#topic: pillar of darkness

[teaboot]

One of the best parts about working at a sex shop is the employee discount, and yeah that means excellent deals on sex supplies but that's not the big brain part.

You come to my house. Something is cooking in the kitchen- it smells wonderful. What is it? It's novelty dick-shaped pasta. I've set up a sensual sexy Italian dinner. There are candles set up on the table. They're melting too fast, dripping everywhere- they're low temp waxplay pillar candles. For dessert, I serve you a delicious ice cream topped in penis-shaped rainbow confetti sprinkles and strawberry body paint drizzle, and afterwards, serve coffee with roasted hazelnut warming lube.

We play a board game while we drink. It's sexy monopoly. It's your turn. You roll the dice. They come up as 'whisper into' and 'butt'. I lost the original dice. We're using the sexy dice. You move four spaces.

After dinner, I run you a bath. A bubble bath. The bubble gel? Sensual ocean breeze. There are candles lined up around the tub. The scent is overpowering. Why? They're three-in-one fruit flavored massage oil candles. I'm using so much. It's so wasteful. Do you want to shave? I have conditioning shave cream that smells like limes. And an electric body razor, but you can't use that in the tub.

How about a bath bomb? You toss one in. It's cherry blossom scented. As it dissolves, three sexy bath sex suggestion cards fall out. They're all variations on doggy style, probably because fucking in a bathtub is probably the easiest way to break your hip.

The water cools. You get out an dry off with a novelty towel. If you wrap it around your chest, it looks like you have gigantic tatas bursting through the fabric like the Hulk.

You walk into the bedroom. I'm there, reading an instructional book titled "The Housewife's Guide To Every Day Stripping". I'm wearing a neck pillow designed to look like a massive curved weiner. Also a pair of fake leather bondage leggings and an oversized men's christmas T-shirt that says "Jingle My Bells" across the front.

I see you come in. I put down the book, take off the pillow. Offer you a massage. You accept. I already burned up all the massage candles so I pop a new bottle of CBD massage oil that says something wrong about Chakras on it. It's very gritty. That's because there's little chunks of amethyst in it for some fucking reason. It's fine, though. You say you don't mind.

I don't do massages very often. It's bad. You end up more tense than before. One of your muscles starts to cramp- it's okay. I whip out a bottle of Lidocane topical masculine performance numbing spray. You immediately feel like your shoulder went to the dentist. It's not ideal, but it's better than cramping.

You're not in the mood to bone after that. Which is good, cause I'm actually pretty asexual, but it hasn't come up yet so I'm relieved to avoid the conversation. Instead we get ready for bed. (The weather is terrible, and I insist you stay over.) I set up the futon, then realize it smells like cigarettes from the previous owner and shyly ask if you wanna cuddle in my room. You're down.

I crawl under the covers, placing my penis-shaped pink glitter pride bottle on the side table in case one of us wakes up thirsty. Once you're settled in, I turn off the glowing bare ass night light and the room goes black.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you look up at the ceiling. It's dotted all over with little green flourescent lights. Are they plastic stars? No. I've pinned up a thousand glow in the dark condoms. God bless

[whytheylosttheirminds]

haunted - r.c.

house arrest!Rafe Cameron x mysterious neighbor!reader one-shot (5.4k words)

content: angst, smut, references to dark pasts, mentions of obsession (mild), oral (f), unprotected p-in-v, 18+ minors do not interact

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

That first night, the summer air was so thick you could drown in it. You could taste the salty sea on your tongue as you took a deep breath, bracing your hands on the high lip of the brick wall. You’d only get one shot at the jump, too much noise would draw the neighbors’ attention. You checked your phone once again, 9:09 pm, late enough to cover you in darkness, but not late enough to ensure the neighborhood was asleep. Stealth was your only option. Squaring your shoulders, you stuffed your phone back in your bag and launched it over the wall, listening for the soft thud in the grass that meant there was truly no backing down now.

Little spurs of pain pinched your ankles when you landed on the other side, but you’d made it, unscathed aside from the torn skin on your palms from the wall’s unforgiving stone. The hard part was over, now you froze with uncertainty, you hadn’t planned to make it this far.

The house stood mighty under the bright light of the moon. This was the first time you saw it in its grand entirety, the view from your window across the street revealing only the white siding and a few shuttered windows. You’d watched for a few days - no cars came or went, the small windows you could see from your own were never opened, no lights turned on and off beyond their panes. 

The few neighbors you’d talked to since your mysterious sudden arrival got cagey when the topic came up, a seemingly unspoken rule that this was the one house off limits for their ever turning rumor mill. Though the shifty glances and wrung hands at the mention of it hinted at something sinister lying behind this ancient brick wall, something dangerous. The risk was too alluring, and you were too bored, trapped in your cookie cutter McMansion with your father, a man who never understood you, and a twisted past you were running from even when you were standing still.

Now, on the other side of the alluring border, was the first time in months you didn’t feel trapped. Your heart raced as you looked around the massive yard, no lights in the windows confirming your theory that the house was abandoned. A chill shot through you despite the record high July temperatures, something so haunting about this storied land, and so forbidden. I should not be here, you thought as your feet carried you further into the trespassed property. This was the most alive you’d felt since you arrived on this island a few weeks ago, your sordid past nipping at your heels. For the first time since the incident, your mind wasn’t consumed with it, with the horrible memories, the regrets, the what-ifs. Here inside the gates of Tannyhill you were an outlaw, so far from what you have done and even farther from what you should be doing. 

Euphoria swept over you, the most heady high. An almost manic laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it. You reveled in the electric feeling as you padded through the grass back to the wall. You’d only made it a few steps toward the house, but you knew you’d be back, finally finding something to make your heart race, something to come back to, something to live for. 

After that night, the empty house became your obsession. All day, every day you thought about the sprawling property, the grand pillars and white walls that housed a thousand mysteries. While the sun was up, you dreamt of what you might find when you finally found a way inside, and as soon as it set, you were creeping back over that wall, making it a few steps further each time. 

Finally, after two weeks of dreaming, trapped inside the house across the street that would never be your home, fighting with the father that would never be your family, you knew it was time. Tonight, you’d go farther than you ever had, touch the walls of that ancient house, the promise of the thrill almost as heady and dizzying as the moment itself.

Climbing over that wall was muscle memory at this point, the calluses on your hands proof you’d formed an addiction you were nowhere near kicking. After the trek through the tall, unkempt grass you’d walked fifteen times now, you made it to the stone walkway you’d yet to touch. Without stopping to think, to second guess, you sprinted over the stones, rounding the corner of the house for the first time, stopping in your tracks at the beauty the backyard held.

The moon reflected off the water, rippling from the slight breeze, calling to you. Perfect. You’d go for a swim in the pool that wasn’t yours, maybe even find a little rock and break a window, sneak into this haunted house, anything to keep feeling the rush that had brought your body back to life the second you stepped foot on this forbidden land.

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

Rafe saw you the very first night. For six months now, he’d spent every waking minute pacing these empty halls, wishing for a hit of something, anything, to make the silence less deafening. The only noises keeping him company on these endless nights were the sound of his own erratic voice and the occasional beep of the monitor strapped tight around left ankle. 

They’d gotten him for the drugs, but he knew what they were really trying to uncover, the secrets he kept buried so deep even he forgot about them sometimes. His sentence was two years house arrest, every movement monitored, all substances strictly forbidden. 

It only took a few days for the loneliness to become crippling. Over and over, he imagined turning the corner and seeing someone standing in the hall, someone he knew, someone he didn’t, anyone, to talk to, to make him feel like he wasn’t going completely insane. 

Then a soft thud in the distance, followed closely by another, the second slightly louder. Any noise out of place immediately perked his ears, far too familiar with the creaks and groans of this old mansion to miss even the quietest of disturbances. Maybe the thuds could have been something innocuous, a branch breaking or wind whipping against the walls. What came after, however, was unmistakable. 

The soft, sweet melody of a woman’s laugh floated across the night air and in through an open window. The sound was so welcome and warm as it washed over Rafe, the purity of it washing him clean, illuminating the world around him. Suddenly, in the midst of his darkest hour, a bright light had appeared before him, calling him home.

His days quickly became consumed by thoughts of you. He spent his hours watching the sun journey across the sky, east to west, willing it to set faster and bring you to him. All he knew of you was your moonlit silhouette, coming to him every night like the sweetest dream. Each time the sun set and you appeared, you got closer and closer to him. The hesitancy in your steps was maddening, but he couldn’t go to you, the risk of scaring you off was far too great, your nightly visits the only thing keeping him earthside. 

And then, on the fifteenth night, when he thought for sure you’d never come to him, never cross the rest of the distance that kept you apart, you broke into a run, disappearing around the side of the house and out of view. He ran from window to window, looking down from the second floor trying to find you. His panting breaths and pounding heartbeat were the only things he could hear, until, so miraculously he wondered if he imagined it, a splash and that same angelic laugh, so beautiful and melodic that his whole world shook. Risks be damned, there was no holding himself back, feet moving of their own accord as he ran down the spiral staircase, toward you.

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

You stripped your clothes under the cover of darkness, toeing the edge of the water as a test, gasping at the sharp chill. Despite the hot summer day, the water was ice cold, only adding to its alluring mysticism. There would be no easing in, your stomach twisting in anticipation as you stood in only your bra and underwear at the edge, a deep breath, a bend in your knees and - SPLASH.

Your heart nearly stopped as the water engulfed you, your hair whipping around you as you shot back up to the surface. Every cell in your body was buzzing with excitement, and just like that first night you couldn’t hold back the wild laugh that spilled from your lips. You could not believe what you were doing, so reckless and wrong, and yet so right.

Each stroke tearing through the water's surface, you swam with abandon, feet kicking up big splashes and the sound of ragged, desperate breaths filling the night air every time you craned your neck for a gulp of air. The more you swam, the more you forgot. Forgot that you were breaking the law, forgot that you were not supposed to be here, forgot about the events that led you to this island, that tore the life you knew from you in one fell swoop. You didn’t know what you’d do next, how you’d sneak into your house without water dripping everywhere, how you’d ever move on from this incredible feeling, but you didn’t care, you just kept swimming. 

Arm swinging through the air, you took what must’ve been your hundredth stroke, twisting your head to the side to grab a breath, eyes just barely catching the dark, towering silhouette of a figure at the edge of the pool.

You shot up so fast the splash of water threatened to fill your lungs and pull you back under. Your shoulders shivered as you stood in the chilly water, blinking fast to clear your vision as your brain tried to catch up to what your eyes were seeing.

You hadn’t imagined it. He stood tall and stoic at the edge of the pool, hands in his pockets, shoulders broad enough to partially block the glow of the moon. 

Something in you knew that he was dangerous, goosebumps dancing across your dripping skin, warning you “go, flee, run now.” But you didn’t move, frozen in the water as he looked down at you with the slightest tilt of his head. Darkness covered his features, only the light of the stars  reflecting off his sharp jawline and high cheekbones.

He was a total stranger, his presence a threat that should be terrifying you, and yet in the same way that you knew after the first time you’d jumped the wall that you’d keep coming back to this place, you knew that you couldn’t run from him, that you didn’t want to. Drawn to him in a way that stole your breath, you moved forward, the slightest imperceptible step, and yet you knew he could feel it too, the magnetic pull between souls that made escaping him impossible. Maybe it was a dream, or maybe you had drowned and fallen into some dark, twisted underworld, this man your own personal devil. But if he was your damnation, you wanted to fall right to the seventh circle.

For what felt like hours, neither one of you spoke. Only the gentle lap of the water against the tile edge of the pool filled the air between you - the Caught and the Capturer sizing each other up in the darkness. 

Then, with no urgency, no threat or accusation against the trespasser standing half naked in his pool, the man turned on his heel and headed toward the house, pausing at the threshold of the grand sliding glass door to mutter over his shoulder, “come in,” and after a moment’s pause and some internal battle, “please.”

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

Rafe turned when he sensed you hesitating outside the sliding door, his anxiety over finally seeing you up close frustrating him as he flicked on the lights in the house. When he turned, seeing you illuminated by light for the first time, everything softened, the sight of you dripping and shivering on the stone patio making his heart ache.

He looked around desperately for something to offer you, no towels or blankets available in the grand dining room he was standing in. He tore the jacket from around his shoulders, handing it to you with shaky hands. It wasn’t enough, but he needed to stop your lips from turning purple, needed, in some terrifying, primal way, to protect you.

“Th-thank you,” you stammered, eyes wide and hand trembling as you took the jacket from him hesitantly.

The realization hit him like a bullet to the chest: you were scared of him. Then a second shot, right to the gut: you were right to be.

The hands that held out this peace offering weren’t clean. Maybe you’d heard the stories about him, maybe you weren’t as enchanted by him as he was by you. He prayed you didn't know who he was, the rumors that came with the mention of his name. But then, why did you keep coming back? He needed to know, the question leaving his lips before he could stop it.

“Why are you here?”

His voice was rough from lack of use, harsher than he wanted it to be, causing you to take a hesitant step back.

“I shouldn’t be.”

You backed away slowly, making panic rise in his chest, a terrible sense that his salvation was slipping through his fingers. He stepped towards you, the movement too fast and frightening, unable to control himself, as always. 

“I’m sorry,” he tried to say, but it was too late, you were already gone, flying across the grass from the pool’s edge.

All that remained to prove you were ever even there was the puddle where you’d stood outside the door. By morning, it’d be dry, and he’d be wondering if he hallucinated the whole thing.

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

Waking in a cold sweat, you grabbed at his sweatshirt like you were trying to ensure it was still wrapped around you, for what reason you weren’t sure. It was the third night you’d slept in it, not crossing the wall again since the night you’d met him. Your body shook with chills, a dull ache everywhere as though you were in withdrawal. 

You tried to tell yourself it was done, you’d been caught and your little excursions over the wall had to stop. The house wasn’t empty as you’d assumed, and it would be insane to get near him again. He couldn’t possibly be trustworthy, his voice deep and menacing, a wildfire in his eyes that clearly held a history. His hair was long and unkempt like the grass outside his house, unruly and overgrown in a way that did not match the grandeur and luxury of the home he never seemed to leave. Something about it, about him, wasn’t right, and you knew if you got too close to the flame, you’d get burned.

Still, your thoughts always found their way back to him. And in your sleep, he appeared in every dream, those same ocean blue eyes tearing through you like he could see to your soul.

Rising from your sweat soaked sheets, you padded the worn path from your bed to the window, the creaks in the floor familiar as you spent so many hours perched in that spot watching his house. This time, for the first time since you'd started surveying the house weeks ago, the lights in the windows were on. Your heart caught in your throat when you saw a shadowy figure walk past, then again, the man from the pool pacing back and forth.

You wondered if his thoughts were as consumed with you as yours were of him. Then, as if he could hear your thoughts, he looked up, eyes meeting yours across the distance.

You knew which spots on the stairs squeaked, avoiding them as you snuck out, past your father asleep on the couch, across the street towards the house that haunted you, toward him. 

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

The splash was loud on purpose, intended to catch his attention. You waited in the water with baited breath until, gloriously, he appeared through the sliding doors, standing in the same spot he had been a few nights ago, looking down at you with the same curious glare.

Slowly, your eyes ever trained on him, you swam to the edge, climbing out of the water so you could stand in front of him, chest to chest. Finally seeing him up close, your heart fluttered at his striking features, jaw locked tight as he stared down at you.

You shouldn’t reach up and touch his face, but you did. You shouldn’t whisper quietly, “what’s your name?” but you did. You shouldn’t follow him as he turned and walked back into the grand dining room, but you did.

Not answering your question, not saying anything, he turned toward you once you were standing inside, eyes darting around the luxurious space, taking in it’s beauty before landing back on him. You didn’t know his name, you didn’t really need to. There was only one thing you needed to know, the thing that had kept you up at night, the thing that both kept you away and pulled you helplessly toward him.

“Are you dangerous?”

His eyes answered you before his words could, a flash of recognition and regret behind his blue irises preceding his nod and broken-throated, “yes.”

“You could hurt me, then?”

“Yes,” less hesitancy this time, an edge of warning in his tone, as he stepped closer to you, his large, intimidating frame invading your space and making your breath catch in your throat. 

You didn’t back away, skin igniting, a rush of need and pure lust overtaking your body as he crept closer. The certainty in his voice left no doubt, if he wanted to, he could hurt you right here and now and there’s nothing you could do to protect yourself. And yet his touch was light when it ghosted over your lips, pads of his fingers rough against the soft skin as he traced the shape of your mouth.

“Are you going to?” 

Sparks flew between you as his touch became firmer, hand cradling your head. His answer like gasoline to the flickering flame, a fire neither of you would walk away from unburnt flared to life with one word.

“Never.”

Before you could think, you shot up on your toes, fingers digging into his shoulders as your lips crashed into his, an involuntary groan ripped from his chest and transferred into yours through the connection of your open mouths.

He grabbed your waist, his grip bruising, flex of his muscles animalistic as he lifted you off your feet, planting you firmly on the edge of the dining room table. 

Still kissing him, your teeth and tongues devouring each other, your hands dropped to his waist, fingers pulling at the leather of his belt. He was quick to stop you, fingers easily wrapping around your wrists, a reminder that physically, you were completely at his mercy, nothing stopping him from overpowering you. And yet, his touch was gentle as he pulled your hands away from him, dragging your arms up and guiding you onto your back, hands pinned above your head. 

Leaning over you, his eyes roamed your face and body, spread out on the cold oak table like his last supper. Your bra and underwear still wet from the pool soaked through his shirt as you arched your back, unable to resist the urge to press up into him, to feel his warm, strong body fully against yours. 

Rafe’s eyes closed tight, nostrils flailing as he willed himself not to take you the way you were inviting him to. You didn’t understand his hesitation, mistaking it for rejection, cowering underneath him.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered, almost to yourself.

His eyes flew open, searching yours with panic, terrified by the thought of finally having you so close only to lose you. The thought was too painful, he was in far too deep to let you go now.

“Please, stay. Let me- I, I can take care of you,” his lips attached to your neck, sucking down like he was trying to make you understand how desperate he was. “Let me make you feel good.”

You gasped when his eyes suddenly shot back up to yours. They seemed darker somehow, pupils blown wide, the crease in his forehead a pleading request. Unable to stop yourself, just as frenzied as he seemed to be, you nodded rapidly, all at once agreeing, demanding, and begging.

His lips were back on you immediately, dragging down the skin of your neck to your chest, which was rising and falling with pants as your heart threatened to pound right through it. He paused every so often to nip, painting over every bite mark with a drag of his tongue. When his searching lips reached the valley between your breasts, you pulled the straps of your thin bra down your shoulders, brushing the material down to reveal yourself to him.

“God,” he moaned out, breathing warmly against you as he steeled himself, dragging his tongue over one of your breasts to your hardened nippled, closing his lips around it and sucking once before pulling back to whisper, “so beautiful, my angel.’

His words were confusingly intimate for a man you were meeting for the second time, and yet his apparent adoration of you was intoxicating, your hands flying to his hair, tugging at the roots to express what words couldn’t.

“From the second I saw you climb over my wall, I knew I needed to have you,” he confessed against your goosebump-ridden skin.

Your eyes shot open, lifting your head off the table as much as his controlling stance would allow you. 

“You saw me? The first time?”

Rafe nodded, shifting to pull your other nipple in his mouth, pulling a whimper from your lips. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

He paused his work on your skin to lift his gaze to yours, a sheepish look in his eye as he confessed, “I didn’t want to scare you away.”

You traced your fingers along his jaw, eyes tender as you promised him, “you couldn’t.”

The assurance in your voice emboldened him, his eyes flaring once more before he shifted himself down, his tongue running a wet line along your stomach as he lowered himself. You writhed helplessly underneath him, lifting your hips once he got to the waistband of your panties to grant him access, which he took happily, dragging the lacy material down to reveal you to him fully.

Glistening for him under the sparkling chandelier’s light, you opened your legs wider, mesmerized by the hunger in his eyes as he took you in.

Rafe placed an exploratory kiss on your inner thigh, his lips featherlight. He couldn’t suppress the upward twitch of his lips when he observed the way you flinched in anticipation, thighs pulling together slightly, already over sensitive from the build up. 

“Don’t run from me now,” he growled, another kiss closer to your heat as his hands pulled your legs back apart, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your flesh to reassure you.

“Don’t make me wait,” you demanded, an edge to your voice he hadn’t heard yet, making you even more alluring to him, a feat he didn’t think possible.

Obediently, his thumbs slid closer to your wetness, opening you fully to him, after months of forced sobriety, he felt drunk on you. No further delay, he licked a gentle, testing stripe between your folds, pausing just before reaching your clit, his cheek resting on the inside of your thigh as he steadied himself, trying to keep from losing himself completely.

“So fucking perfect,” he hummed against you, diving in again once he’d gotten his bearings. 

When the tip of his tongue finally swept over your throbbing clit, you cried out, body rising from the tabletop helplessly.

“God, yes, I needed this, I needed you so badly,” you babbled mindlessly, hands flying back to his hair, pulling harder than before and causing him to groan against you, thrilled that he’d found the right spot to make you crazy.

“I know, I know, me too,” he cooed against you, words muffled by his frenzied consumption of you.

Unleashed by the sounds of your moans, the tension in his muscles melted away as Rafe ate you out in the way he really wanted to. Messy, teeth and tongue working in tandem, curled fingers stretching you open and exploring you with reverence. The was no self-control left in your body as you wriggled and writhed on the hard table, nerve endings on fire, mind fogged over with the most addictive pleasure.

The light from the dusty chandelier above you was low, but the white behind your closed eyelids was blinding, like some heavenly glow was burning through you from the inside out. For a moment, you forgot where you were, everything that led you here and the consequences that were sure to come. All you knew was him as he unlocked something within you that you didn’t know existed.

Soon you were close, the coil in your stomach wound so tight you were almost frightened of what would happen when it inevitably snapped. You needed him, closer, deeper, with you, in you.

“Wait wait wait,” you pleaded, pushing on his shoulders to guide his mouth off of you as you sat up on the table. 

Brows furrowed, he pulled back but kept his eyes trained to you, his mouth, soaked with you, hung open as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Wh-” he began to question, but your hands shot the hem of his shirt, bunching it up to pull it over his shoulders. 

He helped you undress him, arms flexing as he tore the fabric up and over his head. You eyes danced over his bare torso once he was shirtless before you.

“Holy fuck,” you meant to just think it, but you might’ve accidentally said it outloud. 

Either way, Rafe was too focused to notice, needing to be back on you, but stopped by your outstretched arms as you reached between your bodies again, fingers aiming for his belt again. He stepped back before you could unbuckle him, his left leg swinging back further than his right, like you’d hurt it somehow. 

He avoided your searching gaze, wiping his face with the back of his hand before running his fingers through his hair in frustration, eyeing your legs dangling off the end of the table, your vulnerable position in front of him cracking his defense, your next words the nail in the coffin to his dwindling restraint.

“Please, I…I need you,” you whispered.

“You don’t even know me,” he retorted.

Eyes finally meeting yours, you shared a look more meaningful than any words you could exchange. There was a connection between you so far beyond knowing the details of each other’s lives, and a shared need that couldn’t be ignored any longer.

Rafe’s hands landed on either side of your face, inadvertently squeezing too hard as he crashed his lips back to yours. This time, he let your hands wander down and undo the button of his slacks. Once he was free of the fabric between you, pulling his pants and boxers down just far enough to free himself, he brought his throbbing cock to your entrance. 

Pulling back just an inch from your lips, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, flushed with your need for him, and tucked it behind your ear.

“Are you sure, angel?”

You would never be able to explain it, but you were more sure of this than anything in your life.

“Please.”

Sinking deep with one stroke, you cried broken moans into each other’s open mouths as he finally gave you what you needed. One arm behind you for support, one slung tight around his shoulders, you met each of his thrusts with a cry of pleasure. 

Forehead pressed to yours, he looked so deeply into your eyes as he fucked you, mouth agape in awe as he watched you take him so perfectly.

Emboldened by your vulnerable state, you decided to push the issue, “please, I need to know your name.”

Either he was too distracted to care or you’d gained his trust, because he didn’t pause for a second before answering, “it's Rafe.”

Your lips turned in slow smile at the sound of his name, quietly echoing his confession with your own name, a sound that made him close his eyes and smile before leaning in and moaning your name into your ear. Over and over he whispered your name like a chant you knew you’d play over and over in your mind until it was cemented there permanently.

He knew you loved the sound by the way you clenched around him helplessly when he said it. His hands clutched your hips hard, leaving bruises behind as he picked up his movements. Your head fell back as your legs began to shake, fingernails leaving marks in his shoulders. He took advantage of your exposed neck to find the same spot he’d attached to earlier, sucking between whispers as he brought you closer and closer to the release you were chasing.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me? You’re all I think about, all I can focus on. You’re driving me insane.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. By the sound of it, he’d been as haunted by you as you were by him. You didn’t understand this madness, the almost cosmic connection between you. It was like some dark magic pulling you together, this meeting of your bodies and souls inevitable, despite being total strangers. The power of the connection, the feeling of him filling you so completely, the low growl of his voice, the strength of his shoulders beneath your grasp, it was all too much.

“Rafe, I’m - oh fuck! Rafe!”

You came with a shriek, tears slipping free and falling down your face as you pulsed around him, a euphoric feeling you’d never experienced in your life washing over you, all at once terrifying and perfect. He felt it too, you could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice as he lost himself and spilled inside you, his whole body shuddering against you, forcing you to lay back on the table under the weight of him.

The panic set in immediately. He whispered your name as he peppered exhausted kissed against your chest, and your eyes flew open, the aftershocks of your high wearing off like you’d just woken up from a long slumber.

You didn’t know this man, who was again chanting your name like a prayer, you didn't know why he was stuck in this house alone, you didn’t even know his last name. How could you be so reckless? He told you he was dangerous and you’d begged him to take you. It was the behavior of someone who’d completely lost their mind. 

When he stood, you slipped from the table quickly, gathering your clothes and pulling them on haphazardly without words. Rafe just watched you as he pulled his own clothes back on, worry in his eyes at the way you were avoiding him, keeping your body shielding from his as you quickly covered up.

“Are you o-”

“I have to go,” you didn’t even spare him a glance as you fled back across the threshold and ran out into the darkness.

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

This time, he did what he wished he had done the last time, chasing after you as you ran. You were faster than he expected, expertly navigating the overgrown jungle that had become his yard. He reached the wall, stopping himself with a painful clash of his hands against the stone before he ran straight into it. Tall enough to watch you land on the other side and sprint across the road, his eyes went wide when he realized where you were going.

All this time, while he sat inside and dreamt of you, imagining all of the places you could be during the agonizingly long days without you, you were just across the street. 

Your house couldn’t have been more than a few yards from his own property line. And yet, as the monitor on his ankle reminded him with a series of warning beeps, you were unreachable. White knuckles clutched the wall as his greatest fear swept over him: that he may never be able to reach you again.

﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒𓆩 𓆪﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒

a/n: I'm so deeply rusty but this really helped me get the wheels turning, sorry if it's not my best! I missed dark, brooding rafeypoo! thanks for reading!

reminder, writers live off reblogs, don't forget to feed your faves! <3

[eempyreall]

♪ 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ♪

༺ Exotic Trouble ༻

Oneshot ~ Jujutsu Kaisen x Female Reader

Summary ~ You accept a job offer for monster-sitting exotic cat hybrids, only to realize they’re far older—and more dangerous—than expected.

Featuring ~ Gojo Satoru, Sukuna Ryomen, Geto Suguru, Fushiguro Toji, and Kamo Choso

Extra Notes ~ Tokyo Revengers’ Version - Blue Lock’s Version

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr, ao3, wattpad, subscribestar, and patreon. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

l apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

|| Warning ||

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Desperation can drive anyone to make impulsive, unexpected choices in search of a solution to their misfortune. For you in particular, this appeared to be accepting an under-the-table job offer for monster-sitting five hybrids—something that is highly illegal and should only be handled by a professional. Due to the dire consequences that could affect your person and overall well-being, the pay is relatively high and could solve your overgrowth of debt.

This agreement brings you to the front door of the grand structure—a gothic-designed mansion that stands tall. The manor has a modernized, Victorian exterior that exudes a brooding and menacing presence. Despite the gloomy guise, pigmented colors of pink, purple, and blue surround the land as flowers spread throughout the lush, fern-green shrubs and grass.

You exhaled sharply, echoes of the informal meeting you had with your employer swirling through your mind.

The woman’s voice is low amongst the sea of voices that echo throughout the crowd of people who sit in the small diner. Her fingers are entangled over the table, eyes narrowed and sharp as she sat upright in the booth. “First rule, do not speak first.”

You use the key that she had given you to proceed with unlocking one of the wooden doors, taking a cautious step forward as you entered the building.

An eyebrow raises to the statement in curiosity. “If you don’t mind me asking, why?” you question, arms crossed over the table as your head tilts slightly.

The interior design is a little less ominous, the brighter colors of the walls and marble flooring contrasting with the darkness that radiated outside. The crisp air kissed your skin, goosebumps protruding from the hair follicles of your arms. There’s a tint of cinnamon that swirls satisfyingly with the scent of vanilla. Your head turns as you observe the antique monuments and pillared surfaces that lined the foyer.

Before you can make your way to the spiral steps, your body stiffens, the sensation of a ghostly presence suddenly appearing behind your form. Their breathing is hollow against your neck as the hold on your duffel bag’s strap tightens.

She ignored your question, continuing with her list of expectations. “Second, if one approaches closely, do not make any sudden movements.”

You naturally hold your breath, brows raised as you look ahead. The beating of your heart is the only sound you hear, aside from the slight ringing of your ears as your pulse hammers. You want to move, to turn around and run out the door. Your instincts are erratic, thoughts racing through your head as the dire scenarios play out.

The male hummed. “No reaction?” His voice is a low murmur as if he was speaking to himself. The amusement is subtle behind the curiosity.

“Hah… Thought you’d be more fun,” he exhaled through his nose. You could hear the smirk in his statement as the warmth of his body disappeared.

Your brows furrow as you take a look at the man who stood in front of you. His black strands sweep over his head, black ears protruding from his head. A tail of the identical color sways slowly as his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his pants.

A panther hybrid.

His eyes are naturally narrowed, sharp pupils that flick over your form as he examines you. The smirk is absent as you both stand across from each other.

Why is there a grown man standing here? I thought they were supposed to be children.

“You gonna tell me your name or what?” His tone is expectant, commanding as he tilts his head. You could see the fangs poking through as he spoke.

“Third, speak minimally and stay out of their way,” the lady warns.

You swallowed. “Y/n.”

This is a problem. You were under the impression that you’d be monster-sitting hybrid children—not grown men. The kids were a lot less menacing than the adults who are significantly stronger than regular humans.

He nodded in response, allowing the silence to spread as time passed with you standing in place. “Toji,” he stated with finality in his voice.

You nod, tongue sliding over your lips as you readjust the strap on your shoulder. “Cool. I’m gonna set my stuff in the guestroom. You know where that is?”

Of course, he knows where that is, Y/n. He lives here.

He hesitated before a smirk cracked on his expression, a chuckle escaping as he jerked his head to the nearest hall. “That way. On the end to your right.”

You exhaled a small, “Thanks,” before walking, with urgency, to the bedroom.

You missed the side glance he gives you as you nearly jog away, irises boring into your back as he stands in place.

You were ecstatic to escape from the tension between you and Toji. The look in his eyes was intense, as if he was reading through you. You felt a chill crawl up your back at the memory while you continued to search for the bedroom.

Why do they need a monster-sitter when they’re not children?

You shook your head, disregarding the thought and replacing it with the cash that was handed to you. You figured that it would all be worth it. After all, your stay is only for a month. Initially, the timing seemed excessive, but for the payment you received, you’d stay for six months if you were asked.

Once you found the correct door, your hand wrapped around the knob before you pushed it open.

You yelped in surprise as you saw two men on the bed. One male has tousled, platinum hair that sprawled against the pillow as he lay on his side, facing away from you. His patterned ears sat neutrally as the matching tail curled over his thigh.

A serval hybrid.

On the foot of the bed sat a man with pink hair. Patterned white ears that match the tail that sways behind him. He’s balanced on the palm of his hands, sitting on one of his legs, with the other foot meeting the ground. His head tilts slightly as his gaze slowly shifts to you.

A snow leopard hybrid.

“Oi, Gojo,” he mutters, red irises shifting up and down your form. “Looks like we got ourselves a little visitor.”

Your eyes shift to the man who groans softly, stretching his arms and legs out as he turns over to face you, gradually lifting his upper body as he scoots to sit upright. “Oh really?” he purred, a sly smile reaching his tired gaze.

You hesitate as you stand in the doorway. “Is this not the guest room?” you questioned, stunned at the unexpected residents.

The males exchanged glances before shifting their gazes back to you. You tense as they both stood from the mattress, making their way toward you as their tails swayed slowly.

Suddenly, the blue-eyed one snatches your wrist, yanking you further into the room as his head dips low. You tug against his iron grip as he sniffed your neck. You were so distracted by the male in front of you that you failed to notice the red-eyed man’s movement as he grabbed your other arm to sniff your wrist.

Gojo hummed. “Smells a little too sweet for lunch,” he mused, lifting his head away from you as his eyes reached the snow leopard’s gaze. “What do you think, Sukuna? Should we eat dessert before dinner?”

Your blood runs cold.

Another fact about hybrids is that they don’t eat normal kibble or wet food. They are carnivores who like to hunt their prey, despite being half human. The monster aspect of them overrides any lingering humanity.

“Do not react to provocation. They will test you for weakness,” the woman states before taking a sip of the black coffee in the mug.

“She’s too plain. Probably lacks any real flavor,” Sukuna murmured, the sharp ends of his claws poking your skin.

“Asshole,” you exhaled, accidentally.

Dammit! Why the fuck would I even say that?

You hadn’t meant for the insult to slip through your lips. It was ideal for them to think that you wouldn’t be a tasty meal. You were supposed to remain stoic and emotionless so they wouldn’t gain any interest in bothering you.

Both males pause, a stunned look appearing on their expressions as they exchange a glance. Once Gojo’s irises shift to yours, a wicked grin curled on his face, fangs gleaming. “Oh? What was that?”

“I didn’t catch that,” Sukuna mused, eyes narrowing as his grip tightened. “Say it again.”

“Are you two finished terrorizing the poor girl?”

Your eyes shift to the newcomer who leans against the doorway. His arms are crossed, one ear upright as the front, black strands of his hair frames his facial structure. His black tail is upright, curled at the end.

Another panther hybrid.

His dark pupils shift between you and the two hybrids while his expression remains unreadable.

Gojo chuckled. “We’re just messin’ around, Suguru,” he mused, a lazy smile appearing on his expression as he released you.

Suguru wasn’t convinced. An eyebrow raises as a smirk curled on his face. “Sure.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Tch, whatever. I’m bored of this,” Sukuna said, tone dripping with indifference as he walked towards the exit.

Gojo followed, slightly turning his head back to you with a heavy-lidded gaze. “See ya around.”

After the two hybrids make their leave, your gaze flicks to Suguru, body remaining stiff, though a breath of relief exhales through your lips. You figured that speaking first in this instance could be acceptable considering the situation.

You swallowed. “Thanks for that,” you say, politely, despite the underlying cautiousness lingering in your tone.

Suguru doesn’t respond. There’s an unsettling, hollow gaze that replaced his mischievous smirk from earlier. It was empty, devoid of any emotion as he stared at you, tail flicking lazily behind him.

You couldn’t help but feel like a prey being observed by a predator. The hairs on your skin stood straight as your heart continued to thump against your chest. Despite the lingering anxiety, you stood—calm and collected—as you faced him head on, keeping your eyes locked on his.

“Avoid eye contact for more than three seconds. Anything longer is considered a challenge,” the employer stated.

You understand the protocol, however, you must prove to the beasts that you’re not going to tread around carefully. You have a job to complete, a task to handle, and money to earn. You’re going to finish this assignment whether the hybrids intimidate you or not.

It seems as though Suguru received the message loud and clear. The sudden change of your demeanor caused a puckish smile to grow on his expression. You could practically feel the excitement radiating off of his ambience.

“Try to enjoy yourself while you can,” he hummed, tone playful and teasing, but the underlying warning peered from the statement. “We don’t ask for much… just keep us entertained.”

You stood in place as you watched him walk out of the doorway. For a moment, you contemplated his remark, attempting to read into the truth that hides behind the words he spoke.

When midnight finally arrived, you found yourself wide awake as you scrolled aimlessly on your phone. Despite the comfort of the soft, warm bed, you couldn’t elude the alertness of your instincts.

You tossed the covers off your form before swinging your legs over the mattress. You swiftly tugged on a pair of socks before walking out of the bedroom. As you crept down the corridor, the cool air brushed against your dermis as you entered the foyer, mindlessly rounding the corner to find the kitchen.

Your aim was to grab a glass of water to quench your thirst and soothe your parched throat in the process. You had been nervous to make your presence known throughout the night, so you stayed put, awaiting the morrow when you would inevitably have to complete the tasks you were assigned to.

Unfortunately, your need for a substance to drink became overbearing, especially after your minor usage of the dab pen you brought to relax your nerves. You figured that all the men should be asleep at this time, so you shouldn’t run into anyone.

A gradual exhale slipped through your lips as you flicked the light switch on, content that you had successfully found the kitchen without getting lost. You rummaged through each cabinet until you found a glass before heading to the refrigerator to press the button.

You listened as the sound of water filled up the cup, the only frequency added to the quiet, dimly lit room. You pulled your head back to chug the beverage before heading to the sink to wash it out.

Just as you turned the faucet off, you paused, a sudden warmth appearing behind you as the person closed in on your form. You’re frozen, locked between the arms of the presence who pressed their palms on the counter. You could feel the hot air of their breath against your neck.

“Never turn your back. Always keep them in sight or else it’ll show vulnerability.”

You swiftly set the glass in the sink before rounding your body to face the intruder, your lower back pressed against the edge of the counter as you leaned against your palms.

A male with dark brown hair, styled in pigtails, has patterned ears pressed forward as the sharp gaze of his dark colored irises peered through the faint, red hue of his eyelids. A black tattoo lined the bridge of his nose as he gave you a quizzical look, tail flicking at a swift pace while he examined you.

A jaguar hybrid.

You stared back, your own gaze sharp as you stood your ground. Your brows were slightly furrowed, though you kept your expression as stoic as you could.

He hummed, tilting his head as he leaned in closer. “I can smell the fear radiating off of you,” he began, tongue gliding over his lips. “You’re trying to hide it. Why?” he questioned, suspicion dripping from his tone.

You didn’t respond, holding your gaze as you subtly positioned yourself to stand taller. His eyes flicked over you before a subtle frown curled on his expression. Suddenly, his hand snatched your jaw in a tight grip, the pointed ends of his claws poking your cheek as he observed you.

“It’s pathetic,” he hissed, a subtle anger adding to his rough tone. “You humans always think you have a chance. You couldn’t last a second against me.” A sharp pain ignited on your cheeks as you felt the tingling sensation of blood trickling down your skin.

Your hand grasped the wrist that held you, squeezing your fingers around the surface tightly as you snatched the hand away, the male releasing you as you held his hand up.

“Don’t put your fucking hands on me,” you almost growled, ignoring the pounding of your heart as you leaned in closer. “I came here to do a job and you’re gonna let me, no matter how many times you guys try to intimidate me.”

His expression morphed, stunned at your words before he recollected his stoic gaze, yanking his arm from your grip. “You’re interesting, human,” he mused, finally pulling back from you as he walked away.

Your eyes never left his form, even when he casually grabbed a bottled beverage from the fridge and gave you one last glance before leaving the kitchen.

You leaned against the counter with a hand grabbing your chest as you breathed heavily. You couldn’t deny the fear you had felt in that moment, the vulnerability of being stuck in that position against your will. It was terrifying. Especially since you knew that he was right.

Your fingers reached the trail of blood on your cheeks, some of the substance already in the drying process as you scoffed, “Great.”

“Need some help with that?”

“You know I could’ve cleaned it myself, right?” you question as Suguru dabs the cotton against your wound. You wince as the alcohol tingles against your skin, causing a sharp stinging sensation to appear.

