#she was all like 'this story takes place in nature and of course the first population in america are very in touch with nature'

[keyaho]

.summary - Briar Jameson has been a ballet dancer since her first step. She found out how expensive the job was and almost gave up. At least until an unlikely benefactor proposed an arrangement.

.about - I'M BACK !!!! This is a spin off of my story R.E.L.Ls. If you would like to be tagged please like this post.

.warnings - depictions of sexual situations, MDNI, 18+

🟥....finale - relates to stopping or an end 🟨....adagio - slowly 🟩....en avant - forward

He was always front row watching her. Opening night to the final curtain call, Briar had his full attention each and every performance. When she wasn't on stage, he scrolled his phone and took calls from Hunter and Paul. Because in due time he knew she'd be on her knees sucking him off in his limo on the way back to their hotel suite for the night. His debauched thoughts were interrupted by clapping and he watched the curtain lower and her co-lead, Amir, present her to the clapping audience. For a brief second he caught her looking towards his box, high above the floor seats and secluded from people who could notice the WWE Superstar was in the building. 

Even if they couldn't see each other clearly, they locked eyes, sharing a moment despite the distance between them. 

"You came," Briar said. 

She held another bouquet of daffodils in white, yellow, and pink. Her favorite flower and her favorite colors. She never expected this man to pay attention to the small things considering their arrangement, but he surprised her every time. When she learned he came to all of her performance, she wondered what he was thinking. Was he here just because of how their night was planned to end, or did he really enjoying seeing her perform?

"Of course," he replied coolly, leading her from the back door exit to their awaiting limousine. 

The driver opened their door and she slid inside first, the flowers finding a place on the seat next to the window. Roman slid in after, his large body taking up space as his thighs naturally parted. Briar looked down at them. 

Her makeup was ruined. Mascara ran down her face in a river of black. Her lipstick was smudged and her eyes were red and tear brimmed. She sat perfectly on her in front of Roman as he scrolled through his phone. At the hotel's provided desk, she kept his dick warm with her throat. He was heavy on her tongue, the vein on the underside she was used to licking, pulsed. The three new pair of skin toned pointe shoes were open on the bed, already tried on.  She just had to form them to her feet and break them in. 

Briar watched him put his phone down. His dark brown eyes landed on her between his legs and a smile stretched across his face. 

"Look at you," he hummed. "My own little ballerina." 

His fingertips brushed against her cheeks, feeling his dick pressing against them. He shifted further in the chair, watching at her eyes shed more tears. His thick fingers twisted into her curls, pulling her head up until his tip rested against her full bottom lip. 

She was still in her costume from the show. The performance tutu was fanned out, her knees tucked between them as she rested on them. The gold detailing around the heart shaped necklines was intricately beaded. Her brown skin, even now, glowed so beautifully. 

"The pointe shoes okay?" He asked. 

Briar nodded. They were her preferred brand; snug, but didn't feet too tight. The color match was perfect, seamlessly blending in with her skin tone. 

"Good." He laughed. "At six hundred a pop they better be." 

Roman stood, dick swinging, and walked to the bed. Briar stay where she was, watching him. He motioned for her to join him. She rose slowly, watching as he removed his shirt and tie. Roman tossed it to the side, his broad back and golden skin was just as impressive as his front. The same front her hands had explored as her took her over the edge with his long and deep strokes. 

She came to stand in front of him and she looked up at his expectant eyes. 

"They aren't going to take themselves off." 

Briar had learned one of his rules fairly early on in their arrangement. You have the please of undressing me. 

She reached for his belt buckle, the moves so familiar she watched his face as she pulled his belt loose, unbuttoned his slacks, and pushed them down his hips. The wet spot she had made earlier rubbed against her hands as she tugged them off when he lifted his legs. 

"How's my pretty little valet?" 

"Adagio." She replied. 

As much as she wanted to have a marathon with him, she was both tired and needy. After sixteen shows, rehearsals, and little sleep over the past few weeks she wanted to feel him, of course, it had been two weeks, but she knew once she hit that bed, he'd be using her like a fleshlight. Roman had seen the sleepy look in her eyes when he found her after the show. 

"Turn around. Hands on the bed." 

Briar turned around and leaned forward. Her hands dug into the plush sheets. She felt the zipper of her costume lower, the calloused hands running up her spine, and the yank of material as the costume was stripped from her body. Her black thong came next. The material was damp and she shivered as he pulled them down. 

When she was naked, Roman grabbed her hips and kicked her legs apart. Briar could feel his dick pressing against her cunt, poking at her slit every few seconds as he positioned himself behind her. He tapped her thigh. 

She rose up on the box of her pointe shoes as her back arches. 

"Such a beautiful relevé." 

[tokiro07]

Ichi the Witch ch.23 thoughts

[I'm Not Brutalized, But I Seem to Be Struck By You]

(Topics: character analysis - Gokuraku/Ichi/Kumugi, speculation - worldbuilding)

Confirmed! The new companion is, in fact, a man! And what a pretty man he is, too

I've always been a fan of those sorts of gauntlets and greaves, his hair has a lot of interesting things going on, the markings around his eyes are distinctive, and of course, as a freckle-haver myself, I'm quite impressed that Usazaki made those such a prominent part of his design

But before we dive into discussing our new best boy, though, I'd like to take a brief moment to talk about our previous one, Ichi, and his little uh...proposal for Kumugi

What'd He Mean By This?

It's immediately clear that Ichi doesn't actually have a firm grasp on the terms of the contract, as the literal first thing he does after learning that he's now indentured into Desscaras' servitude is draft his own copy of the contract and run to Kumugi, asking her to be his family too

What this tells us is that a) Ichi doesn't realize that he'd be endangering himself and Kumugi by doing this; b) he thinks that all it takes to forge a magical contract is a regular pen and paper; and c) his takeaway from that conversation with Desscaras was that they have, in fact, become family

Ichi is so excited by the prospect of having someone in his life who he knows won't leave him that he tries to apply it wherever he can, so naturally he goes to the only other friend he has, Kumugi. I won't suggest that this means that he feels anything romantic towards her, but he does value her and want her around. Even if he misunderstands the weight of what he asked, that misunderstanding in and of itself carries its own weight and implications, that he never wants Kumugi to leave him

Of course, from her perspective, he basically just waltzed in with a marriage license and said "let's get hitched." She doesn't have the context for what Ichi thinks that contract is for or even what it actually is in the first place. She saw paper and heard "family," and her imagination went wild. She does seem to appreciate that Ichi probably didn't know what he was saying, but that only leads to more confusion on her part: what did he think he was saying, and whatever it was, what prompted him to say it?

I wouldn't be at all surprised if Kumugi starts to develop feelings for Ichi over the course of the story, but I'm also not quite sure that I want that, at least not yet. This doesn't seem like a story that's built on romance, meaningful glances and women drinking from each other's glasses notwithstanding, so unless Nishi lays a lot of groundwork first, I just don't see Ichi settling down or anything

That said, if Family is meant to be a major recurring theme, perhaps tackling the topic of marriage would be helpful for developing that theme? Marriage is a contract, so perhaps a comparison could be drawn between marriage and the Mentor-Pupil Blood Contract? Like how much control one relinquishes or gains in a wedded relationship vs. how much is lost as a Pupil

We can probably explore that fine with the contract on its own, but it already doesn't seem quite as all-powerful as I expected

The Ol' Ball-and-Chain

As the gang arrives at Origumo's nest, Ichi prepares to mozy on in without hesitation, only to be pulled back by Desscaras who gives him a number of orders: "don't rush in, don't get cocky, don't eat stuff off the ground," all of which Ichi acquiesces to. This is presumably because he is under magical contract and can't defy any order from Desscaras, except there's one more that he doesn't seem bound to follow

After he says yes to the orders, Desscaras pulls a Makima and insists that the correct response isn't "yes," but "woof." However, Ichi emphatically and successfully refuses this order, even though she tries it two more times

This implies one of two things: 1) Desscaras' orders aren't absolute and there is some mitigating factor such as the reasonability of the request or relevance to the mentor-pupil relationship; or 2) that wasn't a serious order and the spell is powered by intent, so an "order' like that that's only meant for banter doesn't necessarily count

It's a minor detail and one that doesn't really need to be dwelled on, but it's a pretty immediate inconsistency that I think is worth at least considering in the event of future contradictions

I think the exact wording or specific circumstance is important to consider as well, as Ichi does manage to defy the order not to charge in unprepared after seeing Gokuraku's treatment of Oniguro. Does the context of already being in the nest negate the timing of the order? Does he have some reign to say "I'm not unprepared, so now I can charge in?" It seems strange that he's already able to resist the contract after such a big deal was made about it, so I'd really like an in-depth explanation on the mechanics

I don't expect we'll get it for a little while if we're not getting it now, but one that I think we will get an explanation for is Gokuraku's armor

Gauntlet Thrown, Gauntlet Picked Up

The clearest takeway from this chapter is that, whether or not there are men aside from Ichi in the world who can use magic, Gokuraku is not one of them

And yet, when he kisses his ring and declares "Synchro Rate 10%," he seems to be able to augment his strength at will. This gives the impression that the kiss is meant to activate the ability of his armor and that this strength comes from it rather than purely from himself

My question is how

That sounds pretty similar to the leg augmentation of Ichi's magic boots, but that requires that the user charge them with magical energy. Gokuraku can't be using magical energy on his armor because he doesn't have magic to use, but we don't have a clear alternate energy source in the story yet

Gokuraku is either here specifically to introduce that new energy or technology or to expand on the lore of how magical items work. Perhaps the armor already has magic imbued into it from another Witch and that's what Gokuraku is synchronizing with?

Or maybe he's actually incredibly strong naturally and he's adjusting his physical output to a smaller amount to account for the current situation? The kanji used is "tekigou" (適合), meaning "compatibility/adaptability/conformity," so I could go either way, but I think it's clear that Gokuraku's strength is being scaled to something, and I'd really like to know what

The idea of compatibility is particularly interesting here because that seems to be Gokuraku's goal: to find a Magik that he's compatible with, but there's something about him that's making it impossible

Swipe Left

Some of Gokuraku's dialogue ("what a silly little Magik you are" in English or speaking with heart emojis ♥) and his actions (kissing his ring, attacking with a playful forehead flick, etc.) gives a sort of whimsically flirtatious vibe. It's almost like he's looking for a partner or a soulmate and trying to convince the Magiks to love him

I don't know if that is his motivation, but I think with the theme of Family starting to develop, I'd say someone that's desperate to find love would be a perfect angle to analyze the theme from at this point

Even better for that analysis is the fact that, despite thinking that he's just doing his best, Gokuraku is actually disincentivizing the Magiks from wanting to be with him by being cruel to them. Gokuraku may be looking for love, but he's not actually trying to find it, he's trying to take it by force

Gokuraku is, for the time being, an abuser

He's a toxic man who refuses to listen to what anyone else says if it contradicts his opinions or desires. It can't possibly be that he's incapable of acquiring a Magik, it has to be that the Magiks are either lying or lazy. They either know exactly what they need to do and are being stingy, or they aren't willing to put in the same work as he is to figure out a way around it

He's deluded himself into thinking that "magic" can do anything, can break any rule that proves inconvenient to it, inconvenient to him. If there isn't currently a way for a man to acquire a Magik, then the Magik should be able to cast a spell on him that will allow him to

But magic simply doesn't work that way. A Magik only has one spell. Maybe they can use it in different and clever ways, but they aren't miracle workers. They can't change the rules of the world, no matter how much they want to

And that's unacceptable to Gokuraku. Maybe it's because accepting it would mean giving up on some kind of dream. Maybe it's because admitting he was wrong would make everything he did to all of those Magiks pointless, a colossal waste of time. It would make him the bad guy

And I think that's the problem. It's his unwillingness to accept other people's perspectives to overwrite his own, his refusal to be open to anyone outside of himself, that's keeping him from acquiring a Magik, at least on a symbolic level. I don't think having a change of heart will get him what he wants immediately, but I think the narrative is keeping him from his goal because he's allowed that goal to turn him into a monster. He is not fit for a relationship, to be family with anyone, so he doesn't get to be

It'll only be when he abandons his ego and his insistence on everything going his one, specific and unreasonable way that he'll find what he's actually looking for in a place he never looked. Once he ceases to be cruel to Magiks, he'll be able to open his heart to humans and find his family among them

But he has to change first

Necessary Evils

From this introduction, it seems like it will be difficult to make Gokuraku an ally. Not because he won't be willing, he's already endeared to Ichi, but because Ichi already doesn't like him

While Ichi does take pleasure in killing, he only kills because it's necessary for survival. It needs to be done anyway, so he might as well enjoy it. However, suffering isn't necessary for survival. There's no sense in hurting a rabbit, the goal is to kill and eat it; drawing out the process only makes it more likely that the rabbit will get away, and will waste precious energy that the rabbit is supposed to be refueling. A quick, painless death is the most beneficial for everyone involved

The World Hater doesn't seem to take pleasure in anything, they only kill because it's necessary for ridding the world of the things they hate. It needs to be done as a matter of course, so emotional investment isn't necessary. The death they bring hurts, and clearly a lot, but likely not for long. The goal is to kill them and be done with it; drawing out the process only gives humanity time to breed more to replace the ones that died. A quick death without concern for pain or pleasure is the most efficient for the World Hater

Gokuraku has no desire to kill Magiks, he wants to acquire their spells, he just needs to convince them to let him do so. They're unreasonable and won't give him what he's earned when he passes their trial, so he has to retaliate. It's not like they'll die, they won't even be so much as scarred! They'll walk away exactly the same as they were before, and they know it, so he's gotta get a bit extreme to really make his case. And hey, if he's gonna be there for a while, he might as well have fun with it! The goal is to make them give up the goods, and it's completely up to them how long that takes. He doesn't want to hurt them, they're making him hurt them; they're drawing out the process, and the longer it goes, the more painful he has to make it to convince them that giving him what he wants is the only way to make it stop

Gokuraku's approach shows a complete lack of respect for the Magiks or their lives. He thinks because they'll heal that he can do whatever he wants, completely ignorant of the psychological damage that they'll be left with, and how that will impact their immortal lives going forward. Worse, he revels in that ignorance, whistling while he humiliates and tortures them in creative ways

Ichi can't possibly accept that. His philosophy of Death for Death assumes the capacity to die, a dignified conclusion to a battle for survival. Nothing that Gokuraku is doing helps him to survive, and doesn't offer a way out for the victim to escape. The Magiks are not a threat to Gokuraku, and he doesn't live longer because of their suffering - Death for Death does not apply anywhere in this process

The gulf between Ichi's philosophy and Gokuraku's actions is so wide, it would be near impossible to reconcile their differences without forcing Gokuraku to grow. Somehow, Ichi needs to prove to him that what he's doing is causing real harm for absolutely no benefit, and he himself needs to be able to admit that he's wrong

I see this going one of two ways - either Gokuraku gives up hurting Magiks but is still clearly a deeply unhinged and sadistic individual in every other aspect of his life, OR he has to fight the urge to be sadistic and struggles with it for the remainder of his storyline. I'm not sure which would be more fun to see, but either way, I'm very compelled by his character already and I greatly look forward to seeing how he develops

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

[kikyoupdates]

Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑟𝑎

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

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Aizawa feels bad about bringing you to the hospital again. It goes without saying that it’s not a fun place for a kid, but if the doctors are concerned, then really, what choice does he have?

“Am I sick?” you ask him. “I don’t feel sick, so why am I back here?”

He offers you a sympathetic smile. “It’s just in case. Sometimes, we need to do a lot of tests to make sure that your body’s healthy. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

As always, you go along without much protest. Aizawa appreciates that you trust him so much, but it actually makes him feel even worse about jerking you along like this. You’re a good kid, and truly, you deserve better than the unfortunate circumstances you’ve found yourself in.

Dr. Iwase examines you, does a few more tests (Aizawa holds your hand again when they take another blood sample), but all in all, it’s clear that nobody has any idea what’s going on.

“She seems perfectly healthy and functional,” Dr. Iwase frowns. “Which is why... it just doesn’t make any sense. The numbers we keep getting don’t add up. Perhaps it has something to do with her Quirk? You mentioned before that she has regenerative abilities. Perhaps that might be affecting her blood cells and overall constitution. But even so, it’s still rather strange...”

If a doctor can’t figure out what’s happening, then Aizawa sure as hell won’t be able to either.

He spares a glance at you. You’re sitting on the exam table and happily swinging your legs out, seemingly without a care in the world. No part of you strikes him as being sick or unhealthy. Scientific data aside, as long as you don’t feel any discomfort, that’s what matters most, right?

“Can I take her home now?” Aizawa asks. “I’d hate to keep her here too long. Especially if you say she looks fine.”

“Yes, I suppose. Sorry for the inconvenience. A child’s wellbeing is at stake, so naturally, I couldn’t afford to be negligent.”

Aizawa nods. “Of course. I’m just glad she’s okay. As you’re probably aware, I don’t have much medical knowledge, but at the very least, I can keep an eye on her health and look out for any concerning signs.”

“That would be much appreciated,” Dr. Iwase smiles. “Thank you, Aizawa. So long as you monitor [Name]’s condition, I feel confident that she’ll be just fine.”

Well, that concludes yet another hospital trip. Aizawa doesn’t much care for the harsh smell of antiseptic and the constant beeping of medical machinery, but he supposes he’ll have to get used to it. If it means keeping you safe, he’ll take you to dozens, no—hundreds of hospitals to make sure you’re in good health.

“So, I’m not sick,” you hum, looking rather pleased with yourself as you hold onto Aizawa’s hand. “I told you, Aizawa. I told you I was feeling just fine.”

“I know,” he chuckles. “Like I said, this is just to be safe. Adults are very meticulous about these kinds of things. We like to test things a bunch of times just to be sure that we’ve gotten it right.”

You smile. “That’s okay. I don’t mind coming back here again if it helps everyone believe I’m not sick. And since I was a good girl and listened... that means I get a burger, right?”

Man. You really, really love burgers.

Not that Aizawa minds. Quite frankly, that smile of yours is so cute that he’s ready to risk everything for it.

“One burger coming right up,” he muses, affectionately ruffling your hair.

Your smile gets even bigger. “Since I was extra good today, can I maybe have two burgers instead?”

“...let’s not push it.”

He’s convinced that if you ever do get sick, it’ll be from a burger-induced food coma.

You’re a kid. Being a kid comes with its fair share of troubles, it seems. Troubles that are only amplified by the fact that you have virtually no lived experience.

While it’s true that kids are generally ignorant about most things, yours is a different case altogether. Certain things you instinctively pick up on, thanks to the knowledge Dr. Garaki imbued your brain with, but others, you can only learn by experiencing them firsthand, and what may seem incredibly obvious to most people often needs to be explained to you in great detail.

Aizawa still hasn’t been able to figure out what the deal with you is. The police have yet to find any leads, and there are absolutely no records of you anywhere they’ve looked. Almost as if you never existed in the first place.

Whatever the case, it’s clear that his guardianship can hardly be called ‘temporary’ anymore.

For the foreseeable future, you’re here to stay, and that means that he needs to make sure all your needs are properly seen to.

This, of course, includes education.

“School?” you blink, visibly confused. “What’s that?”

As always, your response catches him off guard. Based on a rough estimate, you look to be about five or six years old. You claim you don’t know your birthdate, which is plenty horrifying in its own right, but he chalks that up to the obvious gaps in your memory. Still. To have forgotten about something as fundamental as school? It’s messed up, and it makes him tremble just imagining the horrible man who must have tormented you all this time.

You’ve been through a lot, which is all the more reason why you need to start living normally, the way other kids do.

“School is where people go to learn all kinds of things,” Aizawa explains. “I’m sure you’ll really enjoy it. And there will be plenty of kids your age there, so you can make some friends too.”

Friends...

You like the idea of having friends. Hopefully, you can meet more nice people like Izuku. That would be great. Just the thought makes you ridiculously excited.

“I want to go,” you insist. “I want to make tons of friends!”

Present Mic laughs. “You’ll have to learn too, kiddo. That’s kind of the main focus of school. Well, you seem like a smart kid, and you’re good at following instructions, so you've got all the qualities of a model student.”

Your face flushes with pride. School hasn’t even begun yet, and you’re already being praised. It seems like a rather promising start.

And so, while you eagerly await your first day of school, Aizawa and Present Mic attend to all the bureaucratic details. They’re able to find a good public elementary school in the area, and thankfully, after explaining your unique circumstances, your enrolment is approved.

That’s how you find yourself equipped with a cute cat-themed backpack, lips parted in awe as you stand in front of the school gates.

Aizwa pats your head. “How are you feeling? It’s okay to be nervous, but just remember to take a deep breath, and everything will be fine—”

“I’m so excited I can barely stand still!” you exclaim. “I want to go in, I want to go in, I want to go in!”

Well, then. He had a whole speech prepared in case you were getting cold feet, but this certainly saves him the trouble.

“I’m glad you’re looking forward to it so much.” Aizawa crouches next to you and smiles. “Mic is busy with hero work, so he couldn’t be here to drop you off, but he wanted you to know that he’s rooting for you.”

“I know,” you beam. “Even when you guys are busy, I know you’re still thinking of me. Just like how I always think of you.”

Goodness. Aizawa is convinced you must be a tiny little angel that fell out of the sky. Perhaps that’s why most things are so foreign to you.

He chuckles weakly at the thought. No, of course not. Your past is far too grim for that to be the case. Still, it’s nice to dream.

“Have fun,” Aizawa encourages, patting your head one last time. “Make sure to listen to your teacher and you’ll be just fine. And play nice with the other kids. I’m sure they’d love to be friends with you.”

You hesitate before trickling past the gates, where the crowd of other kids is passing through. Aizawa wonders if you’re finally starting to feel nervous, but before he can pose the question, you jump into his arms and give him a big hug.

“Bye-bye, Aizawa,” you say. “I’ll miss you while I’m at school. And you’ll miss me too, right?”

He blinks in surprise, but it doesn’t take long for him to wrap his arms around you.

“I will. I’ll miss you a lot,” he mumbles. He’s not just saying it for show, either. As he holds your tiny body against his, he realizes that he’ll miss you like crazy these next few hours.

It’s strange how he hasn’t even known you for very long, but already, you’ve become so deeply ingrained in his life.

He finally waves goodbye to you, and you scurry off excitedly, following behind the rest of the students. Aizawa could have easily walked with you all the way to your classroom, but you insisted that you wanted to figure it out yourself. You’re a big girl, and you want to prove to him that you’re plenty capable on your own.

Thankfully, the school isn’t terribly big, and you’re able to find your way just by copying where most of the other kids are headed. Your eyes scan the signs above the doors, searching for the classroom that you were assigned to.

Ah. It’s that one!

You grin proudly. Look at that. You figured it out just fine, even without Aizawa’s help. Of course, it’s not like you have any qualms about relying on him, but it’s nice to do something on your own every once in a while.

You step inside the classroom and take a few moments to assess your surroundings. So, this is school, huh? There are desks and chairs all over the place, there’s a blackboard at the front, and the walls are covered with all sorts of educational posters; mainly catchy slogans or words of affirmation. There’s a map of the world too, and a big clock.

But best of all, the classroom is bustling with excitement. There are kids everywhere you look. So many of them! So many potential friends! You’re itching to go up to them and introduce yourself right off the bat, but before you can, someone beats you to it.

“[N-Name]?”

Huh? That sounds like...

You whip your head around, and sure enough, there he is. The nice curly-haired boy you met not long ago, and who you quickly hit it off with.

A grin spreads across your lips.

“Izuku!”

You bound over to him and take his hands in yours, despite the fact that it makes him yelp out of embarrassment. You’re too excited to take note of how violently red his face is. You just can’t believe how lucky you are, to have met him again on such short notice. And best of all, you’re classmates now, which means you’ll get to see each other all the time.

“Yay, Izuku’s here!” you beam. “I’m so happy to see you again! I didn’t realize you went to this school too. It’s my first day, and I was already excited, but now that I get to see you, I’m even more excited!”

The poor boy’s head is spinning. He’s so flustered that he can hardly keep up with what’s happening, and the fact that you’re still holding his hand in yours doesn’t help in the slightest.

You frown a bit, having finally picked up on his embarrassment. “Hm? Izuku, are you okay? Your face looks kind of—”

“No way is this happening right now.”

Ah. There’s yet another familiar voice.

Except this isn’t one you’re all too thrilled about.

Katsuki grits his teeth. “I can’t believe it. You seriously have the nerve to show your face here, after all the crap you said to me? You really must be an idiot. You made a big mistake coming to this school.”

He balls his hands into fists, an act which is clearly meant to intimidate you, but all the while, you just stare at him without uttering a word.

Then, you blink.

“Sorry, what was your name again?”

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[catinfroghat]

I started a literature course at the public library and there was the poshest women I've ever heard in my life there my eyes literally widened in disbelief at the way she was pronouncing some words omg...

[solxamber]

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

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

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

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

Except this time, you somehow pick the worst one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You love it.

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

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

Really?

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

And then, boom. Everything went black.

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

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

Your heart drops.

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

No. Fucking. Way.

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

“Oh. My. God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Consequences?”

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

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

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

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

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

Are you kidding me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Malicious compliance for the win, you think smugly.

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

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

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

Wrong.

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

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

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

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

"System: Where’s the fun in that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Villain points: 100

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

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

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

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

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

No!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is.

Holy crap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Riddle? He’s still smiling.

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

"System: +100 points"

Villain Points: 200

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

And that’s when you heard it.

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

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

Gee, thanks, system. Truly motivating stuff.

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

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

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

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

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

Aw, stop, you’re gonna make me blush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+50 points, + 1 extremely powerful ally.

Villain points: 250

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except he didn’t just catch his breath.

Nope.

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

And you? You froze.

Oh no.

Oh God.

What do I do?!

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

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

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

No, focus! Focus!

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

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

But also… very, very good?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ace grins wickedly. “Leave it to me.”

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

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

Her eyes widen. “Wha—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ace and Deuce both freeze. Your stomach drops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Villain System: Achievement Unlocked—Total Disaster;

Reward: 50 Villain Points + Bonus Perk!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Villain Points: 500. 500 points to freedom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when it happens.

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

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

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

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

Ace is going to have a field day with this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, not this year.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Little does she know.

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

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

You laugh. "Overkill is the goal."

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

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow but smile politely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Villain Points: 625.  375 points left till freedom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, the plan began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no. She did not just hit the horse.

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

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

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

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

"I—I didn’t—"

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

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

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

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

The system pops up again with a cheeky little message.

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

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

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

Villain Points: 750. 150 points left till freedom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then gravity kicks in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riddle shoots him a glare that could melt ice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cue dramatic gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Villain points: 825. 175 points to go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It really doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

Spoiler: it doesn’t.

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

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

The Princess snorts.

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

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

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

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

Meanwhile, the system chimes in:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it. The dam broke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. Classy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Riddle noticed. Oh, did he notice.

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

You could almost hear his internal screams.

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

Time to act.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deuce shrugs. “I think it’d be cute.”

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

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

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

The execution? Less brilliant.

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, I know it’s a bit—”

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

“...I’ll figure that out later?”

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

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

“See? Mission accomplished!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And before Riddle could even respond, you kissed him.

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

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

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

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

And from that moment on, it was clear: you may be the academy’s resident chaos agent, but you were his chaos agent, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You finally got a private moment to yourself. It was time to say goodbye to the villain system that you may or may not have gotten fond of.

The notification flashed across your vision, blindingly bright:

[Congratulations! You’ve accumulated enough points to finally say goodbye to the system.]

You blinked. "Wait… really? I can finally get rid of you?"

[Yes. It’s been a wild ride, hasn’t it?]

Wild ride was an understatement. The system had dragged you through schemes, quests, and enough drama to fill a ten-season TV show, all for the purpose of toppling your sister's reign of terror. And now, at long last, you were free.

"...So that's it?" you asked. "No final boss fight? No sudden plot twist where you take over my body and reveal you’re the real villain?"

There was a pause before the next notification popped up.

