to a bloodcurdling scream. He stumbled out of his room to find his parents, lifeless on the living room floor, their vacant eyes staring accusingly. Ahin stood over them, a bloody knife dangling from her hand, a chilling smile playing on her lips.

"They didn't deserve you," she rasped, her voice laced with a horrifying tenderness. "Now, it's just us, sweetheart. No one to take you away."

Y/n's world shattered. The woman who’d shown him a sliver of hope had become his monster. He sank to his knees, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air.

Ahin knelt beside him, her touch sending a fresh wave of terror down his spine. "Don't worry," she cooed, wiping a stray tear from his cheek with a bloodstained finger, "we'll be happy now. Just you and me. Forever."

Her words, dripping with a possessive love that curdled Y/n's stomach, sent a fresh wave of horror crashing over him. He was trapped, not just by debt, but by a twisted love that stained their cramped apartment with the stench of death and a chilling promise of a forever he never asked for.

Y/n choked back a sob as he slipped the diamond-encrusted wedding band onto Ahin's crimson-painted finger. The air in the warehouse hung heavy with a sickening mix of anticipation and dread. This wasn't a wedding – it was a branding ceremony, marking him as Ahin's forever.

As the forced applause died down, Ahin, a vision in blood-red silk, turned to him. Her smile, once laced with a twisted affection, was now a manic predator's grin. "Together now, darling," she purred, her grip tightening painfully on his arm.

The following weeks were a descent into a nightmare. Y/n, fueled by a suffocating despair, became a horrifyingly effective tool. He excelled at sniffing out vulnerabilities, his whispers turning icy and cruel as he mirrored Ahin's ruthlessness. He hated himself, but the alternative – facing her wrath – was unimaginable.

One night, a flicker of his former self threatened to rise. Debt collection led them to a young artist, his apartment overflowing with unfinished paintings. The raw desperation in the man's eyes mirrored Y/n's own. A choked plea formed on his lips, a desperate urge to offer solace, but before a word could escape, Ahin was upon them.

She ripped through the artist's meager belongings, her face contorted with rage. But when she reached for a worn canvas, the sole source of color in the dingy room, Y/n instinctively stepped forward.

"Leave it," he rasped, a sliver of defiance cutting through his usual subservience.

Ahin whirled on him, her eyes blazing. "Disobeying me now, sweetheart?" she hissed, her voice a low growl. In a flash, the manic glint returned, hotter and more terrifying than ever.

Y/n's heart plummeted. He had seen that look before, the harbinger of violence. He flinched back as her hand lashed out, a stinging slap across his face. The artist, seizing the opportunity, bolted for the fire escape, disappearing into the night.

Ahin's fury turned inward. She grabbed Y/n by the hair, dragging him back to their apartment. The familiar grimy walls now seemed to mock him, a constant reminder of his imprisonment.

"You think you can defy me?" she snarled, shoving him against the wall. Her crimson lips were stretched into a terrifying smile. "No one leaves me, sweetheart. You're mine now, forever."

Y/n slumped against the wall, defeated. He had seen the spark of fear flicker in Ahin's eyes earlier, but it was gone. In its place was a chilling possessiveness, a twisted love that had morphed into a suffocating obsession.

He was trapped, a prisoner not just of debt, but of a deranged affection. The world outside faded away, replaced by the four grimy walls that now held his entire universe, a universe ruled by a woman whose love was as cruel and inescapable as death itself.

#momoland ahin #ahin #ahin momoland #momoland #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories #yandere #kpop yandere #psychopath #horror #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader

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robinistrying · 1 year ago

Text

reposting on tumblr because i want attention, and because the König brainrot is so damn real. catch me on AO3 if you want :3

+18 content MDNI please . contains : mentions of stalking, dom/sub dirty talk, obsessive behavior, oral, gun kink, breeding kink, maybe some others that i forgot sorry 🙏 psychopaths in love basically i love them so much ?

Made for me .

He observed her every day, it’s been about a month, at first he was supposed to assess the situation for a client but that was until he met her. Meeting? Not really. But he felt like he knew her, he watched her most of the day, even sometimes when she was asleep. She invaded his mind, He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, he had to have her. She will be his. She doesn’t have a choice. He had to gather information from her despite knowing that she wasn’t the best choice… but it had been so damn easy.