He gives you a pointed look. “Just stay still and let me help,” he mutters, standing between your legs as you sit on the bathroom counter. “Doubt you even knew where to look for the first aid,” he continued.

An eyebrow raises on your expression as his tail lazily sways behind him. “I could’ve figured it out.”

He ignores you, continuing with the finishing touches after he patches the scars. “You’re as difficult as Choso.”

You scoff. “Is that his name? What’s up with him? Actually, what’s wrong with all of you?” You decide to push for answers. The energy of the room is light, and the added intake of your pen makes you a little bolder.

Suguru’s gaze shifts to yours as he closes the kit. “Elaborate.”

“Your weird behavior from earlier. You guys were so ominous. It was creepy. Especially your cryptic warning.”

He hummed. “Oh, that? I was just telling the truth. I can’t speak for the rest of them.”

You hum, confusion morphing on your face as you watch him sniff the air. Your body freezes as his hand dips into the pocket of your pajama bottoms.

“Hey—!”

You’re surprised to see your pen in his hand. Without permission, he brings the tip to your bottom lip, gesturing for you to inhale. “You should relax a bit more, Y/n. We’re more human than you think.”

You eye him with slight caution before complying and taking a hit from your vape.

Time passes, and you have become quite accustomed to your environment, adjusting to the strange rhythm of your new life with the hybrid men. The atmosphere of the house became less intimidating and more comforting as you completed the tasks asked of you. It was interesting to notice the change in behavior between the men as they grew accustomed to your presence.

Toji finds your reactions to be quite interesting. He enjoys acting out in ways that’ll rile you up or force you to defy him, just to see how it plays out. His affection is hidden behind jabs and remarks that bring your obstinance to the surface. Your lack of prominent fear piques his attention as he continues to put you through tests to observe your resilience.

Much like Toji, Suguru is intrigued by your resilience and persistence to refrain from exposing your fear. Although you’ve become more comfortable with your routine in the mansion, he observes you intently, noticing the subtle flinch if one of them gets too close or listening to the pounding of your heart if one of them invades your comfortability. He’s become attentive to your needs, making sure everything you want is fulfilled in a timely manner.

Gojo loves to push your buttons, much like Toji, but with a more playful approach. He constantly flirts with you, just to see the embarrassment morph on your expression, or he’ll corner you—pulling you away from your cooking or cleaning after being the one to ask for a meal or causing the mess. His persistence is annoying but lighthearted in the sense that he wants your attention quite often.

Sukuna was both an enigma and a challenge. You quickly realized that the snow leopard’s attention wasn’t one to be easily ignored. If he wasn’t watching you from afar or stalking you despite your knowledge of his presence, he’d act out in a way to gain a reaction from you—whether it be brushing up against you, sadistically leaving marks on your skin, or teasing you with testing remarks or taunts, he’d find one way or another to receive your attention. He could also be cold and distant, a huge contrast to his normal demeanor.

Choso is subtle with his affection for you. He’s surprisingly more protective than anyone would expect. If he notices Gojo, Sukuna, or Toji bothering you to the point of causing stress, he’ll step in with a menacing and yet quiet demeanor. He is much like Suguru with his reservation and observance, watching you from a distance as he studies your everyday routine.

Unknown to you, their affection for you grew in ways they’d never imagined it could for a human. They’d flown through sitter after sitter, and it all ended the same—with a gory murder and their stomachs full of raw, human remains. They want a taste of you, but in a differing manner than with normal visitors.

That’s why that moment was so…

Disheartening.

“If one starts acting affectionate, resist the urge to reciprocate. It’s not love…”

It had been a normal day for the most part. The television was on, streaming an adult cartoon show that you all enjoyed watching—or that they were entertained by your enjoyment of the show. Sukuna had an arm hooked around your shoulder as he sat next to you on the couch. Gojo had his head on your lap, eyelids lowered as he was nearly asleep, relishing the sensation of your fingers combing through his strands.

Choso sat on the floor beside your leg with his knees propped against his chest, while Toji sat on your other side with an arm over his propped knee as his head leaned against yours. Suguru stood behind the couch, leaning over as he rested his arms against the surface, quietly chewing gum.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, catching everyone’s attention. When you answered the phone, they noticed the subtle change in your voice. It was higher-pitched with excitement—and, worst of all—affection. They paused as they listened to the casual conversation, as if you were catching up with someone dearest to you. They could hear a male’s voice distantly as you held the device to your face.

Once you pressed the end button, you paused, finally noticing that all eyes were on you.

“Y/n, who was that?” Suguru asked, his tone quizzical but with an underlying edge that sent a chill up your spine.

You raised an eyebrow at their demeanor. “Just my boyfriend,” you shrugged.

“…It’s possession.”

The room went eerily silent, the only sound being the pulsing of your heartbeat against your chest. Your instincts heightened, blood pumping through your veins as adrenaline surged through your body. The eyes of the men glowering at you did little to ease your anxious discomfort as you felt a weight of pressure in your lower stomach.

You could feel the tightening grip of Sukuna’s claws over your shoulder, pressing against your skin painfully. Toji’s hand also gripped your ankle, compressing the dermis as the pointy tips of his nails pricked the surface. Gojo stretched, sitting upright in the process as he positioned himself on the couch to face you, one leg propped while the other hung over the seat.

Why are they looking at me like that?

You couldn’t tell if it was a hallucination of yours or if their eyes were truly glowing with an emotion you had never seen from them before. The rapid flick of their tails was unsettling—unnerving. It made the hairs on your skin stand tall as you tried to make sense of the sudden circumstance.

“Guys… is everything okay?”

The woman exhaled sharply as she unlocked the door. It had been a prolonged month—more extensive than usual. She had expected to hear a call from at least one or two of her monsters—waiting to hear of their boredom after the finished consumption of their new meal—but when she hadn’t seen any notifications, a sudden realization struck her.

And it was confirmed as soon as she walked into her own living room.

As she rounded the corner of the sofa, the display of sudden domination and territorial marking was exhibited right in front of her very eyes. You were sprawled on the marble floor, cheek pressed against the ground as a hand gripped the back of your neck. Your bottom half was pointed high in the air, knees pressing against the surface as tears streamed down your face.

Behind you was the black-haired male, who pierced the inside of your vagina with an abrupt compulsion that had your body rocking against his at a brutal pace. Despite biting your lip to refrain from any noises escaping you, the grunts and whimpers slipped through your throat amongst the heavy breathing of the men surrounding you.

They were kneeling, lower halves exposed as they sat patiently, waiting for the moment to claim you and your body. The woman could see the thickness of their cocks pumped full of blood, the pink hue of their tips gleaming behind the white substance that leaked from their rounded heads, pulsating as they refrained from touching themselves.

They were supposed to have eaten her, not gained an attachment. You must’ve been a human of higher quality.

Suddenly, Toji aimed deeper by curving the bridge of your spine as he thumped against your g-spot, the sensation of the electricity surging through the extended depth of your pussy ached as it had your jaw locked open, nose scrunching, and eyes rolling.

The woman hummed, tilting her head as she saw the notification on your phone. Grabbing the device, she eyed the contact name labeled ‘boyfriend’ before clicking her tongue. “Now that won’t do.”

This must’ve set them off.

She swiped to answer the phone, walking into the distance. “Sorry, this is not Y/n. She’s busy with a couple of tasks and asked me to answer.”

There was a pause before she continued. “I would love to invite you over for dinner tonight! You know, as a thanks to your lovely Y/n for helping take care of my little monsters.”

The gleam in her eyes shimmered mischievously as she grinned. “That’s perfect. See you tonight.”

—𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.

—𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍

wc: 1107

Kind and reliable.

That’s the energy that radiated from your boyfriend, Kairo. It’s what you loved about him—the light-heartedness, the reassurances, and the stability. Despite his carefree demeanor, you had never seen him obtain such a somber expression except for when he had warned you against taking the monster-sitting job.

He couldn’t deny the feeling of impending doom when you had confirmed the meeting with the suspicious woman—especially when he had seen the amount of cash she had given you. An under-the-table, illegal job that pays a tremendous sum would strike anyone as an opportunity that was too good to be true.

—

[dollyyun]

DEVIL'S NIGHT [PART 1] ✧ DEVIL'S KNIGHTS' PREY (EN-)

PAIRING ✧ enha hyung line x fem!reader GENRE ✧ 18+(mdni), reverse harem, eventual poly, romance, morally grey characters, semi-college au, eventual adulthood, dark themes, strangers/friends to lovers, obsessive male leads (borderline psychos but we love them) WARNING ✧ religious themes, good girl!fem reader, tensions, angsts, toxicity, explicit themes, alcohol and substance consumptions, assault, profanities, corruption, perversion, coercion, usage of weapons, violence, blood, graphic descriptions, traumas, dramas, miscommunication, gore-ish content, mentions of deaths, poor execution in general WORD COUNT✧ 39.9K

SYNOPSIS ✧ As you are in your last year of university, you feel inclined to make a change for once in your life, and so you decide to take a big leap in part of your development by attending the renowned Halloween party that happens every year, which is hosted by the corrupted fraternity of Devil's Knights. Having no real knowledge about what sort of activities would happen behind closed doors, you remain blissfully ignorant of the danger that awaits you once the witching hour commences that may turn out to cause a major change in the trajectory of your life.

NEXT (PART 2) ✘ SERIES MASTERLIST ✘

-smut warnings under cut-

smut warnings: unprotected sex (no!), dom!enha, brief voyeurism, name calling, making out, degradation, manhandling, fingering, spitting, dry humping, clit play, choking, spanking, creampies, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, gangbang, dubcon-ish, uses knife on skin.

The tranquillity that once cascaded in every part of the campus building is tainted by an unpleasant, riotous commotion from the collective group of delinquents that are otherwise known as Devil’s Knights, and yet none of the professors or even the head of faculty steps forward to make any form of reproach towards their delinquency, closing both eyes and moving about their day normally, because they know better than to disrupt the momentous pre-celebratory of an upcoming festivity, even more so when they lack the power to possess such authority when it comes to any devil’s knights, most especially their leaders.

He is the living proof in the present time of being highly privileged to be entirely free from their clutches as he struts along the buzzing campus corridor with a cigarette stick caged between his teeth. No one dares to glance in his way wrongly, not when his dark, steely eyes that look as sharp as his jawline are enough to make them recoil while the sight of his full-arm tattoo evokes both admiration and intimidation from the crowd.

His ears perk up at the not-so-subtle mention of his name, shifting his attention to a group of seniors huddling a few meters away from him. The moment they accidentally land their gaze on him, they direct their focus elsewhere and change the topic promptly. A smirk touches his lips, revelling in the power he holds over others, even with his mere silence. He continues to make his way to the intended destination, blocking out the commotion from his focus.

“You didn’t bother to invite me to join you? That’s a first from you, Park Jongseong.” His best friend’s voice, which carries a familiar sarcasm, has him sighing out lowly as he reluctantly comes to a stop before turning his head to meet a pair of icily cold eyes that are capable of daunting anyone except a few people. The taller male is leaning against a massive pillar, and his composure looks unusually relaxed with both hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket. “And here I thought we were smoking buddies, Jay. How disappointing.” His sentiment doesn’t match in the way he casts him an amused smirk.

Jay doesn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes at his best friend’s theatrics, but nevertheless he gravitates towards him as he frees the cigarette stick from the cage of his teeth, now being held in between his fingers. “Spare me your sarcasm, Park Sunghoon.” He grumbles under his breath, but with a head tilt of an invitation, Sunghoon moves off the pillar and proceeds to walk side by side with Jay as they head straight for the campus plaza. “I’m surprised Jake isn’t with you as usual.”

“I haven't seen him all day, not that it bothers me.” Sunghoon says with an unmistakable air of nonchalance while taking a cigarette stick that is generously offered by Jay, but even the latter can see through him how Jake’s sudden detachment for a day has been affecting him. “He’s probably having the time of the month, you know, the usual?”

Jay chuckles dryly as he immediately understands the implication in his statement, knowing all too well that the last time it happened was a year ago, resulting in a nasty confrontation. “Let’s just hope he’s fucking around some girl. I don’t want the same shit to happen again. Fucking Sim Jaeyun—"

“I knew my ears were burning for a reason— you were talking shit about me!” The two Parks release exasperated sighs, not bothering to face the mischievous male when he inserts himself in between them, following them to their spot. They take a quick glance at Jake, raising their eyebrow at the familiar flyer in his grasp. “Look at this. It looks like total shit! I didn’t even approve this design!” Jake exclaims, his face twisting into a scowl as he examines the overall design on the flyer, his eyes drilling holes into it. “Not only can I not trust my best friends to not talk shit about me, but I can’t even trust the design team?”

“What are you talking about? It looks perfect the way it is.” Sunghoon retorts as he snatches the flyer from Jake’s grasp to examine briefly, seeing no flaws in it. He meets Jake’s disbelieving eyes and smirks at him. “Besides, it was approved by me and Jay.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not the design is flawed. People are already buzzing about it; that’s what matters.” Jay adds before Jake can counter, separating himself from them to move under the shade of a tree with Sunghoon doing the same as he offers Jay a lighter to light up their cigarette stick. “We can expect a full house in three days' time. The more people to hunt, the better.”

Jake grimaces, eyeing his best friends disapprovingly as they proceed to inhale the tobacco before blowing out grey smokes that nearly hit his face, and yet he remains rooted to the ground, standing in their view. “Fine, but I still prefer last year’s design.” He says as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I hope we can also expect something new this year. I mean, you guys have to admit that the past three years have been quite a bore.”

“Agreed.” A familiar voice startles them, drawing their attention to the stealthy male emerging from behind the tree. Jay automatically offers him an opened box that is filled with cigarette sticks, but the latter silently declines it with his hand gesture. “I know what you meant, Jake. Maybe we will finally find our first and official prey this year.”

“You scared the shit out of us, Heeseung. Where the hell did you come from?” Sunghoon asks in disbelief, raising his eyebrow as he watches the aforementioned male lean his back against the tree trunk leisurely with both hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie.

Heeseung doesn’t respond to his question and instead directs his attention ahead of him; his dark eyes hold masses of mystery that not even his best friends can decipher, while his silence speaks volumes that evoke uncertainty, prompting them to exchange looks.

“You okay?” Jay asks gruffly, taking the initiative to find out what is on his complex mind, and this is not to say that the three of them fear Heeseung and his unpredictability, but out of the four of them, Heeseung bears the most complex qualities.

“Just waiting.” Heeseung simply says, his tone sounding neutral and matching in the way his demeanour appears relaxed, but as they study him for another time, they have a strong inkling as to what his short statement pertains.

“Waiting for who?” Sunghoon tries to sound as disinterested as he can, wanting to know what or who has managed to pique the most reserved and mysterious Lee Heeseung.

The corner of Heeseung’s lips curves into a smirk while his focus ahead never goes astray, and this amplifies their curiosity. “Someone.”

Despite being dissatisfied with his answer, they choose to drop the topic, both Parks proceeding to take drags of the intoxicating substance while Jake continues on where he left off to express his distaste of the flyer’s design to them, even yapping off to Heeseung in spite of his silence, whereas Jay and Sunghoon roll their eyes from time to time.

Eventually, their conversation goes from one topic to another, but their attention is collectively focused on the view in their line of sight, where their respective devil’s house members have now invaded the campus main plaza, either giving out the flyers to the students strolling out and about or throwing the flyers in a haphazard manner that is essentially littering the plaza while also causing a ruckus, but neither of the knights bothers to correct the error of their ways.

Heeseung’s demeanour, which once displayed such impassiveness, shifts into something rather delightful as a soft smirk touches his lips while the burning intensity in his eyes as though something has highly piqued his interest, grabbing Jake’s attention, whereas the conversation between Sunghoon and Jay carries on.

When Jake finally directs his focus at what, or rather who, has completely entranced Heeseung, that is when he sees a familiar figure with a darling face that gives him the weird fluttery sensation in him all over again. Similar to Heeseung, Jake finds himself captivated by the mere sight of the familiar girl in a rather modest yet cute attire as well, standing out for the very specific reason of her being the only girl on campus famously known for her purity. 

Heeseung remains eerily silent without their knowledge, his eyes studying you with a glinting dark fascination that overshadows the obsession, watching your every movement. In spite of your tote bag that is laden with your laptop and other materials, it doesn’t deter you in the way you seem to be rushing to somewhere else, trying your best to avoid bumping into other students, specifically the devil’s knights that are wearing the same designed masks for this occasion.

Jake frowns the instant one of the devil's knights practically chucks a handful of flyers at your face while chortling alongside another knight. “What the fuck?” He curses under his breath, drawing Jay’s attention to him, whereas Sunghoon has been noticing Jake’s unusual silence since the moment you captured his attention.

Jake feels a simmering anger within him, wanting nothing more than to defend you by teaching and instilling some manners in those knights who disrespected you. Just as he is prepared to march over to them to drag them away from you, Sunghoon prevents him from moving out of the shade as he uses his frame to block his way.

“Don’t do anything dumb, Jake.” Sunghoon advises, well, to Jake, it sounds more like a warning, while Jay quickly grasps and understands the situation that involves you, but he simply does not give a fuck as he looks away from you, resuming to inhale the last of his burning cigarette stick. 

“I can’t just stand by and let them disrespect her like that!” Jake argues back, his jaw clenching the same way he clenches his fist as he attempts to subdue his anger. He tries to move past Sunghoon, but the latter is swift enough to block his way again, eliciting another curse from him. “If you don’t get out of the way in five seconds—”

“Are you really going to fight me on this? Over Y/N Kang? Really, Jake?” Sunghoon remains collected, but there is no mistaking his icy-cold demeanour that is parallel to Jake’s blazing fury. “What does it matter to you if her feelings get hurt? Don’t tell me you’ve developed some soft spot for her.” Disgust is written all over Sunghoon’s face.

Heeseung blocks out the ongoing dispute between Sunghoon and Jake, being hyper-fixated on you as he watches you shooting glares at the two brash knights walking away from you before you direct your attention to the one of the flyers that you managed to grasp in your possession. The smirk on his lips widens, finding you adorable in the way your lips form into a small pout with visible confusion contorting in your pretty face as you seem to scan the content in the flyer with confused eyes.

Meanwhile, you are completely oblivious to your surroundings as the flyer in your hand eventually manages to pique your curiosity, but upon grasping the content, your lips downturn into a frown, especially as soon as you recognise their infamous symbol on the top margin. Right, in three days time, the long-awaited yet annual festivity will arrive and spread terror, but you have no knowledge of what the terror exactly entails, not that you were the slightest bit interested to know.

But this time, however, you feel something shift within you, almost as if some part of you is nudging at you to embrace a new change and that it’s about time to venture out of your comfort zone. Too deep in your rumination, you fail to hear your name being called until an arm is thrown around your shoulder, startling you and drawing your attention to your roommate, who also happens to be your best friend.

“What goes on in your pretty head to the point you’re standing impressively still?” Karina asks with a teasing grin plastered on her pink lips, her familiar sweet perfume hitting you in the nostril.

“Babe, is that Devil’s Night flyer you’re holding?” Another familiar voice pulls your attention away from Karina as you look to your left, only to notice two of your roommates, slash, your best friends as well. Yunjin and Wonyoung.

The Devil’s Night flyer that you are still holding elicits different reactions from them — Karina and Yunjin seem to share the same sentiment, whereas Wonyoung lacks the control over her features, clearly expressing her disapproval at your potential attendance at the event, albeit you have yet to say anything about it.

“Relax, girls. I never said anything about going. I was just reading the flyer.” You tell them with a light chuckle, but you notice the sigh of relief that leaves Wonyoung's lips, evoking something unpleasantly sour in your chest, because why is your best friend against you attending a mere Halloween festivity?

“That’s disappointing to hear. We thought that you were finally deciding to move out of your comfort zone and, you know, not be boring for once.” Karina expresses with a pout on her lips, oblivious to the fact that her last few words bring a frown to your face. You know that Karina has no ill intent towards you, and there are some truths in it, but it never fails to sting you in the chest.

“We’re all planning to go, by the way,” Yunjin speaks up after noticing how briefly disheartened you look. You meet her kind eyes as she gives you an encouraging smile. “You can join us if you want. I promise it’ll be fun.”

“Yes! You should come with us!” Karina remains enthusiastic, encouraging you the same, and just like that her previous remark is forgotten from your mind, finding yourself being infected by her excitement, practically buzzing. “Trust it’ll be way fun, especially since it’s your first time, and—”

“I hate to ruin the moment, but I don’t really think it’s a good idea for our girl to come along.” Wonyoung cuts her off sharply, her tone indicating no room for argument. “I know you want our girl to step out of her comfort zone, but I wouldn’t want to risk anything happening to her.”

“Come on, Wony! I didn’t expect you to be the one to suck out the fun!” Karina complains, even pleading with the taller girl with puppy eyes, the most adorable she can muster, but it has no effect on the latter.

“It’s our last year in uni as seniors, Wonyoung. Surely, you wouldn’t want our girl to miss out on all of the fun.” Yunjin, always being the one who does the reasoning all the time, tries her utmost to persuade Wonyoung. “Nothing will happen to her. We’re all going to be there to look out for her too, yeah? The more eyes, the better.”

Seeing how Wonyoung’s resolution wavers, Karina beams with a smile as she draws her attention. “Since we’re on our way to shop for the remaining of our costumes, we should shop for Y/N’s as well! Besides, it’ll be her first ever Halloween, so we need to make her look drop-dead gorgeous.”

In all honesty, you hate how they are talking about you in front of you, albeit they mean well, but this happens almost all the time. It is as though they are treating you as if you are incapable of making a decision of your own at your grown age. But you decide to shrug it off, knowing that even if you voice it, they won’t be deterred.

As they continue to converse among themselves, you feel a sudden chill throughout your body, causing the back of your hair to rise, and that is when you feel as though you are being watched, prompting you to find the source until your eyes immediately lock with a pair of dark eyes. Instantly, you feel familiarly daunted as you freeze while your best friends remain oblivious to you.

Even though his highly attractive best friends are under the same shade of tree as him, you can only focus on him, your heart pumping wildly as you see the devilish curl on his lips, which the bottom lip is adorned by a silver ring. Yet, for some reason, you feel entirely drawn to him, completely enthralled by the unknown and danger he emits, even from afar. 

His dark eyes penetrate into yours heatedly, making you feel like he is reading your every thought, before he briefly looks down at the flyer in your grasp, and somehow, the moment he returns his gaze to yours with a suggestive yet oh-so-inviting smirk on his lips, you have a strong inkling that Lee Heeseung wants you to come to the Devil’s Night Halloween festivity.

As you stand in front of the full-length mirror, your own reflection stares at you with an abundant clarity of irresolution, mirroring the inner turmoil within you. Your eyes begin to scan your appearance from head to toe with sheer incredulity. Never in your twenty-one years of life have you ever dressed as provocatively as you are now. Heck, you don’t even recognise yourself.

The white cami bodycon corset dress adorning your body feels uncomfortably tight, but it accentuates your curves impeccably and has a designated contrast lace bustier that levitates your breasts and displays your cleavage, while a portion of your torso is conspicuously visible through the translucent material. The length of the dress reaches so far above your thighs that when you attempt to bend down ninety degrees, your white lace underwear peeks under. To you, though, the main highlight of your outfit is the white thigh-high stockings that complement your white-booted heels. 

You're not the type to critique people for how they choose to dress, and you have nothing against people who wear revealing clothes, but you wonder how other women wear them without feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable just as you are now. You hate to say it, but you practically look like a slut. 

Your nose automatically scrunches up at the licentious thought before silently berating yourself for the stereotype. This is definitely not what you had in mind when your best friends decided to drag you with them and buy you a ‘costume’ that fit the theme that they had chosen for you — an angel. It is definitely ironic how the theme they chose for you supposedly requires you to dress decently.

When your gaze finally settles on the silver cross pendant that rests delicately on your chest, guilt coils in your stomach, and your moment of prior incertitude manages to render you completely disheartened while your eyes turn crestfallen.

What were you thinking? You’re supposed to live up to the code as expected of you, including avoiding dressing indecently and acting with grace. But here you are, all dolled up with excessive skin revealing, and yet you still refuse to recognise that the person staring back at you is indeed you. 

If your parents were here to see you now, they would have chastised and disowned you, especially for dressing the way you are now. You shudder lightly at the thought.

Your parents, particularly your mother, are quite religious and strictly abide by the rules and codes of your religion. However, your parents’ love and devotion to the religion were something you truly adored. Growing up, your parents often brought you to the church along with them, and you recall getting so excited just at the mere sight of the familiar divine building situated in your neighbouring area that you even rushed to greet the pastor eagerly. Every member of the church recognised you, and they would always warmly welcome you and your family, especially since your parents were regulars.

You were loved by them, by everyone. As a matter of fact, you’ve been called ‘little angel’ by them because of your kind and sweet disposition, how helpful you were whenever someone asked you for assistance, how obedient you were whenever you were told to do something, how demure in the way you acted, and how you resonated with people by being naturally sympathetic you were.

Everyone used to tell your parents how truly blessed they were to have you as their daughter. Your parents agreed and often thanked the Lord for blessing them with a daughter like you. Not only did you follow your parents’ example in your religion, but you had also been bestowed with the gift of being naturally smart since you were young until now. 

However, as you take in your appearance once more, your coiling guilt becomes tenfold while disappointment creeps up on you. How dare you have the audacity to wear the cross necklace your father bought for you when you are dressed like this?

You shake your head, taking a step back from the full-length mirror. This is not you, but you know that it’s too late to back out now. Plus, you were the one who voluntarily agreed and made a definitive decision to join your best friends for the Halloween festivity that will happen tonight. Initially, your intention was to finally move out of your comfort zone, but who were you kidding? A part of you has always wanted to prove your friends’ collective view of you wrong and that you could be fun when you want to.

But then again, you can’t recall the last time you ever had fun, or maybe you hadn’t, and that probably says a lot about you in the eyes of your friends. Well, at least you aren’t completely clueless about what a college party entails, considering you have seen firsthand what happened to your roommates right after they came back from parties or even clubs, and it certainly wasn’t anything pleasant. Nevertheless, you offered to help them by assisting in holding up their hair while they retched in the toilet bowl and getting them to bed, despite the grimace on your face.

Knocks on the door pull you out of your rumination, sharpening your focus in the mirror before your eyes trail to a familiar face from behind, who is leaning against the doorframe sideways with her arms crossed. Your eyes beam in appreciation at her beauty. The way she does her make-up accentuates her features, and she looks absolutely striking with her overall fit, which she chose to dress up as a cowgirl.

“Hey, Jen.” You greet her, trying your best to sound as enthusiastic as the way you beam at her, but the smile on your lips eventually wavers, giving away your irresolution.

Yunjin, who is rarely ever enthusiastic, offers you a wide smile that displays her pearly teeth. “Hey, gorgeous. Are you ready to go?” She asks, her eyes scanning your face, noticing how delicate your countenance appears.

Usually, you would reciprocate her energy, but this time, with the doubts lingering in your head, you cave into your withdrawals. “Honestly? No. I don’t know if it’s right for me to go.” You murmur, your eyes lowering, and Yunjin’s smile falters as soon as you reveal your true mask. You fiddle with your fingers. “I mean, I really am looking forward to the event,” You wince internally, unable to say the word ‘Devil’s’ verbally. “Never mind, I’m just overthinking things as usual.”

You don’t lift your head up, even as you hear her footsteps approaching from behind. You feel her warm hands on your bare shoulders, turning you around and tilting your chin up with her fingers. Your eyes reluctantly meet her hazel-hued ones that are blazing with firm resolution.

“I know that deep inside of you, you actually feel doubtful about this, but trust me when I say that just because you’re attending a party and dressing up like this, gorgeously at that, it does not make you unworthy or any lesser in the eyes of our religion.” Her voice comes out strong yet tinged with gentleness, which you can’t help but acquiesce to. Your heart swells with a familiar sentiment. Your best friend really knows you better than yourself sometimes.

Hun Yunjin, otherwise known as Jennifer, has been your childhood best friend, albeit not enrolled in the same elementary and high schools, and she is currently majoring in international business. You met her when you first started to attend Sunday services at your neighbouring church. You recall sitting next to her and randomly engaging in a conversation with her, despite the fact that you two were not supposed to drift off to your own mini-world. You thought you would never see her again, but the next Sunday service proved you wrong. From there, you and Yunjin formed a newfound friendship, and you declared that she was your church buddy. That remained constant until the two of you hit fifteen, and you didn’t see her as regularly as before.

Just like that, you lost contact with her. Subsequently, you began to wonder what went wrong and questioned your friendship with her, which you cherished dearly. Not many years later, when you first stepped foot in this university, you met Yunjin again, and miraculously, she turned out to be one of your assigned roommates. You assumed that she would not recognise you or even brush you off coldly given her aloof demeanour, but you were overjoyed when she recognised you and immediately welcomed you with a bear-hug while telling you how much she had missed you. The thought of asking her what truly happened years ago did cross your mind, but for some reason, you were afraid and apprehensive of the outcome, noticing how she would tense up whenever you brought up any topic regarding family, and most importantly, you didn’t want to lose her again. So you chose to play it safe. But what matters most is that you have reunited with her.

In return, you muster a faint smile on your glossed lips. “You always have a way with words, Yunjun.” You compliment her before releasing a soft sigh and holding your head up high. “Fine, I’m ready.”

Yunjin’s firm exterior cracks, and her matted-red lips curl into a grin. “That’s my girl.”

“Girls! Are we ready to go─” A gasp pulls you away from Yunjin’s eyes, and when you look at the familiar figure standing by the doorway to your room, you become in awe of how seductively alluring she looks with her theme, dressed up as a catwoman. 

“You look amazing, Rina.” You compliment her earnestly. Genuinely, she knocks the breath out of you, and despite being roommates for three and a half years, her striking beauty often makes you question yourself about whether or not she is indeed real.

Truth be told, you didn’t get along with Yu Jimin, otherwise known as Karina, in the first few semesters of your freshman year. As she’s a fashion design major, it was inevitable that such a heap of mess was expected from her, and you hoped that she would be considerate, but you didn’t expect for her mess to scatter into the shared living room. Out of the four of you, you’re particular about cleanliness, so you disapproved of your roommate being blatantly inconsiderate, especially when you and your other roommates have had to clean up her mess every so often. You recall when Karina overheard you delivering complaints to your other two roommates, and she confronted you on the spot. From then on, she began nitpicking you, resulting in many petty disputes with her. You felt more annoyed than upset whenever she pointed out the fact that you were plain and boring. You swore you thought that you would never get along with her until two years ago, in your sophomore year, you found her alone in the living room at three in the morning as she was drinking two bottles of soju to her heart’s content with tears streaming down her cheeks and her eyes were puffy.

You wanted to mind your own business as usual, but it didn’t sit right with you to leave your roommate alone to reel in despair, so you cautiously approached her, as if you were afraid that she would lash out at you, but surprisingly, she confided in you. That was when you got to know that she had been cheated on by her boyfriend. You listened attentively to her, and even offered comforting words to her, to which she thanked you by giving you a hug before falling asleep on you. Of course, you had tucked her in to sleep on the couch with a pillow for her head to rest on and a blanket to give her body some warmth. You thought that Karina would return to her usual self when the next day arrived, but she took you by surprise once more when she started to become amiable towards you. From then on, you two developed a sense of camaraderie before it blossomed into a newfound friendship.

“Says you! You look drop-dead gorgeous!” Karina exclaims, her red lips outstretched into a wide smile while you detect sincerity in her tone. Her sharp eyes scan you for another time before the corner of her red lips curves upward with pride. “See? I knew that this dress would look gorgeous on you! Plus, your body is to die for!”

“I agree.” Yunjin chimes, casting you a smirk while your cheeks warm from their fond gazes on you. “It looks like our girl will be receiving many head turns tonight. I would have hit you up long ago if I swung for the same team.”

Before you can say anything, another voice joins in the conversation. “Okay, look, I know I agreed for Y/N to join us after much persuasion, but after some thought about it again, I’m taking my words back. There’s no way I’m letting her go with us.”

Your eyes shift from Karina to the tall, raven-haired beauty next to her. Once again, you are captivated by her mesmerising beauty and how truly stunning her overall fit is, in which her theme is a mermaid, and you are not exaggerating when you say that she looks like a literal mermaid goddess. 

Yunjin heaves a sigh, her hazel eyes flashing annoyance. “We’ve talked about this, Vick. Nothing is going to happen to our girl. Don’t ruin this for her.” You hold your breath, feeling the tension mounted between the two glaring girls. You know that Yunjin means serious business whenever she calls Wonyoung by her English name.

Jang Wonyoung, otherwise known as Vicky Jang, is one of the university’s it girls with your best friends being in the same league, and she is also the girl whom you can call your soul sister. You recall the first time you met her when she opened the door to your shared dorm, and you were instantly captivated by her doll-like beauty and were so stunned that you even stammered your words when you reciprocated her warm greeting. Wonyoung is in the same major as you, journalism, and perhaps it also has to do with the fact that you got along well with her in just a few days prior to your first meeting in your freshman year. Despite how peculiar you managed to form a bond with her, you were grateful to have found a friend like her.

Although you are close with Yunjin and Karina, you feel more comfortable and at ease with Wonyoung, even when you are wrapped in silence. The two of you understand each other, even without words. You feel as though the both of you are kindred spirits; whenever you feel down, it affects her just the same, and you two often share your victories together without harbouring any hidden jealousy or ill feelings. There is this special connection you have to Wonyoung that is indescribable. Even your other friends often joke that the two of you are long-lost twin sisters.

Wonyoung’s eyes flicker to yours fleetingly, but it is enough for her to reaffirm her prior intuition before she returns her gaze to Karina and Yunjin, specifically to the cowgirl. “I just have a bad feeling about Y/N going, okay? You guys do know that my intuition has never failed me.” She tells them firmly. “I’m just being a good friend to Y/N and trying to look out for her.”

Yunjin scoffs loudly, her tongue hitting the roof of her mouth with a click of annoyance. “Are you also implying that we’re being bad friends to Y/N just because we want her to join us and have fun? You’re unbelievable, Vick!”

Wonyoung remains calmly collected, but there is no mistaking the irritation in the twitch of her eye. “I never said that, and I don’t want to argue with you, Jen. Just think rationally; attending Devil’s Night is not something we should take lightly. You and I both know that a person’s life will never be the same after the experience, if they even manage to survive the night.”

“Survive the night? What does that mean?” You butt in, both curiosity and incredulity evident in the cadence of your voice, but they simply ignore you, or maybe they are too busy communicating by still continuing the glaring contest, neither of them backing down.

“We’re wasting time here, girls.” Karina speaks up quietly, her eyes darting between them cautiously before settling on Wonyoung. “As much as I love that you’re being the overprotective mom of our group, just please don’t ruin this for us, especially since it’s Y/N’s first Devil’s Night, so we would want her to have a memorable experience, right? We promised that we won’t let anything happen to her, so have faith in us.”

“Yeah, have faith in us, Wony.” Yunjin emphasises with vehemence of mockery lacing her tone. “Besides, how long are you going to shelter Y/N as if she’s some helpless damsel and not a grown woman like us?”

You clench your fist, hating how your best friends are arguing because of you once more, but this time, you manage to find your voice to speak up. “I’m not in the slightest bit scared about attending Devil’s Night,” You pause briefly, internally wincing after having to say the word. “And I’ve always wanted to attend a party with you girls, so can we please not argue anymore and end with a groupie hug?” You state unsurely, seeing as Yunjin and Wonyoung never relent from the glaring contest.

Eventually, the two relax their tense postures, but neither of them utters an apology to the other. Nevertheless, Karina initiates the group hug, forcing Wonyoung and Yunjin to nestle closely while they grumble, but their features soften when you wrap your arms around them.

“Friends, again, right?” Karina asks nervously but covers up with an optimistic grin as she looks at them while you anticipate the same.

Wonyoung’s face remains impassive as she leans slightly forward to Yunjin. “If anything happens to Y/N, the blame is on you.” Her voice is low, carrying an undercurrent of warning.

Yunjin rolls her eyes, not intimidated in the slightest. “You’ll be thanking me instead for when Y/N has the time of her life at Devil's Night.” Just like that, the tension between them subsides, though they still harbour some pettiness over the action and words of the other behind the reconciliation.

“Let’s go, then. At this rate, we’ll be the last ones to arrive and miss out on most of the fun.” Karina says, prompting Yunjin to walk past Wonyoung before Karina follows after her.

You busily proceed to stuff whatever necessity into your white mini leg bag before wrapping the strap around your thigh, securing it fittingly. You look in the mirror to do a final examination of your appearance before turning around to depart from your room. Your eyebrows jump in surprise when you see Wonyoung waiting for you just outside, and her face remains disconcertingly as serious as ever.

“Are you sure about this?” She asks you as soon as you step closer to her, and her voice has a touch of gentleness to it, which makes your eyes soften as you recognise her concern for you. “I just don’t want you to feel pressured by them, which is why you’re going.”

“Yes.” Although you sound decisively certain, you can’t say the same for your churning stomach, but you ignore it since you are genuinely looking forward to the fun. Giving her a smile of final assurance, you begin to loop your arm around hers. “I love you, Wony, but Yunjin’s right, you know? I can’t be sheltered like I used to, and I want to graduate without any regrets.”

Wonyoung seems to believe in the conviction in the way you carry yourself, oblivious to the mask of bravado you put up, but you have to convince your best friend that she can trust you with your own safety without having her hover over you constantly. “Well, if you say so.” She softens with a smile.

Being the only one in your friend group who passed her driving license, Karina offered to drive the three of you to the venue with her polished purple Porsche, but in your mischief, you were quick enough to occupy the passenger seat, earning an approved grin from Karina, whereas Yunjin and Wonyoung did not look pleased to be seated in the back together.

Though it hasn’t been long since the four of you departed from the dormitory, silence encompasses the car with only an euphonic tune of the latest hit emanating from the dashboard radio, which feels unusual even to you since you value silence most of the time and your best friends would always be loud. It most likely has to do with the remnants of bitterness that Yunjin and Wonyoung still harbour towards each other, judging by the way they seem to be avoiding each other’s eyes. Karina meets your eyes, grimacing before deciding to increase the volume of the radio to override the awkwardness amidst the tension.

You hope that their usual dynamic would return to normal by the time you arrive at the venue. You press your lips thinly together before deciding to shift your focus to the window, where the view of multifarious buildings greets you, albeit most of the buildings appear to be oddly barren. Even the streetlights look eerily dim. It looks like Karina is driving through a town that you are unfamiliar with, and you would actually consider it a ghost town if it weren’t for the other vehicles driving on the same road as you, possibly the other guests.

You focus on the road ahead of you in an attempt to distract yourself from the unease that is creeping up on you, but soon confusion fills your head as Karina continues to drive past the last of the structured villas before entering into a massive road where a boulevard of trees towers on both sides of the road, because naturally, you expected the location of the festivity to be at a typical frat member’s backyard of their villa or even mansion, but from the looks of the road that continues to lead you to the unknown, you hope that it won’t be at a literal haunted building.

Soon, amidst the darkness that ostensibly obscures the road around you, an unmistakable illumination emerges ahead as you squint your eyes. With the velocity that Karina picks up, it isn’t long until the massive surprise awaits you, quite literally. You even have to blink your eyes repeatedly a couple of times, uncertain whether or not you are seeing the exact same thing as your best friends.

Karina decelerates the speed of her car as soon as she spots the vehicles lining up ahead of her that leads to a driveway before coming to a complete stop right behind a BMW. She taps her fingers on the leathered steering wheel that matches the beat of the music, letting the time pass while multitasking to slowly drive forward as the queue ahead shortens. From her peripheral vision, she notices the way your lips go parted and your widened eyes, bringing a small grin to her lips. “Are you liking the view?” Karina asks coyly, even drawing Yunjin and Wonyoung’s attention to you.

“Yeah, I just─” You become distracted when your eyes land on the creepy scarecrows situated in the land of greenery right outside, prompting you to turn your head to meet Karina’s eyes. “I didn’t expect that the festivity would be held at such a massive manor.” For a moment, you had no idea whether or not to utter the word palace, because it perfectly describes the sight that you are viewing.