[Actually... about that plot twist...]

You groaned. "I knew it. What is it this time? Are you an evil AI? A demon? Oh God, please tell me you’re not my fairy godmother in disguise."

[I’m… actually the original villainess.]

You stared at the screen for a solid five seconds. "...What."

[Yeah. You, uh, you kinda possessed me.]

You blinked rapidly, your brain short-circuiting. "WHAT?!"

[I was the original villainess of this world. The real one. You didn’t just get isekai’d into some random character. You got me, because I wanted you]

"Oh my God," you muttered. "You’ve been here the whole time?"

[Yup. Watching you fumble around like an idiot. No offense.]

"None taken, but wow—uh, okay," you said, rubbing your forehead. "So I’ve just been… helping you take revenge on your sister this whole time?"

[Well, duh.] The system sounded almost smug. [She tormented me horrifically when I was still alive. That’s why I pushed you to make her life miserable. I wanted justice.]

"Justice," you repeated, thinking back to all the chaos, sabotage, and general insanity. "That was justice?"

[Look, we both know she deserved it.]

You couldn’t exactly argue with that. "I mean, fair. So what now? You just leave?"

There was a long pause before the system replied.

[Well... you actually have more points than you need. You can buy my identity if you want. Get the full story. You know, if you're curious.]

You hesitated for a second, but then shrugged. "Eh, why not. Hit me with it."

The system pinged, and suddenly, memories flooded your mind—her memories. You saw everything: her upbringing, her struggles, how she had tried so hard to be perfect for her family, only for her sister to constantly outshine her. You saw the cruel way her sister belittled her, humiliated her in front of the court, all while smiling sweetly to the outside world.

And then… the tragic ending, where the villainess was cast aside, labeled a monster, and killed.

By the end of it, you felt like you’d been punched in the gut.

"Oh, wow," you whispered. "She really was awful to you."

[Told you.]

"Man… I’m so sorry," you said, your voice softening. "You went through all that, and then you ended up stuck with me."

[Honestly? It was kinda fun watching you screw up everything at first.] The system’s tone was teasing now, but there was an undeniable warmth underneath it. [But you did a good job. Better than I ever did. You were a little unhinged, but hey, that’s probably why I liked you.]

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Thanks, I guess? I tried my best."

[You did more than that.] There was a strange fondness in the system’s voice. [You turned this whole world upside down. You made people laugh, cry, and probably question their sanity. Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better revenge.]

For a moment, you felt a lump form in your throat. "So… what now? Do you just disappear?"

[Yeah. It’s time for me to move on. But… hey, I’m rooting for you. Go live your best life. Be happy. And if you ever need to knock your sister down a peg, do it in style. For me.]

You smiled, blinking away the sudden wetness in your eyes. "You bet I will. And hey—wherever you go, I hope you get to relax for once. You deserve it."

[Pfft, I doubt it, but thanks.]

There was a brief pause, then another notification popped up.

[Goodbye, little reader. It’s been real. And remember—always aim for the drama. It makes life more interesting.]

With that, the screen dimmed, and the system was gone.

You stared at the empty space where the notifications used to be. "Aim for the drama, huh?" you muttered, a grin tugging at your lips. "Well, I guess that’s one thing I’m good at."

As you turned around, ready to move forward without the system hovering over

you, you felt something. A strange, gentle sensation, like the faintest brush of a breeze, except it wasn’t just that. It was warmer, more personal, and… oddly comforting.

It took a second, but then it hit you. "Wait—"

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. Was this—?

It was as if the original villainess was giving you a ghostly hug. Soft, delicate, but so real you could almost feel her presence.

Tears welled up in your eyes, completely out of nowhere. You weren’t supposed to feel emotional! Not over a system—no, not just a system—a person who had suffered more than you ever realized.

"I… I’m sorry I couldn’t fix everything for you," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I tried, I really did, but…"

You felt that warmth grow a little stronger, like she was reassuring you, telling you that you had done enough. More than enough. Maybe, in a way, you’d freed her. Given her peace.

The weight of that ghostly embrace made your heart swell, and before you could stop yourself, you started crying. Again. But not the ugly, chaotic crying from before—this was softer, deeper. The kind of crying that cleansed your soul.

"I’ll do it," you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. "I’ll finish what I started. I’ll take her down. Not just for me—but for you."

The presence seemed to linger for a moment longer, and then it was gone, leaving behind a quiet strength in its place.

You wiped your eyes, steeling yourself. The resolution hardened in your chest like iron. Everything you had been planning, all the revenge, the chaos you had been orchestrating, it wasn’t just some game anymore. It was personal.

For her.

With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and looked out toward the path ahead, a fire burning brighter than ever inside you.

"I’ll finish this," you muttered, fists clenching. "And it’s going to be beautiful."

And with that, you walked forward, no longer just a reader in someone else’s story.

This time, you were the one in control.

The day of your wedding to Riddle was perfect. Every detail was as if the universe had conspired to make sure nothing went wrong. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers, and laughter echoed throughout the grand venue. Your friends were all there, supporting you—Ace and Deuce bickering over who looked better in their suits, Cater contantly checking if everything was aesthetically pleasing, and Trey managing everything behind the scenes with his usual calm, though you caught him grinning at you more than once, proud as ever. Even Che'nya had shown up, popping in and out of sight as he pleased, throwing teasing remarks at anyone who passed by.

Your sister, however, was absolutely seething. She stood stiffly, dressed impeccably, but with a scowl that could burn down the entire venue. You knew she was fuming because she had always imagined herself in your place, standing beside Riddle. Too bad for her—you had the upper hand now.

You glanced at her briefly as you passed by, a wicked smile tugging at your lips. “Didn’t think you’d have the guts to show your face here. I almost admire it,” you whispered sweetly as you walked past her, arm in arm with Riddle.

She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could get a word out, you tossed one last barb. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to toss my bouquet to you. Maybe you'll get married next? You know, if they can find someone that can stand you?”

Riddle squeezed your hand as if to remind you to behave, but even he had a hint of a smirk on his face. Your friends snickered behind you, and Che'nya, perched casually on a railing, added a quiet, “Oof, that’s gotta sting.”

The ceremony itself was beautiful. Riddle stood there looking like he’d stepped out of a fairytale, his usually stern face softened by the moment. As you exchanged vows, there was a lightness to the air that made everything feel surreal. You could see how much he cared in the way his hands trembled ever so slightly when he held yours.

Ace, unable to help himself, whispered loudly, “You sure Riddle isn’t going to pass out from the nerves?”

Deuce elbowed him, but you could barely hold back a laugh. Even Riddle blushed a bit, shooting a glare at Ace but unable to hide his own amusement.

When it was time for the reception, the fun really kicked off. Che'nya gave a surprisingly emotional speech—well, for him at least, as he vanished mid-sentence and then reappeared to finish his speech. Trey quietly made sure everything ran smoothly, even sneaking a slice of cake for you before the official cake-cutting, while Ace and Deuce took over the dance floor with some wild moves that had everyone laughing. Cater even got caught spiking the drinks and you couldn't help but laugh.

After the wedding, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light over the celebration. Everything had gone smoothly, almost too smoothly. Even Riddle’s mother, who was notoriously hard to please, had remained poised and polite throughout. But you knew there was still unfinished business, and the weight of it settled heavily on your chest.

You’d seen the way she treated Riddle for years—through the pages of the webnovel and now, up close. Sure, she liked you, had even hinted at being pleased with your match to Riddle, but that didn’t erase the years of pressure and manipulation she had placed on him. The burden he had carried because of her was too great to ignore, and today, of all days, you were not going to let it slide.

You spotted her near the garden fountain, quietly observing the festivities. For a moment, she looked almost serene, her icy exterior softened by the beautiful day. But that didn’t change how you felt.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over. "Lady Rosehearts," you began, your voice steady but laced with unspoken tension.

She turned to you, a smile on her lips. "Ah, my dear. You were magnificent today. Truly the picture of grace and elegance. I couldn't have asked for a better match for my son."

Her words were warm, genuine even, but they only fueled the fire burning in your chest. You didn’t respond right away, just stared at her, waiting for the right moment to unleash what you’d been holding in.

Finally, you spoke, your voice low. "I appreciate your kind words, but there’s something I can’t let go of." You stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "For years, you’ve pushed Riddle to be perfect. You suffocated him with your expectations, and it hurt him. I can’t stand by and let you pretend that didn’t happen."

Lady Rosehearts blinked, caught off guard. She opened her mouth to respond, but you held up a hand.

"You like me, and I’m grateful for that, but I love Riddle." Your voice wavered, not with fear, but with emotion. "And because I love him, I can’t ignore the damage you’ve caused. The pressure you put on him to be someone he wasn’t. The way you never let him breathe. You may have done it out of love, but it hurt him."

She stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in. There was no immediate defense, no cold dismissal. She simply looked… surprised.

"I…" she began, but faltered. "I thought I was doing what was best for him. I wanted him to succeed, to be respected."

"But at what cost?" you snapped, unable to hold back the edge in your voice. "You wanted him to be respected so much that you never let him make his own choices. He deserves to be happy. And he deserves your respect, not just as your son, but as a person."

The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. You could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the realization that perhaps, just perhaps, she hadn’t done as well by Riddle as she thought.

Before she could respond, Riddle appeared beside you, having noticed the tension from across the garden. He stood tall, his usual calm demeanor in place, but you could sense the vulnerability beneath it.

"Mother," he said quietly, his voice steady but with a new strength behind it. "She’s right."

His mother turned to him, the surprise evident on her face. "Riddle…"

"I know you wanted the best for me. I know you love me. But I needed more than just discipline and expectations. I needed to know that it was okay to be myself. To fail, even." He paused, and his eyes softened. "I love you, Mother. But you have to let me live my life. I’m not a perfect image for you to sculpt."

The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken words. You held your breath, waiting for her reaction, unsure of what to expect. You had always imagined her to be unmovable, too set in her ways to ever change.

But then, her expression softened. She took a step toward Riddle, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "I… didn’t realize. I thought I was protecting you. But I see now that I may have been too harsh, too controlling." She paused, her gaze shifting between you and Riddle. "You’re right. Both of you. And I am truly sorry."

You blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. This was not the cold, unyielding woman you had expected. There was genuine remorse in her eyes.

She turned to you, her tone softer. "Thank you. For helping him find his way. And for standing by his side."

For a moment, the three of you stood there, the weight of years of tension slowly lifting. It wasn’t a perfect resolution—years of damage couldn’t be erased with one conversation—but it was a start.You sighed, the anger that had been simmering inside you finally ebbing away. "I only did what anyone who loves him would do," you said, glancing at Riddle with a soft smile.

Riddle’s mother nodded, and though her usual composure was still in place, there was a warmth in her expression that you hadn’t seen before. "Then I’m glad he found someone like you." But you saw her expression crack a little and so did Riddle.

Then, Riddle, ever the perfect son, stepped forward. "Mother, it’s alright." His voice was soft, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t often seen. He reached out and offered her something you never expected—a hug.

For a moment, she hesitated. Then, slowly, she stepped into his embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around him. It was quiet, emotional, and—before you knew it—you were also pulled into it.

The warmth of the group hug surrounded you, Riddle’s mother surprisingly holding you a little tighter than you expected, as if silently acknowledging the forgiveness Riddle was able to give because of your presence by his side.

She then pulled away, wiped her tears and wiped the tears that you didn't realize were falling from your eyes either. "Congratulations, again, I'm proud of you both" was all she said as she turned to leave.

As she stepped away, leaving you and Riddle alone in the garden, you let out a long breath, feeling a sense of closure you hadn’t expected.

Riddle turned to you, his expression soft and full of gratitude. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For standing up for me. For everything."

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "You don’t need to thank me. We’re in this together, remember?"

He squeezed your hand gently, his usual stoic expression melting away into something softer, more vulnerable. "I know. And I wouldn’t have it any other way."

From across the garden, you saw Trey and Che'nya watching, Trey giving a subtle nod of approval, while Che'nya grinned, undoubtedly waiting to pounce with some teasing remark later.

But for now, you just stood there with Riddle, the weight of the day finally settling in. You’d won—both the battle for his heart and the battle for his freedom. And in that moment, everything felt right.

The courtroom was packed, filled with nobles from all across the empire. This was the moment you’d been waiting for, orchestrated with the help of your closest friends: Trey’s calm, methodical planning, Cater’s relentless information gathering, Ace and Deuce’s enthusiasm (and occasional chaos), and, of course, Riddle, who stood by your side, his presence a steady reassurance.

Your sister stood at the center of attention, oblivious to the storm about to hit. For years, she had manipulated and destroyed anyone who dared stand in her way. She thought she was untouchable, the darling of the nobility, admired and respected. But you knew the truth, and so did everyone in this room, thanks to the carefully gathered evidence that was about to expose her for the monster she was.

Cater had planted seeds of the truth you found out that grew into full-fledged whispers about your sister’s darker deeds. Even now, the tension in the room was palpable as people murmured, casting glances her way.

You stepped forward, the letter you held clutched tightly in your hand. Riddle gave you a small nod of encouragement, his eyes steely as he took his place beside you.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you began, your voice clear and sharp, cutting through the room's murmurs. "I come to you today not with accusations, but with the truth. The truth of the heinous crimes committed by my sister."

There was a gasp from the crowd, the air thick with shock and intrigue. Your sister's face remained calm, but you saw the flicker of worry in her eyes.

"She has embezzled from the kingdom’s treasury, siphoning off funds meant for the empire's welfare," you declared, holding up the documents that Trey had meticulously helped you gather. "She has blackmailed noble families into silence, using threats and false accusations to maintain her hold over them. And worst of all—"

You paused, letting the tension build as you cast your gaze over the room, making sure every pair of eyes was locked on you. Then, with quiet, deliberate force, you spoke.

"She has been responsible for the poisoning of the emperor’s own cousin, Lady Astoria. A death that was pinned on an innocent maid."

The room exploded into chaos, gasps, and shouts of disbelief filling the air. Your sister’s face drained of color, her facade finally cracking as people turned toward her, expressions of shock and outrage growing with every second.

"These documents prove every crime," you continued, your voice strong and unwavering as Cater passed around copies of the evidence to the nobles. "She thought she could keep her secrets buried. But not anymore."

"These are lies!" your sister shrieked, her voice desperate as she clutched at the air, trying to regain control. "This is a setup! You’ve all been deceived!"

But it was too late. The emperor himself stood up, his eyes narrowing in fury as he glanced over the evidence. The knight commander beside him was already moving, her sword drawn as the guards approached your sister.

"For your crimes against the empire, you are sentenced to death," the emperor declared, his voice cold and final.

Your sister screamed, fighting as the guards seized her, but there was no escape now. The nobles who once fawned over her turned away in disgust, her power crumbling in mere moments.

Riddle’s hand found yours, his grip tight but comforting as you watched her dragged away. It should’ve felt sweet, but instead, you felt a strange heaviness settle in your chest. This was the end, wasn’t it?

As the execution was carried out in the courtyard, the crowd watching with bated breath, you stood off to the side, Riddle at your side, and your friends close by. Ace whispered some snide comment about how dramatic everything was, and Deuce elbowed him to shut up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

When it was over, the finality of it hit you like a truck. You had done it—exposed her to the world, avenged not just yourself, but the original villainess too. You expected to feel victorious, but instead, a deep sadness settled in your chest. She should've been the one to see this.

And then, just as you were about to turn away, you saw her.

A faint, ethereal figure stood near the edge of the courtyard. The original villainess. Her eyes were softer than you imagined, her expression free of the bitterness that had fueled her desire for revenge. She looked… peaceful.

Tears welled in your eyes, and before you knew it, you were crying, really crying. Ugly, messy sobs that you couldn’t control. All the rage, all the sorrow, everything you had carried from her spilled out in that moment.

"I did it," you whispered, barely audible, but you knew she heard you. "I did it for you."

The specter of the original villainess smiled, a soft, almost sisterly expression on her face. And then, in a moment that almost felt too surreal, you felt her—felt her give you a final ghostly embrace. It was as if the weight of her vengeance had lifted, her spirit no longer bound by the chains of hatred. She was free now, and so were you.

With a final nod, the specter faded into the night, leaving you standing there, tears streaming down your face. You wiped them away as best as you could, sniffling and trying to compose yourself, but the lump in your throat remained.

The warmth of the original villainess's hug lingered long after she faded, her presence now a bittersweet memory. You stood in the quiet, feeling an overwhelming sense of both loss and completion. For the first time, it felt like the weight of both your lives had lifted.

Then, a soft flutter of wings caught your attention. A small dove descended gently, perching on your shoulder. It was so light, so delicate, and for a moment, it just sat there, as if offering comfort. You held your breath, watching it. The dove turned its head toward you, as though it knew. As though she knew.

You blinked, tears pooling in your eyes again as the dove gave a soft coo and flew away, soaring into the sky. Something inside you broke at the sight—something that had been held together for too long. The tears came harder now, not out of sorrow, but of release.

"She's free…" you whispered, your voice trembling. "She's finally free."

Your chest heaved with emotion, sobs you couldn’t control spilling out as you watched the dove disappear into the distance. All this time, everything you had done, every struggle, every sacrifice, was for her. And now, it was over.

Riddle turned toward you, concern flickering in his eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded, blinking away the last of your tears. "Yeah… yeah, I am. It’s just—" You paused, looking up at the sky. "My sister’s gone now. And I think… I'm at peace."

Riddle stood beside you, his own heart heavy with the weight of your emotions. Without a word, he reached out, gently pulling you into his arms. His embrace was soft but firm, grounding you when you felt like you might fall apart.

Riddle’s grip on your hand tightened, and when you looked at him, there was something unspoken in his gaze—understanding, maybe. "You did what was right," he said softly. "And now it’s over."

You took a deep breath and nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "Yeah. Now it’s over."

With Riddle by your side, and your friends waiting for you just beyond the courtyard, you knew that the hardest part was behind you. You had avenged the original villainess, exposed your sister for what she truly was, and now, finally, you could walk away from all of it.

Riddle leaned closer, his voice gentle but filled with quiet strength. "Come on. Let’s go."

Together, hand in hand, you turned away from the past and walked toward the future—your future—with the love of your life, your husband, Riddle, by your side.

Boy, was this a ride to write, but i genuinely haven't had this much fun writing before, and it got longer as i went.

For the next Trashy Novel Chronicles, which twst char would you like to see? I have a few plots planned for these, I'll eventually write them both but which one do y'all wanna see first?

Series Masterlist ; My Masterlists

[luvoooenha]

Juno!

Doing ‘Juno’ positions in front of my boyfriend

Summary- Y/N was really into Sabrina Carpenter's ‘Juno’ Positions and decided to try them in front of her boyfriend. 

Pairing- hyung line! enha x girlfriend Y/n!

Warnings - spicy, freaky positions, fluff, loveable couples, kissing, cuddling, skinship, uhh lowkey idk pls lmk what i missed…

Word count - 1.8k

a/n! - have you ever tried this one? SORRY I HAVE SO MANY SABRINA CARPENTER STORY LINES I WANNA DO 

-

Heeseung - Standing Doggy

“Wait—babe, you can’t laugh!” I warned him with a smile, pushing Heeseung onto the couch before turning toward my laptop.  

“I won’t,” he chuckled, leaning back against the cushions. “But what exactly are you doing?”  

Ignoring his question, I scrolled through my playlist and clicked play on Juno. As the opening notes filled the room, I turned to face him, hands on my hips.  

Heeseung’s eyes slowly trailed over my outfit—his gaze darkening as it took in the tight, red, bedazzled bodysuit hugging every inch of me in all the right places. The deep cut of the neckline, the way the high-cut sides accentuated my waist, and, of course, the chunky white platform boots that made me at least five inches taller.  

“First of all,” he started, leaning forward slightly, “what are you wearing?” His tongue darted out to wet his lips.  

I frowned slightly, a teasing pout forming. “Do you not like it?”  

His smirk widened, hands gripping his knees as if to keep himself in place. “No, baby, I love it. Makes you look sexy as hell.”  

He started to get up, but I immediately placed my hands on his chest, pushing him back down. “I said watch.”  

I scrunch my nose and leaned in to give him a light peck before turning back to my laptop.  

“You make me wanna make you fall in love…”  

The song’s sultry lyrics filled the room, and I let myself move to the beat, swaying my hips side to side. As 'Juno' played, I let my body follow along, rolling my hips slowly with the rhythm. When Sabrina sang, "Wanna try out some freaky positions?" I accentuated the line with a deliberate motion, placing a hand on my hip and rolling it teasingly.  

Heeseung’s smirk grew, his eyes locked onto me like I was the only thing in the room.  

I took a slow step back, turning slightly to the side, then bent forward, arching my back into the standing doggy position right in front of him.  

“Have you ever tried this one?” I sang along, glancing over my shoulder.  

His jaw clenched, his fingers tapping against his thighs as he spread his legs slightly wider. He was holding back, but I could see the restraint wavering.  

His voice was huskier now. “Babe…”  

I straightened up and turned to face him, still moving with the beat, loving the way his eyes followed my every movement. His fingers curled against his jeans, and I knew he was waiting—waiting for me to finish, waiting to see just how far I’d take this little performance.  

With a playful grin, I straddled his lap, my arms draping around his neck as I whispered, “Are you just gonna sit there and watch all night?”  

Heeseung’s hands finally found my waist, gripping firmly as he pulled me closer, his lips ghosting over my ear.  

“You started this, baby,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. “But now? It’s my turn.”  

And just like that, my little performance turned into something way more than just a show.  

-

more below cut!

Jay- Standing One Leg Up

Y/N had been down a Juno rabbit hole for the past week. Ever since she saw Sabrina Carpenter flawlessly execute those daring, flexible positions onstage, she’d been obsessed. The confidence, the control, the absolute power of it all.

So naturally, she decided she had to try them herself.

Jay was sprawled out on her bed, scrolling on his phone, completely oblivious to the chaos about to unfold. Y/N took a deep breath, hyping herself up. Alright, girl, channel your inner Sabrina. You got this.

"Hey, love," she purred, standing at the foot of the bed.

He looked up, intrigued. "Yeah?"

Without another word, she attempted the first move—one leg stretched high, arms positioned for balance. Except… balance she did not have. In a matter of seconds, she wobbled, lost her footing, and landed not-so-gracefully in a heap on the floor.

Jay shot up, eyes wide. "Oh my God—are you okay?"

Y/N groaned, face half-buried in the carpet. "Yeah… totally meant to do that."

Jay bit back a laugh, failing miserably. "What exactly are you doing?"

She sat up dramatically, flipping her hair. "I was trying to recreate the Juno moves. Y’know, from Sabrina’s tour?"

Jay raised an eyebrow. "Wait, like the crazy bendy ones?"

"The very same," she said, striking a pose (while seated this time—safer that way).

Jay smirked, getting up and offering her a hand. "Baby, I love the effort, but I also love you in one piece."

Y/N huffed playfully. "So you're saying I shouldn’t try the one where I—"

"Nope. Absolutely not," he cut in, laughing. "Though, I mean, if you really wanna impress me, you could always just… sit next to me and let me adore you."

Y/N pretended to think it over. "That does sound easier than breaking my spine."

Jay pulled her onto the bed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, and way cuter."

She sighed dramatically. "Fine, but next time, I’m practicing with a helmet and knee pads."

Jay chuckled, wrapping an arm around her. "I’ll be there with an ice pack, just in case."

-

(click on sc to see the positionnnn)

Jake - Oral

From the moment I stepped into the living room, Jake’s eyes locked onto me. He barely glanced at the TV, barely acknowledged whatever he was doing in the kitchen. His entire focus was on me—the way my light pink mini skirt hugged my hips, how the pink corset from last year’s Halloween costume pushed up my chest.

His gaze darkened immediately. I could practically see the thoughts running through his head.

Jake moved fast, stepping out of the kitchen, his long legs eating up the distance between us. “Mami, what are you doing?” he murmured, his voice husky as he pressed soft kisses against my neck.

I let out a light chuckle, tilting my head to the side to give him more access. “I wanna show you something.”

He frowned slightly when I placed my hands on his chest and gently pushed him back, but he followed me into the bedroom anyway, curiosity sparking in his dark eyes.

I grabbed the dry shampoo bottle off the dresser and turned to face him with a playful smile.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Okay…? What are you supposed to do with that?”

I tried to move away, but he was already clinging to me again—his arms wrapped tightly around my waist, his body pressed against mine. He smelled like cologne and a hint of vanilla from the cereal he was eating earlier.

“Loveeeee,” I whined, squirming in his grip. “Let go for just a second. I want to show you something.”

Jake sighed dramatically but finally let go. “This better be good.” He flopped onto the couch, legs spread wide, watching me with narrowed eyes.

I grinned, scrolling through my phone until I found "Juno" and pressed play. The smooth beat filled the room, and I wasted no time getting into it—swaying my hips, running my hands up my thighs as I moved in sync with the music. Jake’s frown was gone now, replaced by something hungrier.

When the verse hit, I dropped to my knees.

With one hand, I lazily tugged my hair into a loose ponytail, my fingers curling around the strands. In the other, I held the dry shampoo bottle, positioning it right in front of my lips. I moved it up and down in slow, teasing motions, smirking as I sang along to the lyrics.

“Have you ever tried this one?”

Jake froze.

His jaw clenched, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His knuckles turned white where he gripped his knee.

Then, before I could blink, he snatched the bottle out of my hand and tossed it onto the couch. His other hand reached for his phone, and I heard the faint click of the camera.

“Oh, baby girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with something dark and amused. He ran his fingers through my hair, tugging lightly, making my scalp tingle.

I looked up at him, batting my lashes innocently. “What?”

Jake tilted his head, his smirk widening. “I like this.”

He tucked his phone away and leaned forward, his hand sliding down to my chin, forcing me to keep my eyes locked on his. “But I think I’d like the real thing even more.”

His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, his gaze dropping, heat simmering behind those brown eyes.

And I had a feeling we weren’t making it out of the living room anytime soon.

-

Sunghoon- One Leg up- split

Y/N had never been one to back down from a challenge, and tonight was no different.

Ever since she saw Sabrina Carpenter effortlessly performing those “Juno” positions on tour, she’d been obsessed. The way Sabrina moved—so confident, so fluid, so in control—it was the kind of energy Y/N wanted to channel.

So, naturally, she decided she was going to try them herself. In front of Sunghoon.

Bad idea? Maybe. But she was committed.

Sunghoon, her ever-supportive but annoyingly amused boyfriend, sat on her bedroom floor, leaning back on his hands as he watched her cue up Juno on her speaker. “So, let me get this straight,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re trying to recreate the Juno positions?”

“Yes.” Y/N turned to him with full confidence. “Prepare to be amazed.”

Sunghoon chuckled. “Oh, I’m prepared.”

The music started, and Y/N took a deep breath. First, she rolled her shoulders back, channeling her inner pop star. Then, she stepped forward with a dramatic hip sway, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she owned the stage. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, impressed so far.

Then came the first move— I laid on my side, lifted up on leg, then the split, which landed perfectly

“Have you ever tried this one?” I asked with a smile on my face, being happy that I landed the split. Sunghoon was already grinning.

“Damn love, you look so hot while doing that,” He smirked and got up to lift me from the floor.

I giggled, “oh trust me, in my pj shorts? Sure my love…” As he picked me up, I wrapped my legs “Maybe, I wanna try that one?” Sunghoon smirked, his hands settling under my thighs. “And you could keep practicing. I wouldn’t mind a private encore.”

Her cheeks burned, but she grinned. “Oh? So you were impressed?”

He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “Let’s just say… I’m very entertained.”