“Start talking princess I don’t have all day”

“I don’t know anything, how could you kidnap the worst person for intel is beyond me”

“You live with these criminals, they are your family” he raised an eyebrow, you must know something.

He drew his knife spinning it around, in an attempt to intimidate her which didn’t seem to work. Her eyes were devoid of fear, it was something else that he couldn’t quite decipher yet.

Her eyes were not leaving him, and his knife, she looked quite fascinated which made him even more curious

“Is this a staring contest sweetheart?” he chuckled “I can do this all night long”

“Oh I bet you do,” she said with another wicked smile

“Interesting,” he thought, she wasn’t reacting like hostages usually do. She was more calm. She wasn’t begging to be let free or even to stay alive. Maybe she didn’t know anything after all. But deep down he knew why he kidnapped her, the beast inside him made it do it. He knew it wasn’t rational, but he couldn’t help it. Since he took the first glance at her in his binoculars, he knew he had to have her.

“You seem deep in thought,” she noticed

“when he could be deep inside me instead” she thought and then she let out a long sigh.

“What princess? Why are you sighing? Are you tired ?” he said ironically

“I’m bored”

“Unfortunately I make the rules around here and it does please me to see you tied up and helpless”

Did she want some action? Fine he was going to give her some, she probably won’t like it. He drew his gun. and pointed it on her head.

She had a nervous laughter.

“You won’t”

He made the gun click, putting it against her lips this time.

“Try me, sweetheart, it wouldn’t be the first time”

Her wicked smile grew wider, she opened her mouth and licked the barrel.

His eyes were wide open, he knew that she wasn’t your typical hostage but THIS…

he wanted to try how far she’d go, he pushed the gun into her mouth, and when he thought she was going to tremble with fear, she started sucking it, raising her doe eyes, looking at him straight into his pupils. The eye contact made him done for. Sending shivers down his spine, he could feel the blood rushing to his cock.

“Such a depraved little princess” he muttered.

She was moaning around it, he couldn’t stop imagining how it would feel if it was his shaft instead. He pulled out, and she let out a moan of frustration, while her saliva was still connected to the barrel. He wiped it out the barrel on her cheek, the cold metal against hot skin.

“What a mess you made,” he said but his voice betrayed him he was very happy with it. “You think you gonna be out of this place with your little tricks?”

“Who said I wanted out?”

“You don’t want to leave ?”

“For someone who seems so sly, you can be really dense”

“Do not underestimate me Liebling” He said while taking a handful of her hair.

Lightly pulling on it to remind her who is in charge here. She winced a little bit. He used his other hand to raise her chin even higher. Analyzing her. He was obsessed with her and finally got her within his grasp. She looked so pretty, tied up, wearing only a tube skin-tight dress, he loved the softness of her hair and skin. But what he liked best was her eyes, the gaze he couldn’t get enough of. Sometimes innocent, sometimes calculated. She wore a pair of heels he had never seen before, she could never run in these.

“Where were you going dressed like a whore?”

“Nowhere”

“Answer me princess or I’ll have to hurt you and trust me this is ain’t going to be quick” he drew his knife again and started to tear her dress apart, the knife was so sharp, he cut through the link of her bra, he stopped just above her navel.

“You won’t believe me if I tell you,” she said, but she was hesitating. He could tell.

“Try me”

“I wanted you to catch me”

“Liar, you couldn’t possibly know about me”

“Check my phone in my purse if you don’t believe me”

He roamed through her purse and got her phone.

“What’s the lock ?”

“A heart”

A heart. How cute he thought.

He went through her phone and saw pictures of him, probably stolen from security footage. He made sure to have deleted those. How the heck did she have them? Out of curiosity, he checked her texts, it was mostly her rejecting guys he couldn’t help but smile at the thought and asking money from her criminal dad. Then her notes, that was by far the most interesting. She used them as a diary.

“I feel like I’m being followed”

“I figured it out… probably people that are out there to catch my dad”

“oh no he is hot”

“the biggest guy I’ve ever seen, with piercing blue eyes, I'm sure he has a handsome face, I just want to lift his hood and kiss him”

“I want him to ravish me actually”

“God I’m obsessed”

“He is always watching me I know, I’ll put on a show just for him, he has to see what he does to me”

“Why he won’t come up to me”

“Should I send light signs?”

“I did a little stalking his name is König, I love it, it suits him”

“He’s packing good lord I’m…”

“Come on come on … I’m waiting I’m so bored”

“I’m gonna go out, dressed like I’m going to the club or something maybe he will get the hint”

“Oh I did get the hint indeed sweetheart” his smile widening

“It seems you have a little crush on me are you?”