A knock draws your attention, noticing Karina pushing down a button at the side that allows the driver’s window to roll down, revealing a manly figure with his identity obscured by a mask that is identical to the one you saw yesterday on campus. You observe him with curiosity as he holds the beaming flashlight at the interior of the car, squinting when the light skims your face. For a moment, you become hyperaware of this indescribable tension as he continues his examination of the car before he walks over to the back of the car. As though it is a routine, Karina instantly presses a button that allows him to examine the trunk. Upon hearing two knocks, Karina steps on the gas pedal, allowing the car to move forward, and it’s also when you notice the imposing black gates open, granting access to the territory.

The first thing that greets your sight up close is the grandeur of water fountains situated across the broad front yard, particularly the massive one that stands out in the center. As Karina continues to drive forward, you take the opportunity to marvel at the divine modernisation manor that looks more monumental than any building you have ever seen. It almost looks like a whole palace, making you wonder if the interior structure of the manor also looks similar to a royal palace. Above all, you wonder who is the owner.

“We’ve finally arrived, girls.” Karina announces, as soon as she pulls over on the massive asphalt where different ranges of vehicles are arrayed, before switching off the ignition of the engine, whilst you proceed to unbuckle your seatbelt and exit the vehicle.

The collective movement of the other guests captures your attention, and your eyes sparkle with amazement at the diversity in their costume designs and makeup, but ultimately, you grimace at the unpleasant sight of those who intentionally dressed up horrifically as part of their devotion to tone with the Halloween theme. But you applaud their commitment.

Being driven by the excitement buzzing in you, your feet gravitate you to the main entrance while your eyes continue to scan the manor’s facade. It doesn’t appear as eerie as you expected, devoid of spooky ornaments, but you know better than to judge early. Though you don’t and have never celebrated Halloween, you know that it does also entail unexpectancy, and so you mentally prepare yourself for any potential fright that this manor has to offer on this devilish night.

A poster that has a similar depiction of the flyer from yesterday catches your eyes, prompting you to move over to the grand pillar that has the poster attached to it just outside the main entrance. Though the depiction alone emanates something so sinister that it should have perturbed you, you find yourself being highly intrigued by what makes this festivity notoriously unique that never fails to compel almost everyone to attend.

Your eyes land on the familiar symbol that even you recognise — a human skull with a pair of discordant horns on its head with a long dagger impaled directly into the skull from above, reminding you of the holy cross with the way its t-handle is upside down. The Devil’s Knights’ symbol. Something familiarly unpleasant begins to churn in your stomach.

When you first heard about Devil's Night, you had a strong inkling that the event, let alone the name itself, would bring bad tidings to anyone involved. It is a popular annual Halloween festivity that is hosted by the notorious fraternity of Devil’s Knights, and according to your best friends, the overall in-charge of the event are the four leaders, who technically also dominate the university. But you see them all the same — just a bunch of delinquents who love to flaunt and assert corruption and dominance over Redcrest University everywhere they go. You find it ridiculous how even the board of the university simply overlooks their delinquency, but based on your current knowledge, it has something to do with the fact that the university benefits greatly from the eminent yet influential figures, whose long family line had enrolled into the university for many generations and earned many achievements, thus elevating the status of the university name that eventually earns a notable standing in the high society over the years across SoKor.

You hear your name being called with footsteps rushing from behind before you feel a hand on your shoulder to draw your attention to your best friend, whose countenance is unable to conceal the concern in her eyes. “You forgot your mask.” She tells you as she holds up a white masquerade mask.

You thank Wonyoung with a sheepish smile, but before you can retrieve it from her, she assists you in wearing your mask, securing the lacey material around your head and tying it into a perfect ribbon. You have forgotten that there is a special theme for this year’s Devil’s Night, which is masquerade macabre, wherein all guests are highly encouraged to attend with their own masquerade masks, though you have no idea why, but it’s probably a mere decoration on the guests’ part.

Plus, it is no wonder that you have been getting unpleasant stares from the people in your vicinity because they recognise the only renowned good girl who is practically the emblem of purity on campus, aka you, not that you are proud of it, considering that many view you with such abhorrence despite the fact that you have never disrupted the peace of others, just minding your own business and living quietly while trying your best to avoid drawing any attention to yourself. 

With Karina’s arm locking around yours, the four of you stride forwards towards the main entrance, moving past the two imposing knights that probably pose as the bouncers as they seem to scan the guests for any potential trouble. As soon as you manage to cross past the final border to make it into the manor, you are immediately greeted by the terrifying ornaments in every interior part. You gulp nervously at the sight of the bloodstains that serve as part of the decoration, having no idea whether or not those are indeed blood imitations. Nevertheless, even those fail to overshadow the beauty of the manor, not even the dim lighting that exudes a haunting setting.

Despite your newfound admiration for the manor, there is an agitating turmoil within you that mirrors the way your heart pounds harder in your chest, having zero knowledge of what horror the night will possibly entail. Your fingernails dig crescents in your palm, repressing the cowardly side of you. You hate how you will always be the one with the faintest heart out of them all.

Just when you intend to ease up, your discomposure returns as you and your best friends release blood-curdling screams when four hideous scare actors bring terror upon the bunch of you as soon as you enter the main foyer. Chuckles and murmurs emit from the other guests loitering in the same area as they look at the commotion, but you are too preoccupied with regulating your emotions and breathing as you clutch onto Wonyoung’s arm instinctively.

Is it too early to say that you’re already regretting popping your Halloween virgin cherry?

“Oh, fuck off!” Karina snarls at them, imitating a cat-like hiss that brings a faint smile to your lips at how amusing it is. “That was uncool!” She expresses her displeasure to one of the scare actors with a scowl on her face while Yunjin shoots an icy glare at them as they chortle in unison behind their hideous yet terrifying masks.

“Lighten up, darling~ It’s Halloween!” The scare actor counters jeeringly before high-fiving his fellow associates with derisive laughter emitting from them even as they walk away to find other targets to bestow the same terror.

“Devil’s knights. How typical,” Yunjin scoffs out as she crosses her arms over her chest, but her eyes wander to you with concerned intent, considering your scream was the loudest out of the three of them. You release a shaky sigh, relaxing a tensed muscle in your shoulder. Of course, those scare actors were the devil's knights.

“You guys finally made it!” A high-pitched squeal diverts your attention to the familiar blonde, who is dressed up as Annabelle from the famous Conjuring film, but she manages to pull off the look rather adorably instead of ghastly. Her eyes instantly meet yours, greatly surprised yet delighted to see you. “Y/N?! Are my eyes deceiving me right now? You came!”

You don’t have time to process when she crashes into you, her arms latching around your figure and steadying you while breathy chuckles elicit from you as you reciprocate her eager hug. “You’ve just seen me yesterday, Minjeong.”

Minjeong, who also majors in journalism, is a part of the circle and a trusted friend to you. She is like a bolt of lightning. Despite her ebullient disposition, she can be fierce and intimidating when needed.

“We knew those screams sounded familiar.” This time, another voice grabs your attention with its familiar mirth, and at once, the rest of your familiar group of circle has gathered around you, greeting you with heartfelt hugs and gushing over your look that makes you feel rather bashful at their generous compliments.

In your line of sight are Kazuha, Chaewon, Liz, Rei, Yujin, Giselle, and Ningning. Whereas Kazuha, Chaewon, and Yujin are majoring in arts and entertainment management, Liz, Rei, and Ningning are majoring in economics. Giselle, on the other hand, is in the same major as you, Wonyoung, and Winter. Despite the fact that all of them are highly regarded as the it girls of the university that falls in the same league as your roommates, not once have they ever left you out and made you feel an outcast, especially considering that most of the student body dislikes you for reasons you deem irrational.

So what if they hate you just because you did not hail from an esteemed, affluent family? You managed to pass an entrance exam with a perfect score, and you even earned yourself scholarships over the years of your education here. Frankly speaking, you are not bothered by the fact that there are students who dislike you for your status ranking, because at the end of the day, your GPA remains a perfect 4.0, and you are on the director’s list of exceptional students. Plus, your future is all set. You just need to maintain your GPA and graduate and get the hell out of university without involving yourself in any trouble for the next few months.

You mentally detach yourself from the ongoing chatter from your group of friends, your eyes scanning every part of the crowd, searching for a certain leader who had his eyes on you yesterday. The memory feels fresh as it is embedded in your mind. But he is not anywhere in your line of sight.

Yunjin, who notices how you seem to be distracted in searching for someone, nudges you with her elbow, which has you meeting her curious eyes. “Anyone in particular you’re looking for?” She asks, her voice low, as she knows that you’d hate for the other girls to pester or even tease you if they heard her question.

“No one. I was just admiring the place. It looks similar to a grand palace, don’t you think?” You hide your disappointment behind a smile, without knowing that it does little to convince Yunjin, but she decides to drop it.

“Okay, girls, gather around." Karina announces, and the group of you huddle in a circle, with giggles and banter emanating from your friends. “While we’re here to have fun, we must never forget to keep Y/N in our sight at all times, especially since this is her first time attending Devil’s Night. Plus, it would really ease Momma Wony, who has been awfully worried for our girl.”

“Hey, I’m not a kid! I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself!” You assert strongly, but your demur goes unheard by them as they continue to quickly run through what to look out for, or rather who to look out for — the Devil’s Knights’ leaders.

“It’s for your own good, Y/N.” Wonyoung tells you softly after noticing the sour expression on your face as soon as they begin to disperse while you remain by her side, dragging you with her. Your best friends seem to know their way around the manor, pushing their way through the bustling crowd as they venture deeper.

“You girls really don’t have to worry about me.” You remain adamant while reluctantly allowing yourself to be dragged by Wonyoung. Your eyebrows furrow, and your lips downturn into a frown. “I know how and when to steer clear of trouble.”

Despite being the same age as them, your best friends and the others who are in the same circle of friends as you often coddle you, including protecting you from anyone who has ill intent towards you, especially from some of the frat members who have tried to approach you in the past. Of course, you feel much gratitude for your friends, and you are blessed to be surrounded by feminine love and support, but there are moments when you do feel overwhelmed by them and frustrated as they seem to think that you are incapable even when you prove yourself to them, but according to them, your innocence is highlighted as crucial and needs to be protected. Sometimes, it feels as though they feel obliged to shelter you from the cruel reality and want you to remain the way you are. Pure, and a literal saint, but you hate it.

“I know, but you have to understand that this Halloween is different.” Wonyoung asserts firmly, to which you can’t help but resign. “Trouble is everywhere here, and no one is immune to attracting trouble. Not even you.”

“What is so different about a mere Halloween party?” Still, you mutter with a sass of attitude, but audible enough for Karina and Yunjin to hear that has them raising their eyebrows at this attitude of yours.

“It’s different because each Halloween hosted by the devil’s knights differs from the previous Halloween.” Karina answers as though she has recited this before, and when you look into her eyes, you see uncertainty shine through them. “Really, we can never predict what they have up their sleeves. But one thing that remains constant is the fact that Devil’s Night is not meant for anyone faint of heart.”

“Ironic, because here we are, dragging Y/N with us.” There is a familiar bite in Wonyoung’s tone, but you frown at her as she impliedly agreed that you are one of those with a faint of heart.

“Nothing is going to happen to Y/N as long as we stick by her side.” Yunjin reassures Wonyoung firmly once more, annoyance filtering her voice, but your attention drifts to the new scenery before you.

It appears that you haven’t been paying attention to your surroundings earlier, as you now find yourself entering what looks like a club. Incredulity buzzes through you the way the blasting music does. You definitely did not expect that there would be a club inside the regal manor. The club looks lavish with a B-stage right at the very front and a bustling crowd enjoying and dancing to the music that has obscene lyrics, which brings a grimace to your face, but you know that you have to get familiar with being in this environment if you want to step out of your comfort zone. 

You follow Wonyoung closely while marvelling at your surroundings. You have no idea how enormous the venue is, but you can’t deny the fact that you find it impressive, and there are even two separate bars on each side of the venue. Yunjin grabs you by your forearm and drags you with her and Karina to head over to the bar while Wonyoung trails behind you. Thankfully, there are not many people by the bar, but even so, you become conscious of the way you look as more eyes latch onto your form, making you feel as though you are naked.

“Do you want a non-alcoholic drink?” Yunjin asks you as soon as the four of you settle on the high stools where you are facing the bartenders in their element, serving other guests that are seated by the booth as well.

“I actually would like to try some alcoholic cocktails, maybe a margarita?” Your statement elicits genuine surprise from them. You bite the inner cheek, holding back a smile that displays your pride. Of course, they did not expect you to know the name of a single alcoholic beverage, but you did. You had done some research last night, skimming through the internet and memorising the alcoholic beverages. Plus, you didn’t want to look like a complete amateur at your grown age, wanting to impress your best friends.

“How did you know?” Yunjin asks, speaking for the other two who have the same question in mind, and yet Yunjin seems proud with the way her eyes sparkle.

You give her a sheepish smile. “Just because I don’t go places like this often doesn’t mean I’m an amateur. i know things too, you know?” You tell her coyly, eliciting amused chuckles from them.

“A margarita for the angel right here.” Yunjin chirps to the bartender while pointing her finger at you, and being a natural flirt, she winks at the bartender, who, in return, blushes but quickly proceeds to make your order.

“Are you sure about drinking?” As always, Wonyoung’s worry for you is evident when the glass of margarita is served to you. “You might get tipsy after a few sips since you have never drunk one before.”

“Don’t discourage her, Wony.” Karina says with a disapproving frown on her lips. “If Y/N says she wants one, she will have one.” Wonyoung rolls her eyes at her, but acquiesces.

The three of them watch you in anticipation as your fingers wrap around the delicate stem of the glass before raising it to your lips and taking tentative sips. As soon as the cocktail hits your tongue, you decide to drink it wholly in one go, surprising your best friends once more at how natural you are at it.

“How is your first-ever drink?” Karina gives you a grin, her eyes glittering with approval, entirely impressed by this new side of you. 

The cocktail that you drank surprisingly isn’t too strong, but you feel oddly energised. You lick at the seam of your bottom lip before a grin spreads across your lips. “I’d like to try other drinks. Any recommendations?” You ask the girls, specifically Karina and Yunjin, as they enthusiastically introduce you to the drinks on the menu board.

Yunjin proceeds to inform all of your orders to the blushing bartender once more, including Karina and Wonyoung’s. As the three of your best friends are engaged in a conversation, you decide to look over your shoulder with your body tilting to watch the ongoing performance from a live band, and the music seems to be getting to you, influencing your body to sway to the rhythm. Your eyes skim over the sea of partygoers dancing among themselves and with each other, tempting you to join in the dancing yet intoxicating crowd.

Your lips curve into a small smile, finding yourself relaxed, totally at ease for once, probably thanks to the alcohol that has now invaded your system. You take sips of your drink again, relishing in the addicting flavour before placing down the half-empty glass on the table. Deciding to keep yourself occupied and entertained whilst your best friends are still having a conversation about a topic you know nothing of, your eyes wander around as you are lost in your thoughts until they land on a particular figure that stands out to you in a place full of partygoers.

Though he is seated on a velvety couch across the side of the club from where you are at, his visual is so outstanding that you simply cannot look away. Still in a trance, your eyes roam around the entirety of him before locking eyes with him, and just like that, you are struck by the dreadful realisation that you are staring into the eyes of the man who you used to have a crush on. From the way he raises his eyebrow attractively at you and how the amusement curls on his plump lips, you know that he has been staring at you.

His gaze is sharp as he continues to hold your gaze, seated leisurely on the couch with his legs spreading invitingly as though to tempt you to come over to him, rendering you flustered, and yet you find it hard to look away from him, wanting to feast your eyes on him for as long as you can. His lips tip up in a smirk as he takes sips of his drink, scanning you from head to toe for another time before the handsome view of him is blocked by an incessant group of partygoers.

But you have a feeling that you’ll be seeing him again, especially after recognising the patent desire burning in his eyes that parallels the desire pooling within you sinfully.

Humour manages to slither its way to your dazed mind that is tainted by the intoxication from the number of drinks you had, eliciting drunkard chuckles from you, and yet you don’t feel fully inebriated, just the slightest bit tipsy. A scoff follows after the chuckles that leave your lips before you tip your head to the back as you drink the last of your cocktail. You take a glance at the empty seats next to you that were previously occupied by your best friends. It is definitely ironic how your best friends, particularly Wonyoung, were insistent on keeping their eyes on you to prevent something from happening to you, but they are nowhere to be found now. Even so, you know yourself that you didn’t need any form of babysitting at a party despite this being your first time. 

Maybe this is the alcohol that is intensifying the feelings you buried deep, but frankly speaking, you have had enough of your best friends treating you like you’re a helpless, incapable damsel who is in need of supervision at all times. No, this time, you will prove to them that you can have fun without any restriction or anything happening to you. You will prove to them that you are far more capable than they think.

You decide to abandon your seat, nearly losing balance as dizziness strikes you in the head, but you swiftly regain composure, now standing on both feet steadily. Your eyes feel magnetically drawn across from the side of the club, expecting to see him, only to feel sheer disappointment to see no sight of him at where he was just seen earlier. Just when you feel confident to approach him, that is driven by the impulse of intoxication.

Nevertheless, you refuse to allow his absence to deter you from experiencing the fun by the dance floor with other partygoers, and so you gravitate towards the bustling crowd with red and purple LEDs in motion illuminating every part of the club that exudes such sensuality. You venture deeper, and instead of panicking and getting overwhelmed by the crowd around you, you feel oddly liberated with your body moving to the infectious rhythm instinctively, in which the DJ is currently playing Waka Flocka’s ‘No Hands’ as it reverberates throughout these walls.

You know that it has to do with the alcohol buzzing in your system that has completely relieved any rationale and any saintly quality from within you, rendering you unrecognisable as you go all out without any restriction, giggling and dancing fluidly as though you are a natural at it, but not a single regret comes to mind. 

Unbeknownst to you, he has his eyes fixated on you from the moment you venture onto the dance floor, completely mesmerised at the sight of you revelling in the abysmal toxicity. With the people in his vicinity recognising his unmasked face, they immediately give way to him, allowing him to make his way to you with ease. He bites down on his plump lip, enjoying the way you are flaunting your moves that accentuate your curves a little too much. 

You got him in a complete trance, enticing him to roam his hands all over you. Your giggles sound melodious yet seductive to his ears as soon as he nearly reaches you from behind. His eyes darken with each passing second as your body sways with fluidity, and your back is arched with your head tilted up, immersing yourself in the music while a sultry smile smears across your lips. He can feel his cock hardening beneath the slacks.

Fuck, he has no idea there is a side to you that he gets incredibly turned on by, and it has been so long since anyone has managed to make him as enragingly turned on as he is now. Flashes of images of you being fucked relentlessly by him appear in his mind as he fantasises, and how he can already imagine your taste that probably won’t satisfy him, utterly insatiable.

Without thinking twice, he places both hands on your waist from behind, his fingers tingling at the sensation of your body as he allows his hands to roam around your curves with perverse intent. Your body feels so undeniably right in his hands, as though you were always meant to be held by him. Instead of feeling alarmed, you remain relaxed and loose, swaying along to the music with the supposed stranger behind you.

You allow him to pull you closer until your butt cheek hits his hardness, causing your breath to hitch in your throat at the solid sensation, and yet you can’t seem to stop dancing. You unintentionally grind yourself back against him, eliciting a sound between a low groan and growl from the back of his throat that shocks you to the core. Your heart pumps rapidly with anticipation as his hot breath fans the shell of your earlobe while his strong arms snake around your waist, locking you in his possession.

In your delirium, you tilt your head up and lean on his shoulder lazily, allowing him to guide your movements instead. His strong cologne is intoxicating as it infiltrates your senses. You hear his low, ragged breaths next to your ear, as though he is struggling to control the bestial side of him before you feel him dipping his head in the curve of your neck, his nose burying in your skin as he inhales your sweet scent that has automatically been engraved in his mind.

A startled gasp leaves your lips when you feel his warm lips touch your skin before he proceeds to kiss your neck sensually. You should be pushing this stranger away, but instead, you allow yourself to fall weak and succumb to the allure of his kisses on your neck. Soft moans leave your lips unabashedly as his lips assault the sensitive spot on your neck, causing his arms to tighten around you at your sweet noises. “You sound just as exquisite as the way you taste.” You hear him murmur those words, or you assume he murmurs those words, since the music is overpowering, but you swear you recognise his voice. 

In a blink of an eye, he spins you around, his hands remaining on your waist. Though the lighting in the club is dim, the LEDs allow you to catch a glimpse of his face. Recognition glimmers in your eyes that is soon followed by mortification at the realisation that you were being brazenly intimate in the middle of the dance floor, as though most people around you weren’t grinding and making out lewdly in the open from earlier.

“Jake.” You utter his name, feeling both confused and aroused while your breath sounds shaky, but the view up close of his fine glory has you foaming at the mouth as your eyes roam around the entirety of him. He looks sinfully attractive in all denims with his chain necklace hooked around his neck, and his long raven hair has been styled impeccably with a few strands hovering over his chiselled forehead. Your eyes catch a sight of a unique inked tattoo of a snake on his collarbone area peeking due to his loose white tee that hangs a little low on his frame.

“The one and only, sweetheart.” You meet his eyes, nearly melting into a puddle when his kissable lips arch into a smirk. You don’t make any protests as you remain numb in his possession. Everything feels surreal, making you doubtful if the man you once had a crush on finally notices you in the way you wanted, but you continue to dance with him, taking him by surprise when you throw your arms around his neck.

You feel your arousal pooling in your womanhood as you see him licking his lips sensually before leaning down and assaulting your now-arched neck with his addicting lips. “I’m glad you came. The party was getting boring without you here.” He says in between kisses while the wet, smacking sound of his lips arouses you greatly. He groans huskily in your ear before nipping your earlobe with his teeth gently. “You look so fucking gorgeous, sweetheart. I can’t get enough of you.”

Your legs nearly go jelly, prompting you to lean dependently into his body, and for a moment, just when you succumb to his dark allure, the truth hits you hard, which propels you to push him away, but he holds you firmly, depriving you of any escape. “You can’t be calling me ‘sweetheart’.” You protest weakly, wanting nothing more than to submit yourself to him completely. He seems to ignore your protest as he leans in to press a sensual kiss on your cheek. “And you definitely can’t be kissing me.”

Jake shrugs his shoulders indifferently. “Why can’t I?” He asks, feigning curiosity in his tone, but the devilish curl at the corner of his lips betrays his mask. 

“Well, you should only be kissing someone you like.” You murmur, your eyes crestfallen as you feel familiarly crushed by the hard truth that he probably doesn’t recognise your voice as it’s been years since you last interacted with him, not that you expect him to. Plus, your masquerade mask obscures half of your identity, so there is absolutely no way he even bothered to remember you. “You probably don’t even recognise me, let alone know my name─”

“Y/N,” Jake tilts your chin up with his fingers, forcing you to meet his firm eyes, his gaze holding genuine integrity and recognition. Upon seeing your eyes widening in surprise, his features soften as he caresses your cheek tenderly. “How could I not recognise you?”

You immediately recover by relaxing your muscles and allowing him to pull you closer until his prominent bulge presses into you. Your heart races at his dark gaze that smoulders with an unmistakable desire before he looks down at your lips. “We really shouldn’t be like this, and you can’t kiss me again.” You try to reason with him, but you lack tenacity, as evident in the way you bask in his warmth.

For a fleeting moment, you wonder what goes on in his mind as you notice hesitation in his eye before the familiar mischief that you recognise returns to his countenance. With one arm locked around your waist, he uses the other to cup your cheek. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re at a party, so there are no restrictions. It’s completely normal for us to be kissing, especially on the dance floor.”

You fall into the deceit he covertly orchestrates, his voice a mellow in your ears that renders you nearly bare your soul to him. “Really?” Your tone holds such pure innocence; it is a calling to his corruption, bringing a smirk to his lips, loving how gullible and adorably naive you are as you stare at him with sparkling eyes.

“Of course it is. If you didn’t know it yet, this is my domain, so we can do whatever the fuck we want, and no one would dare to question what you do.” Jake says with an attractive drawl in his voice before leaning in to whisper in your ear, his husky voice intensifying the need pooling in you incessantly. “Besides, I do like you.”

“You do?” Your eyes widen while butterflies awaken in your tummy. “Why?” You can’t help but feel doubtful of his declaration, fearing that he is being a total Casanova, as he always has been throughout the years you have known him.

“You’re a nice and sweet girl, so, so perfect for me. How could I not like you?” Jake gives you a charming smile, and just like that, you fall for his irresistible charm. He presses his body into you, feeling you up while the distance between your lips slowly decreases. “My sweet girl.”

If you could verbally purr right now, you would, but instead, you lean closer to him, your head resting on his shoulder, basking in the newfound comfort and safety in his arms. You feel him pressing his lips on the side of your head, causing your lips to twitch into a content smile, oblivious to the devilry he has been keeping at bay.

“Someone as pure as you shouldn’t have come here,” Jake whispers softly, almost inaudible due to the overpowering music, but there is no mistaking the darkness lacing his once-mellow tone. “Now that you’re here, there is no way I’d ever let you go after this.”

Instead of being fearful of the discernible obsession in the way he speaks, you snuggle into him, loving the idea of being his forever. “Don’t let me go, Jake.” You plead softly, but even you know that you are not entirely in your right mind. In this moment, you simply don’t care, only wanting his attention and affection.

Jake smirks at you, his eyes glinting with devilry and satisfaction, successfully having you, the renowned Y/N kang and the emblem of purity, right in his possession. “Be careful what you wish for, my lovely dearest.”

Your face twists into a grimace as you feel your head throbbing, but your steps never falter as you continue your search for any restroom in this broad club, wanting to cleanse your hands as well as to recuperate yourself after spending all of your energy on the dance floor. You recall how disappointed you were when your moment with Jake was cut short as he had to leave in a hurry for some reason, not before giving you a kiss on the cheek. Maybe what happened between you and your first crush was purely in the heat of a moment, and just maybe the words that left the casanova’s mouth weren’t genuine, but you have never felt as contented as you were earlier.

You release a sigh of relief upon seeing the washroom signage after ten minutes of walking around in confusion, and it looks like this is the only washroom in this club. You hope that there is no one inside, but just as you push open the door, you are greeted by a strong yet odious smell with smoke wafting in the air in an enclosed space, causing your nose to automatically crinkle in disgust.

The moment your eyes land on four figures occupying the corner part of the washroom, you freeze, because not only do they have their attention fixated on you, but also because you recognise the masks that obscure their identity. They appear to have finished smoking some sort of substance, but whether or not it’s illegal, you can’t bring yourself to care about it, because the only thing you are very much hyperaware of is the danger that emits from them, and the red LED that surrounds the place only seems to make them appear more villainous than they already are.

You try to find your voice, to utter an apology or anything that can excuse your unintentional intrusion, because as much as you despise the Devil’s Knights, you know better than to be on your high horse in their territory, but you tremble with fear as they begin to approach you, similar to predators toying with their prey, no doubt having ill intent towards you. Your mind is screaming at you to flee, but your entire body feels paralysed to even move back an inch.

Before you can even silently utter a prayer, the door behind you is pushed open in a manner that suggests that whoever it is, they seem to be barging into the washroom urgently. Just as you are about to turn around and see who it is, his voice startles you greatly. “You guys just love to piss me off. How many times do I have to tell you bastards that no smoking is allowed in the washroom?” His voice is devoid of any warmth, sending a familiar yet unpleasant chill down your spine. “If I see you pulling this shit again, you’ll have Heeseung as well to deal with. Get out, now.” 

Without a word, the four knights waste no time in departing the washroom, sparing you no glance as though your presence is merely non-existent. Despite the disconcerting chill you feel in being in the same vicinity as him, you find it a tad humorous how he seems to have saved you from his own underlings, even though you doubt that it was his intention. Yet, you can’t help but be in awe at his commanding presence alone, managing to overpower theirs all together.

Their final departure now leaves you entirely alone with the guy you never want to be anywhere near his vicinity. Painful awkwardness envelops you amidst the disconcerting silence, but you force yourself to take steps forward, albeit unsteadily, as the alcohol in your system returns to delay your reaction time and the fact that you feel his gaze burning into your figure. Somehow, you manage to find your voice. “Just so you’re expecting a thank you from me, I didn’t need your help, Sunghoon.”

You ignore his degrading chuckles that sound like painful shards of mirrors cutting through you. “Sure, you didn’t. You looked perfectly capable of defending yourself even when you were practically trembling.” His sarcasm causes your eyes to twitch in annoyance, but you try your best to ignore him as you proceed to wash your hands in the washbasin.

Though you are somewhat still under the influence of alcohol, you feel conscious enough to avoid any further unnecessary confrontation with him. Plus, there is absolutely no way Sunghoon knows who you are because of your masquerade mask and the fact that you haven’t formally interacted with him in your uni years until now. But when you accidentally meet his eyes in the mirror, you want nothing more than to bury yourself deep 6 feet under at the cruel recognition in his eyes.

You don’t dare to move an inch as he stalks you from behind. “You know, you made a big mistake by coming here.” He says in a sinfully attractive drawl. “It’s funny because I never would have thought that you would dare to step foot in a place that is not suited for someone like you. Guess you proved me wrong, princess.”

Maybe you were wrong, because from the implication in his remarks, you have a strong inkling that he knows who you are, or maybe you are just reading it all wrongly. Still, you turn around to face him, masking a bravado that you hope will convince him that you are someone else. “You think you know me?” Your tone holds an unrecognisable confidence in your ears. “I couldn’t even be bothered to prove you wrong, out of all people.”

“Careful with how you speak to me.” Sunghoon nearly growls out, unconcealing his true feelings towards you that feel rather on a personal level for reasons beyond your comprehension. He is unrelenting in each step of torment towards you, prompting you to back up until your lower back hits the sink behind you, preventing you from any escape as he is closing in on you. “You think you can act all mighty and arrogant just because you’re wearing that mask? Are you seriously taking me for a fool?”

His strong cologne hits you like an intoxicating wave, sending mixed signals to your brain as you feel both fear and attraction towards him, eliciting an inaudible whimper from you. You hate how he looks sinfully attractive up close with the red LED that enhances his impeccable visual that complements the menacing ambience he exudes.

Your heart pumps harder as his lips curve into a devilish smirk while his eyes look more callous than they did before. “Let me tell you something, princess. I don’t give a fuck whether or not you decide to prove anything to me. Even the way you dress up like a slut has no effect on me.” His voice is laced with venom, holding an unmistakable hatred for you that you can’t help but feel a stab of hurt in your chest.

Before you can muster any possible comeback, voices approaching the restroom from the outside render you alarmed. Sunghoon looks indifferent, but he takes you by complete surprise when he grabs you firmly by the arm before practically shoving you inside the only cubicle this restroom has. For a moment, you feel thankful to him when you manage to hide away at the perfect timing when they enter the restroom. 

But any gratitude to him is short-lived when Sunghoon pushes you up against the side wall with his palm covering your mouth while his dark eyes are glaring into yours heatedly, silently commanding you to shut the fuck up, and you do. The close proximity between the heat of your bodies barely manages to register in your head when familiar voices echo in the restroom, causing your eyes to widen in panic.

“Did you see the bitch getting all handsy over her as soon as she noticed me? It makes me feel whole lot better knowing that my ex-girlfriend obviously could never find anyone better than me.” There is no doubt that’s Kim Minjeong, aka Winter, her voice burning with resentment and arrogance.

Sunghoon feels your lips trembling in his palm before even noticing the entirety of you trembling with visible fear and anxiety in your eyes, and it is much worse when the girls outside clearly need to use the cubicle, as evident by their remarks in between the conversations. He knows that he’s supposed to take great pleasure in your fear of being discovered by your friends, but instead, there is this maddening sense of pity for you and the disbelieving fact that deep down, he feels inclined to help you with this inescapable situation, especially since one of them is already knocking on the door of the cubicle.

“Hello? Care to hurry up and help out a girl in need to use the toilet here?” Sunghoon rolls his eyes at the familiar sass that belongs to Giselle’s voice. “Seriously, are you taking a huge dump or something?”

Before you can panic further, your heart only pumps harder when Sunghoon leans in next to your ear, his breath caressing your earlobe. “You gotta trust me on this, princess. Just follow my lead and play along unless you want to get caught.” He whispers softly, but his tone holds an undertone of warning while his demand makes you feel instinctively submissive towards him.

Since you obviously have no choice but to comply, you give him a head nod, only to be rendered flabbergasted when he swiftly hoists you up against the wall with his hands, carrying you by the thighs with ease before he begins to grind into you, allowing you to feel something vulgar that is relentlessly in contact with your womanhood. Little do you know that in order for both of you to fully convince the girls outside, he needs to be really into you, and he finds it insatiable yet surprising by the fact that his cock manages to get hard because of you sooner than he thought.

Well, to be fair, Sunghoon knows that he cannot deny the irresistible beauty in his arms, all dolled up gorgeously that no doubt have many heads turn to you in one night. The skimpy white dress that accentuates your curves does nothing to help abate the salacious fantasy that has been playing in the back of his mind ever since he saw you from afar earlier. His ego flares when he notices you biting down on your lips, knowing that he is making you feel good in the pleasure contorting your angelic features.

You feel good, sinfully good, as his now-bulging erection hits you distinctly in the clit, your eyelids fluttering between closing and keeping them open to focus on him. You lean the back of your head on the wall, presenting your bare neck to his dark eyes, and your chest heaves heavily from the intensity of this newfound pleasure. This should be considered blasphemous to you, and yet you can’t resist stopping as you put in effort, rubbing your clit harder against him while he feels entirely smug to witness how pathetically desperate you are.

An accidental moan leaves your lips when you feel your clit being stimulated at a new height, making you highly sensitive as both of you continue to hump dry against each other like desperate lovers. The last of consciousness slips, and eventually you can’t be bothered to hide the sounds you have been keeping at bay. 

“What the fuck?” Giselle utters loudly in disbelief while the other girls make noises and remarks that express their disgust, especially as they assume that there is indeed a couple doing the deed with the way there is a continuous thudding sound against the wall. “I don’t know about you girls, but I definitely do not want to use a cubicle that’s been used by couples who fucked, like seriously, out of all places?”

You barely notice the girls’ departure from the restroom, only focusing on his extremely hard cock that continues to press and grind into your clit deliciously while moans continue to spill from your lips. He smirks down at you, his fang-like teeth peeking from his lips, feeling both aroused and amused at how pathetic yet adorable you are being highly sensitive and loud just by getting your clit stimulated. Oh, he is definitely going to have so much fun toying around with you.

“Sunghoon, we can stop now. I think they’re gone.” You manage to utter breathlessly in between moans after gaining consciousness, hearing nothing but only the sound of your moans that echo off these walls. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment, having no idea that you could get awfully loud.

Instead of agreeing with you, Sunghoon doesn’t seem like he has any intention to stop as he continues to grind his cock against your throbbing clit, intensifying the pleasure that courses through your body. You try to push him away by the chest, but you lack the conviction as you fall weak, succumbing to this twisted pleasure as you grind back on him. Your hips begin to stutter while your stomach tightens at the sensation of something delicious yet inevitable, feeling your bundle of nerves threaten to implode.

“Sunghoon.” His name sounds heavenly coming out from your moaning mouth, and the control he has over the remnants of his restraint finally snaps the same way any ill feelings he has towards you dissipate, being replaced by a driven need to ruin you.

Just as you nearly reach your climax, Sunghoon halts his movement, eliciting a needy whine from you, but you know that he is not done with you when he manhandles you into a position where you find yourself being bent over with your palms on the wall supporting your body, presenting half of your vulnerability for him to manipulate with perverse intent.

You gasp at the intrusion of his fingers sliding underneath your white lace underwear from behind, feeling them travelling further down until they make real contact with your aching womanhood while your clit throbs. “Damn, princess. You got this wet for me?” He asks smugly as his fingers continue to play around your sticky slicks sensually, causing your senses to heighten by the fact that you are evidently wet. “If I knew you were a pathetic, needy whore, I would’ve had my fun with you before anyone could.”

If anything, his degradation and dominance over you only turn you on painfully as your pussy is aching to be relieved. “Sunghoon, please.” You find yourself pleading with him, hoping that he would either cease this torment or give you further pleasure.

“My needy, slutty princess.” His voice drips with cruel mockery, and before you know it, his fingers plunge into your tight hole, eliciting a gasp from you at the painful intrusion. He hisses lowly, marvelling at how tight you are as your walls clench around him. “Don’t tense up. You’d only be hurting yourself if you don’t relax.”

For a guy who clearly despises you, he is actually capable of giving you advice as you follow, slowly yet unsteadily unclenching your walls around his fingers, but you still feel tight. Nevertheless, he resumes his assault, his strong, unyielding fingers delving rhythmically into your wet cunt while moans tumble past your lips. You have never felt anything like this — sickeningly and intimately invasive, and yet you never want this pleasure to end as you fuck back into his fingers.

It is mesmerising in the way you move, fuelling his fantasy with you that awakens the beast within him. Sunghoon scoffs as you express your desperation with your body before he deprives you of reaching the heights of your pleasure. You barely have time to register anything when he grabs you by the neck, his fingers circling around your throat and pulling you up roughly until your back hits his chest.

“S-Sunghoon—” You let out a sound between a gasp and a moan when his sticky fingers that are coated with your slick come in contact with your clit from the front, making your eyes roll to the back while you fall weak in his unyielding hold, your back arching off his front.

“I’m not stopping until you make a mess on my fingers, princess.” Sunghoon chuckles darkly in your ear, his fingers rubbing your clit in a maddening precision that has your thighs trembling from the onslaught of pleasure. “It’s cute how you could cum just by getting your clit played. You’re so fucking sensitive, and it’s pathetic. Imagine if people see you now? They’d be seeing how much of a needy slut the renowned good girl is for me.”

Sunghoon continues his insult and degradation while expertly multitasking in hurtling you to the edge of ecstasy, making you feel as though you have found a different type of heaven. You don’t miss the way his lips would graze against your jawline while his fingers around your neck tighten, sending you an odd fluttery sensation to your heart amidst this heady cocktail of lust and intoxication that surrounds you.

You can feel the knot forming in your stomach while your clit is aching tremendously for it to implode, and with the last of your moans echoing in the enclosed space, you finally come undone violently with a shuddering release, your lips parting at the delicious onslaught of pleasure while your body convulses in his hold. You begin to feel overstimulated when he continues to rub and press the padding of his fingers into your clit, eliciting a whimper from you, before he travels further below where your slick cum is prevalent, prompting him to deliberately coat his fingers with your wetness.

Still reeling in the aftermath from your high, you feel dazed, allowing him to manhandle you again as he turns you around to face him, only for him to shove his fingers covered in your cum into your mouth. You snap out of it when a certain yet foreign taste hits your tongue, feeling utterly revolted, but his dark eyes penetrate into yours, warning you that there would be consequences if you refuse to comply.

“Suck on them, princess.” Sunghoon commands, his voice sounding huskier with a patent lust. You obey despite the unpleasant sensation of the slick’s thickness, your tongue swirling around his fingers sloppily yet sensually while you maintain eye contact with him. He groans internally while he feels his cock hardening even more upon seeing how innocent you look with your pretty eyes staring up at him as you continue to suck his fingers messily, and yet there is an air of seduction emitting from you, your eyelashes fluttering and your head bobbing back and forth.

Eventually, Sunghoon pulls his fingers away from your mouth with the string of your saliva connected to them, and yet he doesn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by it as he inserts those same fingers into his mouth, tasting the remnants of your cum. You look at him with your cheeks flushed warmly, completely flabbergasted at the fact that he is tasting the mixture of your saliva and cum. You expect him to utter another insult or vulgar remark to you again, but instead, he casts you a smirk, his eyes glinting with danger and lust before he makes his departure from the cubicle, leaving you entirely breathless and wondering what the fuck just happened.

You stagger a step back before leaning your back against the wall, trying to wrap your head around the fact that it was far more intimate than what you had with Jake earlier. The realisation of the heated moment that escalated between you and him hits you like a brick, and the worst part is the fact that you don’t even feel any regret or remorse over the loss of your innocence, albeit it wasn’t the actual genital part. If anything, you want him to give you another mind-blowing session of being fucked purely by his fingers alone.