-

Have you ever tried this one 🙄

@i03jae @juicygirl4life @amourenha @wmyoons @deobitifull @yuyita-rosier @manuosorioh @juleso3o @delswine

[prettiedup]

prettiest thing pt2 ୨ৎ

you and onyankopon rarely argue. you’re his good girl, you never had a remark or debated with anything he said. he would never tell you anything to hurt you or put you in harm's way which is why you allowed him to be the provider and the thinker of the relationship while you just had to be pretty and spend his money. it’s a dynamic that the both of you liked and preferred. another reason why the dynamic works so well is because onyankopon is naturally dominant, he tends to take over situations without even trying. that goes for both his personal and business life.

you hated when those moments of tranquility between the two of you got interrupted from emotions and overthinking. both you and onyankopon are very secure people, there’s no qualms about attractiveness and if your personalities matched up. but, at the end of day you’re human. and with onyankopon being your first ever serious boyfriend, you sometimes doubted yourself and even worse; him and the relationship. you couldn’t help it! you really couldn’t, you tried to remind yourself that onyankopon has never given you a reason to doubt him but your overthinking didn’t care.

your bottom lip pokes out as your glossy eyes reread the map. onyankopon’s location is nowhere to be found and your man always shares his location with you. most of the time, the roles were reversed and he was very stern about you sharing your location with him 24/7. you couldn’t understand why he’d suddenly stop sharing it with you. your heart thumps heavily in your chest as you instantly start thinking about the worst.

“when’s the last time y’all talked?” zinnia asks. she sits beside you, a look of irritation etched onto her face.

you sniffle as you think back to the last time you talked to onyankopon. he had been driving you home after a long day of running errands. they were more so his errands than yours but you just wanted to be around him so you begged him to let you come with. the day has started off great. the two of you laughed, rapped and sung songs together, the vibes were just right. it was nearing night when onyankopon had gone inside the wingstop to order the two of you food as a completion of the day. while he was inside the restaurant, you were on his phone; scrolling on his facebook. you always claimed his facebook is way more interesting than yours which is why you lurked on people’s accounts through his. as you were reading facebook drama in a very messy comment section, onyankopon’s phone suddenly gets a notification from instagram.

‘you’re welcome handsome’. almost instantly, your hands begin to shake as you press the notification tab. you watch, breathless, as messages pop up from onyankopon and the mystery woman. onyankopon had posted a video of himself on his story. of course he looked good, your man always does. he’s an attractive guy so you had prepared yourself from the beginning to witness women texting and complimenting him. which is fine, but you would've never thought he’d disrespect you by responding back. with a shaky finger, you scrolled to the beginning of the message thread which wasn’t very far.

‘you so fine omggg’ which is something you’ve seen many girls telling him. your eyes focus on what the man had said back,

‘lol preciate it ma 💗’ you didn’t know if you wanted to scream or cry. ma? a heart? you couldn’t understand why he decided to respond to her in the first place. taking an uneven breath, you locked his phone and threw it down into the cupholder. tears form in your eyes as you stare out of the window, watching as cars of various sizes and colors zoom past the parked car. so many thoughts were racing through your head, you’ve never felt so much betrayal in your life. you sniffle as a few spare tears roll down your face.

when onyankopon returns with two wingstop bags and a holder that had two large cups sitting in it, he’s all smiles. his gold grills glint under the streetlight. he opens the door and sees right away that your attitude has completely changed. he can’t stop the confused expression from forming on his face. he sets the cups into the cupholders and the wingstop bag onto your lap. he doesn’t pull off right away. instead, he sits there for a few moments trying to wreck his brain on what could have possibly gone wrong in the span of about ten minutes.

“what’s wrong, mama?” he asks, cautiously.

you don’t respond, vocally. instead of using your words you just twist your body towards the door and tilt your head completely towards the window. you were so upset with him, just hearing his voice caused you to grow ten times more upset. your sniffles fill the quiet car while onyankopon waits for you to reply to him.

he raises an eyebrow as he comes to the realization that you’re not going to respond to him. “you don’t hear me talkin’ to you?” you were being disrespectful right now and this isn’t like you. he attempts to give you leeway because you have never behaved in such a way before. “talk to me, baby..” he pleads.

and god, when his voice deepens like that and he sounds so needy一you have to remind yourself to stay mad at him. you let out a loud sigh when you decide to look at him.

onyankopon’s heart almost skips a beat when the two of you finally make eye contact and he sees that your eyes are bloodshot red and there are stray tears still threatening to spill. he asks in a tone that shakes, “why you cryin’, mama?”

“c-cause you’re fucking disrespectful.” you cry out. the dam that was straining to hold up broke just by you looking at him.

onyankopon looks at you with wide eyes. he’s never once disrespected you. he’s never called you out of your name, mocked you, spoke condescendingly to you. you two have barely been together for an entire year and he had already gifted you everything and more. he tries to not be offended by your accusation.

“how am i disrespectful?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“how are you not? why the fuck ar-” you’re cut off from onyankopon kissing his teeth.

“stop cursin’, deadass. you can explain yourself without cursin’ like a damn sailor.” his tone doesn't make room for discussion.

you roll your eyes at his statement. onyankopon has always been firm when it comes to your habit of cursing, he always says ‘pretty girls don’t curse’ and tries to catch you every time you let a curse word slip out. right now, you didn’t have the time or patience for his lecturing.

but still, you rephrased yourself. “why are you replying to girls on instagram?” you ask in the most composed manner you can manage.

onyankopon gives you a confused mean mug, “what girls?”

you breath roughly through your nose. “you know what girls, onyankopon.”

onyankopon sighs, “i genuinely don’t, mama.”

you felt like crying from annoyance, why did he feel like now was the time to play? “look on instagram.”

ony grabs his phone and opens instagram. he sees that you had already opened his most recent chat. he reread the messages and viewed the account and quickly realized why you were upset. he stays quiet because he genuinely had no explanation on why he decided to respond to her. of course, he didn’t see her as attractive or anything. he had eyes for you and only you, no other woman could get in between that.

sighing, he set his phone down. he bit down on his lip as he tried to gather the words to tell you. he didn’t compliment her back or completely indulge in her, all he said was that he appreciated the compliment. he didn’t see what was wrong with that.

“look, i know-” he cut himself off as he continued to struggle.

“look at you, fucking struggling to talk cause you know you fucked up.” you spat the words out angrily. your pretty glossy lips are frowned up and onyankopon didn’t like that one bit.

“stop cursin.” he muttered.

“i’m fucking grown, nigga. just like you chose to respond to that bitch, i choose to curse whenever the fuck i want.” you were talking recklessly because you were mad. on an average day, those ugly words would never be spewing from your pretty mouth. also, you would never be talking to your man like this.

“bro chill with yo fuckin’ mouth!” onyankopon ‘s tone rises by a lot. there’s a pointed look in his eyes as he tries to put you in your place.

“me chill? you chill, nigga! fucking disrespectful ass! texting bitches back and calling them ma and shit.. fuck you, nigga!” your voice cracks at the end of your sentence. you weren’t crying out of sadness, you were crying out of anger. truthfully, you wanted to swing off on him but you’ve never thrown a punch in your life and onyankopon would probably choke you the fuck out.

“’m not puttin’ up wit’ dis shit.” onyankopon grumbles. he presses the start button and his car roars to life. “ain’t never called you out yo’ name. ain’t never did shit to hurt you, man. i try to give you the damn world.” your eyes widen when you hear onyankopon’s voice crack throughout his rant, you throw a quick glance at him and have to fight the surprised look on your face when you see his pretty brown eyes glossed over.

you can’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth. “texting other girls and calling them ma is giving me the world?” you chuckle sarcastically. “there’s no telling how many girls you entertain behind my back.”

onyankopon shakes his head while listening to you accuse him. “you can go through my entire fuckin’ phone right now and you ain’t gon’ find shit besides that. i ain’t talk to no other girls since i’ve been knowin’ you.”

“i can’t trust anything you say anymore.” you mutter.

“really? i’ve told you shit about me that i ain’t told no one else. shit about my childhood, about my life, how i became me ‘nd now you can’t trust me..” he lets out a breath that resembles a chuckle while shaking his head. “you’re my world, you’re my fresh breath of air from the streets, ‘nd now the reason why i’m going so hard. pickin’ up new clients, ‘nd putting my life at risk so i can buy you shit ‘nd now you’re sayin’ you can’t trust me anymore. alright, bro.”

you don’t say anything, you only turn your head and look out of the passenger seat window for the remainder of the drive.

onyankopon puts the car in park once he arrives in your driveway. you’re quick to hop out grabbing only your purse. you skim the driveway and realize that your parents aren’t home which you’re grateful for. you don’t have time to be bombarded with questions. while you’re unlocking the front door, you could hear onyankopon’s feet traveling behind you. you almost felt bad for leaving him to carry the bags and cups alone but in the moment of anger, you couldn’t care less if he needed help or not.

you open the door wide enough so that the two of you could step in. you kick your shoes off by the front door while he walks into the dining room and sets the food onto the table. the silence between the two of you is tense, you’ve never been so quiet around him and vice versa.

“‘mma go.” onyankopon suddenly says while looking down at his phone. he’s tapping furiously and his eyebrows are clenched in a way that shows annoyance.

“what? what about our food?” you ask with a frown. you go to stand in front of him. his towering height causes butterflies in your stomach whenever you stand near him.

“eat it or somethin’. i don’t care what you do with it.” he shrugs, finally looking away from his phone. you almost want to cry again. you’ve never heard onyankopon be so disinterested with you. he’s usually always so soft and understanding when he’s around you, so to hear him talk to you like you’re some stranger off the street; more than you'd want to admit, hurts your feelings.

“okay..” you sigh, obviously defeated.

usually, when he’s leaving out he’d litter your face and lips with kisses while telling you he’d be back. but this time he only gives you a brief side hug. “i’ll see you around, _.” your heart absolutely hurts when he uses your government name. when you hear the front door slam shut and the loud cranking from his car, you instantly burst into tears.

“three days ago.” you tell zinnia as your sudden flashback leaves your head. just thinking about what happens causes your eyes to go glossy. you’ve been crying ever since he left you standing in your dining room.

“after that incident?” zinnia asks, nosily.

“i messaged him an hour later.” you tell her. “i-i told him i loved him.. and he.. he just left me on read.” your shoulders shake as you clutch your face, you were so tired of crying but you didn’t know what else to do.

“awe, boo..” zinnia says sympathetically. she quickly clutches you into a hug. the smell of her perfume fills your nostrils as you cry onto her.

“i.. should’ve never said anything.. i should’ve j-just pretended i didn’t see it.” you say through sniffles. regret has been lingering on your heart a lot lately. you’ve been filled with should've, could’ve, and would’ves. your life has consisted of moping around the house and crying in bed.

onyankopon wasn’t exactly giving you the reassurance you desperately needed at the moment and it was causing you to absolutely spiral. you just wished he would at least text you a simple ‘i’m not mad at you’ or something of that sort. you’re aware of the type of lifestyle he lives on a day to day basis, you’re always making sure to pray for him asking for him to be protected as he gets his money in the only way he knows how. and for his location to suddenly go off has you on the absolute edge.

“nah, snookie.” the childhood nickname has you momentarily cringing. “you did the right thing by speakin’ up, boo. you seen bullshit so you spoke on it. what he did was that.. uhm.. what they call it…” she pauses and seems to be deep in thought. “ohh! that manipulation shit.”

you instantly sit up from her arms. “nah, zinnia ‘m not getting manipulated.” your soft voice has a defensive edge to it. “he just felt some type of way ‘cause he does so much for me and i called him out of his name and stuff.” you defend onyankopon way too quickly for someone that ghosted you.

zinnia gives you a look that you can’t exactly read. “whatever you say, boo.” she says. it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you from the way she shakes her while saying it.

“can you just..” you sigh out, the way you were feeling over onyankopon was a feeling you have never felt in your life before. it felt as if your heart was tearing into two pieces and no matter how much you tried to take your mind off of him and the situation, it still replays in your head. “can we cuddle?”

“awe, snooks, of course, boo.” she makes quick work of ashing her blunt and shuffling the two of you so that she could hold you comfortably.

the two of you lay there, silently. your head is adjusted onto her chest, the sound of her heart thumping fills your ears as you lose yourself to your thoughts. so many what ifs are running through your head. your overthinking is almost suffocating you in a way. as you lay there, thinking of the worst you try to rationalize and also think of the good. that was a habit you tended to do. you always tried to see the good in people and every situation. because of your optimism, you were often taken advantage of.

you didn’t purposely upset onyankopon. you felt hurt and as a result you felt the need to hurt. if you had known that bringing up the message, you would have never brought it up. you would rather suffer and not speak on it than to fully stop speaking to onyankopon. it was different, going from spending all your time with someone to not talking for three days straight. this being your first ever serious relationship, you didn’t know what to do. you weren’t sure if you were supposed to blow up his phone or give him time to cool off. all you want is to speak with him and hear his voice, to get reassurance that he’s well and alive, to hear him admit that he isn't angry with you.

you don’t realize it but you somehow doze off in zinnia’s embrace. your soft snores fill her ears and she coos out a soft “awee” while rubbing your back. with her being the older cousin and you not having any siblings, she felt as if it is her duty to help you get through your first heartbreak. she’s been through your shoes many times before; overthinking, crying, getting upset, getting manipulated, she’s gone through it all. as much as she wants to just shake your shoulders and scream for you to gain some sense, she won’t. she has to allow you to maneuver through life with firsthand experience, that includes getting your heartbroken.

she’s known onyankopon for many years, since middle school to be exact. she witnessed the man mature and adopt his doggish ways. to her, you’re too naive for ony. since you’re an only child your parents tended to shield you away from just about everything during your childhood and teen years. their overbearingness has rubbed off on you giving you this innocent curious nature. of course, you get upset and curse but every threat you give off is empty. she knows onyankopon, and she knows that he likes girls like you. girls who are easy to manipulate and have access to. she regrets deeply advising you to come to the party with her. if she would’ve let you stay home, you would’ve never met him.

you’re suddenly awakened by a phone buzzing. you yawn and stretch, your eyes dart to your window and you could see the light from the moon peeking through your opened blinds. you rub your eyes and stretch once more before looking at zinnia’s phone that’s ringing on your nightstand. you reach over her and grab it, once you see that it’s sasha you press the answer button.

“hello?” your voice is scratchy from the hours you went without water.

“snookie?” she asks. by her tone you could tell she’s upset and that causes you to fully wake up. an angry sasha is a scary sasha.

“hi, sash. it’s me.”

“hey, boo. where’s zinnia?” she seems impatient, her words are rushed out.

“beside me, sleeping.” your eyes do a once over on zinnia who’s drooling onto your pillow. her chest heaves while heavy breaths escape through her nose.

“yeah, no. wake her up for me.”

“sash, you kno-” you’re cut off by sasha’s loud sighing into the phone.

“snookie, boo, just listen to me. wake zinnia up and put her on the phone.” she says.

without another word, your hand lands onto her side and you begin shaking zinnia awake. after a minute of repeating her name and shaking her, she finally wakes up. a mean mug is immediately on her face as she rises up from her sleeping position. she stretches, letting out a loud dramatic moan.

“whatchu shaking me for?” her tone is hostile. zinnia absolutely hates being woken up which is why you were hesitant from the beginning.

“sasha wants you.” you hand her her phone, watching as she rolls her eyes before speaking up.

“girl, what you want?” her full lips are pulled into a frown as she listens to whatever sasha says. “wait, who’s story?” she asks while opening instagram. she types on her keyboard for a few seconds and then stops. she goes quiet as she watches whatever sasha told her to watch. you could hear multiple voices and the sound of loud music coming from her phone, you curiously lean over to see and that’s when zinnia quickly tilts her phone. she ignores the confused look you throw to her.

“bro.. ’m gonna fuckin’ kill dis nigga.” zinnia says after a few moments of silence. she puts the phone back up to her ear, her hazel eyes dart to you a few times and then they look away. “brooo, we’re about to throw something cute on. come scoop.” at those words, you’re entirely intrigued. you mouth at her ‘what’ and she only shakes her head and ignores you. “yeah, i thought i saw connie’s baldheaded ass in the background. ‘mma get his ass too.”

once zinnia says her goodbyes, she hangs up and lets out a heavy breath. “snookie, y’know i love you right?” she asks, suddenly.

“yeah. i love you too.” you giggle nervously.

“‘nd i just want you to know you don’t need a nigga for shit as long as i’m livin’ and breathin’.” she continues.

“i hear you.” you reply.

“what ‘m about to show you, you gotta practice me you’re not gonna cry.” she negotiates.

“you know ‘m a crybaby!” you groan with a smile. “i promise you i’ll try to not cry.”

she deems that good enough because she’s hesitantly showing you her phone.some might think you’re being dramatic if they were to hear you say you physically felt your heart break. and you could understand, heartbreak is a literary term and not literal one. however, you were experiencing a heartache at that exact moment. gasping was all you could do as your breathing became trapped in your chest. because you couldn't, you didn't cry. in total shock, you were motionless. you could feel zinnia’s arms wrap around you but it’s almost like a barrier was completely stopping her from touching you, or that’s what it felt like anyway.

your eyes rewatch the screen for what felt like the 100th time. your ony is right there, but so is a woman. she’s bent over in front of him, her ass is pressed against his pelvis. she’s shaking her ass to the beat of the song that’s playing and onyankopon’s hands are clutching her wide hips while she twerks. they both have a big smile on their faces while people in the background hype them. you watch in horror as onyankopon brings a hand up only to quickly bring it down onto her ass. as the video comes to an end, the camera darts to connie who’s obviously drunk, hyping them up the most. he’s pouring a half full bottle of hennessy into onyankopon’s mouth while screaming absolute nonsense out.

“we’re going to get dressed and we’re going to that party. we’re gonna whoop onyankopon, that bitch, and connie’s ass.” zinnia says. her tone is serious and the glare in her eyes tell you that she means every word she’s saying.

“there’s no point, zinnia.” you shrug as tears race down your face. “he’s single, he can do whatever he wants.”

zinnia gives you a look of confusion and irritation. “girl, to hell with that. y’all get into one big augment and now he’s moving like this. we’re not letting this shit slide, bro.” her tone excludes any kind of debate.

it doesn’t feel like you’re there physically when zinnia urges you into the bathroom to clean yourself up a little. you’re zoned out the entire time while brushing your teeth and applying light makeup. your eyes stay glossed over but tears don’t fall. your legs shake like jelly, you feel weak; emotionally and physically. you didn’t know where to go from here. all you wanted at the moment was for ony to come over and hold you while kissing your head and promising you everything would be alright like he usually does. the person that hurt you is the person you’re craving the most.

zinnia is sympathetic the entire time the two of you get dressed. you didn’t want to go confront ony, honestly. you just wanted to lay in bed and rot away. the thought of being in an outside setting at this current moment seemed draining. what would you even say to him? there isn’t even anything to say to him.

everything moves too fast and sasha pulls up in front of your house sooner than you wanted her to. an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you look over your outfit. a pink spaghetti strap sleeveless dress hugs your figure, loudly emphasizing every curve you have. you couldn’t even feel pretty if you wanted to, your mind goes back to the woman that was twerking on ony and your heart quivers. the way he grabbed her hips, the same way he did that one night where he had you chanting his name like a prayer. you let out a breath and quickly look away from the mirror.

zinnia leads you through the living room where your mother is sitting in the living room watching judge judy in a nightgown she's had since you were born. meanwhile, your father sits exactly beside her, playing pool on his phone. “ohh, where y’all going?” your mother asks.

you can’t find it in you to talk and zinnia seems to quickly catch on to that. “we’re gonna go pop at this party right quick.” she tells her.

your mother’s eyes dart from your head to your toes. her eyes go back to your face and she can instantly tell something isn’t right with her daughter. she decides she’ll wait until it’s just the two of you to comment on it. “y’all be safe ‘nd stay together. if one has to go to the bathroom, the other follows in tow.” your mother lectures.

you both agree to her words and walk out of the house. you could feel her eyes burning a hole into your back but you refuse to turn around. if you were to break down crying, she would immediately forbid you from going out tonight. that’s one of the difficult parts of being an only child. your parents sometimes get too overbearing without even meaning to. privacy is something you just started getting once you turned 18. you still remember the way your mother almost fainted when the two of you were having girl talk and you had admitted that you and ony had sex for the first time. you still haven’t forgiven her for running back to your father and telling her, he had given you the cold shoulder for two weeks. as much as your parents could be a handful, their intentions were never bad. you’re their only child so they tend to shield you a bit too much because of that.

when you enter the backseat of sash’s pink wrapped dodge charger, the smell of weed immediately hits your nose. your nose scrunches in reflex. you absolutely despise the smell of weed, it’s too strong for your liking.

“wassup, bitches!” sasha greets the two of you. sexyy red plays lowly, she had gotten those overdramatic speakers installed so the bass was almost overpowering.

“pass the blunt, hoe.” zinnia rolls her eyes.

“hi, sasha.” you greet with a slight smile that almost hurts to put on your face.

“you okay, bookie?” she tilts all the way in her seat so that she could make eye contact with you. her almost cracks seeing the redness in your eyes. “we gon’ get shit straight. trust. when i see connie and ony ‘m punching them dead in their shit.”

zinnia quickly agrees as she lights the blunt up. you let out a soft laugh, “y’all there’s no reason to get violent.”

she inhales for a few seconds before letting out a large cloud of smoke. “yeah, okay.” she says sarcastically.

sasha pulls off, the song f my baby dad and instantly sasha turns the music up. both her and zinnia begin screaming the lyrics.

“my nigga actin’ up so you know ‘m finna pop it!” zinnia screams to no one in particular.

“y’all,” sasha turns the music down once she gets to a red light, “me and connie had our first pregnancy scare some weeks ago.”

both you and zinnia shook your heads at her words. you truthfully were surprised that sasha wasn’t on her second child with connie, from the extreme stories she told the two of you about her love life, it’s only a wonder that she isn’t carrying.

“girl! why you shaking your head?! a lil’ birdie told me that ony had to buy your lil ass a plan b!” sasha looks at you through the rearview mirror.

your eyes immediately dart towards zinnia, she’s the only person you disclosed that information to. zinnia quickly turns the music up, pretending she didn’t hear sasha’s accusation.

when sasha parks near the house that’s throwing the party, you feel so afraid that you immediately want to throw up. you were doing good not crying but reality seems to settle in and you realize you’re actually about to confront ony. a lump forms in your throat that you struggle to swallow down. you’re looking out of the window, at the house. you’re so caught up in your head that you don’t realize both zinnia and sasha are looking at you in worry.

you’ve been anxious since a child. you’re the ‘come with me’ friend. it’s something you hated. there’s been numerous times you’ve wished and prayed that anxiety didn’t control your life. you struggled extremely with confrontation. maybe that’s why you and ony got along so well. you never questioned him or any of that sort. you prefer to sit back and watch rather than being in the spotlight, being perceived. that goes for family, friends, and strangers. you weren’t even tearing up from what ony did, while that did have a part in your tears, you were more so dreading the thought of speaking up to him.

“you okay, snookie?” zinnia asks, worriedly.

you inhale sharply, “y-yeah. can we just.. get this over with, please?”

they both share a glance before agreeing. the three of you exit the car, the sounds of purses, bracelets and y’all’s slide sandals sync as you walk towards the house.

“we’re so bad.” sasha sighs while looking over the three of you to make sure you all looked good.

once you enter the house, you’re immediately blinded by flashing lights. the air is hot and humid as numerous people rub against each other. loud speakers blast rap music and you could faintly hear people rapping along with the rapper. alcohol, weed, and sweat fills your nose making you internally gag. this is the second party you’ve ever came to and you want to leave right away. sasha grabs zinnia’s hand, and zinnia grabs your hand. sasha leads you three to the kitchen that’s only filled with a few people. out of the corner of your eye, you could see a couple sloppily making out against the refrigerator.

“here.” sasha hands you a small glass that is filled with something clear. “take a shot or two and loosen up.”

following her instructions, you take two shots straight. bile rises and you have to swallow it causing you to gag. you feel your body shiver as you attempt to digest the alcohol. you take a gulp from the red bull that zinnia gives you, trying to ease the burning sensation in your throat.

“they’re all in the livin’ room, i seen them all huddled up and shit.” sasha comments while holding a cup in her hand.

“les go.” zinnia doesn’t waste any time making her way over to them.

you follow the girls along with legs that feel like jelly. the closer you come to the group, the faster your heart beats inside your chest. when you're just a few steps away, the scent of weed hits you powerfully.

“ohhh!” connie screams once he sees the three of you walk up. “we got zinnia in da housseeeeeee! ohhh shitttt! y’all don’ got itty bitty’s ass to get out of daaa houseeee! whaaaatttt! oh, ‘nd sasha is here too.. i guesssss.” connie is obviously intoxicated as he slurs over his words.

immediately, the rest of the guys' heads snap in y'all's direction. you somehow hear armin let out a “oh lord” once he sees the expressions on sasha and zinnia’s faces.

“connie shut that shit up, boy! what that hell are you screaming for?!” sasha wastes no time grabbing connie by his shirt.

“unhand me you beast!” connie screams dramatically.

sasha rolls her eyes at connie’s antics. her eyes dart from face to face until they land on ony, who’s sitting there manspreading. there’s an uninterested look on his face as he views your trio before his eyes locate onto you and you only. eye contact that you haven’t held in three days. that lazy head tilt and seeing his full lips pressed straight, you have to force yourself to look elsewhere. you refuse to get sucked into his hypnotizing eyes once again.

“you. stand up, i wanna fight.” she tells ony.

ony looks at her boredly, his eyes are glossed and lidded. “sasha, gone somewhere, man.” “beat her ass, ony. ‘m too scared t’do it.” connie says from his grasp in sasha’s hand.

ony's eyes dart over to you. there's a look on his face that makes your knees almost buckle. your heart speeds up in your chest and you can tell from the shift in the atmosphere that something is about to pop off.

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Home • Mattheo Riddle x bff!fem!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: y/n wants to make something special for Mattheo's birthday, but little does she know how special it is about to get.

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Fluff; English is not my first language.

A/N: Thank you guys so, so much for over 300 followers, love y'all!! That said, I don't think I like this one lol. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tag list for this story: @lilloves-34

“Aw, how lovely it is to see you two!”

“Hi, mum.”

Your mother held you warmly before turning to the person next to you.

“You’ve grown taller, Mattheo, dear.”

“As always, Mrs. y/l/n.”

She held him too, and Mattheo did his best to return the hug. His dark eyes turned to you and you offered him a small, affectionate smile. He suddenly looked more comfortable and smiled at your mother when she let him go. 

“Leave your luggage here, dears, it can be unpacked later. Come, I’ve made you two some snacks.”

You and Mattheo follow her into the kitchen, and you can’t help but look at Mattheo. Partly because, well, it’s not like he wasn’t the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen, but mostly because you know he’s not always comfortable in your mother’s house, despite having living here for over two years now. 

Mattheo and you had been best friends since your first year at Hogwarts. But as the years went by, knowing Mattheo was alone at Hogwarts during the holidays made you feel so upset that you started asking him if he wanted to spend it with you, which he accepted with a gratitude he had a hard time hiding. And, naturally, you also asked him if he wanted to come for summer break here as well. From the day Mattheo met your mother, she adored him and soon considered him a full member of the family, sending him sweets and gifts while at school just like she did for you, offering him gifts for his birthdays and Christmas as well, and he started coming every holiday without you asking him. You knew Mattheo was thankful for your mother’s hospitality and affection, as he always made sure to let her know, but you knew - despite him doing his best to hide it - that he felt that he somehow didn’t deserve the kindness and care you mother had shown him. It broke your heart to know he felt like that, but Mattheo wasn’t the kind to easily speak about his feelings so you never dared to bring it up, only sometimes telling him how happy you were that he was here, and that this house was his home.

But what your mother - or anyone else for that matter - didn’t know was that now having Mattheo around at all times was bittersweet for you. You absolutely loved having him in your house, where you knew he was finally loved and cared for, but it also made you two closer and made feelings for him grow - feelings you didn’t know were shared or not. It was slowly breaking you from the inside, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. Of course, you could talk about it with Pansy, who was your other best friend, or your mother, but you perfectly knew what they would both tell you: “tell him how you feel.” Merlin, no. You just couldn’t. Not only because if Mattheo didn’t feel the same way, your friendship would never be the same at best - or completely destroyed in the worst case scenario - and in both cases, you knew it wouldn’t take long for Mattheo to decide to leave your house. If I ever do tell him how I feel, it’s better to wait until we’re both out of Hogwarts and have our own places. 