She was feeling shy all of a sudden “You weren’t supposed to read that” she said her cheeks getting redder.

“Don’t be ashamed of any of your feelings love, I enjoy that you feel that way about me”

Her heart beat loudly in her chest as his eyes darkened.

“Because I feel that way about you too”

Without a second thought, he tore apart her dress leaving her with her panties only. He cut the cord that was holding her legs together and said

“Spread them for me”

It was a thin satin-like string. He kneeled before her to take a good look. A wet patch was already present. He pressed two of his fingers on it, feeling her clit.

“Princess, you’re dripping for me aren’t you?”

She nodded while looking away.

“Feeling shy all the sudden Liebe? You weren’t like this when you were sucking my gun” he said amused. “Don’t hide from me, just be mine”

“You don’t understand, I’m insane” she confessed in a small voice.

“Do I look sane to you? I just kidnapped you, not for intel, I just wanted you and I decided you’ll be mine, understand ?”

“Why questioning me then?”

“To have a little fun. To see if you’d actually spill something but I didn’t really care, all I wanted …” he got closer, crawling between her parted legs, and even like that he was still taller than her “was you”

He had suddenly a euphoric laugh.

“Isn’t that funny? Looks like you were made for me Liebling” he murmured caressing her face.

A slight blush was still on her cheeks, her eyes glossy in a turmoil of emotions.

“You are so cute Schatz, I want to reward you” and just like that he cut her rope around her hands, she didn’t waste a second and lifted his hood to kiss him.

This kiss felt like ecstasy, heated and passionate, their tongues dancing around each other, exploring, tasting as if their two souls finally recognized each other and were ready to merge again. Both couldn’t get enough. Finally, she kicked the chair under her, their bodies now pressed against each other. He grabbed her waist pulling her against him while she roamed his back through his shirt, feeling his muscles underneath.

He lowered her on the floor, still kissing her, but his kisses went to her neck, she was so sensitive, that she moaned softly while running her nails lightly against his scalp. Then, he went to take care of her breasts, giving attention to each nipple, licking and sucking while massaging the fullness of her boobs at the same time.

His skillful tongue was sending her over the edge. She actually could feel her wetness dripping down her pussy but she didn’t care. All that mattered was him and what it was doing to her.

Then he went lower to her navel, dipping his tongue in it, teasing her for what was about to come. His hands still teased her chest. Ultimately, he reached her wet folds and licked all the way, up and down, burying his face between her legs. She let out a loud moan. He enjoyed having his face drenched in her juices proud that he was the one doing that to her.

His tongue was teasing her clit, then her entrance, he could feel her walls quivering and tentatively inserted a finger, then another one. He moved them in and out, fucking her with it while he ate her clit. She was panting and moaning, never in her life had she a pleasure this intense, her eyes welled up with tears.

“Oh my god, fuck” that’s all she could manage to say.

“I’m your one and only God love. Only I can make you feel like this”

She knew he was right. His essence was filling her veins, he could do anything and she’d let him. That’s how down she was. That’s how obsessed she was.

She was close he could tell. A sense of pride invaded him. He made her feel like this, it was exhilarating. The woman who haunted his dreams, occupied his mind 24/7 since he saw her, was now pleading for him. Urging him to make her, his. Forever, there was no other way. He’ll carve himself into her mind until he would be all that she’d be able to think about. “Yes. And then she’ll be all mine” he thought.

“I’m so close… König … I can’t” Hearing her say his name sends a rush of adrenaline through his veins.

“Come, Maus, come all over my face” he answered with a raspy voice.

He buried himself between her thighs, while her orgasm was overpowering her whole being. He felt her muscles thickening and her legs shaking. It was the hottest thing he ever experienced. It was so intense that her core was hurting as if she had done a thousand abs exercises.

He cradled her into his arms, whispering praise and love in her ears, and kissing her hair.

“You were perfect princess, so beautiful, so mine”

She couldn’t even speak, she pressed herself against his chest, humming his scent. Another thing she was going to be addicted to, it seems.

Slowly, she rose her head to look at him, her heart throbbing. Her hands gently grabbed each side of his hood to remove it so she could see his face, he was so good looking, the man of her dreams was even better than she could have imagined.