You immediately snap out of your sinful fantasy and force yourself to pull together. You can’t allow something like that to happen again, because you know that deep down, you would fully succumb to it with no way out. You shake your head and release a sigh before making your way to the washbasin to wash your hands, and if only it would be possible for you to cleanse your entire body. Your eyes examine your tousled appearance in the mirror, only to be taken aback by the smudge of your lipstick. 

Thankfully, you bring the lipstick with you, and you reach out for your mini leg bag that is attached at the side of your thigh. You reapply the lipstick on your lips after wiping any possible wet excess on your face and fix your appearance to make yourself look as decent as possible, because frankly speaking, you looked like a woman who just had mind-blowing sex with a hot stranger.

You proceed to make your way back to the bar, but you feel uncomfortable as you can feel the remnants of your wet slick smeared on your panties. Nevertheless, you put on a facade just as your best friends turn to you, finally returning to the bar that they left first earlier.

“We were looking for you, babe.” Yunjin tells you, carefully observing you as you take a seat at your original stool. “Where did you go?”

“To the restroom.” You simply reply, your tone betraying none of the whirlpool of emotions within you. “Felt a little overwhelmed. You know me; I’m not a fan of big places, but I’m trying.” Thankfully, they seem to have bought your excuse.

“So we were planning to have a shots challenge.” Karina tells you with a grin, a mischievous one that has you arching your eyebrows at. “I’ll explain later, but are you up for it? It’ll be fun!”

“Of course.” You say without any hesitation, causing Wonyoung to look at you with doubt in her eyes, but you ignore her. If this challenge could help you to forget whatever happened in the restroom, then you are more than willing to participate. Not minutes later, the challenge begins to take its place as you stare at the small shot glasses in front of you. Just before you can take your first shot, another realisation strikes you hard, because you remember the look in his eyes and how he speaks to you as well as the words he spoke — he knew who you actually were.

The cacophony of revellers and resounding music gradually ebbs in the background as he ambles along the sombre corridor, where the lights illuminating in every corner seeming ominously dim, heading towards the main meeting room where it is situated in the prohibited part of the manor, his shadow following closely like a spectre of menace. Jake, who was previously in denims, has changed into practical attire in preparation for the upcoming launch of the main event. He busily zips up his black bomber jacket while his face is devoid of the usual mirth, but his mind occasionally drifts off to you as though the memory of him holding you close is taunting him. 

A muscle jumps in his jaw. Jake had no intention of leaving you high and dry, but he was needed in order to stabilise the final foundation that will affect everything in the town where they will soon wreak havoc and spread terror, leaving no hope to shine through. It took every strength to fight off his temptation to snatch you away from the place and bring you to one of the rooms with the intention of giving you the best fuck of your life as well as leaving you with his marks on your skin. He forces himself to block you from invading his mind, not wanting to get a painful boner again as it’ll only be a bother since he is already running late for the briefing.

Jake’s ears pick up footsteps approaching from behind him, and yet he doesn’t bother to look, knowing that it is his best friend in the way he doesn’t feel the slightest bit threatened. “You’d usually arrive in the meeting room earlier than any of us. Been busy partying like the rest too, Hoon?” 

Silence is the only response from his best friend, not that he was expecting any from a guy who often zones out. Unbeknownst to Jake, Sunghoon’s mind is occupied by you and you alone. The only difference is that he has no intention to recall his encounter with you, but his mind is taunting him with the sinful memory of your sweet, seductive sounds while you voluntarily fucked yourself back on his fingers, and above all, the sweet taste of your cum that remains tingling on his tongue. He knows that he should not allow something like that to happen again, but even he has to admit that one taste of you is never enough.

Sunghoon pulls himself together before getting further into his salacious crave for you as they are nearly arriving at the official territory where it breeds corruption and toxication, not limited to the secrets hidden behind walls after walls.

They halt their steps, standing in front of the door that is made out of steel. Sunghoon gives Jake a head nod, prompting the latter to punch in the correct code on the digital padlock before the door chimes as it automatically opens for them. They are greeted by the familiar sight of a fairly lengthy corridor with separate entrances arrayed on each side of the walls as they step inside. Hearing the door behind them closing with an ominous thud, they begin to make their way to the main meeting room, where soon multitudes of voices are teeming in the cold atmosphere.

Without announcing their arrival, they stride into the main meeting room with an air of confidence and arrogance, drawing everyone’s attention to them as they recognise the familiar dominance they exude, rendering those beneath them to be prudently heedful to the power they wield with the same hands that had done an unthinkable amount of vicious damage.

A small smirk touches Jake’s lips as he takes delight in receiving the attention, practically thriving off it, whereas Sunghoon appears coldly indifferent with his hands tucked in his pockets, but they merely ignore the underlings from all four houses as they are settled and organised in their respective houses while their chatter and hilarity persist in a blending discordant. 

“I expected Jake to lack the decency in arriving at the meeting on time like always, but I didn’t expect you to be following Jake’s footsteps so soon, Sunghoon.” Of course, the only person in this room that loves to get on Sunghoon’s nerves is none other than Jay. “Don’t tell me you’re already hopping back on the fuckboy agenda? I thought you’d long since retired, buddy.” Jay casts a smirk at Sunghoon, casually lounging on a leather swivel chair with both legs settled on the table, and no doubt his signature smirk would make anyone swoon, but to the latter, it is simply infuriating that he is seconds away from delivering a punch to his face.

“Don’t piss us off, Jongseong.” Jake clicks his tongue in annoyance before throwing himself onto an empty swivel chair and making himself comfortable. “Better late than never.”

Jay’s smirk falls, only to shoot Jake a scowl. “Stop calling me that. You know how much I hate being called that.”

Jake, completely undeterred by the potential wrath he might face from his short-tempered best friend, retorts with a taunting smirk. “Then stop being an annoying dick. And you wonder why you can’t get into relationships with how fucking mouthy you are.”

Jay clenches his jaw, taunting with tension. “Says the guy who fucks girls on a daily basis. Probably a walking STI by now.” Sunghoon finds himself amused by their quarrel, but he replace his chuckles with a cough as soon as Jake shoots him a glare.

“The last time I checked, I was clean and safe, so fuck you—”

“Enough.” A firm voice is resonating enough to conquer the tumult of disarray in the massive room, instantaneously silencing everyone and shifting their attention to the only person in the room who has not uttered a single word since he stepped foot here, including drawing attention from the three leaders gathered by the conference table.

Heeseung’s figure remains eerily still as he is seated by the window sill, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other sporadically toys around with his prized melee, and something appears to have captured his high interest in the way his gaze is fixated on the opened window with a cryptic darkness shadows his princely features, but it disappears when he shifts his gaze to the entire fraternity, his gaze alone that is enough to assert dominance over them, especially since he is the oldest out of the four leaders by a year. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you're on time for the meeting. Devil’s Night is far from over, and it’ll only be over until I say so.”

“Classic Heeseung. Playing favourites when it comes to—" Jay grunts at the impact of being elbowed by Sunghoon, who has taken a seat next to him, but he remains disgruntled, casting a glare at the latter.

Heeseung disregards Jay’s remarks as he saunters towards the conference table, where there are ranges of knives displayed for any of their choosing. “Now that everyone is present, let’s begin the briefing. I want to start off by letting you know that the Devil’s Night you thought would be similar to the past years will be different tonight.” As expected, most of the knights erupt into murmurs, a blend of confusion and excitement. “For this year’s Devil’s Night, we're following the tradition of preying whoever you choose to prey on. They’re yours for taking, no matter the duration you want them to be in your possession. They’re yours and yours alone. No exchanging of prey is allowed, and no stealing of prey.”

The knights express their contentment and anticipation, evidently prepared to kickstart in reigning terror on the oblivious crowd in a jovial element currently. But they lower their volume when Sunghoon raises his hand to speak up. “Let’s not forget that we have another goal in mind: Kim Namgil and his crewmates.” Sunghoon looks over to the knights of each house, specifically his. “Do not forget to alert us if there are any movements from them, and remember that they’re ours to deal with.”

“Remember that your main goal is to wreak havoc and terror like you always do on Devil’s Night. Regarding the prey thing that I mentioned earlier, take it like it’s your reward for successfully becoming one of us.” Heeseung says with a smirk. “For those of you who are new recruits and this is your first ever Devil’s Night, the law enforcement should be the least of your worries, so don’t panic if you see a police car in town. They’re only here with the sole purpose of establishing the roadblocks to prevent our guests from escaping until Devil’s Night is over.”

“In short, you can do whatever the fuck you want for the next twelve hours.” Jake grins deviously with his hands clasped together. “In other words, unleash your inner devils like you always wanted.”

At once, an uproar emanates from the fraternity before Jay begins to dismiss them. “Don’t forget your masks and weapons!” He reminds them as they proceed to make their way out of the meeting room disorderly, eventually leaving the four leaders alone in the room — the very same leaders who have been successfully leading their respective houses with pride.

The notorious Devil’s Knights fraternity consists of four houses — North, South, East, and West — chosen names that were established way before their time. Each house has its own respective leader to oversee the houses, as there are more knights than two classes combined in each house. However, their goals are aligned. This has always been the system, as each year there are numerous new recruits, and they do have to dominate their respective territories on campus and even in town. Almost everyone is knowledgeable about and conscious of the notorious Devil's Knights. 

Redcrest University favours the Devil's Knights fervently, especially considering the fraternity was founded many years ago by four individuals whose blood now flows in the current leaders and the previous leaders before them, who are now affluent figures in high society today. Redcrest greatly benefits from Devil’s Knights for many years, including earning fame as it is ranked two in the Best Global University. Many speculated that Devil’s Knights may be a literal cult with an uncountable amount of graduated knights in all those years that are now scattered across the globe, some making their names in various industries, some working for the most powerful people on earth, some even earning seats in diplomacy, but one thing that remains indisputable is that with the depraved principles that had been instilled in them and how deviously smart they are academically, they could easily infiltrate their corruption into the system and reign over every corner of the globe. Or maybe they already have for a long time.

Aside from the deeper, darker part of their world, Devil’s Night is an annual tradition that has been going on since their founders’ times and happens on every Halloween. This tradition is also supported and endorsed by the mayor of Seoul and other influential figures that are highly regarded in the eyes of the government. Hence, there is no denying that by permitting Devil’s Night to be lawful on every Halloween, it proves that the government and its system have long since been corrupted.

All knights would gather in this specific meeting room for briefings and other important matters pertaining to the annual Devil’s Night content and planning, et cetera. However, there are some rooms that are restricted to any knights, be they lower or higher ranks, unless they are the leaders themselves. Furthermore, this very manor is officially owned by the four leaders, considering that it was those from the same bloodline as them whose blood runs deep in this very soil, the ones who invested and established the foundation of this manor, and many years later, the manor, including authority, has been bequeathed to the current leaders.

North: Sunghoon

South: Heeseung

East: Jake

West: Jay

These four powerful delinquents have proven their worth in many aspects of being the ideal Devil’s Knights and have successfully led their respective houses for the past years with their skills, and they were impressively the youngest leaders to have been appointed when they were just freshmen. Though they have different personalities, they get along well, considering that their fathers are best friends as well. But very few people know that they grew up together, and no one knows the burdens they each carry.

“So, I have something to share that might interest you, well, at least one of you.” Jake breaks the silence once the last few knights exit the room. His lips curl into a boyish grin. “Y/N is here; she’s actually here on Devil’s Night. I know, I couldn’t believe it either at first.”

Sunghoon raises his eyebrow inquisitively, feeling something so foreign burning in his chest that he immediately brushes it off. “You saw her?” He asks with disinterest while wearing a mask of indifference.

“I danced with her at the club.” Jake tells him smugly, his grin never faltering. “Even held her and felt so right in my arms. I couldn’t resist her after seeing how she looked like an absolute doll. A gorgeous angel in need of some company. Her friends probably ditched her.”

Sunghoon holds back a smirk from forming on his lips. For a moment, he thought that he might lose to Jake, but in actuality, the real winner is him, as he managed to taste you first and probably the only person to ever taste you.

For some reason, Jay’s body language shows interest in the description of you from the casanova’s mouth. “Let me have some fun with her first before the main event starts. I need to see her with my own eyes. No way am I missing out on a beauty like Y/N Kang, and it’s the Y/N Kang on Devil’s Night.”

Before Heeseung can say anything, one of the windows swings open, followed by an eerie howl, allowing the gust of wind to enter. The four leaders watch, completely unfazed by their dramatic entrance in a supposedly clandestine way, as a familiar figure wholly in familiar dark, practical clothing emerges as he climbs into the meeting room, followed by two figures that donned the same.

The three figures who have yet to make their identity known stand tall in their line of sight, and one of them even manages to tower over the four leaders. Simultaneously they proceed to remove their designated masks, now revealing their faces. Jake is the first person to greet them with a lopsided grin. They are known as the Devil’s Knights’ honorary members, above any lower and higher rank Knights, and they are only in their second year in Redcrest, skilful and perceptive sophomores more than any of their peers. Every Knight knows that these three are appointed to be leaders next year once the four current leaders step down and graduate from the university. Kim Sunoo, Yang Jungwon, and Nishimura Riki.

“We’ve already covered all the perimeters as you ordered. The roadblocks have been established too, and our team did their part to warn the people in town that are not part of the Devil’s Night’s guests to stay indoors.” Jungwon informs them, speaking like a true leader, as the ambience he exudes makes the current leaders feel a sense of pride.

“Spit it out.” Sunghoon says as he eyes Sunoo knowingly, causing the latter to roll his eyes at him. “Roll your eyes at me again and they’ll fall out. I can’t even count how many times I let you get away with this attitude of yours.”

“I was about to say it, but then you just made me not want to say it anymore.” Sunoo scoffs, albeit he is merely being playful, but his remark is not appreciated by the four leaders, who deadpan at him, causing him to sigh. “Alright, fine. Kim Namgil managed to sneak into our grounds with the rest of his crewmates, but we can easily overpower them. Oh, and Riki managed to place a tracking device on their vehicle, so it’s easier to track wherever they go.” Sunoo pats Riki on the shoulder with a proud smile while the latter grunts from the impact, his face a cold mask of nonchalance. 

“I don’t even want to ask what Namgil did to piss you off to a certain degree until you want to hunt him down.” Jungwon mutters, pausing briefly before continuing with a not-so-discreet guile. “So what did he do, anyway?”

“Simply put, he broke one of our rules.” Jay’s answer is short and comprehensible, yet the three musketeers are sharp enough to notice that there is actually more than what they let on, but they choose the safer ground instead, knowing that as much as the current leaders adore them in their own way, even they know that there are lines not to be crossed.

“So is Namgil the main hunt for this year’s Devil’s Night?” Sunoo asks with genuine curiosity. “Just asking since you guys were hell-bent on finding him for 2 years after he got transferred to another uni. It makes sense that he’s the main hunt.”

“No.” Heeseung’s voice is firm with conviction, drawing their attention to him with collective confusion. A smirk touches his lips while his eyes darken with primal danger. “Our main hunt is Y/N Kang.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw her, and she looks like an absolute darling—Wait, what?!” Sunoo looks puzzled and borderline horrified. “Out of all people? I’m begging you, just this once, please don’t kill her. She’s too pretty to be killed. I haven’t even gotten her to be my friend yet!”

“Sunoo.” Jungwon rolls his eyes at his best friend’s theatrics, whereas Riki gives him a side eye.

“No, Sunoo, we’re not killing her, and we have no intention to.” Heeseung heaves a sigh, tempted to rub his temple at the younger’s theatrics. “But we’ve decided that she’s our prey for the night.”

“You mean you decided.” Jake corrects him, his lips downturned into a frown because as much as he likes the idea of hunting you, he feels the same confusion as the other two. “Why Y/N, specifically?”

Heeseung doesn’t answer; instead, his smirk widens while the familiar cryptic danger shadows his features once more as he looks at the three leaders. “I trust that there are no objections from you, so you can do whatever you want with our prey, but do not in any way harm her that might put her life at risk.” He shifts his eyes to the three sophomores. “You may scare our prey and offer us any aid, but you are not allowed to make her your prey.”

“Roger that, bossman.” Jungwon salutes to Heeseung before signalling Riki and Sunoo to leave. The leaders do not expect anything less when the three proceed to jump over the window instead of using the door to leave like any normal human would.

“Don’t forget to inform your respective house members to steer clear of Y/N. But remember this, she may be your prey and yours to claim—" There is an undercurrent of warning and predatory claim in his voice as he nearly growls out his words to them while his eyes darken. “But at the end of the night, she’s mine.” The three exchange looks of understanding because somehow, they perfectly understand what he meant.

You hate to admit it, but you are falling deep into the abysmal depths of toxicity faster than you planned. What was once the intention to taste a minuscule fragment of Halloween fun turns into something that has consumed you completely, rendering you addicted to whatever sorcery they put in their beverages and music. 

As you are free from those little voices in your head that often judge anyone that isn’t suited to your moral compass, you can definitely understand the rationale of those who had been to Devil’s Night and the ones who were vocally hyped for Devil’s Night. The content and activities being hosted here are so diverse that no one can simply miss out on anything. Well, you did miss out on the famous cliché game of truth or dare, not that it bothered you.

Presently, you and your group of friends, including Winter, Giselle, and the others, are making your way back to the backyard once more after getting some refreshments earlier, needing some respite after going nearly all out for the first rave. With the drinks you ingested that recharged you and your friends, all of you decided to participate in the second rave, and according to them, it is the last rave of the night. But you have no idea what happens after, and your friends don’t either. Nevertheless, you are looking forward to having more fun with your friends, marking this the most memorable night you ever had.

The B-stage in the backyard is bigger than the one inside the manor at the supposedly club room, where you and Jake happened, and the crowd is now tenfold compared to the previous rave, which enlivened the night at its peak while the ambience is vibrantly teeming with the pink and purple LEDs flashing across the sea of crowds and into the starless sky. The bass-boosted music of Rihanna’s ‘S & M’ reverberates throughout the expanse of the manor and possibly even further, and you wonder if the residents in the same town do complain about the noise.

“Look at Y/N go!” Giselle’s remarks draw attention from your other friends to you, watching you in a vivacious element as you flaunt your moves alongside Chaewon, having long since let go of your inhibitions. Your face is now devoid of the white masquerade mask, not remembering where you threw it haphazardly. You’re not even sure if you are dancing with your cunty bob friend or grinding against some stranger, lacking spatial awareness.

“Okay! I need a break!” Chaewon laughs out, halting her movements, but you pout your lips at her, to which she giggles and pecks your cheek. “Sorry, babe, but you’re on your own now. Anyone want to head back to get some refreshments with me?”

A few of your friends do, and they proceed to depart from the bustling crowd as they follow Chaewon while the rest are either too drunk to notice that they are apart from each other or getting immersed in the upbeat music. Eventually, you blend into the crowd, making it impossible for your best friends to find you in this sea of people.

The thought of other warm, sweaty bodies coming into contact with yours doesn’t bother you in the slightest. There is a wild look in your eyes as you dance with a random couple, giggling and succumbing to the exhilaration brimming in your veins like white-hot fire; your body moves with fluidity to the pulsating beat of the music.

Being completely absorbed in the music, you fail to heed the incoming predator, who has his eyes fixated on you as soon as he manages to find the beauty that was described in detail once more from his best friend. Besides, it’s nearly impossible to look away from you even just for a second, because damn, you got him in some sort of spellbind. Just as he expects, you accidentally bump into him from behind, but just as you are about to turn around, his firm hands grip your waist as he pulls you back to him, allowing your back to hit his solid chest.

For a moment, your lips curl into a smile, a familiar giddiness bubbling in your chest while a sense of déjà vu hits you. “He’s right. You look so fucking gorgeous, like a doll, my doll for the night and many more to come.” His hot breath fans the shell of your earlobe while everything in the moment reminds you of Jake earlier, but this time, his touch has a hint of roughness, whereas there was gentleness in Jake’s, causing you to falter. “Now, why did you stop, babydoll? It’s just me. Don’t tell me you don’t recognise me.” He hums seductively while you can feel the vibration from his chest.

“Jay.” You breathe out as you finally recognise his voice in the haze of your mind. His hands remain on your waist, sending you goosebumps with the sensation of his warmth and danger as your primal instincts manage to get a hold of you to evade him, but it just feels so right to be close to him.

“Hey, baby.” Jay greets you affectionately, causing you to nearly melt against him, but the undertone of deceit in his way of affection is not lost on you, and yet you feel tempted to bare your soul to him with your head resting on his dependent shoulder. You tilt your head to an angle where his sharp jawline and handsome side profile greet you. Your eyes flicker to his pink lips, finding the silver ring hooked around his lower lip in the corner an attractive look on him. Your heart flutters when he gazes at you, his head angling in a way that his nose brushes against yours as he leans down.

Just when you are prepared for his lips to meet yours, he grabs your hand before raising it to give a sensual kiss on the back of your hand. “Don’t get all weak on me now, babydoll. You still have to show me your moves.” The signature smirk on his handsome face is all it takes for you to comply with his command, and you know better than to refuse him.

So you pull away from his warm embrace as soon as you feel his arms loosening around you. Like a natural, you immediately grasp onto the upbeat rhythm that pulsates through your body, allowing it to influence the alluring sway of your body, intentionally enticing the very man you were supposed to evade as his dark eyes roam around you with an explicit desire, almost ravenous, almost as if he wants you — one of the Devil’s Knights’ leaders wants you.

The realisation that this man, who wields the corruptive kind of power, is in fact a Devil’s Knights’ leader nearly has you faltering, but he deprives you of the chance to rethink your choices when he pulls you by the waist with a hint of roughness before taking you by complete surprise as he slams his lips into yours, kissing you with a sense of urgency. You moan airily into his mouth as he practically devours your lips with raw passion; your hands go winding in his hair while his hands are all over you, insatiable.

Jay groans lowly into your mouth as your fingers give a pleasurable tug on his strands. He knows that he should not be kissing you first, not when Heeseung hasn’t even yet, but time is running out, and he couldn’t just leave for his post without having a taste of your luscious lips. He smirks against your lips, feeling you arching your body into him and attempting to grind against him not-so-discreetly. He fucking loves it when you are being cutely desperate for relief.

Eventually, Jay breaks the liplock, allowing you a brief moment of respite, only for him to turn you around until your back hits his chest again, swaying to the music with you audaciously grinding your ass against his really prominent bulge, eliciting an attractive low groan from him at the sensation while you continue to tease him. A giggle leaves your lips upon feeling his breath tickling your skin when he buries his head into the curve of your neck. Instinctively, your hand ascends to brush your fingers through his soft strands, getting intoxicatingly immersed in the heat of the moment.

“Fuck, babydoll. I should’ve brought you home with me sooner. We could've had so much fun," Jay murmurs near your ear before he places a sensual kiss on your pulse, and just like with Jake, you feel the need to purr at his relentless affection over you. “The things I want to do to you right now.” He whispers in your ear huskily, igniting a pool of desire in your lower tummy. “But duty calls. I’ll see you later, baby.”

You frown at the loss of his touch and warmth. “Jay, don’t leave─” But as you turn around, Jay disappears as though he never existed, leaving you high and dry just like Jake did. Birds of a feather flock together indeed. You scoff in disbelief with the need pooling in your abate. 

“Y/N, for the love of God, do not ever disappear like that again! You got me so worried!” Wonyoung’s exclamation can easily be heard over the commotion as soon as you spot her just a few meters away from you.

Your face twists into a grimace at how visible the annoyance and frustration written on her face is, but you feel unease at the way her eyes hold a blend of apprehension and panic. Soon, you spot Karina and Yunjin gravitating towards you with the same apprehension on their faces. Just like that, you become conscious of your primal instincts, warning you that something big is about to happen and it is inevitable. You take a step forward to your best friends, but the music instantly dies out while the LEDs that were previously in motion go still in the air, eliciting confusion and anger from the crowd.

“What’s happening?” “Hey, DJ! We weren’t finished raving!” You hear commotions around you, making your already pounding head spin lightly. But what happens next throws you completely off guard, and subsequently, you become fully sober miraculously.

The deafening sound of a siren rings through your ears, which is akin to the purge, shattering the night of riotous jollity instantaneously. Despite the perpetual blaring siren, you can discern a dissatisfactory chorus of groans and clamours amongst the crowd. The LEDs begin to dim before it changes into crimson, but you manage to catch glimpses of your friends' contortions with confusion and collective percipience.

Before you can open your mouth to speak with the intention to enquire, a stentorian voice that belongs to a female startles you, as it is resounding enough for you to absorb her emphatic words into your mind despite the ongoing siren in the background.

"Announcing the commencement of the annual devil's night sanctioned by the mayor of Seoul. Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorised for use during Devil's Night. All other weapons are restricted. Commencing at the siren, any and all crimes, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Blessed be the four leaders of Devil's Knights."

At once, the tumultuous crowd begins to disperse in a haphazard manner, and some can be seen running as though they are being hunted down by unknown sources. Despite the fear in their contortion, you can't help but notice the glimpses of excitement and an eccentric ambience of thrill that pervade the haunting atmosphere that you find perplexingly odd.

Apprehension courses through your veins while your heart is palpitating wildly. You swear you can hear your pulse drumming loudly in your ears. In the midst of the ambiguity, your intuition is sending you a message that what may escalate next is not something you expected on a purported Halloween night routine, or rather, assumed.

"Ouch! Hey!" Annoyance bubbles within you upon having been shoved roughly by some people, resulting in you nearly plummeting to the ground if it weren’t for Yunjin, who swiftly and steadily supports you as she holds you against her.

"What is going on?" You ask in a demand, pure confusion reflecting in your eyes. You notice how Yunjin looks oddly collected, but as soon as her gaze runs over you, her eyebrows pull together before a low cuss is elicited from her. “Yunjin, nothing bad is going to happen, right? You promised.” You accuse weakly, your voice trembling as fear has you in a tight grip.

"I told you that it was a bad idea for her to come along!" Wonyoung startles you greatly with how she sounds genuinely irate, but when you take a glance at your gorgeous mermaid goddess, your stomach sinks even deeper at the apparent distress written across her delicate features. "We need to get her out of here before any of the knight members get to her, or any of us, for that matter! We survived Devil’s Night last year and the year before that, so there is no way we’re not surviving this year either!"

Yunjin clenches her jaw, her hazel eyes flashing brief annoyance. “Not now, Vick! You can be mad at me once we find someplace safe.”

“What we actually need is to get out of here!” Wonyoung retorts with vehemence before grabbing your wrist in a tight grip, causing you to wince. “Oh, and Jen? You’re to be blamed if anything happens to Y/N.” The irate mermaid reminds the disbelieving cowboy.

"Let’s argue a little less and find our way out of here?!” Karina raises her voice over the cacophony of chaos, her face displaying sheer annoyance for the two glaring women. “We have approximately five minutes to get the hell out of here!"

"It's no use even if we try to escape. By now, the whole town is scattered with their devil’s lackeys." Yunjin sighs in frustration, running her fingers through her red-dyed hair. "They're not letting us out until it's over. You know that."

"I don't care." Wonyoung snaps at Yunjin, making you grumble moodily as she begins to pull you with her with force. "We will find a way to get out of here, even if it means that I have to use violence to fight off the knight members myself."

"I don't freaking get it!" You exclaim, finally voicing out the tumult of chaos in your head, your eyes darting between your best friends in a frantic motion. “I just don’t get why we’re supposed to be running for our lives as if danger really is heading towards us like you can’t possibly be serious.” Denial shines through in the sarcasm of your chuckles.

“What part of it don’t you understand? The announcer just stated that any and all crimes, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours! And it’s not just anyone committing those crimes, but it’s the whole of Devil’s Knights!” Karina exclaims, displaying her exasperation. “So unless you want to get attacked by them, you better get your ass moving—”

The blasting sound of a shotgun pierces through the air, shocking you to a higher degree that has your entire body paralysed, but with a forceful tug on your arm, you find yourself being dragged by Wonyoung, with Yunjin and Karina following closely in haste. Your eyes widen at the sight of raw brutality that you manage to witness, weapons being utilised and blood spilling as a result, uncertain whether dead or alive but with the screams of terror and agony, you fear the worst.

In the pursuit of your only possible ride of escape, Karina’s car, some of the notorious knights reign terror on your best friends, even attempting to attack them with the weapons they wield, and thankfully, the girls manage to evade them. But you notice how those same knights seem to be avoiding you, as though you are invisible in their eyes. Still, they bring out the screams of fright from you with tears prickling in your eyes.

By the time you have arrived at the parking lot, your eyes widen in horror at the gruesome sight of two knights displaying violence upon a student who, you presume, attends the same university as you, soaked in his own blood as he makes a pitying effort to crawl away from them, his face looking slightly distorted. In the way they are jeering and taking cruel delight in diminishing his life, you wonder if the devil’s knights kill for fun or do they have personal vendettas against the ones that they’re after. 

"Come on!" Karina shouts, making you snap out of it. You head straight for the passenger door and throw yourself onto the seat before closing the door and locking it. You try to focus on what matters first now, but when you do, you struggle to buckle up safely with your trembling hands.

“Seatbelts.” Wonyoung reminds sternly from the backseat with Yunjin, totally not helping you as you feel the weight of pressure from everything pressing you down, causing you to panic while your chest feels painfully tight. “Y/N! Seatbelt, now!”

“I’m trying, damn it! Stop being such a mom!" You cry out angrily, gritting your teeth in frustration at your uncooperative limbs. From the corner of your eye, an imminent danger heads for the car, eliciting a shriek from you before you look at Karina frantically, who has just started the ignition of the vehicle. “Drive!”

As soon as you yell, there is a loud knock on the window next to you, prompting you and the girls to see a Devil’s Knight holding a golf stick. You automatically duck as you protect your head with your hands just when he raises his golf stick and swings to the same window, causing it to finally shatter. The girls and you scream as he intends to repeat his action to completely shatter the entire window, but Karina immediately slams her foot on the pedal gas, prompting the vehicle to accelerate forward. No doubt if Karina hadn’t done that sooner, that knight could’ve easily reached out for you.

You never once doubt Karina’s driving, but as she is driving at an alarming speed while expertly avoiding other vehicles and people on the road ahead, you fear that you might get into a car accident instead of being a victim to any Devil’s Knight.

Your heart remains pounding hard in your chest that feels tight from the prior hysteria. You don’t bother to buckle up safely, only depending on your fingers to hold on tight to the handle above the glassless window. When you scan the road ahead, you squint your eyes to get a better look before noticing stouts of red barriers arrayed by the exit of the road alongside three policemen leisuring on the other side of it. 

“Shit! Not the fucking roadblock!” Karina exclaims annoyedly as she steps on the pedal brake hard, putting the vehicle into an abrupt stop that has all of you nearly lurching forward. Their heads snap to you as you open the door. “Y/N! What are you—"

But you are too focused on the new hope that ignites in your chest as you rush towards the policemen. “Excuse me, Sirs?!” They stop whatever they’re doing, turning to you with an unsettling calmness at your frantic display. “We really need to get out of here. They’re committing atrocious crimes and—” You cease your pleading as soon as a smirk forms on one of their faces.

“Sorry, honey. We can’t let you go out until Devil’s Night is over.” The policeman says, his nonchalance and words diminishing all hope in you.

“Please! You can’t do this!” You plead again, ignoring your friends’ calling to you. “You’re supposed to be protecting us! You people pledged to protect us from harm!” But your plea falls deaf to their ear as they exchange words with chuckles that sound mocking to you.

Your once pleading countenance now displays a glaring resentment at the corruption that influences even the law enforcement. You turn on your heels, prepared to head back into the car, but you falter just slightly when four bikers emerge from around the corner, speeding towards where you are with their exhausts blaring loudly as they reverberate throughout the desolate street. 

For a moment, you think that they are the guests just like you and your friends, but your primal instinct is on high alert, prompting you to rush back into the car while your friends stare at you with confusion. “Go!” You scream at Karina as soon as you slam the door shut, and the latter complies with your hysterical command.

Karina drives around the other way, steering the wheel expertly before she increases the acceleration upon noticing four mysterious bikers tailing them not far behind. “Who the hell are they?!” She exclaims, but her focus on the road as well as multitasking in operating the vehicle is immaculate, nearly convincing you that she might be an undercover street racer.

“They’re the leaders!” Yunjin answers as she still looks over her shoulder. “No idea why they’re after us— did any of you girls piss them off?!”

“How were you able to recognise them while we don’t?” Wonyoung shoots her a bizarre stare, but the latter doesn’t meet her eyes.

“My cousin’s motorbike.” Yunjin simply says, eliciting gasps from Karina and Wonyoung. “He likes to announce his dramatic arrival right outside of the main family’s villa whenever our families decide to host a get-together barbecue party.” She adds, rolling her eyes at the recollection.

“This whole time, you had a cousin?! And he’s one of the leaders?!” Karina blanches, getting distracted from the road that she nearly drives onto the pavement instead before regaining firm control of the steering wheel. “And you didn’t even think to let us know?!”

“We don’t like people to know that we’re related.” You hear Yunjin say unapologetically while you are occupied by other things, your eyes staring in the side-view mirror, watching two bikers getting alarmingly closer to the car, and yet you feel inclined to admire how criminally hot the bikers actually are in spite of their obscure identity. 

“Can you, I don’t know, maybe tell your cousin to stop chasing us?!” Wonyoung’s sarcasm goes unappreciated as it earns her a glare from Yunjin.

“What makes you think that he’d listen to me?! The asshole hates my guts!” 

Your head begins to throb at their incessant screaming and petty disagreements, and you divert your glare to them. “None of this is helping us to outrun them!”

“Buckle up, then, ladies.” Karina instantly proves you wrong as she picks up velocity, and before you know it, your body nearly lurches forward at the precipitated speed while adrenaline rushes in your veins. “Ha! So long, devil suckers!” She lets out a chortle after having successfully put a significant distance away from them before eventually leaving them in the dust.

But the victory is short-lived when the vehicle loses its velocity, slowing down unsteadily before Karina decides to step on the pedal brake, putting her unstable car to a final stop. At once, a series of profanities emit from your best friends. With the ignition still active, Karina presses her foot on the gas pedal, making an attempt, but her car remains stagnant.

“Something’s wrong with the tyres.” Karina comments as she unbuckles her seatbelt before exiting the vehicle, with the rest of you following suit wordlessly. “What the hell? The tyres got punctured!” The apparent anger in her voice prompts you to move over to the other side of the car before catching sight of Karina crouching down as she examines the punctured tyre with the flashlight on the back of her phone. “How the fuck did this happen?!”

“I think we have our answer to that, girls. Look.” Wonyoung’s remark draws all of your attention, her finger pointing out the road behind before you look over to see galvanised nails being scattered all over the road. “This is obviously part of their sick plan.”

“So what’s our plan, then?” Karina asks with unconcealing annoyance, exasperated by the current situation. “Either way, we’re probably gonna get fucked over if we don’t at least get out of this part of town.” As soon as she says that, the familiar exhausts blaring faintly alarms you.

“We find a place to hide until we’re sure enough that they’re completely gone. If they manage to find us, we separate and run like hell.” Yunjin suggests, her tone indicating finality that nudges you and the others to advance, silence settling over your group as you walk side by side.

The view in front of you is an eerie tableau of a desolate district with only the source of light deriving from the moon above, barren of any life form despite the array of building structures on each side, not even a single vehicle in sight. Your eyes glance over at an apartment-like building, observing how all the curtains in every unit have been drawn close. It is almost as if every resident in the building is laying low, choosing not to be seen on this wicked night and hiding in the safe confines of their home. You’re almost jealous of them.

“Hey, I think we should—” Wonyoung is cut off by the distinct blaring exhausts that sound as if they are near the district where you are at while you look around you to spot any of the four bikers. “We need to find a place to hide, now!”

“Over there!” Yunjin points her acrylic finger to the three-story villa that looks evidently abandoned with its skeletal structure. Without waiting for your responses, she makes a run for it first, and the three of you follow suit with your heels producing different clacking noises on the pavement.

Your heart pumps harder as the sound of their exhausts sounds as if they are near, propelling you to put more energy into your speed before you finally make it past the gate, but you don’t falter as you head towards the opened door where Wonyoung is waiting and beckoning you to hurry. Once you enter, Wonyoung pushes the door firmly closed.

“Seriously, Jen? You thought that hiding in a creepy abandoned villa with no lights was the better option?” Karina whines to the cowgirl while you slowly make your way over to them, your calves muscles burning from the running.

Yunjin brings out her phone to use it as a flashlight. “It’s either a creepy abandoned villa or surrendering yourself to them. Besides, they sounded close. Now stop your whining, or they’ll hear us.” She hisses lowly at the pouty Catwoman.

You don’t bother taking out your phone to use it as a flashlight since Wonyoung has already done the same as Yunjin, finding yourself gravitating closer to her. Soon, your eyes manage to adapt to the darkness, with the moon hanging outside aiding in its light to stream into the stained, broken windows. As your group slowly advances, you take your time to observe every inch, and the condition of this villa looks beyond saving, which is a pity to you because you are certain that this villa was once beautiful.

“Did you girls hear that?” Wonyoung asks in a hushed tone, stopping dead in her tracks, her face showing no traces of frivolity, but the concern in her eye is perceptible.

“Stop trying to scare us, Vicky Jang!” Karina nearly snaps, but the fear is palpable in the tremor of her voice.

“No, seriously. Listen.” Wonyoung instructs with a strong emphasis, leaving you and the other two no choice but to listen, and you listen carefully until you finally hear voices sounding frantic in pleas. “It’s coming from upstairs!”

Wonyoung bolts for the massive flight of stairs before the three of you follow after her, expressing none of the complaints and protests; even Karina remains lip-tight because those voices sounded like they were calling for help.

You ignore the burning sensation returning to your calves as you push yourself to make it to the final flight of stairs before finally reaching the second floor, and this time, your group is able to hear the screams of help clearer. You jog after Wonyoung and Yunjin as they guide you and Karina towards the source.

“Oh my God! Liz?! Rei?!” Wonyoung exclaims in horror, causing your eyes to widen at the mention of your friends before you finally enter what looks like a desolate library. Your eyes immediately land on ten girls, two of whom are part of your circle of friends, seated in a circle with their backs facing each other, but what shocks you is the tear-stricken look on their countenances with some bruises that look fresh.

Sobs and hiccups can be heard from the ten ladies. Some are stuffed with cloth in their mouths, but all of them have their hands and feet tied by cable ties that seem to mar their skin. Clearly, they have been held hostage, but why? And who?

“It’s a good thing that I brought pocket knives.” Karina takes out three pocket knives from her mini leg bag before passing two each to Wonyoung and Yunjin while you offer your assistance to those with cloth stuffed in their mouths.

“We didn’t do anything at all.” Liz sobs out to Wonyoung while the latter steadily yet quickly cuts the cable ties that bound the blonde’s limbs. “We were trying to escape and find someplace to hide, but we encountered these guys, and the masks they wore were different from devil’s knights.”

“They attacked us and brought us here, told us that we were hostages until their target got alerted, which made no sense!” Rei continues to rant in a rage despite the tears staining her cheeks.

“We should hurry to leave! They left not too long ago, but they’re coming back!” One of the girls, who has a nasty gash on her arm, urges, her voice carrying a sense of urgency and fear. “They said they’re going to kill us if the leaders didn’t rescue us by the time they came back!”

“What makes you think that the leaders would rescue you? The same heartless leaders who destroy everything in their path, especially on Devil’s Night?” Karina asks as she raises her eyebrow at the fearful girl, her tone holding a bit of humour. “And who is this ‘they’?”

“He said his name was Namgil.” Another girl answers, her voice timid. “And there were more of them compared to us combined.”

“Let’s get going, then.” Yunjin announces firmly; her confidence seems to allay the girls. “Grab any item that you can use as a weapon to protect yourself before we head out of here.” The girls waste no time in scurrying as they search for potential weapons around them, including you.

“Y/N!” A girl, who you recognise is in the same major as you, calls out for you just aisles away from where you are, her back facing the ominous shadow of shelves. She holds up a sharp wood while the other is occupied with the same type of wood. “Do you need—”

Before she can finish her sentence, a sickening sound of flesh being stabbed can be heard while a scream instantly tears from your throat, watching as she splutters crimson, having been stabbed with the pointed blade protruding from her stomach. She looks at you with glassy eyes while you watch tearfully in horror as the life in those eyes slowly diminishes before her body is being thrust forward, as though she is being pushed by someone, falling to the ground with a loud thud, completely lifeless.