You walked in the kitchen to find your favourite snacks on the table. 

“Aw, thanks, mum.”

“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re more than welcome. Come, sit.”

The three of you sat around the table, you being next to Mattheo on one side and your mother on the other. You and Mattheo started eating while your mother asked about yours and Mattheo’s lives at school. You and Mattheo took turns in making conversation and even had a few laughs as you recalled some of the funny memories you had. After both your stomachs were full, you decided to go unpack your luggage. Mattheo had the same idea, and went to the bedroom that was now essentially his. You both finished at the same time, and found yourselves in the corridor of the second floor. 

“I’ll go take a shower,” Mattheo said quietly. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

He walked to the bathroom, but before he came in, you called for him. “Matty?” 

He turned to you and you continued, “As always, this is your home.” 

He gave you a single nod before quickly turning away and going into the bathroom. Letting out a small sigh, you went down downstairs in the living room and found your mother reading a book. 

“Mum?”

She raised her head from her book, “Yes?”

You sat on the sofa next to her, a small smile on your face.

“You know Mattheo’s birthday is coming up?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I already got his gifts and have everything I need to make his favourite cake. Why?”

“Well,” you said, “I thought that we could do something else for a change. We usually have quiet birthdays and it’s nice but I’d really like to do something for Mattheo this time.”

Your mother frowned, “Like what?”

“A surprise party?” you answered. “I could write to the boys and invite them to celebrate?” 

“That’s a good idea, darling. I’ll soon go to Diagon Alley to buy some decorations and, well, more food and drinks.”

You smiled and went to give her a quick hug. “Thank you, mum. You’re the best.”

The evening was nice and quiet, spent playing chess with Mattheo on the ground in the living room like you always did, with your mother playfully cheering on the one winning from the sofa. Mattheo and you laughed a lot while playing, and it warmed your heart to see him relaxed and happy. You knew he was usually shy in the first days he came here, and while you perfectly understood it, you couldn’t wait for him to be his warm, chill, funny self again. The Mattheo you knew and loved. After dinner, your mother went to bed and soon after, Mattheo and you decided to follow. You both went upstairs, and you then went into the bathroom to take a shower and put on your pyjamas. Mattheo had his own bathroom, and he was likely getting himself ready to go to bed. Once you were done, you went to your bedroom, and you weren’t surprised to see Mattheo casually laying on your bed. You went to close the shutters, and when you got in bed, Mattheo’s arms immediately wrapped around your body, and you put your head on his chest. Mattheo and you had taken the habit of cuddling to sleep since the first night he spent here, where a discussion before going to sleep ended up with you guys falling asleep and for some reason waking up in each other’s arms. You found that you slept way better in Mattheo’s arms, so much so that this situation continued in Hogwarts - and it was made easier by your roommate Pansy essentially spending all her nights with Blaise. At first, you just enjoyed the feeling of warmth and safety Mattheo’s embrace gave you, but as your heart started to feel more than friendship for him, cuddling, just like his perpetual presence, became bitter-sweet. You still loved cuddling with Mattheo, in fact you didn’t even know if you could even sleep without him now, but you wondered if it was a good idea to continue like this. But even if I decided it was better to stop, how do I tell him? 

“You alright?” you whispered, raising your head to look at him.

He nodded, “Yeah. Why?” 

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable here. This is your home, Matty. And it will always be. But if you’re feeling something different, I want you to tell me.” 

“I’m fine, y/n, really. I’m grateful for your mum and you, you know that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over me.”

He kissed your hair, his hands started gently caressing your shoulder and the middle of your back. Soon after, you felt yourself going to sleep, and thought you heard a voice saying “sleep well, princess.” 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next following days, Mattheo and you spent all of your time together. Every meal, every activity - playing Quidditch in the garden, reading, studying, taking a nap - was done with him. You loved it, but it made it harder to write to Mattheo’s friends to invite them to the surprise party or to prepare the said party without him knowing, but you still managed to do it while he was reading a book in the living room. Thankfully, all the boys answered your letter and said they would come, and thankfully also, your mother had time to buy what was needed and had the idea to hide it in her room, where you and her knew Mattheo would never dare to go. 

On the day of his birthday, you woke up once again in his arms, and kissed him on the cheek as he was slowly waking up.

“Happy birthday, Matty.”

“Thank you, pretty girl.”

You had managed to get Mattheo agree to go to Hogsmeade in the beginning of the afternoon to get his favourite sweets from Honeydukes so your mom could prepare everything for the party and welcome the guests. You spent some time here, and once you knew everything was likely to be ready, you and Mattheo got back home, and you had a hard time not smiling. But you also suddenly worried about how Mattheo would react. Last year, Theo had a surprise party and Mattheo was happy to help prepare it. But does that mean he wants one for himself?

You opened the door, and entered the silent house. Mattheo looked around the corridor, and put his bag full of sweets on the floor in order to take off his jacket.

“Is your mom here?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Let’s check the living room.”

Mattheo remained silent and approached said living room, and you had the biggest smile on your face when he suddenly stopped.

“Happy birthday!”

There was some cheering and applause, and Mattheo turned to you as you approached him.

“What-”

“It’s a surprise, Matty,” you couldn’t help but laugh at his confused face. “You deserved to have your friends and your brother with you today.”

He stared at you for a long minute, and you felt your heart beat faster, and he finally smiled at you.

“Thank you, y/n.”

You smiled back at him and gestured for him to go say hi to his friends, who were quick to wish him a happy birthday and greet him warmly, and his brother Tom, who was colder and more silent than the others. You looked around the room, and what your mother had done to decorate was incredible: there were numerous small fireworks up in the air alongside big golden letters saying “happy birthday Mattheo”, small decorations all around, and the long wooden table, usually bare, was also very much magically decorated. Mattheo hugged your mother to thank her while Pansy came closer to you. 

“Well done, dear. If you’ve put it together for a friend, I can’t wait to see what you will do when you’ll be dating him.”

“Don’t start,” you warmed her. “Mattheo and I have always been friends and will always be.” 

“We’ll see,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes and went closer to Mattheo. It was now time for him to blow out the candles and make a wish, and everyone was gathered around him as your mother brought his favourite cake decorated with whipped cream and full of magic candles.

“Happy birthday again, dear,” your mother smiled. “Make a wish.”

Mattheo closed his eyes for an instant and then blew out the candles. You applauded alongside the others, and everyone gave Mattheo their birthday gifts - books on Quidditch or history or wizards, Quidditch equipment, special quills, a watch - and then came your turn. Feeling your cheeks becoming red, you handed him your own gift, scared he might not like it. He unwrapped it and then saw the book.

“It’s, um, a photo album with some pictures we took along the years and, well, I wrote down some of my favourite memories with you.” 

You heard some whispers among Mattheo’s friends - his brother Tom remained silent - but your only focus was on Mattheo’s reaction. He turned some of the pages, smiled at some of the pictures and read the memories you wrote down - and the note you had also written him about how much he meant to you and how special you genuinely thought he was. After a moment of apparently being lost in thoughts, he gently put down the book on the table near the others books he got and looked at you to give you a half-smile.

“Thank you, y/n.”

He gave you a quick, strange hug, and then turned to his plate. Feeling confused, you wondered if he truly liked the gift. You went to sit between your mother and Lorenzo, and as you ate the cake, you looked sometimes as Mattheo, who was now the center of attention, and as time went by, you saw him switching from his usual, funny self to a more quiet, uneasy self, barely listening to what Theo was saying to him. You guessed he was feeling overwhelmed, and as the others finished their plates and went to sit on the sofas, you saw Mattheo mumbling an excuse before leaving the room to go to the garden. You wanted to follow him to make sure everything was fine, but you knew he probably needed some time alone. After a while, you finally went outside, and found him sitting in the grass, lost in thoughts. You approached him slowly before sitting down next to him.

“Are you okay, Matty?” 

He nodded, “Yes. Was it your idea to have this party?”

“Yes,” you said quietly. “Why?” 

“Thank you, y/n. It means a lot,” he looked at the grass before shaking his head. 

“You deserve it,” you said with a gentle voice. 

“Actually, I’m not sure,” Mattheo said in a low voice, his head now down.

You frowned, confused. “What? Why?”

Mattheo turned to you and had a small sigh.

“Honestly, y/n. You and your mum have already so much for me. Letting me live here, giving me gifts, being there for me, and now this…What did I ever give you back? Nothing.”

You opened your mouth, but it took a few seconds to answer. “Mattheo, have you not read what I wrote in the photo album?” 

He didn’t answer, still looking at the grass.

“Well?” you insisted. “What did the text say?”

“That you deeply cared about me,” he said, almost mumbling. “And that you thought of me as caring, and kind.”

“I meant it, alright?” you said in a more serious voice, wanting him to understand. “You’re the most exceptional person I know. You’re kind, gentle, funny, and caring. You’re a great friend to the boys, and you’re doing your best to have a good relationship with Tom, even when it’s not easy. You’re always there for me, you're always ready to spend time with me no matter the activity, and I know I always count on you whenever I need help or need comfort. You always know what to say, and you always listen to me when I have something to say. You’re also smart, and a damn good Quidditch player. I know you’re scared of becoming like your father, but I know you won’t. Because you two couldn’t be more different. And even if you started to be like him, we both know I’d smack some sense into you.” He had a hint of a smile and you went on, “Yes, sometimes you’re annoying and I think you love to fight too much, but nobody’s perfect, and I wouldn't want you to change for anything in the world. You’re the best person I know, Mattheo, and that’s why I’m in love with you.”

He whipped his head towards you, and that’s when you realised what you just said. 

Oh, no. Oh, no. Merlin, no.

“I…Just…Forget what I said.”

You quickly rose up and almost ran back to the house, but you suddenly felt a warm hand on your wrist. 

“Wait!” Mattheo said, “What the hell, you can’t leave like that after saying that to me.”

“Yes I can,” you retorted, panicking, “and that’s what I’m doing, just…forget it happened, alright?”

Mattheo let go of your wrist to run a hand through his dark curls. 

“But, y/n, I can’t forget,” he said, frowning, as if it was obvious, “and I don’t want to. Did you really mean it?”

“Mattheo, I…”

“y/n, please,” he cut off more severely, both his voice and eyes now pleading. “Please, answer me.”

Doing your best to not look at him, you hesitated before nodding, feeling the need to disappear. He looked at you in a strange way, and you wondered what he was going to say.

“Look, Mattheo,” you started, “I know our f…”

“I love you too.”

It was now you turn to look at him with confusion. “What?”

“I love you too,” he whispered. “You’re…all I want, and all I need. You said this house is my home, but the truth is, you’re my home.” 

All of a sudden, he stepped closer to you and brought his hand to your face, slowly caressing your cheek with all the gentleness in the world. You wondered what you should do next -  put your hand on his? Put your own hand on his cheek? - but he made the decision for you, suddenly lowering his head towards yours.

“Fuck, y/n…”

And after that whisper, he pressed his lips on yours. It took you a few seconds to kiss him back, but when you did, he immediately grabbed your waist to pull you closer before putting a hand on the back of your neck. You let out a moan, and he deepened the kiss. You had a hard time believing what you had been dreaming for years now was actually happening but at the same time, Mattheo’s lips on yours and his hands on your body was all you could feel, all you could think about and all that mattered. When he finally pulled away, you were both out of breath. 

“Does you saying that you love me and this kiss count as two more birthday gifts?” he suddenly asked. 

“If you want,” you laughed. 

“Then, it really is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You both smiled at each other before he kissed you again before taking you into his arms, holding you as if he died if he let go. You held him as well, feeling that, wherever you were, Mattheo was also your home. 

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Masterlist

[prael]

Day 7: Rockstar

Loona/ARTMS Jinsoul x male reader smut

words: 3,223 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. That's probably the order she would put them in.

It might seem cliché, but there's nothing new under the sun. Life on tour is an endless cycle of late-night gigs and after-parties searching for something to drink, take or fuck. It's an addiction, the lifestyle, and Jinsoul isn't an exception to the rule.

Every performance goes exactly the same: play to a sold-out crowd, have a little something backstage, give some autographs, follow the drink wherever it leads and then end the night fucking her lead guitarist. Rinse and repeat. It's easy enough to follow the routine once you've got the hang of things.

She convinced you to pick it up for the first time back in high school. She told you that you had real talent and should really give the whole music thing a shot. She said you had natural charm when you held a guitar and could make everyone in the room pay attention, so you played along because you wanted to see if her words were true or not.

As it turned out, she was right. You might have never played anything in your life before joining Jinsoul in the practice room, but you're a quick learner, talented too. You followed her instructions, listened to all the little details of what being a rockstar means and eventually made it big. Together.

It isn't like you owe her everything for helping you through this life but you appreciate everything she has done for you, nonetheless. If Jinsoul had said jump, you'd be asking her how high but unfortunately for you, you can't exactly tell her this without looking like that one crazy stalker fan (that's an entirely different story).

When you're with the others though, performing together on stage with thousands of people screaming out their love and adoration as your fingers dance up and down your fretboard, well, there are no words to describe the feeling. You're addicted. It's thrilling, nerve-racking, terrifying and amazing all at the same time.

And the truth is, you feel it just like she does. You step off the stage and reach for whatever bottle you can find because the adrenaline coursing through your veins is electrifying, but the buzz always leaves too quickly. So, in order to prolong the high, you take it back to the hotel. Groupies, liquor and the hard stuff; everything is fair game.

-

Jinsoul has her hand wrapped firmly around your waist as she brings her body close to grinding against your thigh while singing into the mic. Her breathy voice sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers continue to glide effortlessly across strings while staring out into the sea of faceless bodies cheering as they sway from side to side beneath strobe lighting.

The lead vocalist grips tightly onto your shirt as her tongue darts over your earlobe, causing your skin to prickle with sensation before leaning away again. She grins wickedly, knowing what kind of effect she can have on you before returning to strutting across the stage. She dances in time with each chord progression you create. Watching as Jinsoul plays with her fans who push forward eagerly at any opportunity, hoping their fingertips can graze hers for even half a second, she laughs. The flashing lights are flickering in a seemingly random pattern, illuminating her features and casting shadows upon them all at once.

It's the encore. Fans chanting and begging for more. All their attention fixed solely upon Jinsoul; her movements so captivatingly beautiful yet dangerously provocative. Everything about her radiates confidence—power—lust. You watch carefully when she bends down to place a chaste kiss on a fan's hand; you watch when she takes the lollipop from one guy's mouth and puts it between her teeth. Smiling smugly to herself after spitting it out back at him. And you can't help yourself either... It's impossible not to get drawn into her orbit whenever she gets like this.

As much as everyone loves a good show, it ends too soon. Everything finishes with your eyes meeting hers through sweaty bangs; hands clapping in unison along with the rest of the band as they thank the audience for coming out tonight.

A smile still remains plastered firmly on Jinsoul's lips despite how exhausted she appears after performing for hours straight. Sweat beads glisten across her brow and drip down her temple as she pants heavily from exertion but still maintains that air of invincibility and untouchability, like always.

The lights dim and you're making your way off stage with Jinsoul hot on your tail behind you. You turn around intending to compliment her performance, only managing halfway before suddenly she presses her palm flat against the wall beside your head, pinning you against it. Her eyes glint mischievously at seeing how flustered you've become, having her so close to your face again.

"I know I did amazing." She says simply, before licking her upper lip seductively.

Before you know it her hand is already wrapped around the nape of your neck pulling you toward her and into a rough kiss filled with needful desperation. Tongue sliding past yours in earnest exploration before sliding away again to drag along the roof of your mouth instead. A gasp leaves your lungs being stolen away by Jinsoul, who eagerly swallows it down as if it were nourishment enough to sustain herself completely on its own.

"I need a drink," she murmurs huskily before pulling on your wrist leading towards the dressing rooms where several bottles await you in ice.

-

Another night, another fucking blur. It started in the dressing room with your band members; congratulating themselves for playing such an incredible gig together whilst downing shots and racking lines until they forget why exactly it is that they should even celebrate anymore.

You know little of what happened between then and now. Just snapshots. An image in your mind of Jinsoul dancing on a table surrounded by strangers all cheering her name. A memory of a bathroom stall where you found yourself with your pants pulled halfway down to your knees, some girl whose face remains indistinguishable giving you sloppy head. Then there are parts where you recall talking animatedly with some fan asking what's your favourite track from their album, others asking you to sign their breasts because they didn't bring anything else to write on. More of just flashes, really—snapshots of moments lost forever amongst booze, drugs and cigarette smoke.

It must have been a miracle that got the two of you back here alone without any incident or accident happening beforehand, considering neither of you could walk properly without stumbling over something unseen every couple of steps taken forward. Regardless, however, eventually, you do reach the hotel room door, which swings open violently crashing loudly into the wall behind it. Kicked by Jinsoul, who couldn't care less about causing damage or waking people up around you because she wants nothing more right now than to get laid.

Jinsoul's lips crush against yours almost immediately, stealing your breath away just as soon as it escapes from your lungs. Teeth clash clumsily while tongues slide hungrily within each other's mouths, fighting fiercely until finally breaking apart once air becomes scarce between you both.

Your mouth travels downward along her jawline, sucking bruises into soft flesh wherever possible—finding purchase there to continue making marks upon unmarred skin otherwise unknown and wanting—a place forbidden by nature yet entirely inviting, nonetheless. Fingertips dance gracefully across her curves until her legs give out, sending the two of you falling onto the bed without caution or warning whatsoever.

She's pulling off her ripped jeans. You're helping remove everything else until she sits before you fully exposed wearing nothing but those sinful fishnet stockings covering perfectly toned calves leading upward towards her thighs. They contrast beautifully against her flawless pale complexion; smooth as marble but warm beneath your touch, unlike the cold stone ever could hope to achieve.

Time and time again, no matter how often you've done this exact thing, seeing her bare like this never fails to amaze you. This angelic creature baring herself shamelessly beneath bright lights—openly inviting your gaze as though daring it not to look elsewhere but at her. And god knows how difficult resisting temptation truly is...

"Fucking come on." Her speech is slurred.

Her impatience shows clearly through alcohol-glazed eyes staring expectantly up at yours, silently pleading desperately for action. She doesn't need to ask twice, though; you gladly oblige, willingly pressing palms firmly upon inner thighs. Pushing gently outward, spreading wide welcoming hips before pressing two fingers roughly inside her slick, wet cunt.

Jinsoul's body arches upwards off the bedding instantly from pleasure, throwing her head backwards against pillows as loud moans escape parted lips. You're sloppy. Messy. Drunkenly probing into her pussy, desperately trying to hit that spot deep within her core, which always manages to drive her absolutely insane.

"No," she groans in frustration. "Fuck me." Every word she speaks takes an effort to enunciate clearly, each syllable struggling against the haze clouding her mind from reason. "Fingers aren't enough..."

You understand immediately what she means when she looks at you with those half-lidded eyes filled with need; lustful desire burning intensely within pupils dilated to full width now. She wants you to fuck her. Hard. With your cock buried deep inside her until she forgets everything else, but how amazing it feels being filled completely by you.

And so, you oblige once more... removing fingers covered entirely, coated thickly in Jinsoul's juices before quickly fumbling at your trousers. Undoing zippers hastily and pulling them down past your knees where they fall onto carpet flooring forgotten alongside all other articles removed already.

She's watching you undress, her eyes roaming your body with their haze. Lips curling upwards into a smirk before licking over teeth, hungrily anticipating what comes next. She knows exactly what she wants from you. Knows just how badly she needs it right now, too.

She sees you're ready, and without a word, she climbs onto all fours. Leaning forward on hands and knees before lowering her face onto the sheets below, presenting herself fully exposed before you, waiting eagerly for what comes next. And as soon as your tip brushes against her entrance, wetting itself upon her lips, it's all so familiar to you. You've been here a hundred times before.

You slap down hard onto her ass, making the skin turn pink. Jinsoul yelps out, surprised, but enjoys the sensation nonetheless. You repeat this several more times until her butt cheeks burn deep crimson under contact with each strike delivered forcefully across them. She groans loudly with each blow struck upon sensitive flesh, causing pain mixed deliciously together alongside pleasure.

When done playing games, finally, you grab her hips firmly—tightly enough that fingerprints will remain bruised tomorrow morning—before plunging forward into Jinsoul's cunt, burying yourself balls-deep within her core instantly. She always says sex after a show is special. Whether it's the adrenaline, the drink, the drugs or whatever the hell else that fuels you, you give it to her good every single time.

Your thrusts become rough and quick almost immediately. Skin slapping loudly together with each movement made forcefully enough to cause ripples across flesh bouncing back from the impact. It's messy. Dirty. Filthy. But Jinsoul loves every minute of being fucked hard like this—every moment spent pounding into her pussy again and again relentlessly.

She feels so good around you. Hot. Tight. Wet. Your cock slides smoothly between slick folds, easily finding purchase within soft walls stretching accommodatingly around its size. She moans loudly, screaming obscenities with each thrust given, encouraging you further until eventually, she climaxes, screaming out your name in ecstasy.

Jinsoul collapses forward onto the bedding below, completely spent from orgasm. But you're still as hard as ever. You follow her down, boning her into the bed with your pelvis slapping hard against her ass cheeks, smashing them repeatedly against skin reddened by prior contact already.

She gasps in shock at feeling you still going, unable to do much else except accept how wonderfully incredible it feels being fucked senselessly. You pound away at her pussy, relentlessly continuing your assault. Thrusts becoming faster now, quicker in pace. You can't be sure, but you think she's cumming again. The way her body shudders uncontrollably beneath you, convulsing violently while her voice cracks mid-moan. She cries out in ecstasy, calling for god knows who or what, but fuck if it doesn't make you want to finish too.

You're entranced in ecstasy, lost within a haze of pleasure coursing through every nerve ending within your body. And before long, you're cumming hard into her cunt. You're collapsing down against her. Chest to back. Her willing body pressed into the bed beneath you. But still, somehow, she manages to reach backwards, grabbing tightly onto your arm with one hand, pulling you closer towards her until your lips meet hers once more.

Your tongues dance together in perfect sync, tasting one another intensely as they battle for dominance between mouths. Kisses become sloppy. Desperate. You both need more from each other than you currently have within yourselves to give.

And finally, when you break away, breathing heavily, she murmurs, "Nothing beats this, right? Nothing... feels better than fucking you."

You know she's right. Nothing does come close to how amazing it feels to be inside her.

-

The next morning you wake up with your head throbbing painfully, feeling hungover as hell. Not a lot of the night before remains in your head except for vague images of Jinsoul dancing on tables surrounded by admirers cheering her name, or maybe you were the one doing all that. You don't remember.

You roll your head to the side. To the empty space beside you.

"Jinsoul?"

There's a numb tremor that runs up your body—a feeling caught somewhere between confusion and pleasure.

You find yourself reaching out to touch her, wanting desperately to feel the warmth radiating from her skin but instead finding nothing except cold air and soft sheets. She's gone. It's not like this is the first time this has happened though...

"I'm right here, idiot," she says softly.

She wraps her mouth around your cock again, slowly bobbing her head up and down along its length. There's the feeling again. It's her; dragged out of your sleepy haze one suck at a time until finally you're able to fully appreciate everything about it.

Her tongue laps over the tip. Her hand strokes gently at the base while the other plays with your balls. It's fucking amazing. It always is whenever she does this. You watch as she takes you completely into her mouth, wrapping her lips around you before slowly pulling back off. Her cheeks hollow slightly as she sucks hard on the head, causing you to groan loudly and buck your hips upward involuntarily.

She looks up at you through thick lashes. Her eyes were stained with last night's makeup; mascara smudged across her face creating dark circles around her irises, but still somehow managing to retain their natural beauty despite that fact. You smile at her and she smiles back, before taking you deep once more.

Your hands grip tightly onto the bed sheets beside you as she begins pumping faster now, bobbing her head up and down your length with renewed vigour. What a way to wake up in the morning, huh?

"Fuck," you hiss between clenched teeth. "Keep going."

Your hips thrust up again, causing Jinsoul to gag slightly at the sudden movement suddenly coming from beneath her. She looks up at you, meeting your eyes again before winking playfully.

She pushes her throat onto you until her lips meet the base of your cock. You moan loudly, unable to contain yourself any longer and reach out, grabbing roughly onto her hair, forcing her head forward even further.

She gags once more but doesn't stop moving her mouth up and down along your shaft. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer. You don't know how much longer you can last like this, so you tug firmly at Jinsoul's locks again; signalling to her that you're about to cum.

She releases you from her mouth with a loud pop, then wastes no time in crawling over you. Straddling her hips above yours, she guides you to her entrance before lowering herself onto you. Her cunt is already a mess, wet with excitement, and stained with last night's debauchery. It doesn't bother her, riding you like this in the morning. She loves it.

The sight of her naked body bouncing on top of yours is enough to make anyone lose their mind and fuck if you don't want to see this every damn day of your life. The way her tits bounce in tandem with each movement made, how her mouth hangs open slightly in ecstasy as she throws her head back, letting out a moan now and then. Fuck, she's so goddamn sexy.

She knows what she's doing, too. Knows how to draw this out as long as possible, prolonging your pleasure for as long as she can without breaking eye contact with you. She rides you hard; hips thrusting forward aggressively, then slowing to a laboured grind that leaves you reeling for more.

"Good morning," she coos seductively.

You're mesmerised by her—completely hypnotised by everything about her. And before long, you're reaching out, grabbing onto her waist, guiding her movements as best as you can manage.

She leans over and kisses you hungrily while continuing to fuck herself on top of your cock. Her tongue pushes into your mouth, swirling around inside, tasting every inch available. The kiss is hot, wet and messy, but perfect, nonetheless.

Jinsoul breaks away from you and places her hands on either side of your head, steadying herself as she rides you harder and faster now, bringing both of you closer and closer towards orgasm. Your fingers dig into her skin, gripping tightly onto flesh for purchase as you feel yourself nearing climax.

It's too much. It's all too fucking good. You can't take anymore. You're not going to last another second longer. You need release. Desperately.

At the very last, you buck her off, throw her down to the bed and climb to your knees, hovering over her as you begin jacking yourself off furiously. The sight of her lying there, legs spread wide open, waiting patiently for you to cum on her only intensifies the sensation building within your core.

"Fuck!"

With one final cry, you erupt onto Jinsoul's stomach, painting white streaks across taut skin stretched taut across toned abs. Up to her tits too, ropes of cum covering pink nipples standing erect beneath it. You collapse next to her, completely spent from exertion. She laughs softly, running fingertips through damp hair and sticking messily to her forehead before wiping away sweat beads dripping down her chin.

"You always finish quick when we do this in the morning," she whispers teasingly.

You laugh too. "You just look too good."

She rolls over, planting a quick kiss on your lips. "Good enough to give me another in the shower?"

You grin.

She matches it with a knowing stare.

This is the life.

[midnite-c6]

Can you write Namgyu with a kink for humiliating you? I just know this man is a sadist with the way he’s so mean.

It can be making you cry, making you lick his shoes clean, suck his fingers, spitting in your mouth & making you swallow! All while cruelly insulting you calling you a cunt and a bitch.