“You are handsome, even more up close”

He smiled at her, his princess thought he was handsome, and a warm feeling spread in his chest, it made him happy. But he was so used to his hood, that he would need time to get accustomed to showing his face.

She sensed it and put it back in place, she just made a small bow at the back of his head so she could still have access to his lips.

“Thanks, you Liebe. You have no idea how much you mean to me” he whispered while leaning to kiss her again.

The kiss started slow and tender, and it escalated in intensity quite quickly. This time, she climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Moving her hips on his hard-clothed cock. The tension between them only grows each second. Then she went down on him, slowly giving kisses all the way down to his abs, his happy trail until she reached his belt that she undid quickly, then the zipper of his cargo pants, and finally she freed his throbbing cock from his pants.

She knew he was packing but up close it was really huge. She was a little anxious but the desire to please him took over and she started by licking it all the way. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, panting ever so slightly. He wanted her to set her own pace first. Until she finally took him into her mouth, he groaned with pleasure. Her tongue was swirling around it, her cheeks hollowing, up and down. She couldn’t take him fully yet but she was yearning for it.

He chuckled “Have your mouth full Schatz? Can’t take more ?”

“I can,” she said in a muffled sound “I want to”

“Get on your knees then love”

When he got up, his pants fell at his ankles. He gave himself a few pumps while looking at her.

“You are so sexy, such a good little slut”

She moaned at the use of the crude name she enjoyed it a little too much. She moved her head to take his cock between her lips again.

“So eager,” he said while running his hand through her hair, caressing her scalp. This way she could take him deeper, her nose hitting his pelvis with each movement.

“Goddamn princess, look at you, taking all of me in your tiny mouth, your throat feels amazing,” he said while running his hand through her neck, feeling his cock going up and down. She met his gaze again, she had such a cockdrunken stare, she was really enjoying this.

“That’s it Liebling, this is perfect, you just keep looking at me with those pretty eyes, don’t take your eyes off me”

Then his eyes rolled. “Fuck, you’re so good at this Schatz” She did a pleased hum, while he gripped her hair so he could set up the pace. Using her as he pleased. He knew he made the right call when he heard her moans becoming even more enthusiastic.

When he was right about to come, he said “Tongue out, I went to see your mouth stuffed”

She did as she was told extending her tongue, mouth wide open. Then he came, his taste invading her mouth. A few droplets dripped off her chin.

“Swallow babygirl”, and she did, she also took care of the few drops on his glans. Cleaning him up.

“You’re such a good girl I am so pleased with you sweetheart”

“Thank you, thank you … “she murmured like a mantra, kissing all the skin she could reach. Every time she kissed his skin, the shivers were invading his body. He never thought he could want her more than he already did but he does. He was ravenous, always hungry for more and so was she.

She was like an angel fallen from the sky, his devious little angel.

He took her hands in his, bringing her up, and pulled her against his warm body. He grabbed her chin and kissed her again. “You’re mine” he muttered between kisses

“Yours” she answered responding to his kisses with even more fervor. They were roaming each other's bodies with their hands when he couldn’t take it any more, he grabbed her waist and lifted her to take her to a darker corner of the room where a bed awaited them.

“That’s not how I imagined our first-time babygirl but rest assured, I will make up to you because you deserve the best”

“It doesn’t matter as long as I’m with you,” she said as he dropped her off on the bed.

“You are so cute Schatz but I do care, just trust me to take care of you”

He crawled between her legs again until the head of his shaft was teasing her entrance. She arched her back in impatience.

“Please… I need you”

He couldn’t resist her plea and pushed his throbbing shaft inside her, he knew that he was well endowed so he went it slowly, but deep.

Her walls felt like heaven, perfectly wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck Liebe” he whispered

“Don’t hold back, I don’t care” she hissed

He started slow but deep thrusts, she had her arms around his neck, barely holding on, as his hips started going faster, sending her over the edge, he was so big but his head hit her sweet spot every time.

She threw her head back, lost in her pleasure. He kissed her sensitive neck, lightly grasping it with his teeth. The feeling of her tight heat constricting around his cock at every thrust was enough to send him over the edge.

“I want to pump you full princess, until you drip with my come between your thighs”

He grabbed her neck to hold her right in place, as she was his to command. She did another wicked smile of hers and pulled his hand against her airway. Her muscles clenching on his cock even harder. He groaned not stopping his merciless pace. Her eyes rolled at the back of her head in ecstasy, pleasure invading her whole body.