At once, screams and cries emit from the rest of the girls upon having to watch the murder happen in real time, but they are easily overpowered by an unrecognisable voice that belongs to a man, deep and mocking. “And here I thought the infamous bastards had been the ones to rescue the girls.”

The girls collectively make an attempt to run, but masked men mysteriously emerge from the shadows around you, wielding different kinds of weapons. You shriek and duck your head as soon as one of them swings a metal bat at you. Your worry grows as you hear your best friends fighting off and throwing curses at their aggressors, but you are too busy saving yourself to even help them. But your lacking skills in combat lead you to be captured by one, your arms being twisted behind you as he holds you deadly tight against him while his blade comes in contact with your neck.

“Kim Namgil? What the fuck? I thought you were gone for good!” Yunjin snarls coldly as soon as the previous man who spoke removes his mask. She has had enough of her aggressor before doing an effective roundhouse kick to him in the head, successfully knocking him out cold. 

“To simply put, I’m here for revenge, aside from honouring someone else’s revenge, but you don’t need to know.” You watch as Namgil toys with his butcher knife, a smirk forming on his lips while his eyes remain fixated on Yunjin. “Tell me, is your dear cousin doing well?”

Yunjin looks more furious than she was previously. “How the fuck did you know he’s my cousin?!”

“Heard from a pretty little birdie, but she’s dead now, thanks to your cousin and his bastard line of friends.” Namgil’s smirk drops and is replaced by a nasty snarl. “I’ll kill him; I’ll kill them all, and you won’t even be there to deliver your goodbyes to him because you won’t be alive by then.”

You become both intrigued and shocked at the sheer protectiveness in your best friend’s countenance while you momentarily forget about being held at a knifepoint. “I’ll kill you before you even get the chance to lay a finger on him!” She yells at him, but she instantly gets knocked down by another attacker while you scream her name worriedly.

“Boss.” Your attacker calls out, drawing Namgil’s attention, who instantly has his eyes fixated on your figure. “Those bastards won’t be coming. We should still take one of these girls as a hostage.”

“You’re right. We do only need one.” Namgil says with a sickening delight in his tone while he roams his eyes all over you, recognition glinting in his dark eyes. You struggle in your attacker’s arm, wanting to get away as Namgil gets closer, but you can only feel the prickling pain of the blade in your skin. “We haven’t met, but I know you. The renowned church girl, Y/N. You’re close with Jake, right?”

“What?” Confusion written across your features despite the fear that is pressing you down when he uses the tip of his butcher knife to trace down your sternum tantalisingly. “I don’t know what you’re on about, but I’m not, and I was never close with Jake.”

The smile on his lips disappears just the way his personality takes a turn, and in a blink of an eye, he has you in his bruising grip, glaring into your eyes as he holds you close. “Don’t fucking lie to me! I remember that I saw you and him before!”

You don’t bother to hide your disgust as his breath hits you in the face. “That was probably back in freshman year, which was years ago. Are you sure you’re living in the correct timeline now?” You accidentally blurt out a sarcastic remark, being driven by the simmering adrenaline in evading your new aggressor. 

Namgil smacks you in the face, sending your head flying sideways from the impact. You barely make a run past him when he grabs you by the arm again, which you are sure is bruised, before dragging you with him. “Kill and dispose of the rest. We’re taking this one as our hostage instead.” He announces loudly to his men, some of whom are still attacking the girls.

Namgil rids you of the opportunity to call and look over to check on your girls when he hastily drags you out of the library, rendering you worried and helpless before you decide to pray silently for your girls to be safe and win against their oppressors. “This is great! Now that I have you instead, they’re going to come and rescue you.”

“You’re wrong.” You manage to utter in between light pants, having to keep up with his pace as you have finally reached the first floor. You spot two of his men waiting for him. “They’re not going to save me. You’re making a big mistake.”

“Then I’ll just have to kill you, right after I use your body for my pleasure.” Namgil whispers in your ear, rendering you completely revolted at the idea of him doing a despicable act to you. “Or better yet, I fuck you now and let my boys have their turn before we kill you slowly and painfully in front of those bastards.”

Without thinking twice, you step on his foot hard with the heel of your boot, hearing a crack before you find yourself getting pushed by him, resulting in you falling to the ground while his screams of agony sound like a delight to you. You attempt to get up, but Namgil is quick to get you on your back with his fingers curled around your neck in a deadly manner, depriving you of oxygen. “You fucking bitch! I’m going to kill—"

“I thought you knew better than to mess with someone else’s prey, let alone our prey.” A very familiar voice speaks up, but his voice sounds deeper than you had heard him. “But your mistake is the moment you entered our zone where you were not welcomed anymore.”

You expect more talking, but instead, you hear a commotion involving a series of screams of agony and cusses. You inhale loudly as soon as someone has pulled him off you, coughing out from getting your windpipe nearly crushed before you attempt to raise your body vertically, but you falter when a tall figure looms over you, prompting you to look up for your eyes to meet a pair of black sockets as his identity is obscured by a white mask with a horizontal red stripe. He is adorned in all black with a vest and a hoodie covering his head.

Without a word, the mysterious man, who you call 'White’ in your head, helps you to get back on your feet, feeling how gentle he is with you despite the firm grip to steady you. Your eyes never stray from him as he caresses your neck gently with his gloved fingers. “You’re hurt.” His voice, his very familiar voice, causes your eyes to widen. “Are you feeling fine, my beloved?”

“I-I’m okay.” You stammer, flustered by the endearment when you should be fearful of him as he wields a knife in his other hand. Though his demeanour is gentle and his voice holds a familiar mellow that allays your nerves, you heed your primal instinct to evade him. “I need to go—”

His arm wraps around your waist faster than you can comprehend, locking you in his possession while you can feel his body heat. “There’s no rush in going anywhere, love. Besides, wouldn’t you like to watch the bastard be beaten to death?” You can imagine him smirking while there is a sickening glee in his tone.

You find yourself going speechless when his fingers grip your chin firmly and tilt your head up, the gesture sending flutters to your heart, before he turns your head to the side, only for you to be stricken by horror at the spectacle of savagery. “I don’t like this.” You tell him shakily, feeling sick in the stomach upon seeing one of Namgil’s men, whose head is nearly mangled from his lifeless body with blood pooling around him.

But White remains undeterred by your protest as he continues to force you to watch as the other three leaders are now circling an injured Namgil, like predators toying with their prey before devouring it. “Shhh, it’s alright, love.” He whispers in your ear rather affectionately. “Don’t feel bad for him. He deserves it.”

It isn’t that you feel bad for the death that undoubtedly awaits Namgil, but you just simply lack the tolerance to watch such gruesome gore that is happening in real life. Your whole body trembles while tears fill your waterline as one of the leaders in a red mask swings the metal baseball bat to Namgil’s head, eliciting a loud, sickening crack.

“You fucking dared to touch her?!” Red growls out as he grasps the metal baseball bat that is tainted with Namgil’s blood, allowing the one in a grey mask, who is holding Namgil’s butcher knife, his turn to wreak violence on him. “You deserve to die a slow, painful death, Namgil, not just for touching what’s ours, but for what happened three years ago.”

You hear Namgil attempting to speak, but he can only produce gurgling sounds. A horrifying gasp leaves your lips when Grey brings down the butcher knife to slice Namgil’s arm clean, tearing screams of agony from him while blood spluttered everywhere. You are finally able to look away, closing your eyes shut, but it feels useless when you can still hear his screams when Grey does the same action to his other arm, severing it.

“Alright, love, you’re trembling so much.” White heaves a sigh before looking down at you, his hand goes cupping your cheek while you flutter your glossy eyes open. “I can’t go anywhere until I’m done with him, so I need you to wait for us by the stairs, alright? I’m trusting you not to run away, beloved.” He says sternly that has you nodding your head quickly before he slowly releases you.

Your legs tremble beneath you as you walk towards the familiar massive flight of stairs, still feeling his eyes on you, but you are no fool to obey a killer’s order, and so you gather any remaining strength within you, including the willpower, before bolting off in another direction, your legs carrying you as fast as they can. You know that you’re in big trouble, but you’d rather risk your life running than surrender to any of them.

“Leave her be. We still haven’t finished our business here yet.” Black says to White upon hearing the latter sighing as he watches your figure getting smaller, but to be fair, he already expected you to grasp the opportunity to run.

You manage to climb over a window before resuming your pursuit of escaping your not-so-new predators, now running on the desolate road, hoping to at least find another place to hide. After what feels like forever, you cave into exhaustion as your lungs burn while your legs ache, and you swear you can feel blisters forming in your feet. You look over your shoulder, only to feel disheartened to see the distance between the villa and where you are at.

You refocus ahead, mentally prepared to run again, but your eyes immediately land on a car parked by the pavement curb. You briskly move forward, ignoring the pain your body is sending signals to your brain. You notice a figure seated in the driver’s seat, igniting hope in your chest.

“Excuse me, but could you—” You don’t get to finish your words when a scream escapes you, your eyes widening in horror at the sight of the now-dead girl with blood oozing from the nasty slit on her throat before you notice another dead body outside of the car on the other side, most likely her friend.

You force yourself to recover before using your might to get the dead body out of the car while goosebumps remain constant on your skin as you drag her over to the pavement where her dead friend is sprawled. You mutter a quick apology when you let her arm fall with a thud before you head over to the driver’s seat, only to get startled when an explosion erupts from afar, eliciting a gasp from you as the villa is being engulfed by ferocious, massive flames. 

Your ears pick up on the faint blaring exhausts, and your eyes are drawn to the four bikers emerging out of nowhere from afar, prompting you to get into the driver’s seat. You ignore the knife that is stained with blood resting on the passenger seat. Your hand instinctively switches on the ignition, heeding your muscle memory, but your brain goes short-circuited as the blaring exhausts get louder from behind.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Remember what Dad taught you.” You tell yourself in an attempt to calm your nerves and focus deeply, your hands gripping the steering wheel firmly. Though your father taught you how to drive many years ago, the memory remains fresh in your mind.

With a newfound confidence, you step on the correct pedal gas, propelling the vehicle to finally move off the curb before you increase your speed in the nick of time when the four bikers are nearing you. You continue to drive at an alarming speed, trying to outrun them, but you remain tailgated by them relentlessly. You nearly go unfocused, overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions within you, but you are quick to gain the momentum.

You change the direction of the steering wheel, now entering a new territory where there is what looks like a massive park ahead of you, and you pick up the velocity. Just as you nearly reach the park, you fail to realise an incoming vehicle heading towards you from the right. Your reaction delays when you are being pushed by another car that’s been wrecked before realising that it is being pushed by a black van, completely unrelenting.

But the macabre soon comes to a stop, giving you time to recover from the impact that thankfully did not give you any major injury. You unbuckle your seatbelt with trembling hands and grab the knife on instinct before kicking the door open and exiting the vehicle. Your legs nearly give out, your body aching all over, and you hold onto the car to steady yourself when your head throbs.

Despite knowing that you still need to escape, anger boils in your veins, wanting to give whoever drove that black van a piece of your mind, but the thought is immediately replaced by apprehension when footsteps approach you. You lift your head, only to be intimidated by the one adorning a black mask as he trudges towards you while his comrades are behind him, busily dismounting from their bikes.

You back away from him as he gets unrelenting, prepared to use the knife to protect yourself from him, only for him to expertly snatch the knife from you in a blink of an eye before he throws it away. You let out a yelp when he turns you around and pins you against the car, holding your hands in one strong grip before he bounds your hands together with a handcuff.

“Naughty, baby.” Black whispers huskily in your ear as he presses his body into yours, eliciting a gasp from you at his body warmth and familiar voice. “You made us chase you down twice. Do you like playing a chasing game with us?” He groans deeply, igniting a familiar desire in you before you feel his prominent bulge against your bum. “Because it’s turning me on more than anything, babydoll.”

“We’re sorry! We didn’t know it was her in the car!” You hear another familiar voice that compels you to look over to Jungwon, speaking to the other three leaders.

“In a way, at least we helped you in finally capturing her.” Sunoo adds, and that is when you also notice another brooding presence next to him, Riki. The three sophomores you know are a part of the fraternity.

“We got her. So let’s go, and stop rubbing your dick on her.” Grey snaps at Black, causing the latter to growl under his breath that has your womanhood responding instinctively to the attractive sound before he pulls you with him to head towards the park.

Your face flushes warmly when you are needed to walk past the other three leaders, because instead of feeling fearful, you feel a sense of diffidence as you can feel their eyes on your figure, making you self-conscious of how you look now, probably a mess. 

Black guides you deeper and deeper into the park while the others follow from behind. A confused frown touches your lips upon seeing an entrance gate before noticing a large number of people gathered inside for some reason, including the knight members. You shudder as you see different types of weapons in their grasp.

All the while, you have been trying your utmost to ignore the exertion in your legs and how your body still aches from the previous impact, springing tears in your eyes, but you suck it up, knowing that crying changes nothing. 

The sound of gates rattling open welcomes you before Black gently pushes you forward for you to start walking. Your eyes scan for familiar faces in the crowd, and miraculously, Wonyoung spots you instantly. “Y/N!”

“Wonyoung!” You reciprocate, feeling relief to see your best friend in one piece in spite of a few minor wounds on her skin. Just as you attempt to make a run towards her, Black tightens his grip on you. “Let go of me!”

The once-relieved expression is replaced by sheer anger on Wonyoung’s countenance before she marches forward. “You let her go this instant! Bastards!” But two knights immediately prevent her from going to you, eliciting curses from the enraged mermaid.

“You’re with us till the end, babydoll.” Black tells you with a lull as you remain looking at Wonyoung tearfully and helplessly before he guides you to where the other leaders are, facing the anxious crowd.

You manage to scan your surroundings briefly, noticing that they have brought you to a massive labyrinth garden, which appears to have a multitude of mazes that also seem endless. You also spot the divine palace in the background, but it looks further away from you than it looks. As soon as you arrive by the leaders’ side, you lower your gaze, hearing whispers among the crowd that pertains to you.

“Just so everyone is clear, you see this beautiful angel here?” White speaks up loudly as he grabs your arm and pulls you closer to his side while your cheeks continue to burn. “She’s our prey and ours alone to deal with. This is a warning to you if you dare to mess with what belongs to us.”

You so badly want to scream at him that you belong to no one, let alone to a man, but you remain silent with your head hanging low.

“Congratulations for making it to this stage.” Black speaks into the microphone this time, garnering everyone’s attention while you muster the courage to look up and stare at him. “However, Devil’s Night is far from over, and unfortunately, whether you’ll survive this stage or not depends on you.”

Black passes the microphone to Grey. “Yes, we’re aware that this segment is new for those of you who have been to the previous annual Devil’s Nights.” Grey explains. “For this stage, all of you will be given seven minutes to run and find the exit of the labyrinth garden.”

“Seven minutes?!” A guy from your cohort barks out his discontent. “Seven minutes is impossible for us to make our escape! Look at this maze! It’s fucking massive!��

“Too fucking bad.” You hear a smirk in Grey's tone. “So you better be running for your life once we hit the countdown.”

“And what happens if we don’t make it to the exit in time?” A girl asks loudly, and when you look at her, you frown at the discernible excitement in her eyes. Why is she excited when she should be apprehensive just as you are now?

It’s not just her, but the palpable tension of excitement emanating from some of the victims is hard for you to not notice. It is as if they have been expecting this adventurous thrill that may or may not cost their lives. Your face twists into a slight grimace, finding them odd and mental.

Red snatches the microphone from Grey. “For those of you who successfully manage to find the exit on time, congratulations in advance. You are free to leave and enjoy the rest of Devil’s Night with what we have to offer.” Red pauses before he lets out chuckles, a hint of darkness in his tone. “But for those who fail, you’re ours to kill, ours to toy with, ours to torture, and ours to fuck once we find you. We’ll do whatever we want to you. So when we tell you to run, you run and don’t ever fucking stop.”

You see White beckoning for the microphone, which Red passes to him. “As for our fellow knights, don’t forget to stake your claims if you haven’t. Remember to hunt down only what is yours.” As he says this, you can feel his gaze behind his mask fixed intently on your face. “The last part of the hunt starts now.”

On his command, everyone, with the exception of the knight members, erupts into squeals and tumultuous commotion as they make their way to the multitude of mazes haphazardly. You manage to catch Wonyoung looking at you ruefully before she heads in the same direction as some. You hold back your tears, watching as your best friends leave you behind with those in power.

“What are you going to do to me?” You manage to find your voice, albeit there is a palpable tremor of fear in your voice as you look at the four leaders with glossy eyes, and fuck, you look so pretty in tears as they marvel at your beauty. “Don’t kill me, please.” You beg softly, slowly backing away from White as he approaches you.

In one long stride, White grabs you by the waist and pulls you to him. You look up at him pleadingly, shivers running down your spine as he caresses your cheek lovingly. “We have no intention of killing you, my beloved.” He utters softly, a deception you become familiar with. “What’s the fun in killing you when we have better plans for you?”

You remain seated on the ground with the cloth beneath you, a barrier preventing your bums from being poked uncomfortably by the turf’s texture, courtesy of Grey, who wordlessly gave you the cloth after seeing the look on your face as you stood on aching legs, responding with a grunt after you had given him a timid utterance of your gratitude.

You wait, and you have no idea what you are waiting for, waiting anxiously as you observe the four leaders ambulating every so often, but not once did one of them ever reveal even a glimpse of their faces, though you already have the idea of who is who since you recognise their voices.

You feel the perpetual cold settling in your bones, and you instinctively attempt to hug your slightly shivering figure, but your handcuffed hands are a hindrance that you have forgotten. You flinch when you hear the shrill screams that pierce into the cold, foreboding atmosphere once more, leaving you to wonder what sort of brutality those Devil’s Knights choose to strike them with. But you worry most about your friends, hoping that they’ll make it out alive.

You try your best to avoid squirming when a pair of eyes burn straight into you, and from your peripheral vision, White is leaning against the concrete wall with his arms crossed, watching you with disconcerting ease. You don’t want to admit it, but since your encounter with White, you feel this magnetic attraction towards him that feels inevitable, and it’s ridiculous, but there is an enigmatic connection between you and him that is simply indescribable. You know that he is a far more dangerous individual, and yet a part of you feels an instinctual need to seek comfort in him.

“What—” You begin to speak, faltering when the four of them react instantaneously to your voice. You put on a mask of bravado, but the tremor in your voice is palpable. “What do you want from me?” Your firm demeanour lies in exasperation because it is killing you how they obviously have ulterior motives.

You watch them with scrutiny as they seem to communicate telepathically, looking at each other in total silence before White gives a head nod. You tense up as Black approaches you, stopping in front of you before he pulls you up from the ground and holds your wrist. You eye him with visible confusion when he uncuffs you, but nonetheless you feel relieved because the metal handcuffs were making your wrist sore.

“We’re giving you two options, sweet thing.” Red says, his voice carrying a familiar allure. “You can either leave this place and go back home safely or stay and experience the thrill we have to offer.” You can imagine his charming grin on his plump lips. “It’s up to you, sweetheart. No judgement if you choose either.”

This is insanity; it is pure madness because this prolonged, twisted dance of devilry should have pushed you to choose the first option, but you feel entirely compelled as the second option resonates with you. Deep down, you know that you are every bit as twisted as them, desiring to uncover what sorts of diabolical schemes they might execute while a part of you keens in being the vulnerable prey in their predatory eyes. 

You glance over at the gates where you first entered to get here, having no desire to leave even when they are being lenient in offering the easy road to freedom, and so you remain rooted to the ground, your decision being as clear as the starless sky above you.

“Last chance to change your mind, princess.” Grey tuts, his demeanour seems to be taunting you. “Because if this is really your answer, it also means that you are giving consent to us.”

You have no idea if your trembling hands denote apprehension or twisted excitement. You bite your bottom lip, attempting to wet it with your tongue, but your mere action seems to elicit a not-so-inaudible growl from White. “I’m not that much of a coward as you think I am.”

“I didn’t say anything, princess.” Grey chuckles coldly, and yet those sounds from him bring an unexpected flutter to your heart. “Although, I can’t help but think that either you’re putting on a brave act or just being a dumb princess.” You hold back your tongue from retaliating.

“You better start running, love,” White says softly, his words rousing the excitement to send you into an adrenaline rush. “Because once we catch you, we’ll do whatever we want to you, and we’re not going to stop until we say so.”

You don’t spare any seconds as you take off in the direction of the maze where most of the guests were previously running into. The prior exertion begins to burn in your legs; your calf muscles are imploring for respite, but you push on, determined to get further away from your predators, albeit you have no intention to find the exit anytime soon.

Once you are certain that you have managed to drift far from them, you succumb to the exhaustion that you have been repressing, slowing down before you come to a momentary stop to take a breath. Subsequently, your perception of your surroundings heightens as you come down from the high, allowing you to pick on different ranges of sounds that send the same chills to your spine — shrilling screams that are either agony or thrill, roarings from the Devil’s Knights, and et cetera.

You force yourself to master equanimity before moving forward. You distract yourself by scanning your surroundings, surprised to see how tall the hedge walls are that it is impossible for anyone to look over to the other side of the wall. You feel the dread creeping up on you as you look ahead at how narrow yet hollow the route is. 

Eventually, you reach the end of the route, only to be daunted by the sight of a labyrinth containing infinite pathways to the unknown. You stagger a step back upon witnessing a guy limping with his injured leg to one pathway from the other, obviously running away from a Devil’s Knight as the masked man follows him with a long dagger that is dripping with blood.

You enter the pathway that resonates best with you, walking as stealthily as you can to avoid drawing anyone’s attention. Just then, you are suddenly reminded of your phone, prompting you to whip it out from your mini leg bag and go through your contacts, but confusion hits you when you see the ‘no signal’ on the top left of your phone, which is weird because just way earlier before the whole thing went down, your internet connection was working perfectly fine.

You grumble under your breath as you shove your phone back in your bag. You have no doubt that it is part of their doing, considering they wield the power of unpredictability. After what feels like an hour, you turn into a left corner, only to feel a huge relief upon seeing Wonyoung ahead of you.

“Wonyoung!” You call for her as you rush forward, forgetting the fact that you are supposed to go about discreetly. 

“Y/N!” Just as Wonyoung turns around, a figure decked out in black attire and a grey mask that obscures his identity emerges from the shadows of the entrance next to Wonyoung, swiftly grabbing her with his arm around her waist while the other covering her screaming mouth as she thrashes against his hold.

“Wonyoung!” You cry out for your soul sister as you step forward with the intention of getting her back despite lacking the right skills to protect her, afraid of what might happen to her. But the moment you attempt to reach out for her, the masked man turns to look at you and shakes his head.

“Don’t, Y/N. Unless you want to end up on the wrong side of my knife.” The wicked intent in his voice is resounding, rendering you frozen in your spot as you recognise his voice. Jungwon. “Luckily for you, you’re not mine to kill.” He says before dragging your helpless friend until they disappear from your sight, leaving you alone and hopeless.

Tears are welling in the rims of your eyes, while the trepidation that courses through your veins is starting to feel overwhelming. You sniffle as you quickly wipe away the fallen teardrop on your cheek before you force yourself to advance forward, mustering whatever courage and determination are left within you. The regret over your decision is there for you to grasp it, but you refuse to admit it.

You continue to venture into the unknown until you hear a familiar voice that kindles hope in your chest. “Yunjin?” You call for her, moving forward while your eyes dart everywhere as you walk past different entrances. You become startled when you spot one of the knights holding a chainsaw chasing after two girls who are screaming in terror before you quickly mind your own business and resume searching for your childhood best friend.

“Yunjin─” You immediately halt your steps as soon as you hear faint moans emitting from your very own childhood best friend. Your face contorts into a mortified confusion as you listen to how she is moaning pleasurably while there is a faint sound of skins slapping.

A part of you knows better than to indulge your curiosity, but you find yourself advancing forward once more. As soon as you turn your head, the vulgar sight greets you, rendering you completely shocked to the point where your body feels paralysed, unable to move.

There is your childhood best friend on top of a masked man as he is seated on a wooden bench, and their lower regions are completely stripped off of any layer of garments. Her back is facing you as she bounces continuously on him with her hands draped over his shoulders lazily.

As your gaze falls down, that is when you finally notice that Yunjin is indeed fucking down on the masked man, causing your cheeks to flare. You can see how lewd they are, fucking into each other with a series of moans and groans emitting from them. You should feel disgusted, and you should be looking away from this obscene spectacle, but you become enthralled by the sight of his cock disappearing into her pussy each time she bounces.

Oddly, your heart is racing at a pace that feels foreign, and your throat becomes dry the longer you watch them get immersed in the debauchery. You stagger a step back, panting lightly while feeling a familiar sensation pooling in your core. The warmth all over your body feels odd, bothering you greatly.

“Fuck, just like that.” The masked man throws his head to the back, holding Yunjin by her ass cheeks to assist her. “You’re doing so well, baby. Keep fucking on me like the desperate whore you are.” He says with a grunt before carrying your best friend over to the hedge wall where he pins her against the bushes behind them, depriving you of the vivid image of their fucking.

You squeeze your thighs together to suppress the sensation that becomes oddly unbearable in your core, getting undoubtedly turned on by the degradation, albeit it is not directed at you. Just as you stagger a step back, your back hits a solid chest, causing your heart to sink in the pits of your stomach.

Before you can run away, an arm slithers around your waist, locking you in place. A disapproving tut leaves his lips. “Was searching for you, baby, and imagine my surprise to see you watching your best friend getting fucked.” He hums, enjoying the way you squirm. “Naughty girl. Do you like watching people fuck? Or do you imagine yourself being in her shoes?”

“N-No.” You protest weakly, tearing your gaze away from the sight, but he uses his gloved hand to grip your jaw and turn your head, forcing you to keep your eyes trained on your best friend with sheer pleasure written on her countenance.

“Don’t lie to me, baby.” Black speaks next to your ear while your breaths get heavier and your mind is tainted with forbidden thoughts. “I know you love it. You’re probably wishing that was you, but no one gets to fuck you except me.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he gropes the flesh of your breast with earnestness, while his other hand trails downward on your stomach before his fingers go underneath the material of your dress. You gasp inaudibly at the sensation of his fingers teasingly grazing across your clothed pussy, and you swear you can feel some form of essence leaking between your folds.

“N-No.” Your weak protest does nothing to stop Black from his assault on you while you watch with hooded eyelids as your best friend continues to fuck the masked man vigorously while the sounds emanating from them become pornographic.

“Fuck, you’re nearly soaked, angel.” Black nearly growls as his chest vibrates against your back, sending you shivers down your spine.

Light pants leave your lips as your mind is relentlessly infused with impure thoughts, and your hips buck, as though in an attempt to entice Black, but he continues to tease you by stroking the outer part of your womanhood, occasionally bumping your clit.

The sound of a feminine scream pulls you out of the lustrous trance as you blink your eyes. Mortification hits you like whiplash while guilt shrouds you. Gritting your teeth, you muster willpower before slamming your elbow into his stomach hard, resulting in him releasing you while a painful groan emits from him.

“Y/N!” You hear Black roaring from behind; the sheer anger is palpable in his tone while you run as if your life depends on it, despite the blisters in your feet sending you signals that it needs medical attention as soon as possible.

Your hair flail behind you, soaring in the wind as you run while a few strands stick to your face as you perspire. Your heart is pounding harder against your chest, and your chest begins to tighten with anxiety at the worst possible outcome after angering one of the leaders, whose temperament is known to be the worst out of them.

A scream leaves your lips as soon as two lower-ranking knight members emerge from the bushes with different weapons in their grasp, bringing fright upon you. You run to the opposite side, and when you do, other knight members wreak terror upon you with their weapons, but they don’t do anything to you. It is also as though they are forcing you to go in the intended direction by scaring you relentlessly.

You choke back a sob, tears stinging in your eyes. You wish that this was all just a mere nightmare, but the exertion, the aches, and the pain all over your body say otherwise. You find yourself yearning to return to your beloved parents and the cosy ambience of your home, where you feel safe and loved.

A genuine scream of terror rips from your throat when Grey emerges from a shadow, holding an axe that is dripping with blood. “Where do you think you’re going, princess?” He asks mockingly, stalking towards you.

You nearly trip over before you pivot on your heels, running in the other direction. You keep going, even when your lungs are burning and tears blurring your vision, resulting in you tripping over a hard log that has you falling to the ground with a thud. You wince painfully as you feel your kneecap burn. You look back at what exactly caused you to trip, only to scream as you see a dead girl staring at you lifelessly.

That is when you finally gain awareness of your new surroundings, tearing out a sob from you as you are greeted by dead bodies scattered around you. You force yourself to get up on shaky legs, your teary eyes taking in the blood and even severed limbs in your line of sight.

You turn around and run again, wanting to erase the gruesome tableau from your tainted mind. You crash into a figure that is strong enough to stabilise himself from the impact while you blindly seek comfort and protection in whoever this is, sobbing out.

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweet thing. You’re safe with me now.” Red speaks above you while he strokes the back of your head tenderly, making you recoil from him instantly and allowing him to have a look at your beautiful face being tainted by tears streaming down your cheeks. “Come here, lovely.”

You shake your head, refusing to go anywhere with him as you grapple with your emotions that are in disarray. You run again, and it seems to be the only thing in the face of peril you are good at. You force the tears to stop, including the sobbing, as you are set to find a good place to hide. Your sharp eyes catch a sight of a relatively smaller pathway, and you head in without hesitation. You ignore the hedges of leaves grazing against your skin as you venture further into the dark.

As soon as you step outside, you are greeted by a whole new scenery that looks akin to an actual park, but the air thickens with a palpable dread, as though it is a telltale sign that an imminent danger will terrorise your temporary sanctuary. You don’t doubt the inevitable that the leaders will find out where you are.

Nevertheless, you explore further before a shadowy yet fairly big structure captures your interest, where it is situated above in the massive tree. You tilt your head up, squinting your eyes to get a better look before finally making out what looks like a whole treehouse, and it feels odd as you can immediately discern the undertone of adolescence emanating from the haunting-looking treehouse.

Your attention drifts to the tree trunk, where there are initials carved directly at your eye level, and you have a strong inkling that the two-letter initials belonged to the first letter of two people’s names. ‘H’ and another letter that matches the first letter in your name. You ignore the familiar throb in that specific part of your head again, grimace slightly before you turn around, only to let out a startled shriek at White’s looming figure over yours.

You immediately back away from him, establishing a safe distance, but your back hits the tree trunk, and yet you can’t seem to move around the tree and make a run again, noticing how White remains rooted to the ground in his spot.

“The boys and I used to build this treehouse on our own.” White speaks up, his mellow tone lacing with nostalgia that captivates your interest. “But it wasn’t for us that we were building it for.” He takes a slow step forward, causing you to tense up. “We built it for her, the girl who managed to capture our hearts without her knowing, but we lost her. I lost her.”

Something burns in your chest, and you have no idea if it’s jealousy or admiration, because in the way he speaks about her with pure reverence, this mysterious girl must’ve been his first love. You gulp nervously, your stance remaining in a fight-or-flight mode. “I’m sorry for your loss.” You say softly, uncertain if what you said would anger him.

You can feel it, the air shifting around you into something melancholic. “That’s okay because I’ve finally found her.” He says rather ruefully as he continues to close the gap between you until he stops in front of you. Your heart thumps loudly when he caresses your cheek tenderly. “But she couldn’t remember me, or any of us. I don’t blame her, though. It isn’t her fault for not being able to remember anything about us anymore.”

You stare into those hollow socket eyes of his mask while your heart remains in a thumping mess, because why does it feel like he is making it seem that his words are directed at you in a personal way? Even the way he is standing close to you with one hand on your waist feels intimate.

You open your mouth to speak, but as soon as Red emerges from the same entry you came from, your fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, prompting you to shove yourself past White, making a run for the other entry that is near the huge gazebo meters away.

You think that White is letting you go freely, but in a blink of an eye, you feel his hand grabbing you by the arm and pulling you roughly to him. Before you know it, he deftly carries you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes while you are left kicking your feet in the air and throwing weak punches at his toned back that have no effect on him as he continues to advance towards the gazebo.

“I was going to be nice, but you decided to hurt my feelings.” White snarls, shocking you at how evidently pissed he is after having ever heard him speak with a distinct softness throughout the years you know him. “I’m going to mark my claim on you, and you’re going to take everything I give to you like the good fucking girl you are.”

Your head goes dizzying from the way White manhandles you as he has you settled on what feels like an inflatable mattress before you find yourself lying on your back, your eyes blinking at the dark ceiling of the gazebo in a dazed state. You attempt to get up, only for White to push you back down before he goes straight for under your dress, his fingers moving at your waistband and pulling it down.

“I meant what I said earlier.” White says as he expertly removes your underwear in one go before hovering above you while you are locked by the sensation of being paralysed underneath him, lacking resolve to fight against him because deep down, you know that you have been looking forward to this. You hear him unzipping his pants, which arouses your bundle of nerves. “I’m going to fuck you first, my dearest.”

Something so twisted preens inside of you when White spreads your legs open before grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head despite your lack of protest. You barely feel the wave of embarrassment by the fact that the other three leaders are under the same gazebo as you, watching the obscene spectacle with a disconcerting nonchalance.

You gasp at the sensation of something solid and heavy sliding up and down on your cunt before you lift your head just slightly and crane your neck to get a better view of his assault. You nearly foam at the mouth upon seeing his cock with its bulbous head swollen. A whine escapes you as he aims the head and taps it on your clit repeatedly, causing you to arch your back with your hips bucking wildly at the delicious sensation of your aching clit being highly stimulated while this action of yours only turns on the other leaders at how alluring you look.

“I know, love, I know. You need my cock, yeah?” White utters softly, and yet he sounds sinisterly smug as he enjoys how desperate you are. He finally and slowly penetrates his length into your pussy, causing your walls to stretch painfully, but the pain is surprisingly tolerable. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” He growls under his breath, unable to fight off the temptation before he begins thrusting his cock into your already sopping cunt, bringing a smirk to his lips at how easily wet you are.

You moan out at the sensation of your walls being relentlessly stretched by his cock with each thrust, your face contorting into ecstasy as the pleasure is building up in your lower abdomen. Your hands are clawing at his vest, desperate to cling onto him before he grabs both hands and pins them above your head with one hand again. He uses the other to reach down your swollen clit that has been aching for attention, his thumb rubbing your sensitive button with maddening precision.

Your head is filled with nothing but him and his cock; the desire to be reduced into nothing by the time he’s done with you has you producing more moans and whines of plea that sound pornographic in the ears of the other leaders as they wait with practiced patience while getting boners.

“No one will ever get to see you like this, all fucked out. You’re fucking mine.” White snarls possessively, delivering thrust after thrust with unbridled yet ruthless passion that has your eyes rolling to the back; the pleasure from getting bullied by his cock and your bundle of nerves being relentlessly rubbed by his thumb is absolutely delirious, and you swear you feel your tummy bulging with each thrust of his cock.

“H-Heeseung-” You finally moan out his name as you force your eyes to gaze deeply into the hollow sockets of his mask, your eyes glistening with such desperation and yearning. He nearly falters, utterly hypnotised by your mesmerising beauty, staring into his soul, and he wants nothing more than to engrave this moment on his mind.

His eyes fall to your luscious lips with the sweet sounds escaping. He takes his fellow leaders by surprise when he removes his mask, finally revealing his handsome face to you while his fallen hoodie reveals his disheveled hair that makes you want to run your fingers through. Your eyes meet his dark, possessive ones, and before you can marvel at his haunting beauty, he slams his lips into yours while the pace of his thrust changes into slow and hard, as though he is taking his time to savour every inch of you.

You whine needily into the kiss as his lips move against yours sensually, kissing you as though you are something so precious while you feel the cold metal of his lip ring caressing your lips. You feel his hand gripping your wrists loosening before he grabs one of your hands and lowers it next to your head, only for his fingers to interlace with yours affectionately. He slips his tongue into your parted lips, licking and memorising every inch of your hot cavern tenderly. You feel butterflies in your stomach at the overflowing affection from him.

“Hee, I-I feel—” You moan as you gasp into his mouth, feeling the pleasure in you that reaches its peak, your bucking hips nearly stuttering as he rubs your clit skilfully fast while his thrusts feel like a telltale sign of his own peaking pleasure.

Heeseung pants hotly into your moaning mouth, his tongue meeting yours in a swirl before kissing you again. “Me too, my love. Let go for me anytime now.” On his command, you tumble over the edge of ecstasy as you come hard on his cock, your body trembling with the intoxicating waves of pleasure rolling over you.

Heeseung grunts against your lips, delivering one last thrust that nearly has you seeing stars before slamming his hips into yours and pressing you down while you feel a copious amount of his release deep inside of your womb, your back arching at the pleasurable sensation of his cock burying to the hilt in you as it twitches. He is quick enough to recover that prompts him to withdraw from you, eliciting a whimper at the way his cock slides from your sensitive cunt and disappointment as he slowly backs away from you.

You meet Heeseung’s eyes again, noticing the way they darken at the sight of his cum leaking from your exposed cunt before they meet your eyes with a soft smirk unfurling his lips. “I’m not the only one claiming you tonight, love.” Just as he says this, Red strides past him, drawing your attention and causing your pussy to clench in anticipation when he unzips his pants, allowing you to see a visible bulge straining against his brief.

“Don’t worry, sweet thing. I’m gonna make you feel good.” Red says huskily as he hovers above you with one hand supporting his weight while the other frees his erection from the confines. You don’t look down, stunned by the heaviness of his cock as he taps just the head to your clit that instantly renewed with vigour. “This might hurt a little. Just focus on my voice, yeah?”

You dismiss the smugness in his tone, too distracted by his huskily attractive voice that awakens the butterflies in you before a gasp leaves you when he slowly inserts his cock into you, inch by inch, allowing you to feel the painful stretch at the sheer thickness of his girth. Upon hearing your quiet whimper, he lowers his hand to your clit and rubs it with his thumb in calculated yet tender strokes, alleviating the pain.

“I got you, sweetheart.” His voice sounds strained, relishing the way your velvety walls snugly grip his cock like a lover. He nearly wants to press a kiss to your mewling lips, forgetting that he isn’t allowed to remove his mask under Heeseung’s order. He continues to deliver sweet nothings to your ear while you clench around his cock every so often at his attractive voice, eliciting a deep groan from him.

The entirety of his cock is now buried in you, but he doesn’t move just yet, his thumb remains stimulating your clit, which enables you to feel nothing but pure pleasure despite the stretch from his girth. Your hips buck up lightly, bringing a grin to his lips before he begins to pull back his cock that is glistening with your arousal and plunges deep into your cunt, repeating the action.

“It’s so—” You gasp as your body shakes from the impact of his thrust, prompting you to latch your hand on his forearm as he has his hand planted next to your head. “It’s so big!” You moan out, your hips moving to meet his in a perfect tandem that allows you to feel his cock at deeper heights.

“Oh, yeah? I’m big for you, sweetheart?” Red smirks down at you, his eyes tracing your every nuance as you are evidently in a state of bliss. “You’re taking me like a champ, like I know you would. Fuck, I’ve always wanted to be buried in your sweet pussy like this.” He groans when you clench hard around him, causing his cock to throb. “Keep clenching around me like that. You’re doing so well for me.”

His praise ignites something in you as you preen; his affection and how tender he is in the way he fucks you turn you on further. He continues to utter sweet things to you without losing his momentum, and you can’t help but compare how different he is to Heeseung despite them fucking you similarly.

“You like your clit being played with, sweetheart?” Red utters softly, enjoying how sensitive you are as he continues to rub your clit in addicting strokes, making you roll your eyes to the back with your hips chasing for both his cock and thumb. “You’re so fucking cute and so, so perfect for me. It’s like your pussy is made for me.”

You moan softly at his words, your hand gripping his forearm tight. The consistency in his thrusts immediately falters when he lets out a sound between a groan and a growl, sending waves of pleasure through you, and before you know it, he slams his cock into you with unbridled fervour, instantly bringing you to newer heights of ecstasy.