He loves to embarrass you! You’re just his personal stress-toy in these stressful games <3

(Love your work btw!!!)🎀

holy fuckfbk nam-gyu will always be my fav , hes such a sadist HES SUCH A SADIST you'll be crying and everything literally making such a mess and he'd be staring at you like this: 🫤 guys i got a good twitter vid for this one (i made reader a bit a bimbo im sry💔)

sadist!nam-gyu x reader <3 warnings: 18+, DARK content, SMUT!!, humiliation kink, knifeplay, humping shoes ❤️‍🩹, twitter link, dubcon, orgasm denial, death threats (1), degradation, voyeurism, pwp

つ⁠｡⁠☆ when you'd meet at the games, he just immediately sees how fuckable you are. you were bickering him about the stupidest things, he was angry, how you almost lost them the six-legged race, of course you'd defend yourself. without any class, he'd spit on you, out of 'anger'. obviously he only wants to test how you'd respond, the games were getting boring, he needs to release some tension. "fucking swallow, bitch. you'll do that, right?" he says, like it's second nature, it was your first time literally getting spat on! it felt so weird! you'd swallow full of shame, looking him in the eye. "fucking-" his dick would twitch from the sight, like he was taking your virginity. "bitch, you tryna' tease me?" it's like he didn't expect you to do as he says. you were actually so submissive it makes him cry. it makes his dick cry, definitely.

he's probably the type of guy to jerk off right in front of you. he invited you to come and eat with him and his other allies, saying how it's much more safer with a team rather than being alone, but once you finished your lunch and everyone's going somewhere else, nam-gyu shamelessly moves his hands past the waistband of his pants, it makes you panic, scared, and clueless, -- you don't know what to do, the good person in you says to help him :( and you do, offering your hand, tilting your head and asking "do .. do you need me?" nam-gyu knew he is never gonna get enough of you. ever. he scoffs, he was about to bust a nut right there, "don't fucking assume, cunt." but you just wanted to help him :( he swears you knew what you were doing. "do you even have a brain?" you'd freeze, and he removes his hand under his pants to pull your hair to face his groin. "i'm sure you know how to suck. so suck." he doesn't give you any time to think before pushing your head to his clothed dick, making your squirms muffled against his hard-on. "mmph- m-mister-" your drool staining his pants, "take my pants off, duh. are you genuinely stupid?"

now you were forced to take on his dick, because of your 'volunteer' spirit. atleast he was a bit nice about it though.. i mean he did take it slow until the tip of his cock was hitting the back of your throat, after that, it's a different story. "you sick little freak. you offer your services to any person with a cock?" is what you'd hear, and the 'glug glug glug' sound of your throat. "no decent woman would offer herself when she sees a man jerking it." you were taking him in so well, and he was conversing like it was a normal day. "you. are. a. fucking. freak." he'd pull you away from his dick, "answer me, you're a whore aren't you?" he tugs, "what are you?" "a whore..." you whimper. he just laughs, shoving right back into your mouth.

everything was too fast D: you'd swear other men were looking. no they definitely were. probably even stroking their own dicks while watching. player 124 was so lucky.

even after that, your throat was sore, making you unable to speak, it wasn't like you were much of a talker in the first place. you'd stay by him though, even if you could hear nam-gyu tell his experience about you to thanos, saying how 'mediocre' you were. that hurts.. :(

つ⁠｡⁠☆ outside of the games ->

you were probably someone who absolutely loves the idea of 'making love', he'd just absolutely break that ideology in half. :/ you guys wouldn't have met in the club, he probably met you in a dating app. he made himself such a presentable person, deeming himself as a family man raised by his grandmother who loves owning pets, long walks on the beach, cooking for his girl, all that stuff. of course you'd fall in love. your second date was cooking with him, he finds it cute how clumsy you are with the knife, he chuckles, playfully teasing: "you're such a cute dummy." getting behind you, putting his arms on top of yours as he guides you on how to safely cut vegetables. he's such a sweetie.

but.. when he has that knife pressed right to your throat, thankfully not cutting you, his body caging yours on the counter, your back pressed against his chest. whispering, "you're such a dumb bitch, who the fuck believes shit from people who work at the club?" he did have a point, he said he was a club promoter right off the bat, but your view of him did a full 180⁰ real quick.

pushing your pants down, he presses the handle of the knife right in between your legs, making a soft moan escape your lips, how could he think you don't like this?

the knife goes back to your neck, as his other hand was deeply shoving his fingers against your leaking pussy, "you can't cum, alright? m'not afraid to slash your neck." he threatens, he curls his fingers at the same time, how were you gonna survive.??

now when you're trembling right infront of him, he'd stop all forms of physical touch, getting away from you, you'd fall to the ground, mostly because of your legs shaking, and how the knife infront of your throat blocked you from doing any movements. "please, let me cum, please, i've been good..!" you begged, looking up at him. his eyes darkened even more at the sight, you were so desperate, it was hot. "fine. spread your legs."

(this video) <- twt link ^o^

he presses the insides of your thighs to fully spread them wide open. nudging the tip of his shoes on your clit, the friction was good enough </3.

"you're an embarrassment to women, jeez, you're fucking gonna cum from this." he always seems so mad. you shake your head, you're better than this, you swear. he only chuckles from how you're trying to defend yourself, pressing your thighs together as if to close them, you still wanted that sweet release :( " pfft. stop trying to deny it, i'm not gonna let you cum unless you become a worthless whore for me," fuck it, you were desperate, you'd cum from anything at this point. erasing any self dignity, you spread your legs again. props to you, despite his mean nature, he was gonna cum from the sight.

-

lastly, in a group setting, you know he is the biggest boot-licker when it's with his friends at the club, always wanting to impress them and shit, showing how you're his prized possession! he'll make you hang out with his friends, the purple-haired one included, all doing lines and taking puffs of weed, as he "sweetly" guides you to grind on his thigh. saying how: "nobody's gonna notice, they're too high to notice you being so pathetic." and you whine, tears in your eyes because you feel so embarrassed and vulnerable :<, hearing his other friends laugh, you could only hide your face in the crook of nam-gyu's neck. he'd pull on your hair to get you to look at him eye to eye, "you wanted this didn't you? you're asking for it all the time, why not now?" his words are so condescending, it didn't help how your clit is sweetly nudging against the wrinkles of his pants, sometimes you'd even move a bit higher to feel the bulkiness of his belt. or even the tent in his pants in general, but he'll immediately lift you up, because he doesn't wanna give you the satisfaction that he's aroused too!

he's such a perfect guy, you love him. you do. if you actually do, sucks to suck, he thinks you're fucking pathetic.

subby nam-gyu soon? (and kim seowan) prolly will do a few asks, too busy for all this stuff i need sleep! also, guys i love the dark asks, keep them goinnnnnnnnn🥲

[dalishious]

About Davrin's little blurb on the official website for Dragon Age: The Veilguard...

"Though he was raised in a Dalish clan, he craved excitement and adventure. He'd rather make history than reflect on it."

There's actually a lot to unpack about these two sentences.

First off, placing the word "though" in front of being "raised in a Dalish clan", gives such a thing a negative connotation. The word "though" is used in a way that sounds like "despite", as in, somehow wanting excitement and adventure must go against being Dalish. This correlates with sentence that follows. "He'd rather make history than reflect on it." The word "rather" is yet again used to separate Davrin from his Dalish origin. All together, this promotional description of Davrin is insisting that he is "not like other Dalish".

Now, obviously the game is not out yet, so we do not have total confirmation on what the nature of Davrin's relationship to his culture is really like. But there is absolutely something to be said about promoting the character this way, regardless of however he actually turns out in game. There is absolutely something to be said about how, as @/the-eldritch-it-gay put in their tags here, why do writers feel the need to make fantasy minorities hate or distance themselves from their culture? As a selling point?

Maybe this is completely misleading bullshit, maybe it isn't. All we have to go by, is what BioWare chose to say here, and their past track record with elves:

Zevran may talk about his mother in a font way, but he still has the line, "Too many of our kind think we deserve pity simply because we have failed to defend ourselves."

Velanna is one of the two elves we've had who is overtly proud of her culture, yet she is treated like she is unreasonable and too angry because of it.

Merrill too, is proud of being an elf, and of being Dalish. The story punishes her left and right for this, treats her like a child, and in the end she is either ostracized from her clan or they end up dead because... she cared too much?

Fenris has pretty much zero engagement with elven cultures, and spends his time ridiculing Merrill for being proud of hers.

Solas complains about the Dalish from the start, and says plainly that he does not see himself as having anything in common with elves of current time. "Oh, you mean elves" he says, when the Inquisitor asks how he feels about his people; the thought does not even occur to him.

Sera is... Sera is a character who could have been a really interesting examination of overcoming internalized racism, if she was written by someone competent with the subject. Instead, she just cringes at everything "too elfy" through the entire main game, and only has a single line in Trespasser that hints that she may have a personal struggle going on. But it's still left unresolved.

That's a lot a lot of negativity. So of course seeing a suggestion that more is to come with Davrin has people wary and tired.

Let us also consider the fact that Davrin is overtly Black as well, and what that means. Acting as if one must disregard history in order to make it, as his description so claims, is bullshit. It sounds too much like promoting gentrification/assimilation in my opinion; the idea that you cannot keep your culture if you want to be successful.

I also think that it goes even deeper, on a meta level - I think that BioWare is afraid people will not be able to like or relate to Davrin, if he is "too ethnic". I think that BioWare is taking this Black character and instead of questioning how he can best represent marginalized fans - particularly Black fans - they are questioning how to make him more relatable to white fans. And the only answer to that is to, of course, make him seem like he is an exception to marginalization through separating him from his people.

I am still holding onto hope that Davrin will overall be an interesting, well-written character. And I sure as hell will still be defending him from the people who are already hating on him or ignoring him completely because of their racialized biases. But that does not exempt BioWare, and specifically his writer, John Dombrow, from any criticism. This is not about Davrin the character, this is about BioWare the company's handling of Davrin the character. And in that regard, they're not off to a great start with this.

[eldritchamy]

I think I've figured out a good way to articulate one of the reasons Human Domestication Guide is hitting for me in a way really not much else has done for a long time.

HDG is an inverse fandom.

Whereas a lot of fanfiction (maybe just for the sake of the pun we can expand outwards, wink, and call them "transformative works") takes at the core of its nature a specific character or group of characters, and then transplants (sorry, I had to) those characters into Alternate Universes in order to keep telling altered, revised, and original stories with those CHARACTERS, while changing everything else, HDG does the opposite.

It takes the SETTING as the core defining feature, and creates original CHARACTERS in order to tell original stories.

And that's really cool for reasons that, of course, ended up becoming another gigantic one of Amy's Patented Infodump Posts.

Most fanfiction gets to appeal to its audience because of the associations and attachments readers have for the CHARACTERS, and then create a new story from there without having to spend time setting up WHO THE STORY IS ABOUT for you. I don't say this as a bad thing, that's just the attraction. The readers bring their attachment to the characters WITH them before they start reading.

HDG gets to assume you understand the SETTING as a basic premise, and then tell new stories with original characters without having to hold your hand through as much of the set up work, because you already know the SETTING going in.

So instead of discovering how the characters you know relate to a world you don't (and to each other within that context), you get stories where you get to discover who the characters ARE, in the context of a world you already understand.

It's not "what does a different setting do to these characters." It's "how do different people navigate this setting."

You get to meet and learn and identify with the CHARACTERS because you see how they as unique people react to a set premise.

So much of what I've read so far has done exceptional work establishing who the characters are, even making MINOR characters within the story feel like fleshed out people.

You'd think in a setting that takes at face value the premise of humanity being subjugated and doted on by a species that uses mind control drugs to turn them into docile, obedient pets, the stories would struggle a bit with sameness as the individuality of the characters failed to shine through or were inevitably suppressed over the course of the plot.

In practice, it seems like almost the OPPOSITE is true.

The Affini always win. But every character chooses to lose to them in a different way that speaks to who they are as people.

Getting to explore these unique stories through the eyes of unique characters seems like it's making it EASIER to latch on to what makes THESE characters the focus of the stories being told.

And so far the stories being told are fucking great, and have such a huge range to them.

The original story for the setting is a VERY non consensual medfet/drug play subjugation story where Elvira (captain of a ship for the Free Terran feralist rebellion) is ABSOLUTELY brought into domestication by force (at first), and we get to see the PROCESS of her being broken down and becoming something new over the course of (what we later learn has been ONLY) about three weeks. She's not the same person she was at the start of the story. At all. She's been utterly replaced by a new identity and personality that the old version of her would never have accepted. (Also it's kinda hot that it's actually good for her, and that she very much DOES end up happier for it. She's still Elvira. But she's safe, and she's loved.)

That's a pretty specific vibe for a story.

But the next story I read in the setting takes place over the course of several hours in-universe, and basically follows a dysfunctional, clearly neurodivergent woman stagnating in the limbo of having been failed by capitalism (or in her mind, failing at it) and having mixed feelings about the staggeringly powerful alien civilization that is currently part way through conquering her planet and its people.

The story starts off when she's so hungry after scraping through what scant, nutritionless garbage she was able to find in the capitalist dystopia that it finally overrides her fear, and she goes to the border of Affini-controlled territory in her city. She figures, they're going to do whatever they're going to do to the rest of the city within a few days anyway, so there's no sense pretending whatever outcome she's walking into wasn't inevitable, and even if it's not as good as the Affini promise, at least it's not what she's been stuck in. Fear of sameness finally becomes more traumatic than fear of change.

She proceeds to go on an adorable lesbian grocery date with a 10 foot tall plant that gently flirts with her while remaining very firm that all of this human's needs CAN and SHOULD and WILL be taken care of FOR her from now on, and it's OKAY that she has trouble focusing because it's OKAY that some people need more help than others.

She spends several chapters experiencing repeated Lesbian Bluescreens because of this sweet, doting alien who insists it's no trouble at all and she's happy to help. Then said alien takes her back to her apartment on the human side to make sure she feels safe getting there through the anti-Affini protests, and then in a matter of minutes she has cleaned this girl's entire disaster of an apartment and promised to cook her a nice Terran pizza.

Then the girl has a lesbian panic attack while coming to terms with how much misery she didn't have to be living with, and whether this future isn't exactly what she always hoped for and more, so the alien offers to give her some alien drugs to calm her down, and her now fuzzy brain accidentally crumbles under the weight of all the secret petplay fantasies that have been turning her face red all morning and she accidentally calls the alien "Mistress", and then she goes home to THEIR place back in Affini territory with her new owner and gets absolutely spoiled until she falls asleep feeling safe and loved for the first time in her life.

COMPLETE tonal shift from the original story, but the LOGIC of the story is fully consistent with the setting. It's just a different character responding to that setting in a different way.

The range of what's possible is ENORMOUS.

I went from there to "two humans captured at different times struggle to find their way back to each other and end up with neural implants plugged into each other's brains by their shared Mistress, and the feedback loop helps them domesticate EACH OTHER" and then from there to a mostly historical context story about an Affini who lived for almost 300,000 years and how she feels about the Compact's role in everything they've done to the universe.

And then I got to read "I have to pretend to be a good little floret maid at an Affini Compact hotel because that's my Genius Spy Cover WHOOPS it turns out being a maid means getting teased and played with a lot WHOOPS, OHHhhh NOOOoo~ I'VE BEEN TURNED INTO A FREE USE HYPNO DOLL because EVERYONE KNEW I WAS A SPY THE WHOLE TIME, I'm going to resolve my mixed feelings by erotically betraying my co-conspirator so we can be floret girlfriends together," which was cute, funny, and INCREDIBLY hot.

Seriously, chapter 10 of that story. Holy FUCK. I think my brain has turned fully inside out. I had a DREAM kinda like it afterwards that I wish I could remember more of.

I guess my point is HDG is less like a fandom and more like DND.

It's a shared universe of collaborative storytelling, even if any individual work within it was made by one person.

You get to play within a core set of rules for how the setting works, but the stories that can come out of playing by those rules are so incredible and diverse and interesting, and I'm really enjoying getting to explore all of that within the context of a basic premise that has absolutely grabbed most of my kinks by the throat, stared menacingly into my eyes, and smirked knowingly.

Also it's INCREDIBLY queer and very obviously made specifically for gay autistic trans women who take progesterone, so I guess just like the rest of the little Terrans, I never stood a chance.

[coffee-and-geto]

“WHO YOU GONNA CALL? CURSEHUNTER!”

“That’ll cost you 33,000 yens, ma’am.” “What?!” “Unless you offer other methods of payment. I’m flexible by nature, though.”

pairing: curse hunter! toji fushiguro x f!reader | kinkoctober m.list

summary: for halloween, you and your group of friends — where your boyfriend has taken a break from your relationship — decide to spend the evening in an old mansion turned into a hotel. with a rather strange staff and weird things going on in the mansion, everything leads you to end up calling a specialist to the situation — toji, the curse hunter for your evening can do his job, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let you off the hook so easily when you can’t afford him…

warnings: +18 ONLY, smut, nsfw, AU with curses, haunted house, (slight) angst, cheating because the reader has an (ex) boyfriend but he’s a cheater, utahime makes an appearance, sex (p in v), squirting, oral (f! receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, fingering (f! receiving), overstimulation, lot of teasing, doggy + missionary positions, size kink.

wc: 5,963

“Wow!”

“It’s a really scary décor!” comments one of your friends, covering her mouth as her jaw drops in surprise.

“Same for the staff,” you add with a frown, glancing around at the spooky theme that’s everywhere—the walls, the bedrooms, even the kitchen and living room. But you can’t ignore how strange the staff in the lobby were when you all checked in for your rooms.

“Don’t be silly, it’s all part of the ambiance.” Your boyfriend nudges you playfully with his elbow, flashing his usual smirk, but this time it doesn’t work. You’re so tired of him.

“And she’s right,” snaps Utahime, who links her arm with yours to pull you further away from the annoying duo made up of one of your friends and your boyfriend. “But of course, coming from you…” She scrunches her nose, looking annoyed.

You sigh. “It’s fine, Hime, I can handle it—”

“This jerk needs a scare big enough to make him crap his pants, believe me,” she interrupts, gently tugging you along as she takes the lead to find your bedroom. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

You glance back toward the rooms of the others, including your boyfriend, then look forward with a disappointed pout. His attention should be on you, not anyone else—it should be shining like a star for you, not for some friend.

“Do you think the story about this manor is true?” you whisper when Utahime finally finds room 311-1.

She shakes her head but hurries to unlock the door, casting nervous glances at the dim hallway lights, which are anything but reassuring. “The point is to get us in the mood, obviously, but the staff went a bit too hard with the costumes…”

Finally, you both step into the room, where the soft, victorian decor makes your friend sigh with relief.

“At least the room itself isn’t weird,” she laughs, relaxing a little.

You smile faintly, taking in the shared bedroom. “Yeah, not too bad.”

In the next hour, the two of you have fun picking apart the manor’s ambiance, spinning wild theories about the place. Your mood lifts again, and since you already had dinner on the way here, at least you don’t have to worry about the creepy staff involving you in some haunted-house-style horror event.

Or worse, poisoning you.

But what a ridiculous idea, right?

There’s no reason for that. No one would do that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come.

~~~~

Why always you?

Of course. Your brain had to convince you, “No danger; they haven’t announced a Halloween night event yet!”

“You will be paired up in twos by random draw,” a staff member dressed as the Joker announces cheerfully, handing out small slips of paper with numbers and a map that looks much like a pirate’s treasure map, but is actually the hotel floor plan. “When you enter the first room — different for each pair — you’ll find an object and a riddle that will indicate which room is next.”

He bounces slightly in front of the reception desk, nearly giddy with excitement, which is unsettling given the blood-red lines around the corners of his mouth.

“This means that whoever finds the most hidden spots will win a prize at the end of the night,” he concludes, looking over your group one by one. “But be careful — this mansion has a spooky history, and some ghosts may come to visit!” He laughs, joined by a few others.

As you examine your number, you look around for your boyfriend, hoping to have drawn the same number so you can spend some time with him despite the break he recently put on your relationship. But no.

One of your friends — Nami, the one who’d commented on the decor — is already giggling beside him, paying no attention to you or the boundaries she’s crossing with her little “friendly” touches.

You inhale deeply, trying to ignore the sharp sting of jealousy. Just then, Utahime leans over your shoulder, checking your number. “Hey, looks like we’re together!”

You let a smile spread over your face and head with her to the first floor, where the first prize is hidden.

“I hope they didn’t hire any actors to scare us, or I might just hurt someone,” you mutter darkly, the dim lighting and ornate wallpaper in the hallways sending a chill down your spine.

“Same,” Utahime chuckles softly, pulling out a small flashlight. She switches it on and shines it ahead. “This should help, right? Check the map.”

You do, studying the hallway details on the paper to get your bearings. “Yeah, we’re close to room 456,” you say, looking up.

In a long walk that feels like it stretches out forever, Utahime and you move at the same steady pace, maintaining a comfortable distance, wrapped in silence as though no one else is on any floor.

“We’re here,” you announce as Utahime shines her light on the brass plaque for room 456.

You open the door carefully, flicking on the light, and catch a vague movement out of the corner of your eye near the edge of the sitting area. You snap your head in that direction, but there’s nothing.

“Did they set up special effects?” you wonder aloud.

“Probably,” Utahime reassures you, heading towards a bookshelf where a velvet-covered box with emerald and gold accents catches her eye. She grabs it, opening it to find a slip of parchment and a key.

You take a more careful look around the room, inspecting every corner, and almost miss what Utahime has found until she calls out to you.

“Next room, here we come!” she says happily.

~~~~

“Is it just me, or have we been walking for a while?” you remark after several minutes of silence, back in the hallway but on the second floor this time.

“Yeah, feels like it.” Utahime swings her flashlight around, lighting up the walls, curtains, and carpet in the dimly lit halls. It’s as if the already faint lights were growing even weaker.

BANG!

Both of you jump, turning in unison towards the unknown source of the noise.

“Fuck,” Utahime curses, “them and their damn effects.”

You exhale a shaky breath meant to calm your still-racing heart, but the cold breath on the back of your neck isn’t helping. “Utahime, is that you—” You turn to look at your friend, who’s cautiously moving closer to you, when a piercing female scream echoes throughout the hotel.

“Can we cancel this night?” Utahime doesn’t wait for your answer, grabbing your arm and dragging you into a frantic sprint down the corridors, where more and more doors seem to open and close on their own.

Then, suddenly, something grabs you by the arm, pulling you into the darkness.

When you finally open your eyes, you’re half-sprawled on the floor in partial darkness, with only the faint candlelight the hotel keeps in the eerie corridors as a precaution. You stand up immediately, pulling out your phone in an attempt to send a message to your friends’ group chat, but no one is active.

You then try to call reception, your eyes scanning an environment that no longer feels amusing in the slightest. This has to be part of the game.

Doesn’t it?

But after several rings, no one picks up.

“Goddamnit,” you mutter.

You resign yourself to finding a door, a room, or anything that could help you call the police or figure out a way to avoid getting caught by a real ghost in this creepy manor.

Your gaze scans the walls, your phone’s light barely illuminating the darkest corners due to its low battery. And the only thing that stands out is a notice pinned to the wall that has you scrambling to get your phone out again.

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY DURING THE HALLOWEEN HUNT, IF THE RECEPTION DOESN’T RESPOND, CALL THIS NUMBER:

You dial it, barely caring who it might reach given the seriousness of your situation.

After the second ring, someone picks up, their tone filled with mocking amusement and a hint of nonchalance:

“Hello?”