“You’re so beautiful Liebe, I want to be buried inside you forever”

She tentatively raised her hand to his jaw, caressing it. The fact that he said that he wanted to possess her forever made her even more hooked. She wanted to possess him as well. She wanted to be every fleeting thought until she was all he could think about.

“Come with me Schatz,” he said while slipping a hand between them to reach her clit.

The extra stimulation was all she needed to orgasm right away. She let out a loud moan which intensified when she felt his release into her. He could feel his cock softening inside but they stayed like this for a moment. Breathing each other’s scent.

Here they were, lying against each other, when slowly they cocked their head to the side, searching each’s other eyes. She lost herself in his stormy blue eyes. He was perfect for her.” My man” she thought. Her heart was beating hard in her chest. He smiled while relishing in the eyes he loved so much, he couldn’t stop looking at her, she was like an angel to him, she was so perfect for him, it’s the first time he didn’t feel like a freak with someone. They were the same kind of fucked up.

“I love you” … Both said at the exact same time. They smiled.

“I am so happy,” she said her eyes welling up with tears when she went to capture his lips. He kissed her back with fervor when he said

“You have no idea how glad I am as well Maus, you complete me,” he said gripping her waist so she was straddling him.

“I looked for you all my life Schatz i will never let you go. You know that?

“I rather kill you than have you walking away from me” she answered

“That’s my girl” he answered with a predatory grin.

He grabbed the side of her face to kiss her, with tongue and teeth they made a mess but they didn’t care. His other hand was feeling the fullness of her ass cheek. She hooked her leg around his hips, their private parts grinding against each other, she tried to get him to lay on the bed but he gave her a slap on her ass cheek.

“No baby, not yet, you want to ride my cock?”

She nodded

“You‘ll have to earn that, for now… on all fours Liebe”

She giggled while following his instructions. Seeing her on display for him was something he wanted to remember at all times, he wanted to map her body until he knew every mole, every scar, no matter how small it was.

“Fuck, you are so divine, I want to devour you” he whispered to her ear while positioning himself behind her. And in one swift motion, he buried himself to the hilt inside her. He grabbed a handful of her hair, she could feel the tension but it wasn’t hurting.

She was moving her hips in sync with his.

“You’re loving this aren’t you Liebling?” he asked in a husky voice

“I do… so much” she answered before letting out another cry of pleasure.

He gave her ass cheek another slap and she made another pleased sound, her walls tightening around him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, and yet you take me like a champ”

He was right, he stretched her like she never has been before but she never yearned for someone like she does for him.

“I love feeling you inside me, I feel so full”

He brought a hand to her lower belly, he could almost feel his cock slipping in and her out. He ran his possessive hand all over her womb and said

“I’m gonna make you pregnant Schatz, look at your pretty cunt begging for my cum”

She never thought about having children but when he was saying it, it seemed … right. She liked it. That way she is still going to have a part of him inside her, their essences are going to mix to create the perfect child. His semen mixed with her juices was dripping down her parted thighs. His cock still drilled into her.

“I’m going to pump you full Liebe, you gonna drip with my come, I’ll do it as many times as necessary. Until I see that belly of yours becoming round” he said while moving his hand from her belly to her clit, drawing circles on it.

He was close but he wanted her to come first. His grip on her hips was so tight, she probably had a few bruises later. The sound of their skins slapping against each other filled the room.

“Come, baby, come on my cock” and she did. Her muscles constricting on him like a cobra on his prey.

“Oh fuck, fuck” he said riding through his orgasm. His hot semen painted her walls white.

“Oh my god that was so good…” she panted while her knees gave out because of the intensity. He caught her right on time so she could land softly on the mattress.

Besides his hood he wasn’t wearing anything, and still had his watch on his wrist, he checked the time.

“We have to go back to your house Liebe, you have to pack a bag with your favorite things”

“Where are we going?” she sounded very excited

“Home, I’m taking you to Austria with me”

He was not asking. Her smile widened.

“We’re really going to be together forever?”

“Of course, Liebe and even in the afterlife if there is one, I want you to be my side always, as soon as we land you gonna pick a pretty white dress … and you gonna be mine by law as well”

She was thrilled, to say the least. He was looking for something in his cargo pants pockets. When he turned around, he held a beautiful diamond ring between his fingers, she immediately gave him her hand. Both were over the moon, the intensity of their feelings being reciprocated was almost overbearing.