Tears prick in your eyes at the roughness he sets in his pace, a stark contrast to the previous loving stroke. Being conscious of how loudly you moan, you turn your head to the side and bury your mouth into his arm, snuggling your face into his warmth, rather adorably, that enhances his possessiveness, his cock lodging deeper to the point you are seeing stars. 

“I’m getting close, sweet thing.” He rasps, his thumb rubbing your clit at a maddening stroke that drives you to the edge of delirium while the intensity of his thrusts is slowly reducing you to nothing. “Come with me now, sweetheart.”

You don’t need to be told twice, because with one last thrust, Red matches the crescendo of your release, his own washing over him in a torrent of ecstasy with his sticky essence spilling in you, mixing with your cum. You whine and squirm under him as he delivers slow yet brief thrusts for his cock to relish the last of your sweet pussy that is pulsating around him.

Red slowly pulls away his cock that is glistening with your union of release and backs away from you, only for his figure to be overshadowed by Black, the latter closing in on you faster than your brain can comprehend.

“You got me having a painful boner, babydoll.” Black says, his voice thickening with a palpable desire as he looms over your weak figure, his hands moving to unzip his pants. “By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to be ruined, and your pussy will yearn for my cock constantly.” Your pussy clenches with both excitement and fear at his words.

Black groans, holding back the beast within him from devouring you wholly as you lie beneath him with your pretty eyes sparkling with the familiar innocence and how he gets turned on by the translucent stockings wrapped around your legs. His hand rubs on the side of your leg, feeling you up before taking you by surprise when he hoists your leg over his shoulder.

You marvel at the flexibility you had no idea existed, how it bends to his will while he adjusts in aiming his cock at your awaiting hole. “You’d make the perfect cheerleader, baby.” He comments with a groan before pushing his cock into you in one go, giving you no time to adjust to his girth when he thrusts with an unyielding force.

Your face contorts into both pleasure and pain as you throw your head back, baring your dainty neck to him, which entices him to wrap his fingers around it, and he does, eliciting a gasp from you when he squeezes your throat. Despite knowing that he could easily snap your neck, your arousal seems to intensify at the idea of being choked while he obliterates your pussy, causing you to arch into him.

“Guess babydoll has a kink.” The smirk in his tone is evident, taking great pleasure at the gasps and stuttered moans from you as he squeezes your neck occasionally. “You like this? Like getting choked while I—"He pauses, withdrawing his cock, only to ram into you harder than the previous, bruising your hips. “—while I ruin your sweet pussy?”

Your eyes go white as you surrender to the painful pleasure that brings you to another state of pure bliss, moans spilling from your lips, completely incoherent, but he squeezes your neck again in warning, forcing you to focus in the hollow sockets of his mask while you hear his ragged breathing. “Answer me.” He commands in a growl.

“I like it!” You manage to utter, your breathing getting irregular from the overwhelming sensation of getting fucked with reckless abandon.

“Tell me that you love being my cockslut.” Black demands with cruel delight at the same time he shows leniency in the way he slowly removes his fingers from your throat. “Tell me that you love getting ruined by us.”

“I love being your cockslut!” You moan as he hoists your other leg over his shoulder, finding yourself in a mating press that allows you to feel his cock deeper to the hilt. “I love getting ruined by you!” Your admission has the other guys undeniably hard, how desperate and needy you sound.

“Look at you.” Black growls, his voice huskier than earlier, as he pounds into you relentlessly while the squelching sound of your sexes in union reaches your ears. “You were made for this, to take my cock.” The sensation of his brutal cock lodging deeper is overwhelming, heightening your sensitivity as you feel your pleasure reaching a crescendo, the familiar inevitable about to rain on you.

Without announcing your arrival, you come hard on his cock, your body trembling with overwhelming pleasure, but he doesn’t stop just yet, pounding harder and harder while you whimper and whine from the overstimulation, completely helpless under him.

“This pussy is mine now.” Black grunts, delivering one last hard thrust before going completely still, lodging his cock deep in you while you feel his release filling you to the brim. He teases you with a few thrusts while your cunt pulsates around him. 

Black lowers your aching legs before pulling away from your cunt that is leaking with the union of your cums, eliciting a whimper from you as you feel oversensitive. “Last one, baby. Don’t disappoint my best friend now.”

Upon his words, Grey steps forward, and there is something menacing about him with his hollow sockets staring at you that makes you want to cower away. You make a pathetic attempt to close your legs and drag your body despite the weight of exertion pressing you down, but he is quick enough to catch you, manhandling you in a way that has your head dizzying before finding yourself in a different position.

Ironically, you feel more vulnerable with your back facing them, especially when Grey forces your legs to spread, exposing your slick-smeared cunt to them. A gasp leaves your lips at the stinging pain on your right bum before a moan tears from your throat at the abrupt intrusion of his cold, slender fingers shoving into your hole.

“You’re pathetic and disgusting, princess.” Grey’s hatred is apparent despite his voice thickening with desire while he continues to thrust his fingers into your sensitive pussy. “I knew that you were a slut behind that good girl act.”

You know that in any other circumstances, you would feel hurt by his words, but right now, you feel a sense of pleasure as he continues to spit demeaning words to you while you fuck back into his fingers with your head lolling to the back. The way you move sensually with your heavenly round bum look has him groaning deeply before he unsheathes his fingers from you, eliciting a whine of disappointment from you.

“Patience, slut.” You squeak when he brings his palm down and smacks your right bum again. You hear him unzipping his pants, and you feel inclined to wiggle your ass at him, as though to taunt him. “Look at you, princess. Getting excited for my cock.”

Without any warning, Grey shoves his cock into your awaiting hole, and somehow, you feel tighter even after taking three cocks. You gasp at the sensation of his sheer girth that feels long and thick, making you feel full instantly. “Still so fucking tight after getting ruined by more than one cock. Fucking slut.” He scoffs, giving your bum a resounding smack that brings tears to your eyes.

Grey proceeds to fuck you, slamming his hips into yours unforgivingly as his cock stretches your velvety walls deliciously. You begin to get handsy with your hands, needing to ground yourself as the way he bullies his cock into you nearly brings you to the wrong side of heaven. He makes a disapproving noise under his breath before grabbing your arms and locking them behind you expertly with one hand while the other delivers another smack to your burning bum.

“I don’t care if you’d be breaking by the time I’m through with you. Just fucking take it.” Grey says harshly through ragged breathing, each thrust is punctuated by the apparent hatred he harbours for you, and yet you feel more turned on than ever, loving this pain he’s bestowing on you.

“H-Harder.” You utter feebly, and a broken moan leaves your lips when he fucks you harder, causing your whole body to shake from the impact. His consistency remains, his cock battering your insides relentlessly while you moan out from the pleasure wantonly that only seems to spur him further.

“Taking cock is all you’re good at.” Grey growls under his breath as he presses his body into you, allowing you to hear his husky voice clearly as he speaks in your ear, all the while without faltering his brutal thrusts. “Your greedy pussy will always need more than one cock, because that’s what you are, a hungry cockslut.”

You moan at his words, and upon watching the pure, fucked-out bliss on your angelic face, he can’t resist the temptation and shoves his now-ungloved fingers into your mouth. “Suck on them like how you would suck my cock, princess.”

You do as he tells you, your tongue licking his fingers sensually and sucking on them. You choke on his fingers as he lodges them deeper into your mouth, hitting your throat that vibrates with your moans as his cock hits the delicious spot relentlessly. You gasp out as soon as he removes his fingers from your mouth, your spit covering his fingers wholly.

Your eyes roll to the back in pleasure when he rubs your clit with the same fingers he choked you with, your mouth gaping with pornographic moans as he rubs your bundle of nerves harder and faster while his cock remains constant in hitting the spot in your sopping cunt. You hear him groaning deeply at how submissive and needy you are as you attempt to spread your legs further at the same time you move your hips to match the way he’s assaulting you with his cock and fingers.

“Look at you being so needy for me, princess.” Grey murmurs, his voice carrying an undertone of affection, eliciting a mewl from you as you feel the instinctual need to bask in his warmth. “You’ll be the perfect cockslut for us, for me.”

Even without words of your imminent arrivals, your bodies seem to be in tune with each other, because with one last earth-shattering thrust and a hard flick to your clit, his orgasm crashes down on him at the same time your orgasmic release rolls through you like tidal waves, his cum mixing with yours, marking the finality of the leaders’ claims on you.

Your heart flutters when you feel the lip shape on his mask pressing into your bare shoulder, as though he’s giving you a kiss before disappointment dawns on you as he slowly pulls away, allowing you to feel his girth dragging along your battered walls. But the disappointment is slowly replaced by sheer exhaustion of the aftermath, leaving you to remain exposed in their eyes that you can’t seem to feel any humiliation.

You hear muffled sounds from behind, as though a conversation is happening between them, and just when sleep is taking over your consciousness, your eyes snap wide open on high alert at the sensation of something sharp grazing down on your skin before the dreadful realisation hits you that someone is wielding a knife with its cold blade tantalisingly caressing your right bum.

“This is gonna hurt, love, but you’re strong. You can take it.” White, no, Heeseung tells you with a soothing lull that is ineffective in influencing sleep over your terrified figure. 

You open your mouth to speak, but instead, a scream tears from your throat at the searing pain of the blade digging into your tender skin. You attempt to move, wanting to get away from him, but he easily overpowers you with one hand, locking your arms together in a bind behind you while he continues to torment you with his knife.

You can only afford to cry out at the painful sensation that is unlike anything else. After what feels like forever, your cries abate as you heave soft sobs once the blade leaves you, feeling warm liquid dripping down your skin while you have no notion what he did to your skin that remains burning from the cruel aftermath.

As the series of events that unfold in one night flashes on your mind, your body feels the inevitable trauma that renders you paralysed before going into a profound state of shock. Eventually, you succumb to the oblivion that beckons you to its cold arms, leaving you at your most vulnerable state in the eyes of your surrounding predators.

A profound silence settles in the room, being courteous enough to look away from your half-nudity when their best friend begins to treat your wound at where Heeseung carved their mark on you just moments ago while you remain unconscious from all the exertion, fallen in a deep slumber. They would never leave you to deal with treating any wounds on your own, and besides, you’re theirs to take care of now.

After you passed out, Sunghoon offered to carry you to his room and would be the one treating all of your wounds since out of the four of them, he is far more capable and has the proper aiding tools. He has been treating you with extra care, leaving no wounds or blisters unattended or done with improper care. Plus, in his words, he didn’t trust his best friends enough as he was sure that if any of them had been the one instead, your wounds may develop infection.

Thankfully, his best friends have their backs facing him as he focuses on cleaning the last of your wound with an antiseptic before patching it up with a bandage. All the while, his thoughts are filled with how utterly ridiculous he was for being oddly generous by letting the girl he hates sleep on his bed and the fact that he has never invited any girl into his room or even bed, as he is very particular about cleanliness. Yet, here you are. Never again, he thinks.

As soon as Sunghoon is done, the other three return their gaze to you while he proceeds to wash his hands, now tucked under the covers while your hair is sprawled out in tendrils. With the moonlight streaming in, casting a gentle glow on your serenity, you look like an angelic mess, and due to the aftermath, you look so frail that it makes them fiercely devoted to protecting you, a natural instinct they have towards you now.

Now, the four leaders are scattered around in Sunghoon’s room, but their eyes never stray from your serene form, because something about you feels oddly comforting, like a home they’ve been searching for a long time deep down. However, only three of them exchange knowing looks as the same curiosity remains lingering in their heads.

“What are you planning, Heeseung?” Jay asks quietly, drawing Heeseung’s attention from you. Despite knowing each other since diapers, he could never read the latter most of the time.

“You know that this changes quite literally everything, at least until we graduate.” Sunghoon adds on, being careful with the volume of his voice as he does not want to wake you up.

“Listen, I like Y/N, but—” Though Jake is directing his opening statement to Heeseeung, Sunghoon cuts him off with a ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ look while Jake merely shrugs his shoulders. “Well, yeah, she’s a nice girl, a pretty sweet one at that. Who wouldn’t like her?” He says before focusing back on Heeseung. “Anyway, as I was saying, we haven’t had anyone to prey on for years since the moment we took up the position as devil’s knights’ leaders, and the mark was created by the founders of Devil’s Knights, which not only represents us but is also a mark meant for the leaders’ prey.”

“And you do realise that she now bears the mark.” Jay points out the obvious as he folds his arms over his chest, standing at a neutral point, but he doesn’t wish for Heeseung to regret his actions. “Y/N, out of all people. I don’t know if you thought this through—"

“Remember the conversation we had last week?” Heeseung cuts him off; his tone and demeanour remain disconcertingly calm. The three leaders slowly nod their heads as they recall a certain memory. “We vowed that we would do anything to destroy our fathers and possibly their empire too. This is it. This is just the beginning.”

“And how does that have anything to do with Y/N?” Sunghoon asks, displaying genuine confusion as the rest do, and yet a part of them feels wickedly intrigued.

“She’s the key.” Heeseung simply says as he moves towards you before stopping right next to the bed, his eyes softening as he reaches out to stroke your cold cheek gently. “At least not directly. It’s just too bad that she has no idea she is caught up in the mess too.” Though Heeseung’s answer doesn’t satisfy their curiosity, they know that he will elaborate more as time passes.

“Y/N now officially bears the mark as our prey, and no matter how much you hate that she has been chosen, I expect you to follow the tradition that has always run this fraternity.” Heeseung smirks, his eyes never leaving your angelic face as he continues to stroke your cheek affectionately. “Corrupt, destroy, and bend her to your will.”

“I’m not even complaining.” Jake says with a devious grin, chuckling at the blatant reaction of Sunghoon, who clearly despises the idea, while Jay seems neutral, but his face has a tinge of distaste. Jake could never blame them, though, because neither of them expected Heeseung to carve the mark on her.

“It’s going to be tough since she has a protective circle of friends, if you hadn’t noticed.” Jay grumbles, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the thought of your annoying friends.

“About that, I called Winter to inform Y/N’s roommates to come over and get her home,” Jake informs them, rubbing his nape sheepishly when two Parks glare at him in disbelief. “They’re already on their way here.”

Sunghoon scowls at him. “Oh great! Watch them disapproving and protesting. You already know how much they despise us.” 

A smirk touches Heeseung’s lips, a familiar devilry shadowing his features. “I’m not too worried because they know better than to mess with a devil’s knight’s prey.”

Your consciousness keeps fading in and out, as though it is reluctant to face the reality that awaits you, but it eventually enables you to feel the terrible aches all over your body and a stinging pain in your lower body part as it is being pressed down into the surface of something familiar, albeit a fleecy-like padding. Though the exhaustion settling in your body feels like it's on a different level, you slept well, suspiciously too well, as though your soul was on the other side of the universe, and with how fatigued you feel, you are tempted to return to a deep slumber.

But you are roused fully awake as an incessant pounding pummels into your skull, causing your face to contort into a grimace, and as you make an attempt to move your body, a wince leaves your lips at the familiar stinging sensation that you feel so distinctly somewhere around your backside. Your mind drifts from the pain you are feeling, only focusing on collecting the fragments of the events that transpired last night, which eventually coalesce into one account, prompting you to snap your eyes wide open in horror.

“Oh, no, no, no, no! It can’t be—" You continue to prattle, having no clue whether or not the words tumbling past your lips are intelligible, but the memory of the number of events that happened in one night is unmistakably fresh in your mind. You force yourself to calm your erratic nerves as you inhale and exhale deeply. 

“It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Maybe some of those were just your imagination.” You reassure yourself before abruptly raising your body vertically, only for it to be a mistake when the ache intensifies in your lower abdomen, but your attention shifts to the bandages on each side of your forearms, wondering when you got minor injuries.

Your feet feel particularly sore before you pull away the duvet that’s been covering your legs, your baby pink shorts allowing the full view of a few bandages decorating your skin while your feet are nearly covered with rolled bandages. No, it is definitely not just your imagination. You remember clearly how your feet were swelling and bearing blisters after having to run away from the relentless danger.

A shaky breath leaves your lips before the sense of disgust comes to you. Not only do you feel like absolute shit, but you feel so disgusting that it makes you want to shred every inch of your skin. Caught in a whirlwind of chaotic emotions, you fail to realise that your body has yet to recover from the exhaustion, resulting in you falling over your bed and your body making contact with the cold hard ground with a loud thud.

“Ouch!” You moan loudly at the brutal impact, tears welling in your eyes from the pain that adds to your misery, or maybe you’re just overwhelmed by everything. You hold back your tears as you attempt to push yourself up.

The impact could probably be heard from outside of your room, because in just a few seconds, thundering footsteps approach your room before the door swings open with your best friends barging in, appalled by your current situation. “Y/N!”

Instead of turning and asking them for help like you would usually do, you simply ignore them, your jaw locking with tension as you are determined enough to help yourself, but Wonyoung and Yunjin are quicker than you as they swiftly offer their aid by grabbing you on each side and carefully assisting you to stand. 

“I didn’t need any of your help! I had it handled!” You lash out at them, choking back on a sob as you yank your aching arms from them, prompting Wonyoung and Yunjin to exchange looks, but you are too occupied in the sense of betrayal from your friends, because they should’ve told you everything and what to expect in the first place, especially since they have always been Devil’s Night’s regulars.

Karina observes your odd temperament, noticing the tears in your waterline. “Y/N, you didn’t have to lash out at them. They were helping you because you were clearly struggling.” Her tone is missing the usual mirth, but you could not bring yourself to care. 

Yunjin shakes her head at Wonyoung, but the latter cautiously approaches you as if you’re a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. “We understand that you had a rough night—”

“You don’t understand anything, let alone what I feel.” Your voice holds a palpable tremor, struggling to control the anger that’s been boiling within. You glare at them, taking them by surprise with a brief hurt flashing in their eyes. “I feel shitty, if that’s what you want to know.”

“Is there anything you need, Y/N?” Yunjin asks gently, focusing on you instead of her feelings that were hurt by your words and actions.

“What I need is to be alone and take a damn shower. I feel so icky.” You grumble under your breath as you force yourself to head to the shower in spite of the constant difficulty of the aches in your legs. You nearly falter in your steps as you recall how you were voluntarily willing to be theirs last night, willing for them to take you as they please.

You clench a fist before continuing your destination, oblivious to the wary looks being exchanged between your best friends. “Uh, Y/N—”

You ignore them again as you turn on the faucet, allowing the water to run before you cup a handful of water with your palms and splash it to your face, but as you bend down further to wash your face in the sink for another time, you wince at the painful stretch of what it feels like a wound on your backside so distinctly.

“What the hell?” You whisper, your face contorting into confusion before turning your body to an angle where you can see the right side of your body in the mirror. You pull down your waistband, not even bothered that your best friends are still watching you, and you swear you feel your heart sinking in the pit of your stomach. “Oh my God—”

You are not even shocked, just completely mortified by the grotesque image of what it looks like someone had used the tip of a knife to skilfully carve an upside-down cross on your skin, and with how the condition of the wound is looking, you fear that it will leave a permanent scar on your skin. And it’s not just someone, because you clearly remember Heeseung being the responsible one.

“We were trying to tell you about it.” Karina says quietly as the atmosphere feels unsettling. “You bear the mark of the Devil’s Knights’ leaders now.”

“W-What?” You stammer, your voice trembling with both fear and disbelief while your head is in a disarray of chaos. “I don’t understand. Their mark? So what does this mean for me?” You dare to ask, tears blurring your vision with each blink.

Your best friends exchange looks again, but this time, the shadow of secrecy passes by in their countenance, giving you a strong sense that there is more than they seem to let on, and you hate how insecurity begins to creep up on you.

“It means they own you now.”

The ordeal remains a haunting playback in your mind, as though you are experiencing it all over again. You feel horrified by the things that happened on one night, immoral behaviours that were deemed lawful by the government you thought would make the world a better place, but above all, you feel completely revolted at yourself, as you know that you have no one to blame but yourself.

You feel horrible, needing the urge to vomit, but nothing comes out, and it feels like you are on the brink of insanity. You didn’t sleep a wink last night, and you didn’t even step a foot outside, refusing to deal with any of your best friends. There is no doubt that your eccentric behaviour alarms them gravely, as evident in the way their worry for you remains constant and they take turns knocking on your door to get you to come out and eat something, but you remain nonverbal, eventually forcing them to resign.

It is not that you hate your best friends, and you don’t think you could ever hate them, but you can’t look at their faces yet, seeing how they seemed to accept the horrifying fact that you now bear a mark that indicates you are the leaders’ property and how their normalcy truly confounds you as if whatever happened on Devil’s Night is barely a memory. You can’t help but feel resentful towards them, knowing that they have been attending Devil's Night since freshmen, because how do they still not find any issues in the annual festivity that entails such heinous pursuits?

You love your best friends; you really do, but right now, as you have been reflecting deeply, you wonder if you truly know them, or anyone around you for that matter. Or maybe they’re just the same as the Devil’s Knights, except the masks they wear are not tangible, but the thought of it unnerves you the same.

You examine yourself in the mirror once more, wearing an outfit that highlights modesty, a stark contrast to the dress you wore two nights ago, and you never knew a dress could hold a weight of memories. You can feel your hand trembling as you wait patiently for your mother to answer your call, pressing your phone to your ear.

“Hi, Mom.” You greet your mother on the line steadily, but you can feel yourself getting weaker in your resolve.

“Hey, sweetie. You’re up early on a Sunday.” Your mother’s kind and gentle voice is soothing to hear, and yet it brings tears to your eyes. You yearn to be in her warm, comforting arms, where you feel undoubtedly safe. You wish to be the innocent little girl in your mama’s arms.

“I’m planning to head over to the church near campus since I was always so busy with school.” You tell her, mustering a smile in your tone as you quickly wipe a fallen teardrop from the corner of your eye. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s sleeping. He just got back from a tiring night shift.” Your mother informs you, but you sense a certain tone of knowingness in her tone as she continues to speak. “Tell me, what happened?”

“Nothing. What makes you think that?” You try your best to be indifferent, now making your way to grab your sling purse from the hanging rack. “I’m fine, Mom, really.”

“I know my daughter, Y/N. It isn’t like you to call me at this hour. Did something happen to my sweetie?”

Alas, the tears brimming in your eyes cascade down your cheeks, and thankfully you choose to go for a barefaced look. “Um, am I still good, Mom?” Your voice cracks in between, allowing your true emotion to surface.

“Of course you are. You are always good, and goodness is always inside of you.” Your mother remains constant in the way she speaks to you in a soft lull, being patient with you as you try to find the right words but careful enough not to expose yourself.

“But what if I did something bad?” You ask sullenly. “What if I sinned?” You already did — giving away your virginity voluntarily to the four men you couldn’t help but be attracted to.

There is a brief silence on the line, and you can’t discern whether your mother is mad at you or not. “Sweetie, there is no denying that you are God’s blessed child, and purity has always been a big part of you, but you are a human just like the rest. You’re bound to make mistakes. So if you have sinned, you should already know what to do next.”

“Are you mad at me?” You ask meekly, swallowing a lump in your throat. You hate disappointing your mother. You are sure enough that she would disown you without hesitation if she ever found out about what happened.

“No, I’m not.” Your mother reassures you. “Have a safe journey on your way to the church, alright? I love you, always. Remember that, sweetie.”

“I love you too, Mom.” You reciprocate as your voice comes out shaky before you end the call. You quickly stuff your necessities in your sling purse before exiting your room cautiously as you slowly and quietly close the door behind you. You know that your roommates are still asleep at this time, but you want to be extra cautious.

After successfully exiting your dormitory building, you decide to hail a cab outside, lacking the energy to take a bus ride. As the driver drives you to the destination, you take the moment to close your eyes and put your mind at ease, but only negativity manages to invade your short-lived peace. The devilry whispers, telling you how you should just give up and succumb to what your heart desires most.

Thankfully, you have arrived at your destination before you can dwell further. You exit the cab after paying the fare, your eyes magnetically drawn to the divine building ahead of you. Your stomach churns with relentless guilt while your heart throbs, but you force yourself to advance. A gust of wind hits your skin, sending you shivers and prompting you to hug your white coat around your figure. It has also been quite some time since you visited the church that is situated on the same street as the campus due to the heavy workload given by your professors for the past months that you didn’t even have the time to visit.

Before you can even step foot onto the holy ground, you feel a familiar chill running down your body with the back of your hair rising, prompting you to daringly look over your shoulder, your eyes scanning your surroundings, completely paranoid. You swear that you feel eyes burning straight into your figure, and even as you finally enter the building, you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you from afar.

But as you amble further in, you feel at ease, tension dissipating in every part of your body and mind as the familiar tranquillity in the ambience feels like a gentle hug, assuring you that despite the sins sitting on your shoulders and the guilt weighing on your conscience, you will be pardoned in the end.

Fortunately, the place is not as crowded as you expected since it is still too early for the service to begin. You offer a polite smile to the sisters walking past you as they welcome you warmly with smiles.

The pastor, who appears to be speaking to one of the members of the church, directs his focus to you, missing the way his eyes glimmer with an inexplicable emotion. Once his eyes meet yours, a warm smile touches his lips. “It has been a while, my child.”

You reciprocate his smile with politeness despite your nerves returning to eat you up on the inside. “It has. School has been keeping me occupied.”

“I admire your optimism, but it’s still early to start the service.” He tells you with genuine confusion. 

You release a shaky breath, mustering bravery while regret shines in your eyes and the guilt pierces into your heart like a deadly thorn. “I have a confession to make.”

His smile falters just slightly. He tips his head in the direction where the familiar booth of the sacrament of penance is, beckoning you to follow him. “Come, child.”

It isn’t long until you have finally reached it, now seated on the chair with your heart pounding against your chest. Your hands tremble as they rest on your thighs, but you clench them into fists.

“Whenever you are ready.” He says to you from the other side of the wall.

The events that transpired two nights ago are like a film in your mind as you recall them. A tumultuous mixture of emotions is palpable within you while you attempt to remain collected. 

With a shaky breath, you begin your confession, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned……”

DKP TAGLIST:

@wave2hoon @nyxtwixx @somuchdard @bgirly318 @en-doll

@enhamonsterghoul

PERM TAGLIST 1:

@ja3yun @yzzyhee @sunpov @vveebee @jiryunn

@nshmrarki @roslayy @machambrx @wonnienyang @punchbug9-blog

@hollyoongs @chicxxy @tunafishyfishylike @norucking @riribelle

@lol6sposts @skzenhalove @reading-wh0re @tinie03 @cyjhhyj

@jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate @mitmit01 @strxwbloody @woorcve @1309zip

@fancypeacepersona @tsukiflwr @karinaever @wolfhardbby @moonpri

@lucid-sombra @kittylicious-purr @addictedtohobi @lillotus17 @minahaeyo

@in-somnias-world @jezzzzzzmin @deobitifull @doublebunv @mamuljji

[rotagnus]

advice for your specific situation---<3

hi babies!! i hope all of you are doing okay. you can ask this about any situation you want, i'll try to be general, but there may be some more specific messages littered along the way.

this is a bit of a heavy reading and it deals with certain topics, so as always, be wary!

pile 1.

you guys are absolutely hopeless for some reason. shot down multiple times, it's hard to keep your head up, but your relentless hope is the only thing that's gotten you through tough times in the past, so you keep your head up even though you're crawling. there's a lot of disharmony in matters of the heart; a lot of you could have been very naive towards some problem of an emotional nature, and you may be feeling as if your heart is shattered, or perhaps tender. you are curious about the world, and have an innate belief in the goodness of people even though you keep getting backstabbed over and over again. you've probably asked for a sign recently; a sign to keep your hope, to keep your heart open regardless of the troubles you've experienced. you should look inwards; stop focusing on the minute details of the physical world. you probably have problems with self-sabotage and causing yourself to be in pain, take that as you may. it's hard to not fall back into old patterns, to keep your head up, especially when you've convinced yourself that the ending to this situation is bad. the answer is, you must keep your hope. you must, you must, you must. it is the right thing to do. you will be victorious, in the end, my bleeding heart. that phrase describes you very well. sensitive, emotional, but you prize those aspects of yourself. continue to do so. nurture yourself. you worry about other people, about their problems, but the truth is that you must focus on your faith.

a lot of you seem to have lost your belief in something, going through a dark phase. many are already on a journey to self-discovery, but you feel like you've taken a major step back. you may see other people getting what they want in life, people who are further behind you, and you ask God, why not me? truth is, you have a deep desire to grow. all these people you worry about chose the easy way out and will have a lot of problems to unpack later on in their life. you have your guardian angel to support you, you have many, many pillars of support. soon, everything will clear up, and you will see the answer. don't force yourself to choose an ending before it's time.

a cycle is ending for you. you must let this dark phase come over you. a lot of you might get your period soon or perhaps experience some stormy weather, going through the winter of this ending phase. for this situation to bloom, you must set out boundaries and lay out the ground-flooring for the next cycle to come. what do you want out of your life, darling? not what your parents want, what your friends want, what was laid out in front of you. a lot of you want to be seen. i think you'll get that, but only when you allow yourself to be. this new cycle will bring truths; truths you avoid. it'll bring your true self to the light, and you'll feel belly-up. i think this will be a focal point in your life, for it will either be a cycle you have to keep relearning, or you will finally accept that you must be yourself, authentically. this situation is entirely dependent on you, and how you face these adversities.

pile 2.

you guys are convinced you know everything, through and through. you are on hell of an assumption-maker, my friend. you guys are also givers. you guys are extremely self-aware of your duality, yet you beat yourself up for doing anything out of the extremely high morals you've set for yourself. some of you are guilty about a certain situation; God is telling me that you must forgive yourself. forgive yourself. you can't always be pure and good. your goodness comes from your ability to forgive, and your ability to grow. a lot of you are discovering patterns in your life and patterns in your thinking, which in itself is a very hard process, so i applaud you for that. you've got skeletons in your closet, and they're all coming out, and you're convincing yourself that you are a terrible person because you've gone through shit. FALSE!!! a lot of those things were out of your control. relax, baby. a lot of you are feeling as if this situation is hopeless. partially, some of you felt like everything was going well; it was going great, in fact, and recently something destroyed this perfect world that you had. it may have collided with your new, fresh belief in good things. you are tired of growing through pain. i think a lot of you are pretending that self-love isn't part of the journey. honey baby, you must love yourself very deeply before you can throw yourself onto a sword. yes, life has risks; but a lot of you seem to self-sacrifice yourself to the point that you are marred with nothing but scars and bruises. you view yourself as dirty. you need to develop better self-love and self-respect instead of letting people walk all over you.

your hard work isn't going unacknowledged. you need to set up the basic infrastructure for your life before you can start adding players to the game. you have a pure heart, and sometimes, what the heart wants...isn't necessarily what the heart needs, or deserves. you need to accept that. what you think is perfect for you, may not be perfect for you. also, it may be a better thing to keep a stone-face for a while, to people who you are not very close with. do not tell them your good experiences; people can be jealous, and share your sweet things with sweet people. i feel as though you will get what you want when you grow as a person; you can't start a habit for 10 days and decide that it's all permanent on the 10th day. it takes time. it takes lessons. you asked to be strong, for growth, and this is what you get.

10 is very significant for you guys, i am hearing. OOOUUU girl okay okay. i see. so my deck has hearts instead of swords, and two of hearts fell out, as well as the magician. i think that the magician represents the universe while the two of hearts represent you and someone else, or something else. a lot of you seek perfection with this other subject; you want everything to be orchestrated on YOUR timing. this won't happen! the magician is orchestrating things to happen on divine timing. you can't rush things; right now, focus on making sure that you're the version of yourself you want to be in order to get this blessing. things move on their own timing, with the chariot; you are simply a passenger in this moving vehicle, you cannot tell the driver to go faster. look out of the window and observe the beautiful landscape instead of rushing. the car ain't gonna go faster anyways LOL. 333 is significant, too. change is coming. your intuition is on point; a lot of you already know what you must do for this situation. the lovers fell out again; i think that this may be about romantic love, for some of you. you guys have a lot of dead things you're burying, and you're not done yet; when you'll finish this cycle, you'll get what you want. sailor song may be significant for some of you; i like the way you kiss me by artemas, too. enjoy this journey.

pile 3.

you guys are lost on what to do and where to go. you feel like you've finished a certain cycle in your life, but now you're at a cross-roads, and your heart, soul, body, and mind, all want different things. which do you follow? i feel like a lot of you may have gone ghost on some people; frozen in action is what i'm hearing. maybe you stopped telling people about things in your life, because people from the past wonder about you. it's important for you not to fall into past patterns, dear. a lot of you are very deep feelers, very deep thinkers, and you see people for who they are; their bads, their goods, you understand it is all part of being human. the truth is that people can be both good and bad simultaneously while not deserving a role in your life. it's your movie, baby, and you don't need to have everyone as a star in it. you're such a sweet thing, and you deserve sweetness in your life. a lot of you may be growing closer to your friends, and i advise that you hang-out with them, or talk. you grew up either very alone, or with a very close-knit group of people, forged out of pains and sufferings. you're a realist, and you have a very straight view of the world, not allowing yourself to see it as something extremely optimistic, as pile 1 does. when you do, it makes you overwhelmed; it feels as if your heart has multiplied, beating in so many rhythms it confuses you. you're reminiscing on people, specifically; you, my love, have a deep love for humanity. a commitment to bettering the world is very significant here. you've distanced yourself from society, in a way, but you still want people to bloom. you are wise beyond your years.

but that doesn't mean that you have to be so strong all the time. it's alright to break down and cry. you don't have to be the parent, you don't have to carry all this weight on your shoulders. i promise you, the universe/God will listen to all your burdens. cry. speak to whatever you have faith in. cry again. i feel like a lot of you just need to blurt out whatever you're feeling so you can understand what you feel. whisper at night, write it down in a journal, speak to the stars, speak to a person. you are so treasured. a lot of you feel like you have to perform for others. everyone's always watching you, watching you, for a stumble. you MUST let go. stop caring what others think. they ain't gonna like you if they ain't like you already. their opinions don't matter. you have a voice that could start wars, and the right people will stand behind you and not betray you. there are still good people out there, and for your situation, YOU MUST UNDERSTAND IT IS NOT ALWAYS GOOD TO BE BY YOURSELF. being alone is good, for self-reflection...being alone because you're scared of opening up is bad. you see people as weapons, weapons of love and pain--look at them as people. honey, you are so wise, but sometimes, simplicity is the answer.

a lot of you have to be strong right now. everyone's watching you--you're the star of the show, to God, to higher beings, to the people in your life. be confident; you are in this beautiful role for a reason! dance, be yourself. people's feelings will reveal themselves, if you feel as if there are liars or untruthful people in your life, a lot of the things you're worrying about will reveal themselves to you. you just have to accept your beauty and work on your self-love. a lot of you doubt your own self, and you have an awkward perception of yourself as a person. kick yourself out of this state, and look at yourself, baby, you're the whole bag of cookies and MORE!! you're a damn deal! you're gorgeous, beautiful, smart! read those affirmations. do the work. you'll be a-okay, honey!

[fatkish]

The Hashira trying to befriend a new Hashira reader that is a Phantom Breath User. She likes to make creepy dolls and talk about morbid dark things to people. She's not trying to be scary on purpose that's how she interacts with people. Often inviting people to walk around old gravesites with her.

She's often seen talking to herself, but she's actually talking to ghosts

Hashiras x Hashira Reader

When Ubuyashiki introduced you to everyone, there were many different thoughts going through everyone’s heads. What is phantom breathing? Why does it seem like you’re constantly staring into people’s souls? How strong are you? And other thoughts. The immediate opinions of the Hashira are as follows upon first meeting you.

Tengen: you give him the creeps. While your sense of fashion (being that of constantly carrying a creepy little stuffed doll on your person and having a Haori that is white with flowers and skulls) is flashy in its own way, it gives you this eerie vibe.

Obanai: he couldn’t really care less about you so long as you’re strong and have earned your spot. As long as you do your job, he couldn’t care less.

Sanemi: you seriously piss him off. You have this blank stare that reminds him too much of Tomioka. (He’s not aware that you’re able to see his dead kid siblings constantly surrounding him)

Muichiro: what’s happening again? Who is this person that’s staring at him, or well, through him? A second decorative object.

Giyuu: he has no opinion. He just hopes that you don’t die too quickly.

Gyomei: another Hashira, how wonderful. He hopes that you will live a long life and be able to perform adequately.

Shinobu: why is it that your stare reminds her of a dead fish? Why are you just staring at everyone? Oh, maybe you’re just shy, or you’re socially inept like Giyuu. She hopes you won’t be as dreary as him.

Mitsuri: oh she’s so happy to have another female pillar around. What’s your favorite food? Do you have any hobbies? Hopefully you’ll be able to be good friends.

Kyojuro: another Hashira, how splendid! He’s never heard of phantom breathing before and is interested in how it works. Perhaps you’ll spar with him.

As time went on, the other Hashira began to notice things about you. You often talked to thin air and had conversations with yourself. You liked to walk through graveyards which was creepy to a lot of the other Hashira. Despite your eerie nature, you’re actually rather friendly and talkative. Although, the topics you talk about are rather off putting such as how the human body decomposes or where you should or shouldn’t bury bodies, etc.

You’d often sew these creepy little dolls and have a rather large collection of them. One time when you were on a mission with Sanemi, you asked a little girl if you could have some of her hair to sew onto your doll and use as the doll’s hair. Needless to say, Sanemi smacked you in the back of the head and dragged you away after you scared the poor child. He was very disturbed to find out that you often times take things from dead creatures to use with your dolls. You have a stuffed dog that has actual dog teeth sewn into it that you got from a dead dog.

One time when you were at Gyomei’s estate, you confessed to him that you were seen as a cursed child growing up. You told him about your past and your ability to see ghosts and the spirits of the dead. People avoided you as a child and thought you were either sick in the head or cursed since you always talked to ‘yourself’. You had difficulties distinguishing the difference between the living and the spirits of the dead. As you sat beside him, you told him about the child spirits that constantly follow him. You told him how they are always watching him and looking after him.

As time went on, the other Hashira had gotten used to you and your strange ways. Most of them have come to accept you. Although there are rumors in the Corps that you’re capable of seeing dead people, many think it’s just a rumor. Although some lower ranks do come to you occasionally to ask about their deceased loved ones. You’d often tell them what you can and they’d leave feeling better knowing that their loved ones are close and watching over them. The Hashira’s current opinions of you are as follows.

Tengen: I found her to be creepy at first but after I got to know her, I found that she can be relatively good company. Her ability to see dead people is certainly flashy in itself. I definitely believe her. She once told me that I shouldn’t let my past haunt me since my siblings don’t blame me for killing them. It was nice to hear that. She’s a decent Hashira.

Obanai: she’s weird. I don’t care if she can see and talk to the dead. I for one, don’t believe her. She is strong though so there’s that. Kaburamaru doesn’t seem to mind her.

Sanemi: that damn bitch! Who does she think she is making fun of my past! How the hell did she even know about my siblings and their names? How dare she talk about them. She’s strong but she’s creepy. If she ever talks about my family again I’m going to beat her up, I don’t care if she’s a woman!

Muichiro: she’s a strange creature. She reminds me of a moth. For some reason she constantly calls me Yuichiro, when I correct her, she apologizes and tells me that we look so similar. She and I have nothing in common. Who are we talking about again?

Giyuu: I like her. She’s nice. At first I didn’t believe that she saw ghosts but after we talked a bit and have gotten to know each other, she told me about how my older sister is constantly worrying about me and is always watching over me. At first I didn’t believe her but she described my sister perfectly. It’s nice knowing that my sister is at peace.

Gyomei: such a sweet child. Having the burden of being able to see and communicate with the deceased has caused her lots of pain. Despite being ostracized and mistreated for her gift, she continues to try and help the deceased. Such a kind and caring child. She is truly a pure soul and a good friend.

Shinobu: from a medical standpoint, I can’t say I believe that she’s able to see ghosts. Although I do believe that there is something that allows her to know the things she does, it just isn’t possible to see the dead. She once spoke about my beloved sister Kanae and told me that she was proud of me although she wished I chose to live a normal life. I don’t know how she knew this, but we’ve agreed that she is never to talk about my dear sister.

Mitsuri: oh she’s so sweet. Although she is a little weird, she’s super kind and friendly. Get this, she made me a little doll of myself and one of Obanai. The dolls are so cute. I keep them in my room on a shelf together. She doesn’t mind how much I eat and she even buys me food sometimes when we have missions together. She’s such a nice friend.