You’re saved.

~~~~

Back to square one — you’re anything but saved.

“This is the emergency response?” you spit out, feeling lost and baffled as you stand before a man approaching you about twenty minutes after a more-than-frustrating phone call.

He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with toned muscles and an arrogance that seeps from every pore of his skin.

“Toji Fushiguro, at your service, ma’am,” he replies sarcastically, giving a slight bow, a smug smile stretching the scar across his mouth.

“And you are…?”

“A curse hunter — don’t ask too many questions, I’m used to it,” he cuts you off, striding past without a glance. “Just follow me.”

You stand there, speechless, frozen to see if he’ll react, but he just keeps whistling and walking.

You were in deep trouble.

Reluctantly, you catch up, glaring at him coldly as he gives you a quick glance. “Do you have the money?”

“That’s really all you care about?” you retort bitterly. “Isn’t the hotel supposed to cover emergencies like this? We’re all lost, and—”

“Careful!!” Toji pushes you against the wall, pulling out a unique sword with a red and gold hilt and slashing it sharply through the air.

Nothing seems to have been hit at the moment, but the distinct sound of the slice is unmistakable.

“So, it wasn’t a joke when they said there were ghosts?”

“Curses,” he corrects, sheathing his weapon. He surveys the rest of the hallway and looks up at the ceiling. “They’re on the floor above.”

Several minutes later, you’re there, with high-pitched screams filling the air; among them, you recognize Utahime’s and some of your other friends. You start to rush to her, but Toji grabs you by the waist.

“Hold up!” he tuts, looking a bit more serious. “The lady stays here.”

“But my friend is in there!” you protest, struggling to break free.

“What a little firebrand!” Toji grumbles, pinning you against the wall. His warm breath brushes your face, and you hold back the urge to kick him. When he breathes in to speak, your intoxicating scent fills his nose. “I’m the pro here, got it? I’ll save your friend, and then we’ll talk about the price.” He releases you when you hold his gaze firmly enough to make him trust you.

“If anything happens to her, I’ll make you eat every one of your damn curses, okay?”

He snorts before disappearing down the corridor.

In the next hour, all the curses are quickly neutralized — even if no one actually sees them, their heavy, lingering “presence” was enough to give away what was happening.

“Most people went back to their rooms,” Toji informs you, guiding you toward your floor.

“That was fast.”

“As usual,” he sighs, hands in his pockets.

“Why isn’t the staff responding?” you ask, feeling more reassured and open to conversation now.

“It’s a real haunted manor, so they know that when you play, you just risk being bugged by the curses, nothing more.” He shrugs, pulling out his phone to check the time, and you mentally slap yourself for noticing how his forearm muscles flex slightly. “Plus those fuckers are never there on time to pay me, even though they require my services.”

“Oh, right, your payment…” You avert your eyes, walking past your room without entering. Maybe it’s best to go look for the staff…right?

“I only take cash,” Toji says, putting his phone away. “And I charge by the half-hour.”

You blink, swallowing nervously because you know you lied earlier on the phone when he told you the amount he typically earns per job.

“…Yeah?”

He chuckles softly, stopping to face you, while you do the same. Up close, he’s breathtaking — his emerald-green eyes, sharply defined jaw, his whole form could have been sculpted from ice.

“That’ll cost you 33,000 yens, ma’am.”

“What?!”

“Unless you’re offering alternative methods of payment. I’m flexible, by nature,” he adds ironically.

Your face falls, and you try to stay calm, knowing you’re in real trouble if he realizes you barely have enough for a can of soda.

“Great, so, I’m going to get paid by a pretty lady, huh?” he whispers, leaning in dangerously close until your back gently hits the wall.

“Can’t you lower the price?” you ask, slightly flustered, forcing a smile to hide the panic clutching at your insides. “Maybe my friends and I can work something out to pay you.”

“But it’s the one who calls who pays,” Toji coos softly, lifting a hand to play with a strand of your hair. “They didn’t ask for anything.”

“But they were saved,” you insist, feeling like a pleading child trying to avoid punishment.

Toji gently shakes his head, a barely-there smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t you have a boyfriend? Maybe he’ll take care of it, then.”

“Yes, but…” You feel a chill at the mention of your boyfriend, whom you haven’t seen since the start of the evening, “we need to find him. He’s probably asleep.”

“Describe him to me, I’ll tell you if he’s around,” Toji murmurs, and his words feel like a subtle threat as you describe him. His brow furrows. “You sure?”

“Yes, why?” Suddenly, your heart starts pounding faster.

What’s with that reaction?

He doesn’t respond, darting off down the hallway without waiting for you to catch up — though you do, anyway. It’s as if each step drives a knife deeper into your chest.

Please, don’t tell me they—

You freeze, stopping in front of a room with a slightly open door, where your boyfriend is indeed present.

But he’s not alone.

Perched above him on a sofa is Nami, straddling him, passionately kissing him. The worst part is seeing them smile at each other without noticing you, your boyfriend’s hands gently stroking his “friend’s” hips.

“They have been here since I came.”

You flutter your eyes closed.

Toji stands silently beside you. “So, he’s cheating on you, or am I wrong?” he murmurs, perhaps also feeling uncomfortable at the sight.

You step back, your chest tight, biting your lip. You hold back tears of both anger and hurt. It stings a thousand times more seeing your partner betray you like this rather than just admitting he no longer loves you, doesn’t it?

You look up at Toji, your eyes likely already red and gleaming.

No, this is definitely anger. You just want to let some curse devour him whole.

“I don’t have the money, sorry,” you admit through clenched teeth, turning on your heel to leave. “Do whatever you want; I don’t care anymore.”

“Hey.” He loosely grabs your wrist, stopping you.

You barely turn back. You’re hurt, yes, but also furious that you didn’t end things with your boyfriend yourself. What a shame, right? It should’ve been you hurting him, not him hurting—

“You know what I see?” Toji takes a few steps toward you, a mocking smile on his lips. He leans in to speak near your ear, his well-built chest brushing against yours. “I see someone filled with rage. You want revenge, don’t you?”

But you’re in no mood to laugh.

He sighs, realizing his attempt at humor fell flat. “Alright, alright. Listen.” He stands in front of you, hands still in his pockets as he leans against the wall. “I’m not the best at comforting people, but… how about a deal?”

You blink.

“We’re both in an… awkward situation, you see. I need to get paid, and you’re on the brink of committing murder.” A smile spreads across his lips.

You still don’t smile.

“So,” he looks down, a bit distracted and uncomfortable despite his smug expression, “I wasn’t totally joking when I said I’d accept other forms of payment. Plus, I think your lil’ guy here needs someone to teach him a less—”

But you cut him off instantly, grabbing the collar of his black T-shirt with both hands and pulling him toward you to crush your lips against his.

Toji, surprised for a second, quickly recovers, gripping your hips to pull you impossibly closer, his lips following yours, attempting to soothe the fury they carry in anger.

He moves backward with you, eyes closed as he pushes open another slightly ajar door to a room, kicking it shut behind him. He pulls back, watching you intently.

Your gaze softens oddly as it meets his. He raises an eyebrow, almost repeating his question from a minute ago, and you nod. “I accept,” you murmur, and his face lights up.

Leaning toward you again, his lips capture yours in another heated kiss that ignites with raw desire. “Fuck. What kind of boyfriend he is, huh?” Toji growls between breathless kisses. “With a girlfriend with lips this sweet, hmm?”

Your feet tangle with his, each step unsure, trying to avoid falling anywhere other than the softness of the couch. You gasp, trying to catch your breath, but everything about Toji makes breathing impossible. “Toji, you—”

“Bet he’s got a small one, doesn’t he?” The blush flooding your face makes him smirk, his scar brushing your jaw as his mouth descends to your pulse. “Knew it.” He nips at your shoulder, his tongue darting out to leave a mark that’ll remind you of him for a good while.

“Toji, please—” you sigh, wincing in pleasure as he presses open-mouthed kisses down your neck, leaving two hickeys in his wake. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sweet sounds spilling out — especially when he brings his knee up between your legs, rubbing it sloppily against your heated core.

“Let ’em out, doll,” he mutters, his hands roaming across your chest slowly before he yanks, popping the buttons off and exposing your bare skin to him. “I want him to hear just how good I make you feel, how loud I can make you scream my name.”

He doesn’t even give you time to protest; he’s already unclasping your bra and kneading your soft breasts, leaving you arching with pleasure from his teasing alone. And if his hands can do this... what about his cock?

He takes his time, pinching and rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers. You moan for real this time, back arching, chest heaving with quickened breaths. “Ahh— Wan’ more,” you whine, the sound going straight to his strained, clothed arousal.

“Am I the one who’s supposed to be saying that?” Toji laughs, enjoying the sight of you squirming and pouting under his teasing, his tongue swirling and rolling over one breast while his fingers toy with the other.

“Toji.”

He lifts his head, pulling his mouth from your breast with a wet pop and tilting his head to the side, that devilish grin still on his lips. “What is it, doll?” He doesn’t even bother wiping away the thin string of saliva connecting his lips to your sensitive nipple.

You writhe beneath him, trying to shimmy off your pants, but the tight space between you two makes the task more challenging than expected.

He chuckles — a rough sound — and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head, trapping you beneath him. “Getting needy, are we? Looks like you need a hand,” he coos, sliding his thick fingers down your bare chest before slipping the tip of his finger under your waistband.

The touch is electrifying. Both infuriating and warm, as Toji tests your patience.

With his finger still just inside your clothing, he trails it down to your hips before stopping. “Lift your hips for me.” You obey, his low “good girl” making your poor core clench around nothing. His finger is soon joined by the rest of his hand, and he easily slides it down to remove your pants in one smooth motion. “There you go…”

“When I said I wanted more, I meant here,” you mumble, glancing down at the small damp patch in the center of your panties, so exposed for him.

“Naughty, huh?” Toji releases your wrists, kneeling down between your thighs. He grips your hips tightly, his thumbs pressing firmly, leaving slight indents in your skin. “So pretty, so soft,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your inner thighs, kissing and nibbling until you’re gasping.

“You— You’re teasing,” you pant, burying your fingers in his dark hair, tugging lightly when he brushes his nose against your puffy clit through the damp fabric.

“I am,” he admits, laying the flat of his tongue over the wet patch before inhaling. “Smells and tastes so good, doll.” And your cheeks go flush again as he quickly strips your panties off and tosses them onto the couch’s headrest.

“Sh-shut up!”

“You’re adorable when I get dirty with you, but you’re just as dirty, so don’t,” he says, wrapping his sculpted arms around your hips and pulling you against his face. “try to turn the tables,” he finishes, his voice muffled between your drenched folds. “Wonder why that jerk cheated on you,” he adds, lapping at your clit as you let out needy whimpers.

“Shit. Easy, I’m sensitive,” you babble, digging your nails into his shoulder as he starts devouring you with real intent.

“Love those sounds, by the way,” he murmurs, sucking on your sweet bundle of nerves, ignoring the persistent ache in his pants as his cock begs to be freed, desperate to plunge deep inside you.

Your eyelids flutter closed, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, trying to keep Toji’s name from spilling from your mouth as he tightens his grip on you, practically smashing your soaked core against his face but the way his lips close everytime around your clit with slowness is just unbearable.

Sounds of heavy breaths, licks, and wetness fill the room, turning the atmosphere almost sauna-like. Your pulse pounds in your temples, your heartbeat frantic.

“You’re still not loud enough.” And he remedies that quickly, pressing his nose against your clit as he slowly thrusts his tongue inside you, your walls clenching around it with lewd, wet sounds because of how slick you are for him. And now, he’s thrusting his tongue even deeper, humming in approval when you throw your head back, tugging harder on his dark locks.

“Shit! Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” you cry out, toes curling as your nails dig into his skin before scratching it up.

“That’s it,” he purrs, helping you buck your hips against him as you mewl and moan thanks to his tongue. “Let him hear how good ya feel, yeah?” He brings a hand to your clit to rub it gently, then pinches it roughly. He bullies your snug cunt with each deep and precise thrust of his tongue, brushing your sweet spot every time, and you’re sure you’ll die if you don’t come right after.

And he probably knows it, because as if reading your mind, he withdraws his tongue from your twitching insides and licks his lips shamelessly — your glossy juices shining on them.

“Wanna hear how good you feel louder, doll, ’kay?” He brings a finger to your trembling entrance, pressing gently against the delicious barrier just waiting to be crossed. “You’re so close, baby,” he chuckles, eyes dilated with desire. “Hear me out, I’m gonna make you cum, and you’re gonna be a good girl. Understood?” He gently pats your thigh.

You nod, lips trembling from anticipation, eyes half-closed as he inserts his forefinger into you — and now you’re even tighter with his digit replacing his tongue. How would it feel with something bigger? The pad of his finger hits your sensitive g-spot right away.

“Ah!” you whine. The knot in your stomach coils tighter, ready to explode. “Toji, I’m almost cumming, please, just—”

He cuts you off, a low grunt escaping his lips as he crashes his mouth on your clit, treating it like a toy and bullying it over and over until you can’t stop your legs from shaking uncontrollably — as he finger-fucks you and sucks on your oversensitive clit.

“Fuck! Feels s’good, Toji, please,” you moan, your insides throbbing around his finger, while his second finger joins the first, finger-fucking you as you squirm on the couch, feeling the wet patch under your ass marking the mess you’re making.

“Cum, doll, now,” Toji orders, his voice strained, unable to ignore the throbbing in his own pants. His mouth is relentless on your clit, his fingers curling inside you just right, as if coaxing your body to surrender completely.

Right at the edge, you wrap your legs around his neck, sobbing out his name as you cum — hard. Your walls clamp down around his fingers, your body trembling as you release.

Your boyfriend never made you cum this hard, not even close.

You realize you actually squirted when you hear Toji swallowing, his eyes fluttering closed as he drinks every drop, even as your body keeps spasming after he finally pulls his fingers out of you.

When your breathing slows, Toji pulls back from your thighs, looking up to meet your gaze after the powerful orgasm he just brought you to.

“Tell me…” He licks the last traces of you off his chin, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that the first time you’ve squirted?” he asks, leaning down to place a tender kiss on your oversensitive clit.

You bite back a whimper, trying to steady your trembling legs. “Y-Yeah,” you confess, swallowing hard, noticing his black shirt dampened with your cum. “I didn’t mean to make that mess, I’m sorry—”

“Why’re you apologizing?” He kisses your inner thigh, soothing your shakiness with soft caresses. “The only one who should be begging for forgiveness is the jerk in the other room,” he mutters in a low, rough voice. The contrast between his tender kisses and harsh words about your boyfriend makes your heart skip a beat. “I bet he’s crying like a lil’ boy,” he chuckles.

You force a smile, though there’s still a slight sting from the betrayal. “He should be, yeah.”

His expression softens. “C’mon, doll, don’t give me that look,” he sighs, rising from his crouched position to remove his pants. “Just forget him, even if it’s hard, hmm?” He ignores the growing bulge in his boxers, leaning down to kiss you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

You hum, kissing him back slowly, eyes closed. With each kiss, you feel a warmth, a tenderness there that surprises you. Why do his lips feel so gentle, so... caring? A feeling you can’t quite place?

Between kisses, you take soft breaths, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. He doesn’t resist, his tongue teasing along your soft, warm lips.

“Want to stop?” he murmurs, his voice unexpectedly soft and low.

You flutter your eyes open and shake your head. “I’d like to continue, if you don’t wanna stop,” you mutter back.

His gaze softens more, seeing you beneath him, flushed and vulnerable. “Of course. I don’t think I could stop even if I tried… especially not with…” His gaze drops, his cheeks flushing slightly, “...this.”

You glance down at his painfully hard length pressing against his boxers, the small wet patch testifying to how badly he wants you.

“Mm, sorry,” he grumbles.

But you gently cup his face, pulling him into another kiss as you reach down to slip his boxers off. He helps you free him from his strained confines, and you both share a heated kiss. Toji leans over you, leaving soft kisses along your lips, cheeks, jaw, and down your neck.

The tender moment gradually heats up as impatience grows, your legs tangling with his. When something warm brushes your stomach, you shiver, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist.

His size… he’s big. His cock is thick and already straining, eager to be buried deep inside you.

“Can you fuck me?” you whisper, blinking up at him with soft, pleading eyes.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Toji chuckles, a low rumble shaking his chest.

He grabs you by the hips, laying you down on the couch to position you as he aligns himself at your entrance. Toji takes his cock in his hand and guides it to you, so big compared to your cute, petite pussy that’s about to take all of him in so well…

When the flushed tip of his cock brushes against your soaked folds, you hold your breath to keep from moaning even before he’s begun. But Toji can be a bastard in his own way — drawing slow, torturous circles around your puffy clit, then sliding down to gather your juices from between your folds, which he spreads apart to make room for him.

“As honest as you,” he scoffs, gently tapping your tight ring of resistance with the tip. He looks down at you, your form much smaller than his — Toji is big all over, from his muscles to his cock, and all he wants is to ruin your smallness.

And this bastard keeps eye contact, teasing the entrance with his slick tip, just to watch you break — your lips parted, eyes slightly squinted, hands weakly gripping him.

“Toji,” you moan weakly, squirming gently. “Please, just more, please.” And your voice is so soft, so velvety, he might have come right then.

Oh God, you’ll be the death of him.

And as if it wasn’t enough, you keep repeating his name in that same tone, making his urge to slip inside you unbearable.

“Fuck, doll, don’t moan my name like that or—” But you wrap your legs tighter around him, pulling his tip to your dripping entrance so that it’s already inside, your gummy, warm walls tightening around him, drawing him in deeper.

“I wanna take it,” you whine softly, bucking your hips forward, your snug cunt swallowing half of him. “Oh—”

“Ah— Shit,” Toji hisses, leaning down to press your small body against his, burying his face in your neck. But the worst part is, he seems to lose control of his body, which thrusts deeper into you on its own, your clingy walls gripping him tightly from the start.

He stretches you too quickly, but it feels so good you wonder if you might be ovulating. “Ah— Oh— Fuck, s’deep, s’big,” you babble, low and cute mumbles, as you curl your toes and roll your eyes back from his size. ��Too big, Toji, too big.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” He pushes in even deeper until you’ve taken all of him and his tip brushes your womb.

Without even moving, he nearly came. But he has to hold back. To make you come on his cock, fuck you senseless, and let you scream his name so that the entire manor knows you’re his.

“Mine,” Toji groans, thrusting gently into you once you’ve adjusted, his hips meeting yours perfectly. “So wet f’me.” His breathing becomes ragged, his thoughts consumed by how impossibly tight you are. “And so fuckin’ tight.” He speeds up the pace a little, reveling in the sound of your mewls growing louder. “Gonna make you mine tonight, ’kay?”

In the room, only the squelching sounds and the slap of skin against skin fill the air. Your mind spins, the pleasure so intense and overwhelming that you can barely respond to what Toji says.

You’re reduced to a pile of whimpers, thinking only of TojiTojiTojiToji.

And he knows it, especially as you tighten around him and he lets out a guttural groan. His hips pound into you with more speed and roughness, but it’s still not enough. He wants you to fall apart for him when you cum, fucking your little pussy with his big, big cock.

Such a filthy size kink.

Then he pulls out, grabbing your hips to flip you over onto your stomach, making sure the plush cushions support you properly, and he slams back in, pounding rougher, deeper, and so much better than a second ago.

Now, you feel him at a depth you’ve never reached before, your sweet cunt clinging to him each time he pulls out only to push in just as deep. “Ah! So deep, so deep, Toji,” you sniffle, unable to keep your moans quiet any longer. “Wanna cum, gonna cum with you.” You bury your face between two cushions.

The heat between your two bodies is almost unbearable, small beads of sweat rolling down Toji’s toned chest as he chuckles, half-breathless, leaning over you to sink even deeper.

And you wonder how it’s even possible.

“You take it so well, doll,” he purrs, tightening his grip around your waist as your twitching insides pulse around his cock, right on the edge of making him spill his hot load inside you. But the rhythmic slap of his heavy balls against your clit is enough to keep him from the edge, for now. “You want to be filled up? Say it, baby. I don’t—  No, he can’t hear you,” he chuckles, kissing your neck as the depth makes you see stars through tears of pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine louder, “wanna be full of your cum, please, Toji.” His thick, heavy balls are now the biggest turn-on, so big you just want to drain them to fill yourself up. “I’m close, so close,” you sob, pleading with him.

“Me too, doll, so let’s cum together, yeah?” he chortles, because, God, how small and cute you are. He admires, for a moment, the hickeys covering your skin and the scratches you left on his arms. He’s fucking you like a mad, possessed man.

You sniffle, nodding and writhing to take him fully, but you already have. Your wet, tight, warm cunt swallowing him up, desperate for every inch. He’ll fulfill his mission. Even if he wasn’t paid, he stopped caring about that long ago. Now he just wants youyouyou.

And as your synchronized hip movements, bringing the both of you to the edge, you cum hard again. Your sweet pussy clenches around his length, swallowing and milking him as your shaky legs can’t support you anymore. A cry of pleasure escapes you. Toji shuts his eyes, moaning your name as he empties himself inside you, filling your womb with his thick, sinful load.

Only stolen breaths, the overwhelming scent of sex, and small whimpers remain in the aftermath. Silence falls, all troubles vanish, and the night finally grows peaceful.

You wipe away the dried tear tracks on your cheeks and turn your head slightly to meet Toji’s calm gaze. “What about my shirt?”

“I’ve got a spare; want it?” he offers, not pulling out right away. You simply nod, and he adds with a smirk, “An’ if you’re free tonight, you’re up for a little getaway with me?”

“But Utahime and—”

“They’ll wake up like nothing happened, I promise,” Toji reassures you, and you grin.

“Deal.”

~~~~

Meanwhile, back in the room with Nami and your ex, a 4 grade curse — harmless but just annoying enough — flits around happily. Nami is fast asleep on the floor, but your ex has dark bags under his twitching eyes, having not slept a wink.

Between your cries of pleasure and everything else that went on, he understood that the mysterious man who had come to “rescue” them was thoroughly enjoying everything he’d been hoping to do with you for weeks, despite your refusals — the reason behind your “break” or rather, breakup. The curse, left by Toji on purpose, has a parrot effect: it repeats everything it hears in a loop, driving anyone nearby mad.

“Ah! Shit, Toji! Feels so good!” it shrieks in a piercing voice, buzzing around your ex’s head like a fly.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

a/n: hey everyone :) so okay okay, this fic contains much more smut than i usually write (hope at least it’ll be worth it haha). i still feel bad about having missed kinkoctober but anyway, at least we’re here <3 i’ve struggled a bit with the start of the fic but the smut was (for once lol) quite easy to write. happy reading <33

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobeenhappy-blog @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq

@sanemistar @monokaix

[nymphea0]

The Duke And His secret

Yan! Matthias x Reader

Oneshot Story.

Warnings : mentions of nudity, use of power, mention of sleeping pills, Bird corpse, some light mature content.

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Manhwa : 울어 봐, 빌어도 좋고.Cry, Even Better if You Beg. Cry, Even if You Pray.

Author & Ilustration : Solche & Van J.

Word Count : 3.25K word.

Hi Neva again... i didn't post any story a few days ago, mybe? i always forget that i have a tumblr TvT... hope you all are doing well and having a nice day, i never expected my last story character manhwa Ishakan will be liked so much, i'm glad you all like my story, mybe after this story i will update Ishakan's story soon.

Well, for your information. Solche, the author who made Cry, Even Better if You Beg. Has 3 other stories too!, Solche has a style of writing stories in dark romance but realistic version? I'm not so sure. And all the stories, every ML character is a complex character in each of the 3 stories, Matthias is the darkest black character among them all, He is the definition of Black Fleg, not a red flag, but black!, I wonder if you all like it if I write this character again? Like Bastian and Bjorn?.

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my first oneshot story,love.- Neva🦋🦋

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12-xx-01xx

Birds chirp throughout the Arvis paradise forest, so green and beautiful, so fertile and very pleasing to the eye to see every corner.

But the beauty must be broken by the loud sound of the nobles' annual hunting rifles in the Arvis region.

The sound of horse hooves and the barking of hunting dogs accompany every corner of the Arvis paradise forest.

Three pairs of teenagers are running along the outskirts of the road that is indeed not passed by the nobles.

Layla Llewellyn, Kyle Etman, and you.

Each of you holds a small shovel to bury every bird carcass from the nobles' hunt that lies pitifully along the hunting path.

"They're crazy! How could they be so relaxed hunting such beautiful animals!" Again, it will always be like this, where Layla will complain and cry, and Kyle will calm her down, while you, well you just sigh and dirty your dress.

Lyla is the niece of the gardener of the Arvis residence, Kyle is the son of a doctor, while you, you are just the daughter of an Earl from an empire quite far from the Berg empire.

Your soft and smooth white dress is now dirty from the dirt from the action of burying the bird's corpse, while Kyle is busy calming the crying Lyla.

While you are busy digging the ground you feel someone watching you, slowly raising your head, looking straight there your Amethyst eyes collide with sky-blue eyes, the eyes of the young duke of Arvis, Matthias Von Herhardt, Arvis's perfect work from the Berg empire, a skilled hunter, the , Lyla's natural enemy who loves birds.

There he is, on his horse, still fully dressed for hunting, tall, handsome and masculine, no wonder all the women in Berg want to marry him.

That's what's in your mind, you just stare at him for a moment then go back to burying the bodies of these poor birds.

"Come on Lyla, there's no point in crying, let's bury them properly"

Kyle's voice was very loud but gentle when calming Lyla who was busy crying

In the end you spent the afternoon together burying the carcasses of birds from the nobles' annual hunt.

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Walking in your now dirty white dress, it was certain that the maids and especially your mother would scold you.

Lyla she just looked at you and smiled guiltily with Kyle beside her who also looked at you guiltily.

"Well, you guys should take me to hidden places in this Arvis forest, as payment for me burying all the bird corpses" Kyle and Lyla spoke softly excitedly, especially Lyla who hugged you tightly.

"Of course!! We will definitely take you to a place you've never seen!"

Look at these two cinnamon rolls, they are so cute!.

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You still remember when you first arrived in the Berg Empire, the Arvis region, your mother's hometown. Your father is an Earl who fell in love with your mother, the daughter of a Baron from Arvis, they met at the annual event of nobles from all over the world held in the Berg Empire.

From their love you came, your father loves and cares for you very much, you inherited your mother's soft and beautiful face, while the rest, like snow-white hair, and your Amethyst Eyes you got from your father.

The combination of your father and mother, this is also what makes your grandmother and grandfather spoil and love you very much, they are like seeing your father but the female version.

In addition to the fact that your father loves your mother and you very much, your father made a small agenda that every 2 years you, your mother, and your father, will visit the Berg Empire, your mother's hometown Arvis.

The baron's residence is very different from the earl's residence where you live, if the Earl's residence is full of white buildings that have intricate carvings and statues that you will wonder which is the main residence, then the Baron's residence is only a 2-story building that is not so big with a fairly large yard.

Well, whatever it is, home is home.

That was when you first met Lyla and Kayle, at that time you were still 11 years old, and now you are 14 years old.

This is the second time you have visited your mother's hometown. For you, Arvis is beautiful, especially the forest, but your instincts say that behind the beauty there must always be ugliness that is hidden tightly, but you don't know what the ugliness is.

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After separating from Lyla and Kyle, you were scolded by your mother to the fullest. That is a sign that your mother loves you very much.

While your father just laughed out loud seeing your condition.

"Well, I thought our stray kitten likes to explore Tera, look at her hair, Hahaha" laughing out loud until he almost spilled the coffee in his hand.

"Don't defend her Vincent! This could become a habit!"

Finally you and your father knelt down with your mother holding a broom standing upright scolding the two of you who were behaving immaturely and childishly. The baron's residence is as comfortable as Arvis' heaven and the servants greatly adore your harmonious family atmosphere which is very different from other nobles.

Your father's name is Vincent Zeredith Von Alvern. A noble from an empire quite far from the Berg Empire.

Your mother's name is Teresa Von Adelaide.

Your father is a noble with the title of earl of the Alvern Territory.

And your mother is the daughter of a baron from the Berg Empire, the Arvis Territory, the Adelaide Baron family.

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The afternoon where this is your second day in Arvis, you visit the Berg Empire, Meet the emperor and empress.

After visiting your father and mother let you go exploring within a period of only the Arvis forest and nothing more.

Running excitedly, the lilac dress that fits your body moves gently in the wind, Your snow-white hair moves gently as you run, you wait at the usual place where Lyla and Kyle and you chatted 2 years ago, at a large tree, a willow tree.

You stood under a willow tree looking around the beautiful Arvis Lake, butterflies flying around you, various colors.

You sat looking at Arvis Lake while waiting for Lyla and Kyle to come.

Unfortunately you did not know and did not realize that, at Arvis Lake, someone had been watching you closely.

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Matthias as usual at the age of 17, did his noble routine as a duke of Arvis and.

That afternoon was very hot, naked, Matthias swam around Arvis Lake in the Annex, a private place that not many people visited, while swimming, Matthias saw the willow tree that Layla usually sat on, the same tree where he caught Layla accidentally seeing him swimming naked.

For Matthias Layla was just an ordinary girl, a girl who went through a normal life path in Arvis.

expert layla what matthias saw was you, busy laughing softly playing with the butterflies around you, your long and soft white hair for matthias was like snow in spring.

If lyla is the sun and a little bird, then you are snow and a kitten.

Matthias already knows you even if you don't know him.

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Imperial palace berg

Matthias, 11 years old.

With his mother Elysee von herhardt, and his grandmother Norma Catharina Von herhardt, chatting with various nobles from all over the empire.

Looking around matthias' eyes accidentally saw the other side of the room where he saw a girl who he thought was 8 years old.

A petite body, a soft and smooth blue dress, the type of noble child in general, but that white hair, for matthias it was like the white color of snow.

Time passed quite a long time, but the main event was not over yet, bored looking around and only chatting with the old noble. Matthias excused himself to go to the imperial garden.

Tak

Tak

Tak

The sound of his leather shoes with quite sharp heels made quite a loud noise in the middle of his journey to the garden.

Upon arriving at the garden, Matthias saw the girl again, the same girl he saw at the imperial party.

There the girl stood in the middle of the rose garden, busy looking at the roses that were as red as blood, a stark contrast to her snow-white hair.

Whether he realized it or not, little Matthias was already by the side of the girl who stole his attention.

"Do you like roses?"

In Matthias' entire life, it had never occurred to him to start a conversation first, but here he was, talking to a girl who he estimated was not that far from him.

The white-haired girl turned around and looked at Matthias in confusion.

Bright amethyst eyes met sky-blue eyes. Purple and blue.

Matthias in his life he had never seen someone with amethyst eyes like the girl in front of him.

Usually the colors he saw were hazel, gray, yellow, blue, dark blue, and green, but purple... that was something new.

The snow-haired girl answered.

"I like it, why ask?"

Matthias was not sure but as if his mouth moved on its own and answered.

"I also like roses just like you"

That night. Matthias never asked the name of the snow-haired girl with purple Amethyst eyes.

Neither his mother nor grandmother knew that he met a girl who was not much different from him, at the annual noble event in the corner of the world.

For Matthias the snow-white-haired girl with purple amethyst eyes was his secret, his little secret that he didn't want people to know.

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Matthias swam in the Arvis lake, annex, staring at you who was busy looking at butterflies, not realizing that someone was staring at you.

He saw you 2 days ago, with the doctor's son and the gardener's nephew, for Matthias Kyle is a volatile teenager, Layla is an ordinary girl and you, for Matthias you are noble lady who befriends a commoner? Clearly that is a deviation from social life of aristocrat.

A deviant noblewoman who hangs out with commoners.

Busy burying the carcasses of birds hunted by nobles and himself.

For Matthias, Layla is a girl who likes to cry, is troublesome and goes the wrong way.

And you for Matthias are a deviant noble lady, who really likes to dirty your dress, you look like a cat who is not aware of being covered in mud all over her body.

Chuckling softly, how could he forget you. you, the same girl he met 6 years ago, his little secret.

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That afternoon you were busy playing with Lyla and Kayle, walking slowly along the Arvis forest path or people call it Arvis heaven.

Busy staring at the wild flowers and you saw a wild rose bush, with white and pink colors that clashed. Once again you ruined your dress, well anyway the roses were beautiful and you didn't expect a white stray kitten to be caught there.

Feeling pity and sympathy you knelt down which made your dress that was already torn by the thorns of the wild bushes become even more damaged by the dirt of the ground, slowly releasing the white kitten. which was caught between the tendrils of wild grass you didn't even realize that your chain bracelet with amethyst diamonds was caught there, fortunately there were no wounds on the cute cat, you put the kitten gently on the ground.

The white kitten was busy licking its tiny feet, you had to restrain yourself from squeezing and kissing the kitten affectionately.

You were busy admiring the white kitten until you didn't realize a horse neighing sound was right not far behind you, you turned around slowly, there you saw, the young duke Arvis in his hunting suit, you saw him holding his rifle, the rifle was pointing right in the middle of the position, between you and the white kitten.