“It’s exactly my size”

“Of course love, I checked your size when I intruded into your room”

“You did that?” she did that with a mix of excitement and curiosity

“Of course, I did, multiple times”

“Did you get off on my bed?” she asked with a teasing smile

“What do you think?” he looked at her with malice

“That’s what I would have done if I ever found where you were crashing so…”

“You’re so perfect Schatz,” he said while capturing her lips.

The kiss was passionate, slow, and deep. She could feel the desire rising again between them. They would never make it to the airport at this rate.

“You wearing nothing but my ring… you have no idea what it does to me, my girl… so perfect so mine” he said between kisses, she squealed happily and ravaged his neck with open-mouthed kisses, making him shiver.

He was getting hard again, his desire for her knew no bounds but they had to catch this flight and disappear before her criminal father realized that she was missing.

“I really want to worship you again Schatz but we have to go. Your father is going to put his men on our backs”

She pulled away with a disappointed whine. “Okay…. I doubt that he cares that much about me you know I’m just a girl, and he already has an heir, I’ll bet if anything he’s going to be relieved I’m gonna leave a note that I’m leaving out on my own will so he won’t start a war because of his pride”

He had no idea that their relationship was that bad. But it didn’t matter at least he wouldn't have to fight an old man to prove that he was the right fit for his daughter. She already wore his ring, she belonged to him, no one else.

“There is a little issue here babe … you ripped my clothes off I literally don’t have anything to wear,” she said

“Take my jacket, it’s a loose fitting for me so it should look perfect on you, with your heels on it's almost like you had a coat”

It was true, you looked so small in this big jacket. It smelled just like him. It was enthralling.

“We should hurry Liebe, we have one hour then we shall go to the airport straight away”

“Let’s go then”

And just like that they left the abandoned place on fire, to not leave any trace. König was driving to her house.

“Remember Libeling, take your papers, things that you care about and that’s it, don’t worry about mundane stuff, I’ll provide you with everything you want once we get there,” he said in a smooth voice

“Okay”

They arrived at her house, everything was silent because her father wasn’t at home like usual. König parked a few houses down the street so that the security cameras wouldn’t be able to see him, he was ridden with anxiety by letting her go alone.

It’s like a part of him trying to get away, the imaginary strings tugging at his heart.

Five … Ten minutes … It was too long. He was about to go see where she went when she got into the car. She saw the look of sheer panic in his eyes before he took a deep breath.

“Babe I missed you so much. I almost forgot to leave the note! But I have everything I need in this backpack, look !”

There were her papers, a few clothes, a purse, a make-up bag, and a notebook.

“Perfect let’s go mein Schatz” He felt a bit stupid for panicking so much, he had to be strong for her. No girl wants to see her man panicking he thought.

She knew better and took his face between her palms, giving him a kiss through his hood. She knew, she sensed it. She was as anxious as he was. She couldn’t stop shaking as she retrieved her stuff, not being with him was suffocating. The ache in her heart was very much real. She knew that it was madness but she couldn’t help it. She either felt strongly or nothing at all. There was no in-between.

When she got in the car again it was like emerging after swimming underwater. He was there, they were together, everything was going to be okay. She saw the look he had on his face and knew what he needed. They both needed it.

As he drove off, she rummaged through her bag took off a bracket, and put it around his wrist.

“That way you are wearing something that’s mine too,” she said.

“Danke, Liebe,” he said grabbing her hand to give it a kiss, his eyes not leaving the road.

When they got to the airport, they reset their phone and ditched the SIM card. König had multiple passports to use and of course, he had planned one for her. Couldn’t have someone follow them. They went to the airports’s restrooms to change themselves. Of course, since they were at the airport, the hood had to go for the time being.

He swore he could see little hearts forming in her eyes. She was so cute but also beautiful at the same time, no one could ever compete with her and she was in love with him.

“Can’t believe you’re mine, Schatz. Tell me again”

“I’m yours”

He kissed her deeply, slowly, putting the weight of his feelings through the kiss. She smiled through their embrace and slightly bit his lip.

“You’re mine” she stated

“I’m yours Liebling, forever I mean it, even if death takes my hand I will hold you with the other and promise to find you in every lifetime”

The airport’s voice finally announced their gate, and in a few hours, their life together was going to start. Both couldn’t wait for the future that awaited them.

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