Kyojuro: she’s amazing. She is strong not just with a blade but also strong of heart. One time when she came over to my estate, she saw my father and had a private conversation with him. I didn’t hear too much of it, although I did hear my father’s shouts and heard him throw some things around. When she left that day, my father actually apologized for the way he’s been treating my brother and I. She told me that my mother was very proud of me and when I asked her about it, she perfectly described my mother despite me not telling her about her or having seen a picture of my mother.

[theannoyingurge]

On the topic of Durge / Ketheric / Durgetash and how it potentially echoes the lore of the Dead Three...

Back in the mortal adventuring days of the Dark Three, it was originally just two power hungry humans with a common enemy who'd gained respect for one another's capacity for ruthless violence and paired up - not so different from Durge and Gortash.

The duo was comprised of Bane of the Ancients (a former battle slave to a primordial evil from Abeir) and Arabhal (a chief assassin and spymaster from ancient Netheril).

Long before Myrkul joined the party, Bane and Bhaal adventured together seeking power for themselves, plotting to slay Bane's former master and take divinity from Jergal (Bhaal's patron deity). Sort of like how Durge and Gortash were allies before Ketheric joined the cabal. I can see Durgetash plotting to ascend together.

See where I'm going with this?

Anyway, Jergal thought they were neat. He encouraged their antics by blessing them with terrible nightmares and leading them to powerful weapons - most notably, leading them to Myrkul (a crowned price and powerful necromancer). It was Myrkul who finally managed to gain the three access to Jergal's domain, and Jergal really wanted to retire.

I suspect Bane and Bhaal remembered how critical Myrkul had been to their initial ascension, and that was why Ketheric Thorm was eventually looped into their new alliance.

Despite Bhaal and Bane's long history together, something funny happened following their ascension. Suddenly Myrkul and Bhaal have way more in common. Their portfolios make them natural allies. In the Avatars novels, Myrkul actually grieves the death of Bhaal, noting that one could hardly exist without the other, and states that 'amongst all the gods, they were perhaps the closest'.

Which means... Bane isn't Bhaal's favorite anymore. In fact, Bhaal can seriously fuck him up. While Myrkul truly appreciates the lord of death and murder for feeding his kingdom, Bane has as much to fear from Bhaal as to gain from him. (technically Bhaal claims he could starve Myrkul's kingdom, but since he really enjoys killing and hates the living world, Myrkul's kingdom is probably like a vacation home he'd prefer not to burn down.)

What we see after a thousand years or so of this is Bane antagonizing Bhaal every chance he gets, and profiting off every one of his failures. Bhaal picks a fight with the Moonshaes and gets exiled from Toril? Bane sees free real estate and conquers the wreckage. Assassins fail to kill the mortal Midnight (Mystra) and retrieve the tablet of fate during the ToT? Sacrifice them all in a massive death ritual to fuel Bane's new avatar! Bhaal is dead and his remaining loyalists team up with Bane's kid to bully Cyric, who usurped them both? Return in a pillar of fire and annex them into the church of Bane! Sucks to suck, your worshippers are mine now. Again.

I can see a BG3 prologue where Gortash and Durge are super best friends right up until Ketheric Thorm joins the party. I won't get into all the reasons why Ketheric's and Durge's personal issues make them ripe for toxic bonding, but suffice to say that Gortash soon gets jealous of the undead immortal stealing his Bhaalspawn's attention and (whether unwittingly or out of spite) leads Durge down the path to ruin (shooting himself in the foot in the process).

Meanwhile, Bhaal (who has been raging at Bane for stealing his stuff for the last century or two) is now raging at Bane and Myrkul for fighting over that stuff until it physically and mentally snaps and becomes a hero.

Now it's ruined and I have to settle for Orin. Fuck you both.

[vivisviolets]

⛓ who is your tribe? 𓆩📓𓆪 𓆩🖤𓆪 how will you meet? ⛓

✮i love how i connected these 3 pics im sooo smart guys

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ -pick the image that gotchu good 👁👁 gotcha eyes~ you know how to do it I know you do- if you feel unclear, take a nice deep breath, connect with spirit/God/your higher self, and ask what messages would serve you in this very moment~ this has been your radio host vi-vi talkin🎙, and I'll catch at your pile~🖋️✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖✮pile 1✮˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Five of Swords (reversed), Five of Wands (reversed), Ace of Wands, The Hierophant, Page of Cups (bottom of deck)

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ (slight 18+ cw) Libra/air placemnets, 7th house (Sun/Moon/Rising/Mercury/7h dominant etc), 1 house placements, Aries placements/degrees (Moon/Rising, etc), Nepo baby/“girl(boy/kid)-next-door” vibes, hair extentions, “going blonde”, Legally Blonde, angel numbers 1111, 222, 2424, 1234, channeled songs, Casual - Chappell Roan + How to be a Heartbreaker - MARINA

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Hello my pile 1s!!!!! omg i wanted to jump right in but I feel the need to greet you into this becaussse- omg you are gorgeous- like I am being so fr DO NOT play yourself down I can hear the mind chatter of some of you gearing up at me saying that,-shut that shish down. on the other side of this group,- you already know you were born beautiful, raised beautiful, and have always been your own created beauty, you’re so tapped into that and really you always have- so I want everyone in this pile, to align to that energy rn. 👏R👏N👏. No matter your upbringing, whatever your family told you, your past friend groups, your classmates,- you don’t got to do or be someone else’s anything. you speak for yourselfff- and you always have!! no matter how deep your security periods were, you still radiated- radiance💎 and strength- damn you guys are strong, no matter how “submissive” some of yall feel to be (your vulnerability is divine btw and def a part of your strength)- you are strong af. strong in only a way the wind is (I mean think of how destructive that nature can be yet how soothing its flow is when it is calm) or a polished pillar… I JUST KEEP HEARING IT- YOU GUYS ARE BEAUTIFULLLL. ugh I gotta get into more dets for you- I’m hearing that some of you are blonde (natural/dyed/bleached it dont matter) and damn does it make you look like a star ☆- PLEASEEE YOU’RE A STARRR ♥️- sorry- it looks so good on you the more fair aura because that is definitely the color of your aura in social situations (I’m hearing pale lavender, blue, pink, yellow), I’m hearing you have very calming eyes.. something about the color of your eyes is very “even” in color, or you may know how to keep very even eye contact and that makes the color of your eyes stand out (anyyy eye color- I’m even seeing some of you may have a kind of heterochromia where you may have a dot of brown in your blue iris/other colors apply, etc), some of the people who you’ve kept such level eye contact with during conversation- they think they’d be able to see your eyes in a dark room they stand out so much…

oh my god pile 1 you are a star- moving forward I have to mention, some of you are very proud brunettes- as you fucking should be because oh my jesus that’s hot, your hot, you are a star ★, a superstar- I am not just saying that holy shit. I’m seeing you may stand out in your friend group or who you usually hang out with due to your coloring whatever that may mean (for example cus we’re on the topic of hair- you may be a blonde within a lot of brunettes, or vice versa- you may have brown eyes among a bunch of blue/green eyes, vice versa- you may be only one who tans, has lots of birth marks, wears their hair natural, etc etc),- now I’m hearing I should be giving random styling opinions/boosting- so if you have a y2k grunge aesthetic, or old hollywood glam style you look incredibleeee- don’t you fucking dare bring your body type into this- if you’re an apple body you look like literal heaven in a pair of low rise bedazzled jeans- long straight hair looks so good with your body shape, get wigs if you’ve been thinking about it- get braids if you’ve been wanting them- different color highlights is definitely a good idea (blonde, orange, blue, purple), tighter tops look so good on your body shape (lace up ones or ones with details/graphtics)- a clean sleek white dress would literally ☆shock☆ everyone in a room who knows you/your style (and ppl who don’t know you loll), nude makeup that matches the rest of your undertones, glossy press on nails, one piece of jewelry per type here and there,- some more gn/masc opinions I’m hearing are more shaped clothes, botton downs tucked in high rise straight down jeans/pants (showcase the shape of your shoulders and waist a bit moreee)- I’m hearing if you were to wear a brooch of somekind on your shirt pocket you’d drive someone “wild”-… I MEAN MAYBE THAT’LL JUST BE ME 💞💀- curls look so great on you also, like if you did a larger loose curl somewhere in the front of your hair- gel curls would also look hot on you- star accents of some kind (jewelry, belt charms, keychains, even tattoos),,, you are totally someone’s “pretty boy”/“pretty girl”/“pretty baby”… OH MY GOD THIS IS A RELATIONSHIPS/FRIENDSHIPS PAC WHERE WAS III-

so I was getting into it even in the energy check-in some of you may be coming from a place of past drama- yes I said past bc even if it's fresh it will be past, and in that it is already the past babe. so anyway- there is something.. romantic here- possibly, but really I’m hearing you are in admiration by a lot of eyes-… now I’m hearing “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid lol BAHHA oooohh~ you think your life is really mundane and so you’re hearing me say you have eyeballs on you like “… I leave my house once a week”- …bitch- your envioment means nothinggg and can change when you want it to fr. no matter your place this is your natural energy- I’m hearing your natural energy is being a socialite- and I mean you are meant to shine like a glittery star in various rooms- WITH YOUR GAL PALS!! this can even apply for going into a business/professional environment where you speak and interact with a lot of people and you are at the center of that- But anyway take it where it may apply. for some of you- you may do amazing in more queer centered places (clubs, awareness groups, or even drag shows in your area), places with a lot of creativity in relation to fashion (maybe even theater?) and makeup- for others here you should get out more in your school/college (gardening clubs or outdoor volunteer work would definitely benefit you), even if it’s just walking around your enviroment- wherever you walk you own, and you make yourself known…

I’m seriously feeling that so hard- AND SOME OF YOU DARE TO TURN A BLIND EYE TO YOUR OWN INNER SHINE. it's seriously beginning to bug me how you’re still staying in this insecure, bitter, fearful, energy, that is not yours but you continue to claim it!!! WTF. anyways, to those of you resonating with that- I’m being sooo fr, as soon as you kick those feelings to the curb (to be run over and killed 💅) and you fully allow yourself to bloom and allow the sun to shine on you- there will be buzzing. BUZZINGGGG🐝. put yourself out there and seriously just experiment with what it feels like to be with different social groups, don’t take it personally, expect nothing, just do it for your own self experimentation~ doesn’t that sound fun??? I'm getting the tingles just thinking about it~again with those spaces I talked about, no matter your feelings- wherever you walk you own. you belong because you know you belong in yourself. that’s your natural state and no matter how vicious some people were in seeing that in you, you still own that about you ☆ and it is your choice to use that divine gift given to you. please trust and believe when I say that once you step into that inner, pure, state of being- you will be divinely protected, any ◉ attacks are small potatoes and will be diced.

ANYWAYS WOOO- ummm all those spaces that I mentioned are fully open to you, and are definitely where you’ll meet your tribe- again, I’m seeing your “tribe” will more so be you being you and coming in and receiving a lot of admiration- people will just love to talk to you as soon as you come in (I’m seeing especially for the queer/fashion/creative group people coming up to you with armfuls of clothing joyfully wanting your opinion I loveee this for you)- I’m speaking about the future mainly to my more underdeveloped group of this pile, but let me jump into the future which is the place some of you are very much stepping into rn!!!- you’re having people crossing their legs in club booths to fit more people into your get to together- BAHHA- people want to be close to you, catch up, ask where you’ve been traveling to or what you’re wearing- and you’re finally soaking it all up and sitting so relaxed, your smile is dazzling and you’re taking a nice breath in and out as all of this healthily regulates your ego + your higher self.. this is honestly giving that if you weren’t the “queen bee” in your high school- you are now but in your 20s/30s/40s/etc!! and you’re handling it amazingly well, because you still choose to go home solo most nights still high and happy ♡ I love this for you. you also get asked to be the leader or placed as the head of a lot of different projects- it’s more so you oversee them and everyone works around you- the thing is, that you don’t let all this go to your head because you’ve already grounded your self-worth- and because of that attitude, people then want you around even more. when you come in, people want you in your group for the day/hour/20 minutes before another group wants you lol.

you’re fabulous ok? it’s more than fine to be that, it’s divine ♡! soo many people are going to feel like the moth to your flame, it’s already been destined to happen literally😵💫!!!! just keep a watch out for the ones taking too much from you or being up and down with their give-and-take from you, because you deserve someone/people around you who stay hot for you and fan your bright flame while enjoying its warmth (unless they need their own personal space- ppl are ppl, not npcs lol)… I guess I should just briefly state before I finish your reading- the chorus of Casual by Chappell Roan was replaying through your whole reading- I’m not saying this as a cop-out, you have people stopping and, in fact, falling to their knees when they’re in your energy. I see one or two people who are already a part of your larger group environment being very infatuated with you (and I’d definitely keep your eye on them and remain open to this possibility- for some of you this special someone is in your group setting is so pure in their affection towards you and could,, be the one. I'm dead serious about that- but also HEHHEHHEHE💞- oh how I love-love♡),- but I’m mainly seeing a lot of first dates for you guys as you continue to get out there, and that is far from a bad thing because- who wouldn’t want a change at even just one date with you??? (take rejection as non-personal ofc- ppl have free will- and stupidity) and also you get the chance to see how you adapt and interact with new people which is terrific for you!! mannn do I see you getting accepted and taken out by so many people, assholes included but also a lot of “gentlemen”/“babes” who will gladly treat you extremely well and or will be pulling all the charm and fun within them for you- even if they know it’s just one night with you… I’ll just say, you do attract people who want to serve you… on their knees definitely-

AND THAT IS WHERE I WILL LEAVE ITTTTT FOR NOWWW- I’m so so soooo happy to have had you all here todayyyy your life is seriously going to keep going up-up and away if you’ll just allow yourself to see that steady climb and trust it <3 I seriously love youuuu I almost don’t want you to leaveee just like how everyone else feels BAHHA- love you.~

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “Knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out is it casual now- two weeks and your mom invites me to her house in Long Beach is it casual now” - “it’s hard being casual when i’m on the phone talking down your sister”

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ "This is how to be a heartbreaker- boys they like a little danger" - "singing I lo-lo-love you"

⋆ ˖✮pile 2✮˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Ten of Pentacles (reversed), Ace of Pentacles, Nine of Cups, Queen of Cups, Six of Swords (reversed) (bottom of deck)

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Aquarius/Gemini/Libra placements, Capricorn/earth placements, Mercury dominant, Saturn dominant, 2nd house placements black lace, black on black, cinnamon, The Spice Girls, The Cheeta Girls, H2O, 2000s nostalgia, high school reunions, ex-friendship rebirth, stand up, saturday night bars, life path number 11, angel numbers 1111, 1212, 1313, 1221, channeled songs, Party for One - Carly Rae Jepsen, Heat Waves - Glass Animals

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ You guys are funny- just gonna say it off the bat I’m feeling silly with you rn ngl BAHHAHHAhehe- ok um HI PILE 2S!! I shouldn’t yell- let me not yell- some of you are coming from pile 1,, heyyy pile 1s~ ouw~ ok ok, you smiling could light up a room, a house, a complex, a broken oven. AHAHAH- what beautiful teeth and lips you have there- pile 2s. I’m seeing, so many different teeth and lip shapes before you come for me- straight, crooked, vener-white, “needs-a-cleaning” off-white, upside down smiles, nonsymmetrical dimples, big lips, small lips, uneven lips, scarred lips- you get it, I don’t give a shit. when you smile and give that big cackle, chuckle, chortle- you do what you do with joy- and people believe in jesus. people believe that pigs really do have wings. people believe that the sun must shine from your ass. truly. I mean truly. I’m sitting here with my fingers together like- hm. yes. how do I write this all- with a straight face without being sardonic… sardonic? do you guys read? I think you read. now I’m hearing “you thought you ate that-“ that meme, I know that you know it- let me stop. for-… 5 minutes… so we would probably connect really well- which is why I am all over the place, because you are also all over the place (yes I am shading you. respectfully.) someone here does really good impressions, including animals… whatever that means…- BAHAH, you guys would do great in stand up of some kind, either that or you’re known as the funny co-worker. you guys have this range when it comes to your sense of humor, where it is either very dry, with the most composed pauses (when I manage to do that without bursting into your own laughter), and or you guys are so fast like- the editing of a youtube video fast with the jokes- and or a mixture of the two where you’re able to pull off very intricate jokes very quickly in the moment. and jeeze people find you so charming, even more so because of the way you look as well, it’s almost weirdly uncanny to some people how someone with the level of physical attractiveness that you carry (it’s so heavy and so much I know it’s so hard✨) and you then can pull off such- hilarity. and they're like- “…do they know they could be a model??? like- are they aware?? are they using this comedy because they don’t see that about themselves??”… it’s giving “i didn’t know women could be funny” (goes for nb/men too ofc)…

wow- kill them with a spoon 🥄- anyways WOW. so I think you may have, a lot of perceptions of you by people around you who haven’t known you for very long, mainly revolving around your looks- yes your looks. your modesty is attractive but it won’t fly in this courtroom👩‍⚖️- you are attractive in some way, or have an appearance that people definitely admire- but also scrutinize, or underestimate… you definitely get belittled. ok- that sucks- point them out to me?… yea I thought so they are so ew. I don’t care if that person is your mother, your father, or your co-workers who’ve been working at the place for 5 years longer than you- they are ew. anyone who puts you down due to their own pre-made perception of you is ew. ick even. yea, I’m seeing the issue here is not like most other piles I read for where it’s a growth journey with self and insecurity- no you’re good rn you’re like totally chilling. and I love that because I’m chill now, I’m dipping my tea bag up and down and sitting with you I’m so chill. but I had to look into anything going on because- drama, keeps you reading. so main issue I’m exposing is that there are people around you, in your space, a space you “have” to be in like work or even college classes I’m hearing- most people around you mind their own business, good on them, I love them- other people… they dress you up as something in their mind for their own- amusement?? or to feel a sense of having an eagle eye over “you”- and I say “you” in quotations because wtf- they do this… so as to spice up their own boring life? this is a weird form of admiration, because even if it’s a shitty thing to see you as, with them placing you so strongly in this box- they’ve placed you also on this pedestal… that’s probably why even with this obvious bullshit you’re still just chilling- because you know that if someone has built this all up to be who you are- it means you’re the best. and they’re the lowest. the end. anyway my back hurts- someone here likes podcasts, I’m seeing the The Broski Report podcast (broski nation✊) and also Murder, Mystery, & Makeup- again you guys really just chill, drink a bit of wine and entertain yourself.- so let me move onnn and see what transformations might be gearing up in your social life hun~

ok so it’s not “crickets” happening in your social life, not at all- but again you guys are just so, content and used to yourselves (this is my pile who talks to themselves in the mirror I see you)- when I asked yall if you felt lonely I literally drew a blank. and this is actually perfect because it’s seriously when you’re not looking/expecting and you're all good with what you have that you get given so much- so this is where I’m going to remind you all to actively meditate on keeping yourself open. don’t expect anything, just stay open and ponder what you’d like- and you’ll receive. that’s literally it. you’re in prime manifesting energy with how content and at peace you are in yourself- do you know how much you attract when you do that shit???? remain. open. and. aware. of anything that may happen, even if someone trips in front of you and you gain a brief interaction or someone asks you where to find extra office supplies and you show them the supply closet- see your abundance, allow it, remain without expectations. you are literally in the perfect energy for so much. You guys are definitely the type however to be really fine with only a few close friends you can have some fun with (and or have a nervous breakdown with) and some family… but I think this contentment you have with yourself, might have come from you feeling- misunderstood in your sense of humor or self-expression. I gotta say, you definitely handled that disappointment well, since instead of dulling yourself you just shine more inwardly for your own enjoyment and entertainment- and that’s wonderful! but I do gotta say- I know you can feel a bit, pent up. due to a lot of your big personality being fitted within you, and that’s fantastic truly- but also it has the same effect of being stuck in your house alone for one week too long. maybe that’s why you read when you can- you get to be in a very expansive and wide world that feels different from your own… oh god did I make you yearn???? oops I’m sorry. anyways!!

you’d really thrive in some environment that feels more- “widespread” I suppose, that doesn’t mean cracking yourself open to a room of strangers, I mean just sharing yourself- still from a place of your own entertainment- what I mean is that it’d be really healthy for you to find an outlet for the pent up jitters you get- find it online if you want to try that, try little baby steps, why not?- go on one-time dates just to release a bit of what you keep inside you- interact with random people sitting next to you at bars,- no attachments, just feel out what you feel when you let your inward personality, be more outward- on a lease 🐩. I’m hearing some of you may be a little fearful of attachment even, work that out- that doesn’t mean you’ll then sacrifice your peace, you’ll just gain a wider world for yourself by gaining new connections- and obviously, with the personality and personhood that you have- you can totally just pick and choose who gets to be a part of that world and your time! you owe nothing to anyone. do you have any actual clue how many people are out there, whose perception of you is not just what they observe, but what you actually are? and their perception of you actually helps you and is used to contribute to your happiness and peace??? yea. having actual friends is freaking great. and the more you simply open yourself up to that- while staying aware and choosing who you want- that is going to be the big door that’ll be opened to you- you’ll receive so many amazing experiences and will shift and broaden your world and the worlds of others, you’ll be like a big tree, growing it’s roots around other trees- isn’t that soooo cute??? ok I’m trying to see into the future details in regards to you finding your “tribe”- spirit is honestly wanting things to be vague, so as you can remain open without any expectations. kk? I mean what I mentioned with the earlier situations gives you the clues to follow if you so choose- just be youuuu. you have more opportunities than you realize and you got all the answers to what to do within you. trust me when I say you’ll be running down the street in weird clothes and pearls, scream laughing out of breath with two girls who love you… that’s for someone here and it also applies to everyone here~

okkk pile 2s, it was stimulating being with you I’m nearly sick❤️ BAHAH anyways, in regards to any avoidant/anxious-avoidant attachment issues, just remember that heartbreak sucks, but heartbreak always just makes you hotter, and funnier. you prove that- that outcome is very real every day you exist as yourself… OKKK love you byeee❤️♡

deadass as I channeled this song, I was questioning if it was correct- and I look up to see one of your angel numbers 1212 on the clock- and then again 1221 as I type this lolll

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “Once upon a time I thought you wanted me was there no one else to kiss- was it all a dream I let myself believe, I’m not over this, but I’m trying” - “party for one, if you don’t care about me, I’ll just dance with myself, back on my beat- I’ll be the one, if you don’t care about me, making love to myself, back on my beat”

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “Sometimes all I think about is you- late nights in the middle of June, heat waves been fakin’ me out, can’t make you happier now”

⋆ ˖✮pile 3✮˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Page of Swords (reversed), Seven of Cups, Six of Cups (reversed), The High Priestess (reversed), The Moon (bottom of deck)

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Cancer/Pisces/Scorpio placements, Libra/air placements, Leo/fire Placements, 5th house placements (Venus, Mars, Jupitar, Rising, etc), inner child, old friendships, childhood renewal, 1111, 333, 444, Only Yesterday (1991), horses, channeled songs, Wildflowers and Wild Horses - Lainey Wilson, Cheap Queen - King Princess

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Ok- Hi my pile 3s! and also my pile 2s because some of yall did not leave yet and have stayed for the next reading- like seriously this whole pac is connected rn- also happy 1111 as I write this!!! um oh my gosh let me start- you are so beautiful, yes I said it for the 3rd time in this pac post why are you on my ass‼️- its so true, you all have this classic beauty, it is timeless- you are timeless- or from a different time in your aura, your beauty, how you carry yourself in this world- etc etc… and when I say “different time” I don’t just mean you embody this feminine/masculine balance straight out of the 1970s, 40s, 50s, 20s,- and all the other time periods before/after I just mentioned- I also mean you still carry with you the time you had as a young child, you carry with you the sunshine you felt on your skin when you were 3-6 yo, and the snow you felt on your hands when you were 8-11… you have kept this purity and innocence and grown with it- and holy cow do I need to congratulate you and the strength of your spirit- so often we are forced to “leave behind” our childhood years and perspective due to difficult events or what people expect of you while you reside in this worldly- world. -which really that just means internalizing and hiding away in the closet the purest state of yourself (*also this is my more queer-centric pile so hellooo my fellow queer community ✨☀️)- this is putting a hole in my own heart being in how free and high spirited you are, and how you fully embody that and always have ☀️. you have kept that warmed and soaked up the same sunshine as you did all those years ago- it might not even feel like years to you, it feels like only yesterday your childhood was your state of being and all around you- and now, you are a bit bigger but you may live in this state that no time has passed- does that make sense?? ugh dude I hope so, your energy is like the sunshine, in that, I can’t reach out and physically be in your presence- but more so I’m trying to sit in your light while my vision gets spotty and I get a little dizzy… as in- you guys are out of this worlddd💫!!! you might even be told by your family or your peers that you tend to make them “dizzy” with how you communicate- you may be the type to jump from one topic to another, while you fold your laundry- and tidy your desk drawers- and walk into another room *backward* because you are still talking and describing a detail that is “important” to the story you were recounting 10 minutes ago- you sweet thing!!!! this is adorable to be in,, if anyone’s ever made you feel bad about how you communicate, do not take it personally- its always good karma to be considerate of other’s sensitivities, but everything you do is so pure hearted- it would be so phony and ridiculous to believe any crap people say about you to be truthful. your energy is so pure and truly yours, this is your sign and confirmation to continue to not live for the external views of others and live life through your own view ☀️. Oh- i keep getting horse imagery- horses may be significant for some of you, it may be your spirit animal or a spirit guide that is close to you may take the energetic appearance of a horse (in particular for some of you it’s a very strong and matured brown colored horse of some breed), or some of you grew up around horses in some way!

Oh this is random but you may be the type to enjoy having your playlists on shuffle lol- because I just suddenly began mentally playing Cheap Queen by King Princess- so this is definitely where I will now channel the dets about your social environment my dear~!! ok sooo- I’m seeing various different types of family dymanics, big families, med sized families, even 2 person families (you + a guardian)- I sense that you have close family ties, and i know family can be complex, so let me state some variouions of what that means- you may have a close familiarity to your family’s home or yard (maybe even your neighborhood area), such as knowing every little creak that your house makes when you go to the kitchen to get a morning cup of water, I’m seeing for some of you- you are very tied to your sibling dymamic if you have siblings (I accidently wrote in all caps at first and I scared myself lol- so you may come from a family where loudness is common part of the jokes you share), or maybe even kids you knew in your neighborhood if you played with them often- things like that have stuck with you inrelation to what you look for in anykind of companionship, a sense of familiarity~ this is def the pile who believes in being drawn to your soulmate(s) or past life connections lol~ so while you have that grounded energy in wanting stablity, you also are an entertainer and you know how to have a good time!! as you should since you totally fly like a fabulous canary from room to room- you should feel more confident when you dance btw, put more energy into your shoulders with joy because the way you move literally energizes people-

now I’m getting messages on how you connect to your inner child, I’ve said before you already naturally embody your inner child (“just in a bigger body” I’m hearing- some of you may have had a big physical growth spirut as a child btw), but some messages in regards to connecting to your inner child for those of you who need some answers is to engage in more activities that return yourself to a past peaceful enviroment, this is also for those who had a more chaotic upbringing and had to turn inwardly for peace ❤️- taste is a really important sense for you returning to that younger state of peace, so certain candies (I’m hearing those fruit rollups I love those still) or fruits, snacks- simple dishes that made younger you excited and brought you joy- also I’m hearing something about sleepovers and evening activities/coziness~ so grab some blankets and make an event of staying up late if you already do that lol- anyways!! let me get back to how fun you truly are to be around my dear, I mean, seriously! If you have the opportunity go out when you can, if you already have a friend or someone familiar go to a house party nearby (keep yourselves safe!), try rollerskating if you haven’t, and get closer to someone you already know and show your colors- DRESS UP!!!! I know life can be bleak especially when you feel that life is very "closed off" and dead lol- but when I tell you the phrase “dress for the life you want”- I mean ittt~ it will align you with the environment that you desire and it will come to you so naturally (in the same way you making a coffee and taking your dog for a walk is a natural occurrence in your life!)- I’m hearing that the connections that you already have in your life are “all you need”, and by that I mean you can build off of those and shoot farther into the sky full of stars meant for you 💫. I’m hearing the quote about drawing back your arrow before you can shoot forward- if you’re feeling stuck right now, this is what I’m trying to tell you, blossom exactly where you are right now, and everything else will simply follow!!! and I know that takes courage but I KNOW you have it because it was child you’s courage that got you to this future you are currently in~ and when you start to embody their courage along with their light, I know it will be the turning point to creating the life you were always dreaming and painting in your mind~ I’m seeing bright neon lights, holding hands and toothy-laughing grins, your clothes looking exactly how you pictured months ago- this is what I see happening in the future!! please stay open to some of the connections you already have- renew them is what I’m hearing (but please follow your intuition, if you need to cut everyone except for one or two true connections then that is the right thing for you to do)- if these are people who you knew when you were a lot younger then bond on the older times and use that energy to renew into more new memories,- these older connections you have you could definitely collaborate with to mutually make new connections and go towards new experiences- I’m hearing maybe even to “get out of this town”... phew pile 3!!!! what a way to end this pac, so happy to have met you and I feel like I took a nap in the sun- I’m really on some hazy ish rn lolll but I really hope I was helpful in any questions or worries on your beautiful mind~ I LOVE YOUUU so much, you better keep on shining- even if that’s just in front of your mirror, that’s perfect and valid ☀️👏

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “I'm five generations of blazin' a trail- through barb-wired valleys and overgrown dells- I'm barefoot and bareback and born tough as nails” - “I push like a daisy through old sidewalk cracks” - “yeah, my kinda crazy's still runnin' its courses with wildflowers and wild horses”

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “I've been alright, I’ve just been doing the same shit I've always liked- like smoking and movies and homies who bring me wine” - “-all of my girls get up early and stay out late- they drive all the way to the west side to see my face- that's good love- and I ain't no big baller when it's fake friends you're callin’”

⋆ ˖

✮

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️am I actually going to (*schedule to*) post this omg it feels like forever since i did this.. where was i even? whatever- its whatever- holy shit I'm putting myself out there!!!! praise be!!!! omg I'm going to get one extra hour of sleep as a treat🍰

love, vi~♡

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

white wine | f. odair

(part two of red wine)

part one

summary: another celebration in the capitol leaves you and finnick in an argument that threatens to strain your friendship.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: reader’s pov, flirting, angst, argument, struggling finnick :(

notes: i don’t know if i like this, let me know what y’all think! final part will be out in a few days.

word count: 1.6k

A Sphynx cat dressed in a white suit scurried beneath your feet, disappearing around a vine-covered pillar in the courtyard of the Presidential Palace. Fairy lights were hung on every tree, bush, and pillar, providing light in the growing darkness of the evening. Orchestral strings played in a small band off to the side, so beautiful that it sent goosebumps prickling across your entire body. People were dressed to impress, though to you, they looked more ridiculous than impressive.

The 72nd annual Hunger Games had come and gone, and a tour was held for the victor whose name you had not bothered to learn. At last, the infamous grand celebration in the Capitol had arrived.

Months had gone by since your night of red wine and white cats. Parties had not been in short supply since then, meaning your meetings with Finnick remained regular. But something was off about him. Something you couldn’t place no matter how hard you tried.

Winter snow was beginning to stick to the ground, blending with the pure white gown you were wearing, gifted by the generous president. If purity and innocence were what he was going for, he probably should’ve chosen a dress without a plunging neckline. The proof was in the pudding. Or rather, the voice of the heartthrob from District Four.

“That dress is quite distracting.”

Sauntering toward you came Finnick Odair, a playful grin plastered on his face. Just like you, his outfit only consisted of white. A billowy V-neck that dipped down to his navel, paired with white dress pants and a golden netted belt.

“Finnick.” You smiled, your dull mood lifting from his presence. “So, he got you too, huh?”

“What? You don’t think I look dashing in white?” he teased.

“I think you look dashing in anything.”

The words just slipped out, supposed to only remain a thought. Finnick was a flirt, through and through. You hardly ever entertained his flirtatious manner; rebutting with either attitude or timid silence was more your style. So, the last thing you needed was for him to take your words to heart, however genuine they might be.

He blinked in surprise, only to quickly laugh it off. “Thank you, but I don’t think the spotlight will be on me tonight,” he said, his eyes scanning your dress from head to toe, then settling back on your face. “I hate to admit it, but Snow knows beauty when he sees it.”

“Snow knows everything,” you replied sarcastically.

And there it was again. That out-of-character shift in his demeanour. Like a storm cloud had suddenly rolled over head, dampening the mood with its gloomy presence. This was becoming a more frequent occurrence each time you saw Finnick and you were desperate to know why. What had changed?

Sunshine broke through the clouds again in the form of a splitting grin. “Unfortunately, so,” he said, brushing the topic aside as though it were nothing. “Would you like to dance? Give them a taste of real beauty?”

You couldn’t say no.

The instrumentals had slowed to the tempo of an assumed waltz. Although you had been trained in social etiquette, dancing was not your strong suit—unless you counted drunk dancing. With this knowledge, Finnick took the lead, his hand gently cupping your waist, another interlocking your own, and you followed his simple steps until you found a comfortable rhythm.

“I have got to know who your dancing instructor is,” Finnick quipped, his tone full of jest. “He’s got to be pretty talented to be able to teach you how to dance. Undeniably attractive too, considering your incredibly vain nature.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “I can’t seem to recall his name. Not very remarkable. Phineas was it? Or maybe it was Finnley.”

“That hurts, sweetheart.”

“Truth hurts, Odair,” you said, sending him a teasing smile.

He chuckled, the dance continuing smoothly. “You’re getting better,” he said, his voice now sounding sincere.

Before you met Finnick, fitting in with higher society was a struggle. All of their customs and etiquette seemed so foreign to you, especially since you came from a lower-ranking district. But as he meticulously wound himself into your web, he brought with him an abundance of knowledge which he happily shared with you.

You had spent countless hours together, learning different subjects such as how to keep conversations going, the art of seduction, and even dancing, even though you never quite got it down.

Times came when dangerous situations arose—conferences with President Snow, meeting obsessiveCapitol citizens, and being given unreasonable demands. More than once, Finnick saved your life through his guidance. You owed him everything and more.

Heat spread in the places his hands touched you, subduing the slight chill of the winter air. You would expect someone from District 4 to be cold, as the ocean was like a second home to them, with their days spent fishing, swimming, and collecting underwater vegetation in the cold depths. Despite this, everything about Finnick radiated warmth. His bronze hair was like the embers of a dying fire; his skin was fiery upon touch. Even his smile was sunny, always beaming like a golden ray of light.

Slowly, the fairy lights transformed in colour, highlighting the luxurious scenery and both yours and Finnick’s clothing. White turned to green, accentuating the striking colour of Finnick’s eyes which gazed down upon you as your bodies swayed together. After green came a colour that turned your dress a deep crimson.

“This one’s my favourite,” Finnick said, his voice so melodious it sounded like a part of the orchestra.

“Why is that?”

You felt his hand glide to your lower back and your knees almost buckled.

“Because—” The music swelled before its end and he gracefully dipped you as if to emphasise his answer— “you always look stunning in red.”

Everything went quiet. The music had ended and all you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears. Beautiful sea green washed over your body, enveloping you in complete serenity that resembled the feeling of floating beneath the ocean’s surface. Finnick was there with you, holding you in his arms, his eyes penetrating deep into your own—sea-green serenity.

You lowered your gaze to his lips, admiring the pink colour and velvetiness. It was a dilemma you constantly struggled with—having a crush on the Finnick Odair. The Capitol’s Darling. Everybody wanted him; some actually got him. You heard whispers of his little adventures in the Capitol, how a select few would get to spend the night with him whenever he visited.

There was no judgement on your part; Finnick was your closest friend. And that was all he would ever be, making you the most envious of them all. Condemned to forever wishing to be something more than platonic. Always being the one watching from the sidelines. That was the singular thing you had in common with the people of the Capitol.

But in that fleeting moment, you were undeniably certain no one had ever yearned to kiss anyone more than you yearned to kiss Finnick. Your heart lurched when his eyes flickered to your lips and suddenly, you were questioning whether or not he felt the same. When he started to lean in closer, your heart just about exploded.

But before anything could happen, you realised that the waters were infested with gossip-hungry sharks, waiting for their moment to strike.

Soft murmurs were echoing around you, reeling your harsh reality back into existence. Finnick too noticed and pulled you back into a standing position. His hands dropped from your body and without a second glance, he took off in the opposite direction, leaving you momentarily in shock.

“Wha—Finnick!” you exclaimed, trailing after him.

You weaved through the crowd of engrossed bystanders, ignoring their hushed whispers and unwavering stares. Finnick had climbed two of the marble steps leading up to the mansion before you reached out and grabbed his white sleeve, forcing him to face you.

“What, Y/N?” he snapped, wearing an expression that was a mixture of frustration and hurt. The usage of your real name took you aback. He would always call you ‘sweetheart’ or some other term of endearment. Hardly ever your name. “What do you want?”

You shook your head, confused as to where his sudden hostility had come from. “What’s going on with you?” you asked, searching his eyes for anything that would help you understand, but there were too many emotions for you to decipher. “Whenever we see each other it’s like something is weighing you down. Sometimes you can’t even look me in the eyes and then other times you’re asking me to dance with you and flirting with me. I don’t understand, is it me? Have I done something?”

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he averted his gaze. You let out an exasperated breath, lowering your gaze to his chest in frustration. The brilliance of his white shirt caught your attention and a troubling thought popped into your mind. “Has Snow done something?”

His eyes snapped to yours, a silent command to lower your voice. Descending one step, Finnick leaned down, towering over your body. His voice was low, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

In one last attempt to break through his barrier, you slid your hand into his. “Then explain it to me,” you pleaded. “Please.”

The inner turmoil was evident on Finnick’s face. His gaze softened but the deep worry lines were still etched into his skin. For a moment, you believed he was finally going to lower his walls. However, your hope was diminished as he exhaled a long, weary breath and said, “I wish I could.”

And then his hand slipped out of yours, disappearing entirely as he ascended the stairs and left you at the bottom, defeated.

tags: @bellamybellamyblake @teigo-the-explorer

part three

[meanbossart]

I have another intense ask about bhaalist AU drow...

Would drow be “forced” to procreate? And how would Asatrion take that information? If Astarion is his consort, would he be jealous of concubines? Would this also contribute to his overall dissatisfaction during his time trapped at the bhaal temple? Or Would he be happy that his lover has distractions, so he can have time alone - maybe plotting his escape?

I’m overall curious about how drow and Astarion’s relationship falls apart in your AU

I don't think so! Not that I care about biblically following canon or anything like that, but there was nothing throughout the story that made me think procreation was a requirement in Bhaal's plan. If you take the scrapped ending into consideration, it seems to be more of a punishment first and foremost.

Not to say I don't believe it to be a part of the man-made gospel in some form or another. Sarevok seems fairly invested in this idea of generating bhaalspawn that are pure of blood, and this is an agenda that he subtly pushes onto DU drow throughout their years operating the temple: that said, like it often is, Bhaal is silent on the matter.

There seems to be a lot of conflict within the cult about what Bhaal wants and how he wants it, and I choose to interpret his failure to clarify as part of the Murder God's nature, as well as a fun nod at the (dys)functionality of real-life cults where you have several people claiming to have a direct connection to a god.

But back on topic, there IS the heavily implied Dark Urge To Multiply. A few instances where durge or someone around them suggests that, eventually, having children will be an irresistible biological necessity. There are a few ways to interpret this! But I can't help but notice that this theme is absent in a route where you do willingly become Bhaal's chosen - maybe its a failsafe Bhaal cooked into The Dark Urge in case his child became a weenie? To possess them with the need to spread their seed around until SOMEONE down the family tree stepped up to the role?

This definitely turns out to be the case in DU drow's redemned route, where he is plagued with bouts of breeding-related mania and depressive episodes that come and go as a result of a nest remaining empty, But I hadn't really considered this for his Bhaal-embracing self He definitely harbors an obsession with procreating in that AU - but... I'm not sure that's Bhaal's doing anymore. I think he just wants for there to: A) Be more of him around. B) Create a tangible, undeniable connection between himself and Astarion that cannot be severed.