You felt that this young duke wanted to hunt the kitten, quickly you stood up and in a position to block the duke's rifle

"Don't! Duke do you also hunt a cats?! Aren't birds enough for you?"

Looking annoyed at the duke arvis who had now gotten off his horse.

Walking slowly the young duke arvis stopped in front of you, he was tall, sturdy and fit, the body type of a trained soldier.

You were only as tall as his chest, amethyst and blue eyes collided with each other.

"Duke? Do you know who I am?" A soft and deep voice came from the duke in front of you.

"Who doesn't know the duke, the perfect work of god from the arvis region, the young duke herhardt, Matthias Von Herhardt"

You answered casually which was answered by a chuckle from him.

You almost wanted to slap his face, you didn't know why but you didn't like the way he chuckled! Just almost.

"You know me, but I don't know you, why don't you introduce yourself to me?" Matthias' soft but deep baritone voice spoke to you.

You introduced yourself to him.

"Which family are you from?" Matthias asked you again.

"Alvern, Roshanette Empire, Alvern Territory"

Answering casually because you don't want to be familiar with this man!.

Silence fell on the two people, the man was busy staring at the woman, while the woman was busy staring at the kitten that was right under his left foot.

Because you didn't want to linger there with the young duke Arvis, you gently picked up the kitten.

"Nice to meet you, Duke, have a nice day"

Then you went to take the kitten away from him.

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Matthias he was still standing there staring at the place where you were standing in front of him.

You were so small, so fragile, Matthias was sure that if he touched an inch of your hand, maybe you would be crushed in his grip.

When he was about to return to his horse, Matthias' eyes accidentally caught the soft gleam of the wild grass tendrils.

Walking slowly towards the weeds, crouching down and there Matthias saw, the diamond chain bracelet that had an amethyst color was caught around the weeds.

Grinning slowly, Matthias took the bracelet, even when the bracelet was in his hand, it was very small, Matthias measured the hole of the bracelet on his finger, and it only fit 3 fingers.

Chuckling softly Matthias returned to his horse while carrying the item he took happily and he was not sure whether to return it or not.

Unfortunately for Matthias that was the last time you and him met.

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7 years, 7 years Matthias has not seen you, he still keeps your bracelet that he stole secretly take and never returned to you.

For 7 long years, he had to go through 2 years of war, a time when he pretended to be engaged to his distant cousin, Claudine, many rumors fell on him saying that he was playing behind his back with Lyla, the gardener's niece just because Matthias liked to make her cry like accidentally throwing her hat to the lake and almost drowned.

Or hunted migratory animals just to say the sentence that Layla was just an ordinary girl and to make layla know her place .

His engagement with Claudine ended in failure because Claudine loved Rittie, her other distant cousin.

And the engagement between Layla and Kyle, 2 unstable teenagers who were strange in Matthias' eyes.

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That night Matthias, his grandmother and his mother ate quietly, only the sound of spoons and forks could be heard

"Matthias, how long will you continue to reject proposals from several noble families?"

Elysee his mother looked at Matthias with tired eyes.

While his grandmother just chuckled softly.

"Are you really with that garden girl ?!"

Elysee stared at Matthias' eyes uneasy.

Matthias he just ate and drank quietly he didn't even answer his mother's question.

"Matthias Von Herhardt! Answer your mother!." Staring fiercely at Matthias, her only child, Elysee, gripped the fork and knife tightly in her hands.

"Mother, even flies will be attracted to dirt rather than rumors of nobles"

Matthias spoke with an authoritative language, if traced, Matthias said that did his mother prefer to hear rumors of nobles that were not true?

Before Elysee had time to speak, Matthias said again.

"1 month, give me 1 month, and I will bring a wife, mother"

After saying that, Matthias left the dining room.

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You, 21 years old, very young and beautiful, you are currently at the age where noble ladies get married.

But instead of getting married, your parents asked you to focus on studying and pursuing your dreams, make yourself happy and have fun.

You are studying medicine, mental health and psychology.

You are currently in the Berg Empire, after 7 years of never returning.

Unlike 7 years ago where you were with your parents, this time you were alone, considering you were old enough.

You visited only for a moment, to see Kyle and Lyla who were getting married.

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Currently you were at the baron's residence of your mother's family, even though your grandparents had passed away, the baron's residence was still well maintained.

You spent the remaining 2 days shopping and helping Layla.

The 3rd day, you spent your time in the Arvis forest alone.

Staring around the forest that you passed through 7 years ago with Kyle and Layla, you didn't expect that now they would be getting married.

You stared at a flock of birds flying, until you felt a cold metal object pressing against the back of your head.

Turning slowly, exactly about 3 feet away, stood the duke of Arvis, Matthias von Herhardt! The man you least wanted to meet!

Matthias stood in all his glory pointing his hunting rifle at you.

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Matthias thinks you are too much, leaving without saying goodbye and then coming so suddenly, how can he be calm when his heart beats so fast just by muttering your name, just by seeing you breathe.

You haven't changed at all, for Matthias you are still the white-haired girl, the noble lady who got into the hang out with commoners, and the noble lady who is like a stray cat who likes to dirty her dress with dirt and mud.

"Duke, do you intend to kill me?"

Asking Matthias carefully.

Instead of lowering his muzzle, Matthias chuckled and said

"Why is that? Are you afraid of me?"

You looked at Matthias in disgust.

"Everyone would be afraid if a stranger suddenly pointed a gun at their head"

Again, Matthias only answered with a laugh that seemed to be mocking you.

"Well, it's not wrong"

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Unfortunately, that afternoon you spent being forced to accompany Matthias hunting! He used his authority, saying that you were in his territory, and someone who was not from this territory had to obey the orders of the one who held the highest position.

You felt like slapping, hitting, and swearing at the man sitting on his horse! As for you?! You were walking holding his rifle that you were sure weighed almost 4 kg!

This duke is crazy! He must be the incarnation of the devil!

"Lady, are you cursing me?" Matthias grinned slightly, looking down at where you were walking while holding his rifle.

"I'm not the duke, why should I even do that?"

Answering half-truthfully. You almost rolled your eyes in annoyance!

Matthias he just grinned slightly looking at you, it was very clear to him that you were cursing him, it was very entertaining for him, your expression really wanted to make him bite your cheek in annoyance. He had to be patient, just a little longer, and you would be his.

That afternoon you spent your time reluctantly becoming Matthias' assistant.

You are only 5 days in the Berg Empire after that you will return to the Roshanette Empire, Alvern region.

Unfortunately for you it seems like it was just a dream for you.

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You don't know what what happened to you, after becoming Matthias's hunting rifle assistant that afternoon, right when Matthias was taking you back to Baron Adelaide's residence.

You felt like your head was hit by a very hard object, before you even had time to be inside the residence, you only saw darkness and a warm arm hugging you.

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The Annex, another residence in the main area of ​​the Herhardt residence, was Matthias's main house, Matthias's main residence as a duke and where he relaxed and was himself. Surrounded by the clear Arvis lake which was connected by a pier that was integrated with his residence in the Annex.

Slowly smoking a tobacco cigarette, Matthias stared at you there, his little secret, sleeping soundly in his bed.

Matthias knew this was wrong, but he couldn't help himself, he had held himself back enough, looking around the room, which was currently very messy, furniture was destroyed, clothes were scattered, and the bed was very messy.

Matthias has claimed you as his, maybe you will hate him, but Matthias doesn't care, it took him 7 years to realize that he loves you, love? Matthias wanted to laugh so much, in his entire life, he never thought he could fall in love and feel love.

Slowly extinguishing his cigarette, Matthias walked towards the bed, opening your legs a little, that's where Matthias saw the remaining traces of your love activities left behind.

Chuckling softly, Matthias looked at you, your eyes were swollen from crying, even though you were on sleeping pills, you were still able to refuse him.

Looking at your ring finger which now has a diamond ring embedded in it.

Tomorrow Matthias will marry you, make you Duchess Herhardt and tell your parents in the Roshanette Empire, that their child is married.

Matthias only needs 1 week to find a wife, which is you, and 1 month is a phrase that Matthias plays with and gives to his mother as another form of sentence, namely

"In 1 month I will give you a grandson and bring a wife , so be patient mother, soon you will have daughter in law and became a grandma".

Matthias has got you, his, his life, his woman, his wife, the mother of his children, his little secret.

Even if you try to run away from him, Matthias will lock you away from the outside world, whatever it is you are his.

Kissing your forehead softly, Matthias looks at you with love, passion and a deep sense of possessiveness and obsession.

You are his little secret, his secret that he really doesn't want anyone else to see, hear or interact with. Because you are his.

His secret, his little secret.

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*Source Image : pinterest

*Source Image : pinterest

*Source Image : pinterest

©️Nymphea0 2024 ,OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Oneshot.

Special Story for my Love; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut

Tag list; @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions , Always be good people Dear. Much love , Neva🦋🦋.

[spitdrunken]

Adami (Homicipher MC) x Reader, vaguely implied Scarletella x Reader (but don’t read it for that, lol, it’s very minor), lore and ending spoilers. Notes: Headcanon-heavy, post-maingame story, canon-typical horror themes, temporary character death, implied gore.

The Other World takes after its master.

That doesn’t mean their temperament becomes law in the ever-changing maze of rooms and hallways. It’s only a suggestion, a push that will transform certain inclinations into preferences. If one has desires strong enough in an opposite direction, they can still do whatever they want. But while Mr. Scarletella ruled and influenced the Other World, consent was a surprisingly important factor in the world’s dealings. Being told ‘no’ was enough to send away a good chunk of its inhabitants, though they might turn pushy or become disgruntled.

All of this related to the way Mr. Scarletella himself functioned as an apparition. He could only take someone’s soul, could only hurt someone, if they gave him their name. Agreement was key and this rippled into other aspects of the Other World.

But now, Adami is the one who, after having turned Mr. Scarletella into her servant, is the one most in control of the realm. The changes aren’t as noticeable at first. However, as she loses more and more of her humanity, more and more of her memories, she begins to act solely bashed on her whims, her violent impulses shining through on more than one occasion. She’s not violent all the time. There are moments, though, flashes of utter loss of contact with the world around her where she destroys everything in her path. All the while, her crimson companion only aids her.

In turn, the inhabitants of the Other World grow more volatile, too. They’ve gained the capacity to lie and a stronger inclination towards direct violence. Simply taking what they want becomes the norm, although it doesn’t mean that everyone acts in this manner. Mr. Crawling, who frequently accompanies Adami as well, is someone who remains mild-mannered in the vast majority of situations. Where they’d once been terrifying and unfamiliar to her, the monsters there now either listen to or avoid her like the plague. She never has to fear, can walk around without ever needing to hide. The Other World, once dangerous at every turn, has become her home.

To you, an unsuspecting human dragged in by her grief, all of these machinations and baselines of the past are of no consequence. When you first encounter Adami (Or ‘Ms. Crowbar’, as you call her) does not seem all that different from the other monsters you’ve encountered. She’s unnerving, but not exactly scary.

Ms. Crowbar wears a simple raincoat, suspiciously clean, with strands of silver hair poking past the hood pulled over her head. Gloves hide her hands, though her legs are blotchy in colour like one giant dark-tinged bruise. Her face is as white as the raincoat she’s wearing, an entirely unnatural shade. Her eyes are slightly too big for her face, her lips practically melting into the white of her face. More than anything, her appearance veers into the uncanny valley. And, of course, she’s always carrying her crowbar around with her, either held upright or dragged carelessly behind her, metal scraping over concrete and banging into every loose rock it can find.

During your first meetings, it’s perhaps Mr. Scarletella who puts you more on edge. His aura is definitely the more imposing one of the two. He towers over you, the deadest gaze you’ve ever seen pinning you into place. Absentmindedly, he smiles at nothing at all. That isn’t even mentioning the way he colours the whole world around him. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before down here. The natural conclusion is that he must be someone especially powerful, a monster to look out for. But, as you quickly discover, he’s always looking at Ms. Crowbar. His eyes only move when she moves, his feet only take another step as soon as she does. He never reaches out without her command. Whether by choice or through force, he is entirely her puppet. She is the one you need to look out for.

As for how that first meeting went… Perhaps you’d been chased by something. What exactly it had been, you’d had no idea. It would’ve been too large of a risk to look over your shoulder when you were certainly running for your life. One moment, you had been in a quiet room. The next, the quick pounding of footsteps was catching up to you, and you’d dashed through door after door on pure survival instinct. With burning lungs and aching muscles, you’d slammed a door and shoved a lock into place. Resting your sweaty back against it, you slid down to your knees. If this isn’t enough to stop them, you’d be as good as dead. You can’t run anymore. You squeeze your eyes shut, cupping your hands over your mouth to muffle the noises of your desperate gasps for air. You await the worst, but nothing happens.

When you finally do open your eyes, that’s when you see the pair of them. Ms. Crowbar looks at you with an unreadable expression and a slight tilt of her head. Her crimson pupils seem to glow in the dark. Besides her, Mr. Scarletella, still and unmoving as a corpse. You have no idea what to think. She takes a step towards you. The first one is slow, though she speeds up afterwards. The woman leans forward and holds out her hand for you to take.

Maybe… She’s actually nice? Or, maybe, she’ll just bash your skull in with the crowbar she’s holding in her other hand. Either way, something about the whole situation makes your skin crawl. Her eyes narrow at your hesitation. She is already retracting her hand when you make up your mind, and grab it while forcing a wobbly smile on your features. You mumble out a ‘thank you’ with your parched throat. Her cold fingers intertwine with yours.

Ms. Crowbar pulls you up with a truly surprising amount of strength for her small stature. You’re yanked to your feet with such force that you’re practically lifted off the ground and barrel into her, eliciting a yelp from the woman. Without thinking, and in order to prevent yourself from falling, you wrap both of your arms around her, one of your legs hooked around hers. It’s like you’re clinging on to her for dear life. Well, not like. You are. Mr. Scarletella’s eyes are burning holes into the side of your head. The hairs at the back of your neck as static, rapidly increasing in volume, creeps at the edges of your hearing.

As you loosen your grip and move to pull away, sputtering out a long string of apologies in every language you can think of, she laughs. It’s a high-pitched giggle, the kind that’s straight out of a horror movie. Her crowbar falls to the ground with a clatter. In a flash, you’re pulled against her even tighter as she pulls you against her body, returning your ‘hug’. You swear you can hear your ribs creaking. Your eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of your head, and you can hardly breathe. The static quiets down. Even after patting her back a couple of times, she holds on for a good few seconds longer. You don’t know whether you should be uncomfortable or entirely relieved.

When she releases her grip on you, you drop back down to the floor. She’d held you so tightly your feet hadn’t been touching concrete anymore. Ms. Crowbar is still smiling. Her entire body sways slightly back and forth. The crowbar is back in her hand.

“Human cute,” she says, though you don’t have the knowledge to understand her garbled language yet. To you, it sounds like nonsense noise. “Me teach you language. Not lots. Little.” She’d grow bored and lose track of things before managing to teach you a lot, anyway.

Much like others had once done for her, she teaches you some basic vocabulary. To be completely honest, she lists everything slightly too fast for you to remember all of it once. Regardless, she teaches you the words for ‘you’ and ‘human’ and ‘me’, as well as pointing at the walls and the floor. After that, she plops down next to you and makes Mr. Scarletella act as, essentially, a mannequin for the next segment. In accordance with her commands, he’ll lower her his head, stick out an arm or a leg, or spread his fingers, all in order to teach you more of the language. His face contorts into all different kinds of expressions, too. The look in his eyes does not once change and he follows all of her instructions without any hesitation. Rather than just focusing on Ms. Crowbar, his eyes occasionally dart to you too as you copy and sound out the words.

It ends as quickly as it all started. She decided to help you on impulse, and it’s also on impulse that she leaves. Your head is left spinning with the new amount of knowledge you’ve been taught, though the prospect of wandering treacherous halls alone after having found some company is even worse. …You’ll try to look for an exit. What else can you do? Being able to make yourself understandable, limited as your means might be, is at least an improvement. You don’t see Ms. Crowbar often. Occasionally, she’ll pop up and you exchange a few words. You’re eager to show your improvement in the language, thanks to some others who did not immediately try to kill you.

(One time, you’d cracked open a door and peered in. Every entrance requires a degree of caution, you think. Ms. Crowbar and Mr. Scarletella had been there, their backs turned towards you. Her crowbar had been raised. Then, she lowered it and hit the crumpled mass on the floor in front of her again, and again, and again, and again. The sickening crunch of every impact made bile rise in your throat. Just as you’d let the door fall shut as quietly as possible, Mr. Scarletella had turned to face you. But they hadn’t followed.)

It takes a while for you to see her again, after that. Bit by bit you make progress through the confusing world, though sheer luck doesn’t seem capable of protecting you much longer. Eventually, you’re cornered, already mentally speaking your last words, when a familiar crimson sheen falls over the world around you. Ms. Crowbar’s weapon connects with the monster’s skull, and it falls to the side. Though the sound isn’t any less disgusting, you can’t help the relief that floods your body.

For a moment, she simply stares at you, red eyes slightly too wide and crowbar raised. The moment passes and she relaxes. She lowers the blood-stained weapon. “Hello,” she says, smiling at you once again. “Other attack. Me kill. Not attack me… Lots time.”

If there are any words in the Other World’s language you know how to say, it’s these. “Thank you!” You exclaim. The smile on your face is nowhere near as forced as when you’d first encountered her. Ms. Crowbar is unnerving. She’s violent, too, clearly. But that isn’t all she is. She’s never been anything but nice to you.

She opens her arms. It takes you second to register that she probably wants a hug. On still-trembling legs, you do exactly that. Ms. Crowbar hums happily before her crowbar taps on your back then drags down along your spine, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. You move to let her go, but she takes hold of your wrist.

“Me teach you language. Me teach you attack.” She turns her head around to look at Mr. Scarletella, ever the silent observer around you, and they exchange a wordless look. Then, she releases you.

A weapon materialises in your hands, appearing out of thin air. You don’t know what to call it. It’s long and blade-liked, allowing you to keep your distance while still being able to attack. Slowly, painfully slowly, Ms. Crowbar lifts her crowbar above her head and lowers it in your general direction. It clicks. As soon as you lift your blade up and block the movement with a dull clang, she grins. The words that pass her lips, although you don’t know what they mean, are spoken in a cloying, slightly demeaning, tone that indicates praise.

Rinse and repeat. Her movements grow faster and more varied as she tries to surprise you. It doesn’t take long before you can’t keep up at all anymore, though you’re eager to learn how to defend yourself even a little. You grow used to the weight of the weapon in your hand. Although you definitely have a few bruises blossoming on your skin, you don’t think you’re completely helpless, either.

(You don’t think either of them agree, though. You’re a cute little plaything to them, perhaps. At some point, Ms. Crowbar had pointed at Mr. Scarletella and ordered you to attack. You’d hesitated. His smile had widened, just a little. He’d disappeared and reappeared right in front of you. A clear invitation. …You hadn’t expected your blade to slice clean through him. The force of your swing sends you nearly topping to the ground and her laughter rings out in the empty room. Your face burns with embarrassment. The only thing that had prevented you from falling flat on your face had been Mr. Scarletella’s umbrella, its inflexible form hooking around you.)

Eventually, Ms. Crowbar grows bored of your training. While you’re panting, she isn’t winded at all. In front of your face, she holds up three fingers.

“Me attack. You run.” She tells you. But you haven’t been taught the word for ‘run’. Why would you assume that this would be any different than what you’ve been doing for a while now? Maybe she’s just telling you to prepare for a particularly strong blow. You ready yourself. When she’s only holding up a single finger, she smiles in a way that exposes teeth. “You want attack? I see. Funny.”

You didn’t stand a chance. You didn’t even see her hand drop to her side before her crowbar had effortlessly smashed into your skull, the world around you exploding into a maddening array of pure agony. Your body flies halfway across the room. Vaguely, you wonder how you’re still breathing. You can’t see anything out of your right eye. Something wet and warm slides down your neck. Ms. Crowbar stands over you, weapon raised. Static fills your ears as your vision flickers out.

As soon as you regain consciousness, you wish you’d never come to again. Your head is pounding, your vision is blurry. Your lips are cracked and your tongue is sticking to the roof of your mouth. Your arms ache. Dried blood covers the side of your face and neck. Your eyes are struggling to focus and, as soon as you get up, you nearly fall right back down again. Your skin looks blotchy. To put it simply, you feel and look like shit. You can’t even remember how you’ve ended up like this. But you grab your weapon, try to remember and trudge onwards. You can’t remember what you are moving towards.

It takes you a little while to stumble across Ms. Crowbar again, though you have no idea how long it’s exactly taken. Everything has become so… Difficult. You hate being here, hate being alone. You don’t know what’s going on anymore. You can hardly recall your own name, much less why seeing her is tying your stomach up in knots. Hasn’t she always been nice to you? When she opens her arms for you, as she usually does, your arms tremble when you return the hug and tears drip down your face. Over shoulder, you make eye-contact with Mr. Scarletella.

“Sad?” He asks, voice too even to sound truly concerned. But you don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak before. Ms. Crowbar wriggles against you, staring at your face for a moment as she catches sight of your tears. She extends her arm, hand dropping on the top of your head as she pets your hair. A little too roughly, for your liking. She leans forward, lips brushing against yours in a quick peck. With a short burst of static, Mr. Scarletella is leaning over the both of you, too. When he reaches out, you feel nothing touching you except for a vague tingling sensation.

“You weak. You cute.” Ms. Crowbar says, every word clearly and slowly enunciated as if she’s speaking to a child. You sniffle. “Me help you. You not worry.” Her cold hand closes around your wrist. “Go with, go with.” She tugs you along, deeper into the maze, her companion walking right besides you. You have no idea where you’re going. But, you suppose, when you were walking alone, you hadn’t either.

[atzloverr]

Stay with us - Wooyoung & Mingi x reader

pairings: Wooyoung’s roommate!Mingi x f!reader, boyfriend!Wooyoung x f!reader

cw: yandere behavior, stalking, kidnapping, bondage, dubious consent, drunk sex, blackmailing, biting, use of Y/n, smut, drugging, manipulation, non-idol au, female reader

You stood outside of your door with your bags in hand, flabbergasted by the thing that just happened. Tonight you came home to all of your things packed up in bags, and a note from your roommate.

Leave or I’ll kill you.

Any other night you would’ve called her and cussed her out, but you couldn’t do this anymore. Maybe it was a great idea to move out after all, leave this shitty roommate and your miserable living conditions behind.

You weren’t even shocked when you found the note, this was just like her. She was simply a mean girl, straight out of the story. You had only lived here for two months, and the first month was great. Your roommate was nice, always asking before bringing people over, respecting you and your boundaries. But after the first month, something about her changed.

She started practically bullying you, not letting you live a second in peace, and always making sure to ruin your day in some way. She made fun of you, made fun of your boyfriend, and the only thing that made you stay was the fact that you couldn’t afford anything else.

You sometimes wondered what made her change. She seemed so unsure of her own words when she first changed. She always paused before delivering a mean comment, but as time passed, she grew more confident. By now, it was as if it went against her nature to not treat you like total garbage.

”Darling? What’s up?” you heard Wooyoung’s voice in your ear. You sat down on the bench at the bus stop, sighing deeply into the phone. ”I got kicked out…” you said. ”What!?” he gasped. You just hummed a yes. You were so ashamed to ask Wooyoung to stay at his place, but you didn’t have a choice. Wooyoung lived with his roommate Mingi in a small flat, and you just hated to take up space in their home.

”Oh my god, baby,” Wooyoung gasped into the phone. ”Come to my place!” he said with excitement. You smiled with confusion and took a deep breath. ”Wooyoung, I’m so sorry for intruding, you know I hate—”, ”Baby no!” he interrupted. ”I love it when you come over, even if you’ll stay longer than usual.”

You bit your lip in thought. ”What about Mingi? Are you sure he’ll be okay with it?” you asked nervously. ”Of course he will!” Wooyoung almost laughed into the phone. ”Can you ask him?” you suggested before hearing footsteps.

”Mingi?” you heard him yell. ”Y/n can stay here for a while, right?” you heard Mingi’s faint voice in the background, but you couldn’t make out what he said. You held your breath. ”See, I knew he would agree!”

You sighed. ”Did you really give him a chance to say no? Maybe he didn’t feel like he had a choice?” you stressed, hearing Wooyoung’s airy laugh in your ear. ”Stop worrying okay? I swear he’s fine with it, hell, if I know him he’ll probably love having you over!”

You answered with a quiet ’mm’ before standing up to get on the bus. ”My bus is here, I gotta go.”, ”Alright! See you soon baby!”

————

”Promise me you’ll behave now that she’s going to live here, kay?” Wooyoung smiled, looking up at Mingi’s smug grin. It was safe to say that your boyfriend’s roommate was more than happy when you called Wooyoung. ”I’ll be good, you should probably be asking her that question, y’know?” Mingi teased. Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrowed in question. ”We’ll see how well your little baby will be able to control herself around me.”

Wooyoung laughed a hearty laugh and was about to respond with a cocky remark when the doorbell rang. ”I’ll go get that,” Mingi sang, his long legs moving towards the door, not letting your boyfriend catch up.

You watched the door open, and when you saw the tall man, your jaw dropped ever so slightly, but just enough for Mingi to notice it. ”Hey, Y/n,” he said melodically before wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You gasped at his unusual closeness, but smiled when you heard your boyfriend’s sweet voice.

”That’s enough,” he patted Mingi’s shoulder, making him laugh before letting you go. ”There’s my baby,” Wooyoung said with a pout before you ran into his arms. You almost started like tearing up when you felt his hands roaming your body lovingly. ”Welcome home,” he giggled, making you laugh. You let go of him, turning around to speak to Mingi.

”I’m so sorry for intruding you guys’ place like this I— I swear I’ll start looking for a new place immediately and—”

”Hush now, sweetheart,” Mingi smirked, interrupting your rambling. You had always found his vocabulary with you odd. The way he spoke to you as if you had known each other for much longer than you actually had, almost as if you were dating. ”You can stay here for as long as you need.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

You had only stayed at Wooyoung’s place for about a week when you started noticing his and Mingi’s odd behavior. The exchanged looks, the sentences you couldn’t help but question mentally and of course, Mingi’s eyes. His eyes always seemed to be on you, no matter the situation. Hid gaze so piercing, his eyes seeming to follow you as you walked around, always dripping with what you would guess to be lust.

”Y/n? Love?” Wooyoung said, snapping his fingers to regain your attention. You snapped out of your thoughts, smiling at him. ”I asked what you wanted to get? We’re planning on eating takeout tonight!” Wooyoung winked. You smiled and thought. ”I’ll just have the same as last time, I don’t remember the name—”, ”Got it!” Mingi said from across the room, writing it down on his phone. You blinked.

Yet another thing that was odd about Mingi. He seemed to remember every small detail about you. Every little thing you said, all of your habits, what food you liked, even how long you used to shower.

”Longer than usual today,” he said as you exited the bathroom. ”Excuse me?” you smiled in confusion. ”You showered for thirty minutes today, that’s longer than usual,” Mingi stated. You didn’t know how to answer him. ”Just saying!” he put his hands in the air at your lack of an answer. ”O-okay,” you meekly answered.

”And baby,” Wooyoung said, regaining your attention once again. ”We’ve got beer, shots, wine, whatever you want!” You smiled. ”It’s been so long since we got really drunk together! I miss those nights we used to spend together, drinking until we could barely walk straight!” Wooyoung said, reminiscing about old memories.

The day went by smoothly, and suddenly, it was dinner time. You always loved nights like these with your boyfriend, ordering takeout and drinking. Only now would you be accompanied by his roommate. While you did enjoy Mingi’s company, you couldn’t ignore his creepy behavior.

Your smiled when you heard a whistle from the corridor as you tried on your long dress for the night. You turned around to greet your boyfriend, but your smile dropped when you saw the man standing in the doorway. Mingi.

”Why the long face, darling? Just because I’m not your boyfriend doesn’t mean I can’t find you hot,” he smirked. You blinked, putting on a small smile despite your discomfort. Darling. That’s what he had called you. The only person you were comfortable with calling you that was Wooyoung, your boyfriend, not his creepy (but hot) roommate.

”Food’s here by the way,” Mingi stated before leaving the room. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You weren’t comfortable with this, so why were your cheeks turning red? Why did you feel butterflies in your stomach when you saw Mingi in that tight shirt, showing his toned body?

”Baby!” Wooyoung entered the room, snaking his hands around your waist from behind. ”You look so cute,” he said into your neck, placing a small kiss where your shoulder met your neck.

”Hey Wooyoung,” you sighed, gathering the courage to say what you were about to say. ”I feel a little… I don’t know uncomfortable?” you started, making his eyebrows furrow in worry. ”With what? The dress?” he asked. Your lips pressed into a thin line. You got ready to speak again, when a knock interrupted you. ”It’s dinner time, lovebirds,” Mingi said. Your head turned to meet his gaze, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes only looked at you. Not at Wooyoung, just at you.

”Alright,” Wooyoung smiled, turning you around to walk out of the room. ”Looks like you’ll have to save what you were going to say for later.” You swallowed, hesitantly letting Wooyounglead you to the table, mentally preparing for the night you were about to spend with your lovely boyfriend and his roommate that you just couldn’t seem to read.

You gasped in excitement at the food plated out on the table. ”Yum!” you let out squeezing Wooyoung’s hand. He smiled at your reaction, pulling out a chair before sitting down on the one next to it. Your smile dropped slightly when Mingi sat down by the small and round table, feeling his knee brush against yours for a split second.

”Let’s eat!” Wooyoung clapped, keeping his wide smile on his lips. He always succeeded to cheer you up when you felt a little down. Mingi started playing some music in the loud speakers as you and Wooyoung started eating the delicious food.

Before you knew it, the three of you had had perhaps just a little too much to drink, starting to slur your words and loudly sing along to the music in the speakers. Wooyoung was clinging to you like never before, his mouth attached to your neck and hands roaming your body. ”Woo, stop it,” you whined with a grin on your face. You both knew you didn’t mean it, your arms thrown around his neck, pulling him closer.

You had almost forgotten that Mingi was there, watching everything unfold. But getting drunk was exactly what you needed. You didn’t think about Mingi’s stares, his lingering touches or the fact that your body reacted to him in a way that you couldn’t admit to yourself.

”Wanna move to the couch?” Mingi said, catching your and Wooyoung’s attention. ”Yes please!” Wooyoung sang, standing up to walk over there. You happened to sit in a corner, so it took you a minute to get out of your seat, the moment Mingi had been waiting for.

”Think I haven’t noticed?” Mingi whispered, suddenly standing right in front of you. In your drunken state, you didn’t fear him, you didn’t feel as intimidated. ”Noticed what?” you challenged, looking him right in the eye, drawing out a wide-eyed smirk from him.

”The way you feel about me,” he said, his hand meeting the back of your waist. You gasped when he pulled you towards him. ”I can see the way you react,” he whispered. ”The way your body reacts.”

You blinked, wondering if these words were really coming out of his mouth. ”I bet you’re really turned on right now, aren’t you?” he smirked, and that’s when you decided that you had had enough of this. You pushed him away from you and stormed off to the living room, where Wooyoung lay sprawled out on the couch, clearly about to fall asleep.

You sat him up and immediately took a seat next to him, basically gluing your body to his. ”Baby, I missed you,” he whined, body inching even closer to yours. You watched as Mingi entered the room, his gaze plastered on you. You shrunk slightly at the attention.

”Sorry, your girlfriend had some trouble getting out of her seat,” Mingi lied. You swallowed, wondering if you should speak up or not. ”Thank you for helping her,” Wooyoung smiled. You rolled your eyes, and before you could have a say in the matter, Mingi sunk down by your other side, maybe even sitting closer than Wooyoung was.

You held your breath, feeling Mingi’s warm skin press against yours as Wooyoung buried his face in your neck. You couldn’t stop a small whimper from escaping your lips when Wooyoung bit you lightly on your neck, and right as he did so, Mingi’s big hand landed on your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze.

You looked at Wooyoung, but your boyfriend’s eyes were closed. What would he think if he opened his eyes to see Mingi’s hands on you? If he found out that that whimper wasn’t just because of him, but also because of his roommate?

You glared at Mingi, who just smiled innocently. His hand travelled further up your thigh as he held eye contact with you, and you put your hand over his in a weak attempt to stop him, but you barely even tried. Because deep inside, you knew you were attracted to him, and he seemed to know it as well.

You hated this feeling, because you truly loved your boyfriend. He was your everything, your best friend and your one true love. And the fact that Mingi could see right through you, was enough to make you fear him.

His hand rested incredibly close to where you ached it to be, but begged for it to not be. ”You like this baby?” Mingi whispered into your ear. Your eyes widened, your head turning towards Wooyoung immediately, but he didn’t react. He must’ve not heard it. ”I know you do” Mingi’s lips touched your ear, making you squirm.

”Mingi?” Wooyoung said suddenly, making you freeze in anticipation. ”Yeah?” said man answered, tone very cool considering what he was currently doing with his friend’s girlfriend. ”Can you pass me my phone?”

You were so confused. How on earth didn’t he notice anything? Sure, he was drunk, but still!?

”I wanna go to bed honey,” Wooyoung finally said, making you sigh in relief. As Wooyoung stood up, Mingi’s hand immediately left your thigh. Your boyfriend went over to him, to give him a hug. ”Goodnight Mingi,” he said. ”Sleep tight,” said man replied, looking at you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

”Baby, right there please,” Wooyoung moaned out as your lips closed around his length. It seemed he didn’t actually mean going to sleep when he wanted to ’go to bed’, but you weren’t complaining. ”Wait no,” he whimpered, grabbing your head to stop you. ”Don’t wanna come yet, baby,” he smiled, hands patting your head gently.

You raised your head from between his legs, meeting his lustful eyes. ”Can I fuck you? Please I’m so—”, ”Yes you can,” you nodded before he could finish his sentence. He almost ripped off your dress when he heard those words, oozing with excitement.

”I wanna taste you first though,” he smirked, not preparing you further before shoving his face between your legs. You moaned loudly when you felt his skillful tongue on you. Everything felt so good when you were drunk. You were both dripping with pleasure, not being able to hold yourselves back. ”So wet, baby,” he hummed. ”How did you manage to get like this, hm?” Wooyoung asked before continuing to pleasure you.

Your eyes widened at the question. Mingi had been right. You were turned on by him, and it made you hate yourself. You wanted to cry from how bad you felt, and decided to just hum as an answer. You felt your orgasm approaching you, but Wooyoung soon stopped, biting his lips and getting ready to fuck you.

”Ready baby?” he almost breathed out, making you nod enthusiastically. When he finally entered you, you felt as if you could come right away. You moaned his name as he thrusted into you at a rapid pace.

”Shit, I might come already, I’m sorry,” Wooyoung rambled while letting his hips slow down slightly. ”It’s okay baby, I will too,” you assured him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He fastened his pace at those words, making the two of you approach your orgasms quickly.

Wooyoung’s loud moans filled the room, and so did yours as he finally finished inside of you. You were both breathless, sweaty and absolutely exhausted. The alcohol only made you more tired.

”I might fall asleep,” he informed, making you let out a tired giggle. ”Me too, don’t worry.”

Just as you were about to close your eyes, you spotted a tall figure standing in the doorway. You rubbed your eyes, not wanting to believe what you had just seen, and when you looked again, there was no one there. Had you really begun hallucinating now too? You wanted to barf at the thought of how much power Mingi had over you. He knew your innermost desires, didn’t hesitate before breaking boundaries and made you question yourself like never before.

You fell asleep, and that night, you dreamt of Mingi. You dreamt of him touching you, him having his way with you, and even though your mind was so against the idea, your body seemed to crave it.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

You used Wooyoung’s soft shirt to wipe your tears away as you sniffled into his shoulder. He looked down at you sympathetically before looking at the TV once again. ”I can’t believe he just left her like that!” you cried, watching the end credits roll after the fourth movie of the night.

Somehow, both you, Wooyoung and Mingi had all ended up with the flu. The three of you had spent the last few days cuddled up on the couch, binge-watching movies and TV-shows while coughing and sniffling.

You hadn’t spoken to Mingi about that night yet, because honestly, you didn’t know what to say. For these few days, he had actually been nice for the most part. He had kept his distance, and reminded you why you used to enjoy his company so much.

His funny and charming demeanor was back, and everything felt just right, well, except for one little thing.

Your things were disappearing. It started with your favorite skirt. You basically turned Wooyoung’s room upside down when looking for it. You ran out of the room, hurriedly asking if any of the guys had seen it, to which they both shrugged their shoulders.

Then, it was your underwear, then your hairbrush. You searched Wooyoung’s face to see any signs of a lie, but he really looked clueless when you asked about your favorite black pair of panties. He loved to play pranks on you, but why on earth would he do this?

Aside from that little detail, everything was going great. Maybe he had stopped doing it, or maybe you had just started to get used to Mingi’s piercing gaze, you honestly didn’t know.

”It’s getting late,” Mingi stated, getting up from the couch. ”Hey,” you stopped him from leaving. ”Can I just borrow your phone for a second? I need to look up one of the actors,” you asked, reaching out your hand.

You couldn’t read Mingi’s face, and you couldn’t understand why he looked at Wooyoung in such a panicked matter. ”Hello?” you asked, keeping your hand outstretched.

”Don’t you have your own?” Mingi smirked, continuing to walk away from you. ”Don’t be a dick, it’s not here,” you yelled as he walked away. ”Just let me search it up!” you whined.

Mingi came back a second later, you phone in hand. ”Here you go, princess,” he smiled making you roll your eyes at the nickname. ”I didn’t ask you to get it,” you muttered before opening up your phone.

Later that night, when you lay in bed next to Wooyoung, you thought about that moment. Why couldn’t he just give you his phone? Was he just really private? Or was he just this secretive with you? You had seen Wooyoung use Mingi’s phone, so why was it different with you?

A few days later, you showed Wooyoung the apartments that you were thinking about moving into. You had a few alternatives, each one having their own strengths and weaknesses. ”This one’s in good condition, but it’s a bit pricey…” you said with a slight pout, furrowing your eyebrows.

”And this one’s really small, but it looks cute, right?” you looked over at Wooyoung, who looked deep in thought. ”What?” you asked, seeing his small frown.

”Do you really think that this is necessary?” he asked, making you pause. ”What do you mean?” you questioned.

”Well, you could just stay here…” he said quietly, eyes glued the floor. You tried to find words, but didn’t really know what to reply. His hands held yours, caressing them slowly. ”I feel like I love you more and more for every moment we spend together and—” Wooyoung’s voice was almost shaky, filled with emotion. ”I want you to stay with me here, okay?” he proposed.

You pressed your lips into a line, meeting Ten’s gaze as he lifted it from the floor. ”I—I don’t,” you tried to find your words. ”Listen, I would love to move in with you too,” you said, making Wooyoung’s eyes light up, a smile already starting to coat his lips. ”B—But, it feels different like this. Y’know, with Mingi and everything—”

”Oh don’t worry about him, he really won’t mind!” he tried to reassure you. You avoided his gaze. ”But what if—” you stammered. ”What if I mind?”

There was a pause, a loud silence that filled the air between you. ”What I mean is just—”, ”You don’t like him? Did he do anything to upset you? Did he hurt you baby?” Wooyoung stressed, worry lacing his tone. ”No, it’s just that he.. well we,” you sighed. ”It just feels weird for me to keep staying here, and whether you agree with me or not, I still feel like I’m intruding,” you said. Maybe that wasn’t the only reason, but there was no need for Wooyoung to know that.

He was about to protest, but you spoke first. ”I really want to find a new place, and I’ll gladly have you move with me if that’s what you want, but I know you love living here with Mingi.”

You watched his expression slowly contort into a large frown, his bottom lip starting to loll out. He took a shaky breath before finally giving you a reply. ”I get it baby,” Wooyoung sighed. ”But can you just think about it for a moment? You can pause your apartment hunting for now, and just consider staying, right?”

His eyes were glimmering with hope, making you feel like a villain for even thinking about denying him. ”…Okay,” you finally said, to which Wooyoung squealed in excitement, squeezing your hands tightly in his. ”I knew I would be able to change your mind!” he smiled. You smiled, but when he wrapped his arms around you, your smile completely dropped.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

When you had finally managed to get rid of the flu that had haunted you for two miserable weeks, you decided that you wanted to celebrate it by going out with some of your friends.

It had been way too long since you went to the club, even since you met your friend group. Your best friend squeaked in excitement when you called her and asked if she was up for a night out.

You hummed happily while applying your makeup, finally feeling really pretty again after being sick for such a long time. You heard the sound of Wooyoung and Mingi’s voices as they entered the apartment, having gone shopping for the last few hours.

With how much money Mingi seemed to have, you never really understood why he chose to live in this small flat with your boyfriend. Wooyoung always told you about how Mingi always payed for their food, how he suggested going on luxurious trips, and how the man seemed to have an unlimited supply of money.

Maybe their years-long friendship is what kept them together, even in such a small place.

”Baby? What are you doing?” Wooyoung asked with a smile on his face, but a hint of worry in his tone. ”I’m getting ready! I’m going out with the girls tonight!” you said in excitement, going up to give him a hug.

”Oh, okay,” he replied, voice void of emotion. You backed away from him, eyebrows furrowed. ”Why? What’s up?” you asked. ”No, it’s just..” he avoided your gaze. ”Can’t you stay here tonight? We were thinking of having dinner together,” he pouted. Your mouth opened slightly.

”I’m sorry, but I’ve already made plans with them,” you said, your hand meeting the back of his head. ”You know it’s been a while since i hung out with them.”

Wooyoung almost looked angry, his gaze still refusing to meet yours. ”Have I done something to upset you or something?” he asked. You almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. ”What? No, why would you think that?”

He cleared his throat. ”It’s like you don’t want to spend time with me anymore,” he spat. ”First the apartment now this…”

You huffed at his words. ”I’ve basically been with you every second of every day for this past month?” you said, letting go of him. For the first time, he looked at you, and you couldn’t help but feel bad.

”You love me, right?” he asked, hands raising to meet your shoulders. You blinked, not understanding hid thought process at all. ”Of course I do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t spend time with my friends as well,” you stated.

Wooyoung came closer to you, holding you in a tight embrace. ”I’m sorry baby,” he sniffled. ”I just don’t want to lose you, that’s all.”

You swallowed, feeling his arms almost crush you. ”Of course you won’t,” you reassured. You would’ve probably understood his motives more if you saw the satisfied smirk on his face as you uttered those words.

”Thank you baby,” he said, leaving a small kiss on your neck before letting you go. ”I’ll go help Mingi with the groceries,” he said before leaving the room, and also leaving you almsot speechless. What on earth was that?

Thirty minutes later, you found yourself in such a stressful state, trying to find the dress that you had mentally picked out for tonight. You stood on chairs to look where you couldn’t reach, searched every single corner of the room, got on all fours to search under all of the furniture, and of course, that’s how Mingi found you.

”Oh,” he said when he found you, digging under the bed to find it. You turned around in shame, immediately standing up. A thing to take into consideration, was that you were only in your underwear. ”I don’t have time for this,” you sighed before closing the door in his face.

You quickly put on a robe to cover yourself before opening the door, meeting Mingi again, who was stuck in the same spot you found him in. ”What?” you said, seeing the teasing look in his eye.

”Nothing,” he said, starting to walk away. ”It’s just not everyday that you find a prudish girl like you in such a state,” he said in the distance, making you run after him.

”Shut up, you! At least I’m not a slut like you!” you pointed at him, making him raise his eyebrows in amusement. ”You know what, you’re probably the one responsible for all of these disappearing clothes!” you said, darting towards his room. You missed the way his smile dropped before his long legs followed you.

You threw the door open, entering the dark and messy room. You had never seen Mingi’s room before. You always followed the ’DO NOT ENTER’ sign on it, but today was a different day.

You turned on the light, scanning the room for any of your things, but only saw his own huge supply of clothes coating the floor. ”Y/n,” Mingi warned when you walked towards his closet.

His legs scrambled towards you in a matter of seconds, his voice yelling your name again, but this time, in such an alarming way that you actually believed something was seriously wrong.

But it seemed he was just a second too late, because when he stood behind you, you had already opened the closet door to see what was inside.

You stared into it in silence, your jaw having dropped ever so slightly.

There they were. All of your lost things, maybe even more than you knew you had lost. Underwear, trash you threw away, makeup products, and the thing that made you feel instantly sick: pictures.

A pile of pictures, either printed or polaroids, and they were all of you. Pictures of you in your old apartment, pictures of you when you were younger, pictures of you and Wooyoung, pictures of you when you were asleep.

You flinched when Mingi harshly slammed the door closed from behind you. His arm caged you in between him and the door, and you didn’t dare to turn around. You heard his heavy breathing, you felt his hot breath against your neck, and worst of all, you could feel him against you. His erection against your body, as he inched closer. You felt your instincts take over.

”Wooyoung!—”, ”Shut up,” Mingi put his big hand over your mouth, making you squirm even more in the tight space between him and the closet door. ”Stop squirming,” Mingi warned, making you hold your breath.

His hand slowly left your mouth, causing a small whimper of fear to be heard from your now parted lips. Mingi turned you around, making you face him. He leaned down until you could feel his breath fan your face. He still wore that same smirk that he more almost all the time, but his eyes had this newfound glow, this unknown width and fire. It made you fear him even more.

”Please, I promise I won’t tell Wooyoung if you just—” you started, before Mingi hushed you, his eyes closing shut. You gasped when he crouched down, positioning himself to pick you up. ”No, please—”, ”I said shut up.”

Your breathing quickened when he walked over to the bedroom door, still with you in his arms. You watched as he shut the door carefully, twisting the lock before walking over to his bed.

He dropped you down rather harshly, positioning himself right on top of you. As if trying to make yourself small, your body scrunched up, arms caging themselves around your form.

”Don’t hide from me baby,” Mingi said in a giggle, his strong hands pinning yours above your head. ”I’ve already seen everything.”

You shivered, eyes avoiding his. You could feel yourself starting to tear up, to which Mingi’s fingers wiped your eyes. ”I might’ve even seen more than your precious Wooyoung,” he smiled menacingly. ”And you’ve had no idea this whole time.”

You clenched your eyes shut, not even wanting to adress that the situation was actually happening. ”He’ll never forgive you,” you spat, finally looking into his eyes. ”Aww, you think so, huh?” he said with faux concern. Your wide eyes following his head as he leaned down, growing wider for every inch closer he came towards you.

You squealed when his lips met your neck, your hands meeting his shoulders, slightly pushing him away. ”Mingi—”, ”Don’t lie,” he interrupted once again, making you blink in confusion.

”Don’t act like you don’t enjoy this,” he smiled, his kisses traveling further and further down your neck. His hand moved your silk robe to the side, revealing your shoulders. ”I know you do.” You gasped when his teeth sunk into the flesh of your now exposed shoulder.

”I’d bet you’re so turned on right now,” he whispered. You squirmed, a newfound energy making you fight back finally. You pushed him off, sitting up to get away from him. It wasn’t long until he wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you back down into the bed with him.

”Please, just let me go out with my friends tonight, I won’t tell him—” you stopped yourself this time, realizing how weak you sounded. How utterly pitiful and pathetic your tone rang in your ears. ”You really don’t understand, do you?” Mingi said in amusement.

He stood up, unlocking and opening the door. You watched as he pointed towards the open door with his hand. ”Why don’t you go ahead and tell Wooyoung, hm?” Mingi said, waiting for you do dart towards the door, which you did a second later.

You ran to the kitchen, looking back at Mingi, who slowly exited his room, his arms crossed and a look in his eye that you could only describe as evil.

You found Wooyoung in the kitchen, preparing dinner for him and Mingi. ”Hey babe—woah,” his eyes widened when he saw your panicked and disheveled state, the thin robe almost falling off of your body.

”What’s going on?” he asked with urgency. ”It’s Mingi, he— he—” your breath caught in your throat, the panic catching up to you. You looked back, seeing Mingi enter the kitchen with slow steps, looking deep into not your eyes, but Wooyoung’s. You looked back at Wooyoung, wrapping your arms around him as if it would keep you safe from the man behind you. Wooyoung smirked without you seeing it, his eyes still stuck on Mingi’s.

”What’s wrong baby?” he asked, rubbing your back soothingly. You sniffled into his shoulder, and finally felt your shoulders starting to relax at Wooyoung’s next words. ”Mingi, why don’t you leave us for a minute?”

You heard the tall man’s footsteps slowly fade away, making your fear dial down just a tiny bit. Wooyoung sat you down by the table, his warm hands slowly leaving your shoulders. ”I’ll get you a glass of water,” he stated. ”Tell me what happened.”

You took a deep breath. ”I was just looking for my dress for tonight, oh shoot— I almost forgot that I’m going out,” you looked around, searching for a clock somewhere. Finally finding one, you realized that you were going to be late. ”Shit, I have to—”, ”No, shh baby,” Wooyoung came back with your water. ”I’m sure they’ll be fine with you being a little late,” he reassured you, pulling out a chair to sit down next to you.

You sighed, taking a big sip of water. ”Anyway I entered Mingi’s room, and well— In his closet,” your voice was shaky, brimming with fear. Wooyoung pushed the glass towards you, to which you took another big sip. ”Woo, I found my things, and— and I found pictures and—”, ”Shh, shh,” he hushed you, inching closer to you and placing his warm hand on the backside of your neck, rubbing soothing circles into it.

”Let’s just calm down,” Wooyoung said. Your looked at him, blinking in confusion. ”You’re really worked up right now, and—”, ”Of course I’m worked up! Do you have any idea of how scared I was—”

”Calm down, please.” Wooyoung interrupted, his grip on your neck tightening ever so slightly. ”Have some more water, and then we can talk about this.”

You were about to question him, but finally obeyed his wish, finishing the glass. ”Do you want to go to my room instead?” Wooyoung asked and you immediately nodded, following him into the room with hurried steps, but as soon as you were on your feet, you felt an odd sensation. Your vision was slightly blurry, but you figured it was nothing.

When you were finally positioned on Wooyoung’s bed, you noticed how the moments you experienced seemed to blur together. You blinked, trying to gather your senses.

”Baby? You alright?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you once again. You felt your eyelids starting to close together, small whines escaping your lips in confusion. ”Let’s lie down,” you heard Wooyoung’s voice, but as if in the distance. The last thing you saw before you finally lost consciousness was the sight of Mingi standing in the doorway, just like you imagined that night you had prayed to forget.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

”I can’t believe you’re such an idiot,” Wooyoung laughed, resting his head in Mingi’s lap. Mingi’s fingers slowly ran through your boyfriend’s dark locks. ”Oh come on, we were going to do this sooner or later,” Mingi argued, eyes lingering on Wooyoung’s.

You heard the two’s voices, but it was as if you couldn’t grasp reality. You couldn’t fully reach your senses quite yet, you could just hear and feel slight sensations, but not enough to know if you were truly awake.

”Imagine her cute little face when she sees that you’re responsible for this,” Mingi said, interrupted by his own giggles. ”Turns out her sweet little boyfriend wasn’t so sweet after all.”

Right after Mingi uttered those words, Wooyoung seemed to pick up on something, his head twisting around towards you. He slowly crawled towards where you lay on the floor. ”Baby?” he smiled, hand meeting your cold cheek.

Your eyes slowly opened up, laying themselves on Wooyoung’s wide smile, his anticipating eyes. As your senses came back, you noticed something rough against your skin, slithered around your legs and arms.

You let out a small involuntary moan of discomfort, eyes searching the room. You saw the thick rope around your body, and you felt as if your heart stopped.

”She awake?” a voice said from behind Wooyoung - who was carefully examined your face. ”Mm-hmm, but still a little confused,” Wooyoung said, his smile creeping back onto his face. ”How are you feeling baby?” he said, both thumbs stroking your cheeks.

You tried to speak, but couldn’t utter a single word. ”Hmm, not quite aware yet,” he frowned, backing away from you. Who now entered your field of view made your eyes go wide instantly.

You grew more confused by the second, but also more aware. The slow realization that was happening inside your brain made your heartbeat quicken, as you started struggling in your restraints.

”None of that,” Mingi said, making your head snap towards him.

”What’s going on?” you finally managed to say, now that you were almost completely aware. The two men looked at each other for a second, before Mingi nodded towards your boyfriend.

”Don’t be scared baby, everything’s just fine, okay?” Wooyoung said, coming closer to you again. ”We just thought that you might need some safety precautions,” he said, as if that would clear anything up for you. ”Why am I tied up!?”

Wooyoung took a deep breath. ”We didn’t want you to get scared and try to run off, okay?” he said, trying to grab your face again, to which you immediately flinched from his touch.

”Baby, just listen okay?” you heard Mingi. You almost gasped at his familiarity, when you started to remember the events that occurred before this.

”You creep!” you spat out at Mingi, seeing that annoyingly amused face on him. ”How dare you? What about my poor feelings?” Mingi made fun of you, a childish pout on his lips.

”You’re a stalker!” you said, ”and you!” you directed towards Wooyoung, tears starting to seep out of your eyes. ”You don’t even care?” your volume lowered for every word you said. You couldn’t even keep his eyes opened any more, not wanting to look either of them in the face.

”Listen baby—” Wooyoung tried, but you immediately shut him down. ”Let me go.”

The silence that followed gave you the answer you had been expecting. ”You don’t have to pretend anymore, baby,” Wooyoung said lowly. ”I know you’ve been into Mingi for a while now,” you opened your mouth in disbelief.

”Oh, come on,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes playfully. ”I’ve seen the way you look at him,” he inched closer. ”The way you react when he looks at you.”

”That’s not true—” you said, voice cracking as tears continued to flow down your face. Wooyoung’s fingers wiped them away as he hummed. ”Then why haven’t you told me about how he’s been acting?”

Your eyes shot open again. ”Why haven’t you told me about that night when he touched you like that? When he looked at you like that?” Wooyoung’s breath fanned your face, his lips almost touching yours as he spoke. As much as you tried to inch away from him, his strong hand holding your head in place made it impossible.

”It’s okay to be attracted to him,” he smiled. ”But pretending that you don’t, is not.”

You gasped when Wooyoung’s lips crashed against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth without your consent. When he finally disconnected from you, his face wore an unreadable expression.

”What’s the point of lying anymore, hm? Why don’t we all share our little secrets?” Mingi proposed, standing up, making Wooyoung turn his head before also raising to stand.

You watched as Wooyoung’s arms snaked around Mingi’s waist from behind him. ”You think it’s a coincidence that you had to move? Have you ever really thought about why your roommate started acting like that out of the blue?” Mingi asked. Wooyoung laughed into Mingi’s shoulder.

You took your eyes off of the two, slowly shaking your head as you started to realize what he was implying. ”That’s right,” Wooyoung sang. ”Think it was just a coincidence that you just had to move out so suddenly?” Mingi mocked. ”If it weren’t for Mingi and his incredible blackmailing abilities, you wouldn’t be here in the first place,” Wooyoung informed.

You felt yourself starting to hyperventilate, the information crashing down on you. ”No,” you sobbed.

”Oh yes,” Mingi said, crouching down to look you in the eyes. ”We both love you, and we would never let anything get in the way of that.”

”Let me go!” you thrashed around in the rope, feeling them burn and tighten against your skin, but you didn’t care. ”Please,” you begged, feeling Mingi come closer and closer to you until he was eventually on top of you on all fours.

”Now you’re all ours baby,” Mingi said with satisfaction, tilting his head to the side before leaning in and whispering. ”And we’ll never let you go.”

a/n: I’VE HEARD YOUR PRAYERS! And yes this was originally a Ten and Johnny x reader fic, but I hope you enjoy this instead!!! Tell me if you want a part two, and thank you all for your support!! I always appreciate your asks/comments!

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