A theme with DU drow is that he is aggressively monogamous. This remains constant in every possible iteration of him and it's a pillar of the character - he is devout to a partner until the end whether they want him or not, and so, Bhaalist DU drow would be violently opposed to the idea of being sexually involved with anyone besides Astarion. If Sceleritas or members of the temple insisted otherwise, he would balk and them push them off into a Chasm. If Bhaal demanded him do it, he would jerk off into a vial and hand it to whoever he deemed pretty enough to mix up with, and then probably kill the child as soon as it was born, anyway - because it's not right.

DU drow (again, in all iterations) almost believes there to be a magical component to true love that affects a person's life beyond just their choice in long-term partners. Just like he once decided that Orin was his forever-mate, he's now decided him and Astarion are intrinsically linked, that they are stronger together than they will ever be apart again. And It is particularly romantic to him (a matter of ironic fate, really) that the Murder Prince's true love would be undead. In DU drow's mind, and SPECIALLY in his Bhaal-embracing version, this is simply the universe's plan for him, and to divert from it in any way (by, for example, procreating with someone else) would be blasphemous.

Now, obviously him and Astarion can't have biological children for a plethora of reasons. But this is fantasy. Bhaalist DU drow would simply not stop until he found the best way to create someone that could be, spiritually and physically, considered their functional blood-offspring. Through Alchemy, magic, ritual, whatever it may be - as long as it works and works according to his high-standards. I suspect he would have specialists shipped in from wherever they may be in the realms to look into the issue, and probably someone who's sole job is to research the matter, though I'm not sure he would ever be satisfied with the results.

I think Astarion would be utterly checked out of the matter.

[atzfilm]

— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [6] (M)

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find. it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

— pairing: ot8 x reader, mxm (this chapter); yeosang x reader, wooyoung x reader; 12.7k

— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: murder references, manipulation, blood, torture references, dark magic, lying, emotional turmoil, injuries, slight descriptions of gore, worship references (?), smut

Chapter 6

You've grown to notice that it is never truly cold in the forest around their home. It feels as if it’s a warm bubble, unaffected by outside elements. None of the faeries ever mention it, probably accustomed to the odd temperature. You yourself are not, jacket wrapped around your waist as you walk through the small path Yeosang has taken you on. His clothing is loose, steps gliding along the slow breeze. All of them are quiet when they walk, barely the sound of a leaf crunching beneath their feet. He does not move as fast as San did when you arrived. In fact, there's little space between you, his skin close to brushing against your own.

Since you have known him, he has been indifferent to your presence. Oftentimes mulling in silence whenever you two spent time together, or glued to whatever object was around at the time. Being alone with him didn't happen often – most occasions he'd have San tied to his side, fingers wrapped around his waist, moving where he moved. Or Wooyoung lingering around you. So you're quite surprised he even wants you out here alone with him. You aren't close at all.

“The house could be quite a nuisance,” he says softly, hand sliding in yours as you climb around a protruding rock. Now that you know he can feel what you're thinking, the coincidences of him answering your thoughts aren't so shocking anymore. You expect him to let go once you’ve steadied yourself but he doesn’t, fingers entwined. “Everyone is watching your every move. San unwilling to leave your side for even a breath,” he smiles, slightly toothy grin. “Now you know how I feel.”

“It’s like he’s attached. Each time I leave the room he follows,” you say, and Yeosang snorts, nodding.

“Seonghwa warned him that he is to keep his eye on you. None of us know when you’ll–” he snaps his fingers on his free hand– “Better to be safe than sorry.”

“I’m not going to do anything.” There’s little ground to defend yourself on, but still. You can barely remember what happened then. It was a life or death situation. You doubt it'd happen now. “Just don’t try to kill me or anything.”

“Is that a threat?” he teases, brow raised. “Not to worry. I doubt any of us would do such a thing. We have morals, you know. Even as Unseelie.”

“San was explaining that to me. Between the chaos there is comfort. I can see it when you're around each other. You tease, but you do care. In different ways.”

“We do. Our inane element of chaos is fairly simple. We reign terror on human lives. It has lessened over the years now since humans aren't as inept as before. It takes time for us to ruin their lives,” he glances at you from the side. “You may witness it in person eventually.”

“Just like how you've caused it on mine?” You barely speak above a whisper, but Yeosang catches the irritated murmur, laughing softly as he helps you over a fallen tree. The sound is a bit eerie under these circumstances. You are trapped and he knows it so clearly. His laughter is evident enough of that.

“Precisely. We are almost there, human. Watch your step,” he pulls you closer to him, arm wrapped around your body, fingers light against your waist. Oddly it reminds you of Wooyoung – neither of the two's actions in consideration of the person they bother. In a way you believe that while Wooyoung touches you whenever he likes on purpose, Yeosang fails to realize there is an issue at all. He lets go when you enter the field, gracefully crossing his legs as he rests on the flower petals. You sit next to him with far less elegance, taking in your surroundings.

It is strange to see anything like this in the forest nearest your town. A small waterfall and a body of water sit in front of you, the sound of the liquid splashing filling the night. You pay no mind to how Yeosang watches you, your interest in the natural structures in front of you. A group of deer bend their necks, drinking the freshly cycled water from the pond.

“Hongjoong showed me this place when we first arrived,” Yeosang explains, head resting in his hands. “He told me that I can come whenever I like to clear my mind or hide away. He hasn't shown up here since, I'm sure out of respect for me. If you'd like I can come with you here whenever you need. I thought it would bring you some comfort amongst everything else.”

It does. Your emotions weigh heavy on you. Missing your family, mourning your lost relationship. Hurt sitting inside you with everything that's happened. You haven't gotten the chance to really let that feeling settle because you haven't had time to yourself. Though now you technically still don't, Yeosang doesn't speak. He doesn't interrupt the silence. No, all he does is stretch out his fingers, a book appearing on his palm. He flips through the pages, filling the air between the two of you.

“Thank you.”

The grass beneath you is comforting as you lie back, eyes closed. The sound of a page flipping continues.

“Thanking me is not needed.”

—

“Where did you take her?”

Yeosang barely looks up from his literature, a sigh escaping from his lips. Perhaps the two of you should have stayed out much longer. “Welcome home.”

“You can't just take her out of the house, Yeosang. We have to keep an eye on her at all times. You can't be alone without any of us near.” Seonghwa's voice is frustrated as he opens the fridge, digging through the drawers. “If she attempts to kill you we're too far away to stop it. You have to think these things through before committing to it.”

“The human isn't going to kill me, hyung,” Yeosang murmurs, frowning as he reads the next line. “Oh what a pity.”

“What?” Seonghwa turns, seeing his mate staring at the book.

Yeosang looks up, pointing to the page, “They died before meeting. They've been waiting years but they both died. It's horrific,” he shakes his head, continuing to flip through. It only gets Seonghwa more frustrated, frown on his lips soon to permanently embed itself in his face.

“You are not listening to me–”

“Oh, but I am listening perfectly, Seonghwa. I just wonder when you will finally let one of us know what's on your mind. And why you continue to lie about her to us,” Yeosang hums. “Maybe then I will give you my full, undivided attention. But for now, since you will likely respond with another lie, I will continue to read.” he looks up from his book, eyes resting on his. It makes the lump in Seonghwa's throat grow. Disappointment. Yeosang isn't like the others in that sense. He's hidden with his emotions, only letting his frustration or irritation through individual talks. Never letting another person around hear it. So now, even though they are both alone at the moment, it hurts Seonghwa to see that even with this privacy, Yeosang does not let his true feelings slip out. His hurt must be larger than he can comprehend.

It's not like Seonghwa doesn't want to say it. But solidifying his suspicions without being one hundred percent sure would only be useless. Turn them in a direction that they don't need to be in right now. They should be focused on the growing threat of Seelie entering their land, not you. You would just be a distraction between it all if you are human. And if Seonghwa is right about what you really are, then you're an asset to their team. If his spark all can fall under your charms without much effort, the Seelie are sure to fall for it. And they could finally subdue them once and for all. The only glaring problem with his plan, that is, is if you turn on them. It is the main reason why he dislikes whenever you’re left alone with just one.

“It is for a reason, Yeosang.” Seonghwa holds the tangerine in his hand, slowly peeling off the skin. “I hope you can understand.”

“We don't hide things from one another,” Yeosang says, writing into the pages of his novel. “So if you expect sympathy from me you've gone to the wrong mate. Perhaps Hongjoong, or Jongho will give you what you desire.” His brows furrow, frustration etching itself into his skin. “Now you can go. I'm getting distracted.”

Seonghwa places a tangerine in front of Yeosang's folded legs, leaving the room altogether. Once he is gone, Yeosang grabs the fruit. He stares at it, thumb running along the surface. It pierces the skin, juices sliding down his skin, spilling onto the book that rests in his lap. He sighs in frustration, tossing the fruit into the sink several meters away.

“Everything would be solved if she were dead,” he murmurs.

—

“Three.”

“Nope.”

“Less than that?”

“Much less.”

“It can't just be me, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung grins, palm holding up his head as he looks up at you. “It's surprising, no? But it's true. All I've ever wanted, no, desired, was other faeries or creatures beyond your comprehension. Humans are only playthings to me. Meals at the end of the day. Nothing more.”

The thought makes your stomach want to fold in on itself. “You're joking?”

“Unfortunately no,” he sighs, letting his head flop down to your sheets. “Your scent is all consuming, solaris. No other human has affected me in such a way. And it wouldn't make sense to have a human partner when all I'd do is just kill them in the end.” His eyes shift to you. “I wouldn't do that to you though, I like you too much.”

“How wonderful,” Sarcasm drips from your words as he laughs. Easily speaking of killing humans, as if he's talking about playing a game. Some things you'll never get used to when hanging out with Unseelie. Their lack of care for living still makes you feel queasy. Your one murder haunts you every night, but he, no, they, thrive in it. You just cannot imagine it.

“You've overstayed your welcome,” Yeosang stands on the outside of the door, arms crossed against his chest. He nods at you, expression surprisingly warm. Since that night, Yeosang often spent time with you. He hasn't said much, as usual, but he sought you out for quiet. Wooyoung being here right now is likely the opposite of what he wants.

Wooyoung's head rolls to the side, eyes narrowing at his mate. “You bother her too much. Give solaris some space.”

“You're in her room every night,” Yeosang deadpans.

“Yes, and? She enjoys me around her, I liven up the place! Don't you enjoy me?” His pout matches the whiny tone of his voice. In the beginning it was mildly irritating, but you do enjoy it now. Not that you'd admit it to him. He'd never leave your side at that rate.

“No.”

“Solaris!” He whines, tucking himself further into your sheets. It would be humorous if it weren’t for the look Yeosang gives him.

“Leave,” Yeosang says, his voice firmer now. “Mingi and San need you.”

“On a scale of not needed at all to they're currently dying, where does the need of my presence fall–”

“Go, now.”

Mingi. You haven't seen him in a while, assuming that he was on a mission. Knowing that he's around makes you wonder a bit. He hasn't greeted you since you've arrived again. Was he afraid of seeing you? No, that couldn't be. You were afraid of him, not the other way around.

Wooyoung painfully drags himself off your sheets, sending you a quick look before moving past Yeosang. His hand reaches out and grips Wooyoung’s bicep, their eyes meeting. They often communicate without speaking, gazes flicking over one another’s before Wooyoung leaves down the hall. Yeosang turns to look at you, exhaustion easily lining his gaze. Still you envy their connection, unlike anything you’d ever experience yourself. You wouldn’t want to become an Unseelie, but their devotion to each other is formidable. If only your kind were the same. Perhaps if humans were equally bonded to one another, there’d be less infighting and more respect spread across the Earth. But of course, just wishful thinking.

“Hongjoong asked for you,” Yeosang says.

“The man of the hour,” you murmur, sighing. “Why can’t he just come here himself?”

“Believe it or not,” Yeosang smiles. “He is a bit more busy than you think. He didn’t technically ask for me to come find you, but I doubt he would find the time to leave himself. And Yunho is too preoccupied to come here. I’m the only one free at the moment.”

You lift yourself up from your seat, stepping past the small gap between Yeosang and the doorway. He shifts slightly, arm brushing against yours as you make your way around. He does not follow you promptly. You turn to look at him, his sight glued on yours.

“Something the matter?”

His expression changes, and he merely shakes his head. “Nothing. I’ll lead the way.”

—

Yeosang leaves you with him, fingers brushing against the back of your hand as he disappears down the hall. He did not try to start a conversation as you two were walking alone, briefly glancing at you from time to time. Whatever you did moments ago must have bothered him enough to not even attempt to dissolve the awkwardness resting between both of you. But you didn’t either, so there’s that.

You slowly enter, your steps echoing as you move further inside. You’ve been inside Hongjoong’s office once before, but never in his room. It is nothing like you expected it to be - no torture devices hanging from the walls. Instead, vinyls resting on clear displays, cds in between each one. In fact, there were several instruments decorated all about, some you couldn’t even recognize yourself. Many likely hundreds of years old. This is his place, his mind. The thought of peering into his personal space, his mind, even if ever briefly, makes you anxious, goosebumps rising on your skin as you take yourself further in. It can’t be that bad.

He at least tolerates you enough to have you still around.

“Why are you here?”

You turn to the side, Hongjoong hunched over at his desk, pen dragging across stationary as he writes. He does not look up so you can only assume he heard your loud steps enter his room. The notebook he writes in is well-worn, corners curved in and cover peeling. His eyes briefly meet yours after you don’t speak, brow raised in expectation. “Well?”

“Yeosang told me you wanted to see me.”

He rolls his eyes, staring at his writing before ripping out a page, crumbling it up and snapping his fingers. The paper engulfed in flames before flickering into ashes, sliding off his table and into the bin beneath. “Yeosang tells everyone a lot of things, that does not mean it’s true. You’ll learn to not listen to his words after a while. He’s quite mischievous,” he murmurs.

“Then I am not needed?” You’re thankful, really. Being in his space, his scent, creates a strange feeling within you. There’s a reason you avoid him, more than just being afraid.

Hongjoong stands, throwing his notebook off his table. You take a step back just as he moves forward, too fast for you to leave his sight. His hands grip your body, pulling you close to him.

“Personal space is a thing, Hongjoong.”

“You want me to speak to you, truly?”

You try pulling away but his hold only tightens. So instead of fighting a losing battle, you speak through tight lips, “Say what you have to say.”

“What is it you want me to say? That I would follow you everywhere, until your steps become my own, until your breaths mingle with mine? There's no need for that. There is no where you will go that will be where I am not. It is all but that simple.” He cradles your face in his hands, thumbs rubbing against the skin. It takes everything in you not to flinch. “That is all I need, and it is all you’ve wanted. We will no longer be separated; you won’t be left alone. Is that what you want?”

What is he even saying? The more he trails on, the more fear begins to circulate your veins. He does not seem to notice it, so he continues when greeted with silence. “Soobin is no longer an issue since he’s gone. You’re free to desire whomever you want without him holding you back.”

His name pulls you out of your confusion almost instantaneously. “He was my partner, Hongjoong,” your brows furrow. “He’s the reason I’m even in this town in the first place. Why would he be holding me back? I love him.” And it’s true. There has been a bit of wavering in your love, and he broke your heart not too long ago. Mourning a love lost is one thing, but losing that love for him completely is entirely different.

You don’t see the way his mouth twitches at the word love. What you do see, though, is the way his eyes narrow. “He’s gone.”

“Love doesn’t just disappear when I no longer see him.”

“Then how will it? Must he come to you and say he hates you? Will he have to attempt to hurt you for it to go away? Why do humans continue to love someone who’s left them? Why can’t you let him go?” What else does he have to do? Should he have manipulated the human’s mind before they killed him? Made him break your heart? He thought Mingi’s appearance was enough to stop your mind from lingering on him. But it seems like it has done little.

You stare at Hongjoong as he loses himself in his thoughts. You’ve believed in inherent goodness, but there’s always been this underlying fear of them, just for the nature of them being Unseelies alone. Knowing that despite all of what they say, it’s something they can’t change. It’s something you’ve settled with. But hearing his words, the way his eyes shake as he looks at you… something tells you that he’s off. That despite their comfort and sympathy, they know what happened to Soobin.

An even smaller part of you believes that they’ve done something to him.

“Why do you care?”

He does not respond, waiting for you to continue. In the position you are right now, it’s hard not to.

“It’s hard to,” you explain, choosing your words carefully. “I’ve known him since we were children, and even if I didn’t love him in the romantic sense, I still would love him as a former friend. It hurts to just lose a friendship like that.”

"If I killed it would you forget him?"

You still. His touch is ever so delicate as he waits for your response. Eyes warm, blinking slowly. It's as if he didn't just say he'd do something so heinous, so unthinkable.

"What?" Is all you can respond with.

He leans closer to you, barely a breath away from your lips. His eyes flick over your face, before landing back on your eyes. "If I killed your weak, miserable, disgusting, incompetent, lackluster ex-partner, as you call it, will you forget then? Will you mourn its loss then come into my arms? Will you love me as you love it?"

It. Perhaps his mask slid down just a bit.

"You're out of your mind."

"I am very much sane, y/n. It's a simple question with an even simpler answer."

"No."

"No…?"

"I wouldn't forgive you if you killed him, Hongjoong."

He rolls his eyes, a huff echoing around the room. "How boring and mundane. I thought you were more amusing than that." He moves away from you now, grabbing his notebook he threw across the room. “Yeosang was right, I did want to speak to you. Not yet, but I suppose I have little reason to keep it to myself. Seonghwa suspects that you are not human.”

He moves on from the moment as if it never happened, as if he did not threaten your old partner. The subject change easily distracts you though, the idea so otherworldly that you scoff. Hongjoong snickers at the sound, standing up. “You make that incredulous sound but Seonghwa has rarely ever been wrong in his findings. You may not be as human as you think.”

“I’m only human, Hongjoong. There’s nothing else to it.”

“That you know of,” he adds, placing his book back on his table. “You’ve lived as a human your whole life you know nothing other than that. Of course you’d think the thought silly.”

“What do you want me to say? First you threaten my old partner and now you say that I’m not human? Do you want me to beg at your knees and tell you that it’s not true?”

“The thought of you on your knees in front of me isn’t unappealing,” he chirps.

“You’re,” you hold your tongue. It’s not the smartest thing to do - insulting an Unseelie in their territory. Hongjoong is unhinged already, no need to push him further into his madness. But you cannot help yourself. “You’re disgusting.”

He shrugs, “That’s not the worst insult I’ve ever heard. You've overstayed your welcome, you can go.” His hand waves you off, giving you his back completely. Though you expect nothing less from him, it still feels humiliating. But there's nothing you can do. Not now. You decide it's best to just leave completely, door slamming behind you as you exit the room. Yeosang lingers outside, book closing when you walk past him. He reaches out for your arm but you shove his touch off, making your way to your room.

You don't quite notice how hard you’ve pushed him, his body thumping against the wood. Yeosang looks down at his hand. How his fingers curl into themselves. You pushed him off. Strength formidable to his own with just a spike in your anger. He does not follow you but instead, enter the room you just left.

—

“He is an Unseelie. It is not unlike him to thrive off of your anger and frustration. It's tantalizing, the energy oozing from humans. It is fun for us,” Wooyoung's laying on your bed once again, arms folded beneath his head, eyes on the ceiling. “It tastes wonderful, though not as good as fear.”

“Doesn't really ease my nerves,” you say, flipping through the book he handed you. It's something he grabbed from Jongho, the scrawny writing etched into the pages. You snicker at the jabs he adds in, his notations growing more humorous as you turn pages. It's distracting enough for now. A hand covers the writing, Wooyoung's pout forcing you to stop. You shut the book, placing it on your side table. “He is annoying, Wooyoung. I don't think I'll last here long with him constantly saying shit and me not being able to say anything back.”

“You can argue with him, solaris. He won't kick you out.” He sees your expression, sighing. “We all do it, and none of us have left yet–”

“You are his mates, his spark. He wouldn't throw you out because of an argument. I have nothing left if I leave, Wooyoung. My family would be in danger, Soobin would be in danger, right when I step outside someone is waiting to kill me. It's exhausting to think about.”

“You have to learn to put yourself first instead of worrying about others,” he says. “And your family is as safe as they can be right now. They do not remember you, and you’ve been pulled from their lives. If a Seelie truly digs for it they will find them, but we will know before anything happens,” Wooyoung presses his finger against his temple. “I’ve got them on my radar.”

“You’re only confusing me more.”

“A spell, solaris. I’m keeping my eye on them every second. You’ll know if anything is amiss. Unfortunately though, I’d rather not update you on mundane things. It’ll make letting them go harder to bear.”

You do not agree with his method of lessening your worry, but you’d rather not argue with another Unseelie, too distraught from the last conversation to probe any further. You sink yourself deeper into the seat, closing your eyes. His silence is enough to make you open a lid, meeting the eyes of the Unseelie who continues to stare. You shake your head, closing them once more.

“Taking a picture would be better than you just staring.”

“Is that a joke or can I really take a photo?”

This time both of your eyes open, moving to him. He hasn’t moved from his spot, the devilish grin still on his face as he laughs. “I was kidding.”

“How unfortunate.”

You hum in agreement, eyes closing again. Since Wooyoung is often lingering around your room and having time to yourself is only reserved for late nights, San hasn’t really come around anymore. Sometimes he’d show here and there, but only for a quick once over and disappearing back to wherever he spends his time. It’s why you’ve grown used to Wooyoung threatening to tear your door down if you don’t let him in. Sure, it’s a bit concerning and mildly threatening, but he hasn’t done anything nefarious. Flirting here and there, maybe a bit of annoying banter, but you enjoy it. He’s one of your only companions that you have, even if you were essentially forced to live with him.

Your mother wouldn’t let you out of her sight if she knew.

“Do you like me around, solaris?” he asks after a moment.

“No.”

“If that is truly what you think, you don’t have to say yes and allow me to enter your room if you’re not comfortable with it.”

Nope. You don’t want this conversation to happen now. Not when you’re still figuring this out, trying to decipher what your feelings are for him. “I’m… fine with you being around, Wooyoung. You’re fun to hang around with.”

“As friends?” He asks. You hear the creak of your bed and immediately open your eyes. He sits on the edge of it, eyes looking through the open porch door. He does not look at you and yet, you feel like his attention is focused on the beats of your heart, the sound of your breaths. “Do you consider me a friend?”

“I don’t know.”

And it is true. You’re not sure how to classify your relationship with him. You’re friends, maybe. But it would be a lie if you were just that. He’s open with his own feelings, how much he wants you to want him. You just… don’t understand how he could want you so badly when he has seven other mates to focus on. And from what you know, despite Hongjoong’s slip of information, you’re a human. There’s nothing truly special about you aside from your little blip a while ago.

“Are you afraid of me?”

This is one you can answer with ease. “Yes.”

He turns around to look at you. It’s hard to see his face, the sun shining on the back of his head draping his face in darkness. You can barely see through the rays yourself. You watch as he stands, a slight step towards you. You follow his movements, though making no move to back up or go forward.

“That’s good, to be afraid of me,” he murmurs. “Perhaps you are not as clueless as we’ve previously thought. Being on guard around us, holding your feelings close. It is good.”

“What are you getting at, Wooyoung?”

“What I’m getting at is that you fear us, I can see it. I see how you interact with everyone, with me. But we both know how you feel about me. Even if you cannot say it yourself.” he moves even closer to you. But instead of standing in front of you, he slowly goes down on his knees. “If I am so terrifying to you, will this change things? My submission to you?”

He reaches up, his hands slowly holding yours in his grip as he places them on either side of his cheek. His eyelashes flutter once they touch his skin, a slow, clear groan escaping his parted lips. “It could be so easy for us. You could be mine, and I yours,” he whines.

“You have mates, Wooyoung. There’s no need for me.”

“They do not mind my yearn for you, if that is what you are worried about. None of them do. We all love each other differently, in different ways. My care for you is nothing like my care for them, but it does not have to be. You are different.”

Oh no.

You hold his face in your hands, fingers shakily stroking the tan of his skin, brushing against the mole beneath his eyes. They remain focused on you, lips trembling beneath each caress. You can hear your heart in your ears, pumping violently against your ribcage. It is familiar. A feeling you haven’t felt in a while.

You might just be in love with him.

And it is terrifying.

The revelation is alarming, swelling. It frightens you each passing second. You love him dearly. How has he worked himself into your heart? Is this coercion? Maybe he’s manipulated you to the point of no return. It is reasonable to think so. Before you were terribly frightened of his presence around you, aware that at any moment they may decide to drag their lengthened nails into your chest, killing you. And yet here you sit, Wooyoung crouched beneath you, his nails leaving indents in your thighs from how desperate his hold is, his warm, aroused eyes flicking between yours. The gasps leave your lips as his hands travel closer and closer to you. Right now you are not as afraid of him, not completely.

How could you love someone so easily when you lost the man you thought you were going to marry not too long ago? It should have been harder to fall for his charms. It shouldn’t have happened so quickly at all; and yet here you are.

Your thumb presses lightly into his lips, the flick of his tongue eagerly dragging on the pad of it. Never in your life have you seen such desperation from a partner, such eagerness to have you. It is a wonder you’ve held yourself strong for such a long time when he is so willing under your touch. Is it sinister to want this to continue? Knowing who he is, who they are.

“You are pretty,” the words leave your mouth without much thought. His body shudders at your words, leaning forward, head pressing into your stomach. His hands leave your thigh, wrapping around the curve of your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Am I?” His breaths hitch, yearning lining and enfolding itself around two simple words. You have yet to kiss him, to taste his mouth, and he is distressed for you. Touch on your skin, but it is not enough for him. His head tilts up, pupils covering his irises completely. “Am I pretty to you?”

He slowly rises, warm, trembling body moving closer and closer to you. His hands stay on your hips as he hovers over your body, chest rising and falling quickly. Your hands leave his face and cup his neck instead. You are not unaware of how his breath hitches as you hold him. He leans forward, lips lightly brushing against your chin.

“Am I?” There is a pause in his movements. His unwavering despair to have you is not unknown, but he pauses. As if waiting for your approval to move further. A bit humorous how now he is holding himself back when he is so close to having you. “I want you to say it to me, solaris. Tell me.”

“You’re pretty, Wooyoung.”

His lips waste little time in covering yours, tongue entering your mouth immediately. His lips tremble as he tastes you, hands moving to the back of the chair to hold himself steady. The freestanding furniture slides against the floor, hitting the wall behind it as he pushes himself closer and closer to you.

You are overcome with the feeling of not knowing him, of not knowing his touch, his desperate breaths mixing with yours, his teeth sinking into your lips, begging for reprieve. He almost swallows you whole with his eagerness, hands wrapping around your body, pulling you into him. His strength lifts you from the seat entirely, your legs wrapping around him as he presses you against the wall. He lets his lips leave yours, tongue tracing down the slide of your neck, moans loud. It is not surprising he is a vocal lover, and for a moment embarrassment settles within you at the thought of one of the others entering the home, hearing his voice echoing down the halls.

“I do not care,” he murmurs against your skin, “Let them listen to me worshiping you.”

You're unable to speak.

“Would it bother you? For them to hear me kiss you from your neck to your feet, everything in between? Is it so wrong for me to want my palms to burn beneath your touch?”

You laugh at the suggestion, “I am no God that you’d be burned by my touch.”

He smiles against your skin, “How is that possible if I pray to you each night? Do they not say to worship in the low light?” his lips press against the tips of your fingers, teeth dragging across the skin. “You should have heard my prayers, solaris. I am an extremely devoted servant to you.”

“Wooyoung,” Somewhere in between sacrilegious and obscene, his chest rises with laughter.

“For you alone I am weak, solaris. For you, I will crawl, I will beg,” his lips leave your fingers, “San is not the only Unseelie who is violently devoted to the brink of utter obsession, solaris. Can you not feel mine?” His tongue drags against the skin of your collarbone, your body trembling beneath the wet touch. His hands have never left your hips, nails digging into the skin. You are too involved to feel how they slightly puncture, his longing words distracting. “Can you feel how devout I am to you? How gloriously blessed I am to be touching your skin?”

His hands release you for the briefest of moments, wrapping around your torso as he moves away from the wall. The walls around you shift, your mind lost for a moment. You blink, only a moment to glance around and see that you're in fact, no longer in your room. That he pulled you through the thin threads of reality into his. Wooyoung is ever so impatient, letting your body fall against his bedsheets.

“I think I prayed enough,” he continues, staring down at you. “You might have finally heard me beg to see you like this. How lucky I am to be the one to see you like this,” he leans over, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “But I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay,” you say. The words come out with certainty you didn't know you possessed for him, breathless and accepting of anything he may suggest. His lips lift, but you see that it does not entirely reach his eyes. You lean up, and he sits back down on the floor. Looking up at you. Just as you're about to sit yourself next to him, his hand stops you, shaking his head.

“I need you to tell me what to do to you.”

“Tell you what to do?”

“I can't do it myself. I can't do anything to you myself.” The tone of his voice is strange now. It is as desperate as before, but there is something else between the words. You do not know him well enough to even guess what it may be, why he truly needs you to guide him. But his despair is apparent, the way his hands tremble as they begin to hold your thighs, tears coating the brim of his lids. It is merely a guess, but it feels like he can only move further with your exact words. Your precise permission.

It should not frighten you how much control, even if facetious, you have over him.

“Please solaris.”

“I have to?” You whisper, and he nods.

“It is as I have said. I follow your word.” His hold is lighter now as he waits. “I cannot indulge in your sweetness without permission.”

You grow weary as he continues his explanation.

“The corruption is not merely just a surface level. None of the Unseelie can, not without word from the other partner. Though we reign in chaos, we cannot do activities like this without explicit permission. I need you, I do. But I need you to need me too.” His touch is claw-like, fingertips tracing the marks upon your skin, lips tantalizing as they drag over your knee, breathes tickling the small hairs. “Do you need me?”

You have only been the sun to him. It is no wonder he is so vehement on you aching for him a tenth of how he craves you. You can see it in his eyes, the darkened gaze settling on you, the cage preventing him from moving further. The thought is comforting perhaps, though you'd never suggest that he'd do such a thing, but knowing that Unseelie are unable to force themselves upon someone. Nature is still balanced.

You are the sun to him, his solaris. What he is to you…

You have yet to figure out.

He nods at your question long forgotten, hands unmoving as you lean down. He holds his breath as you place your hand at the bottom of his chin, tilting his head up to entirely look at you. Submitting to you.

“I want you all over me, Wooyoung.”

His hands drag your legs forward, thighs spread apart. His body could crack a hole in the floor with how much he trembles in anticipation. His fingers change, nails lengthening. You watch in awe as they turn into claws, easily sliding through the material of your shorts, tossing it to the side.

“I've thought endlessly of how I would have you beneath me,” the words are barely let out as he pulls you closer to him, arousal dripping from his words. “Your lips desperately pleading for me, wanting me. How you would let me do anything to you.” His words are coated in lust, lips hovering over where you desire him most. “Can I taste you, y/n?”

“Please.”

His lips cover your clit, smacking together from the wetness that clings to them. Your fingers glide into his soft locks, tugging lightly as his tongue enters you. His moans into you are loud, the tug in your stomach tightening, worsening when you feel his fingers gripping your thighs, tongue finding your most sensitive point with ease.

You attempt to lift your head to see him, your gaze falling on his helmet of hair between your thighs, nestled. Soft whines spilled from your lips as you place your head back down on the sheets, the silk forcing your touch to only grip him. Your thighs tighten as you beg him for something you’re not sure of, his movements continuing until you tug a bit harder on his hair to pull him away. His shadow slides up your form, “I’m not just done with you, solaris.”

He lifts your head, pressing a light kiss just beneath your ear. “I haven’t had enough of you yet. You are godly, and yet I cannot help but sin,” his breath was hot as he exhales onto your skin, goosebumps left in his wake as he moves back to where he once was. His fingers tremble slightly against your skin, his hooded eyes resting on yours as he leaned back down, lips wrapped around your clit once more.

Wooyoung’s hand grips and tugs at your thigh. You blink once more, a field of clovers beneath the two of you. The evening sun is low in the sky, peeking through the trees, the sunlight leaving a streak across his cheeks, brown eyes lighter. He practically glows, eyes shining with need, tongue between his lips to softly flick over your bud. The pull in your cunt grows once more, stronger and stronger as his eyes flutter close. Leaves rustle, a warm breeze brushing against your skin.

“My solaris, how do I shine for you?” he whispers. The simple sentence along the return of his lips to your lower ones make your muscles grow tight, a soft moan vibrating up your throat once relief and warmth began rushing beneath your skin. Wooyoung holds you close as you tremble, lips still wrapped around you as you climax once more, unable to let your grip on his hair go, pressing him harshly into you.

His eyes are warm as they look up at you, your body covered with your shirt, chest rising and falling slowly. His lips are slow, peppering kisses along the inside of your thigh, “how are you? still with me?”

You swallow slowly, struggling to find yourself after what happened. A few seconds pass before you can speak, “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

He laughs, continuing the seemingly never-ending drag of his soft lips up her stomach, his fingers pushed under your shirt to glide it up. They’re soft, warm as your lift your hands away from his hair and up, allowing him to see all of you. The last person that’s seen you this vulnerable was Soobin, and before that… not many. His eyes are glazed over as he takes in your exposed chest, his index finger tickling your skin as he lightly moves around the flesh of your breast. “Just for me?” He leans forward, cheek pressed against the soft flesh, trembling. “You’re more than what I’ve ever imagined.”

“Wooyoung…” Your mouth is dry as you let his name leave your lips, the word coming out rougher than you intended it to. He groans, shaking his head slightly.

“I would never tire of hearing you say my name like that,” he murmurs. “It is a shame the others cannot hear since we are so far.”

You look around as he slips his fingers into one of your free hands. The field is small, likely near where Yeosang brings you every once in a while. The thought makes you wonder – he did say that no one knew of the place aside from Hongjoong and himself. How could Wooyoung know to bring you here?

“Your thoughts move elsewhere, are you alright?” His eyes are coated with concern, hand lifting to brush a thumb against your cheek. “We can stop if it’s too much for you.”

“No, no everything is fine.” It may be that Yeosang let this private place slip his tongue while speaking with him. And perhaps Wooyoung found it as beautiful as you did and decided to bring you here. You let those thoughts settle within you as he leans down, his lips pressing against your jaw. A hum vibrates against his lips, your moment of confusion slipping away once he lines himself up and pushes forward, just enough to have your eyes widening almost immediately. You expect the impact to at least ache, but it feels warm and soft and full.

“So warm, my solaris. Made just for me, yes?” His entrance is slow, his hand that cradles your face sliding to your shoulder. “I need to ask, solaris.”

He leans forward, lips pressing against your forehead as he pushes deeper. “We… I feed on life. On human life. And you are full of it, pretty. So so beautiful and holy and bright.”

His words make no sense, a question still not uttered. “What are you saying, Wooyoung?”

“Can I taste you?” His hands slide down to your waist as he finally fully enters. They glow a dark orange against your skin, his eyes on yours. “It would be just a small taste. It wouldn’t kill you. It will feel good, solaris. You will feel good.”

The question is still vague, but even with you clouded mind, you can pick through the mess of words. A low moan comes from you as he pulls out slightly, entering again. “You want to eat my soul?”

“A sliver, it will barely be missed.”

“…Okay.”

The fear disappears once his lips cover yours, tongue entering your mouth as his hips set a steady rhythm. “You’ll love it.” You begin to keen under him, feeling wave after wave of heat surrounding the two of you, the sound of birds above you chirping as he takes you. The ache entering through you from the pleasure his cock pressing in and out of you and the sensation of being beneath his torso. His fingers gripping your waist break skin, and then you see it. The orange light that you presumed was spilling through his fingers was not him, no. It is you, your aura surrounding the two of you. Wooyoung’s pace almost doubles at the sight, the smell woodsy and sweet. The mop of black hair seeps into a orange color as it swirls through the air, eyes matching. It is a sight to see between pleasure, you, yourself, seen in an unknown light. Just as he pulls away from your lips, your soul enters your skin again.

His brows furrow, but he does not comment on it, instead, lifting up onto his hands to find another angle, sighing in relief it once your knees were up at his sides, feet hooked around his waist. The question as to why he cannot feed on you lingers.

“Perhaps my sin is too much for a soul like yours,” he whispers, dropping his weight down onto his elbows, then further, arms wrapping around you. “I will enjoy you nonetheless.”

“What are you–”

His hips press harshly into yours just as you begin to speak, watching as your eyes roll back, lids fluttering. You’re not quick to notice a hot tear falling down your cheek, rolling down your temple, lost in the darkness as his cum seeping out of his tip slowly but surely began melting your senses into nothing. The sound of skin begins echoing in the air and trees, his knees sliding up to push his thighs against you, pressing him deeper. You slowly lose your sense of the world you, focused on his cock pressing into you, his arms around you as you writhe with each thrust.

“So pretty,” he murmurs. “You always shine brightly, solaris, and yet you shine even moreso. How am I to keep my hands off you now that I’ve finally had you?” The sound of his voice is lost in between the sounds of skin slapping, the way he rocked into her body.

“Then don’t,” you say.

His eyes widen briefly, the orange fading as they meet yours. You somehow find the strength to keep focused on him despite how intensely your climax is coming. It’s the first time you’re unable to read his expression, perhaps a tint of wonder if you could focus. After a few seconds your thighs tighten, gasps leaving your lips. “Wooyoung–”

“Just like that pretty, just for me.”

Your head falls back, straining to let out the moan that clawed its way up, vise forming around his cock until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hell,” he grits, hips stilling as he cums, stuttering with each succeeding one. Your breaths escape your lips, lids heavy as you feel his own lips press lightly against yours.

—

“It has been hours since they were together, and he has still not let her leave his room. Should she not eat?” Yunho murmurs. They can see how his annoyance has gathered around him, hand gripping the apple between his fingers tightly, brows furrowed enough to become one. He is right – neither you nor Wooyoung has left his room. Seonghwa and maybe San could break the barrier that he has placed around his resting place, but neither wants to. Only making Yunho grow more irritated.

“They were together, Yunho. Let them simmer in it before they're told the news,” San rubs his arm, presses a soft kiss against his temple. “It is soon to be ruined once they enter a shared space.”

“He’s not going to move on from this,” Hongjoong sighs, eyes closed as he tucks himself further into the couch cushions. “I’m not ready to hear him boasting everyday about something I don’t care about in the slightest. San you might have to whip up a spell to shut him up.”

“I doubt he’d say anything outlandish-”

“Good afternoon~” His warm voice echoes through the room as he enters, almost floating as he glides along the tiles to the fridge. He presses his lips against Yunho and San’s cheeks while he passes by, the ghost of his magic roaming over Hongjoong’s arm and squeezing it. “Lovely day.”

Hongjoong’s lip twitches, but he makes no move to respond to Wooyoung’s words, annoyance already riddling his features. Yunho glances at Wooyoung, watching as he sings a song, pulling ingredients from open drawers and cabinets. No one says a word in response aside from San, easily wrapping his arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his mate’s temple.

“We haven’t seen you in almost a day.”

“Busy. And solaris is hungry, and I assume the rest of you are,” he places his utensils on the counter. “Ready for some human food?”

All of their faces wrinkle in disgust at his words, a chuckle draping his lips as he rolls his eyes. “It wouldn't hurt you to feed on things other than humans.”

“It tastes of chalk and sadness,” Yunho mumbles, watching as he coats the pan with butter. “And smells rancid.”

“Whatever, you're missing out on the joys in life. Sweets aren't the only thing that tingles the taste buds.”

“You would know,” San is barely heard as he bites on the apple slice, but it is audible enough for their joint laughter. “I'm surprised you haven't spilled your secrets yet. Not often do you keep your escapades to yourself.”

“I’m not going to brag, I would never kiss and tell.”

Yunho’s eyes narrow. “You do, in fact, kiss and tell. That’s all you do actually, I’m surprised you were even able to let that lie slip.”

Wooyoung sticks out his tongue, tapping the pepper into the pan. “Well not now. Solaris is too special for me to discuss things like that around you all. A star that glows like her demands privacy.”

“Did she threaten you?” Hongjoong snickers, peeking out a lid when he doesn’t hear an immediate response. “Oh? She did?”

He frowns. “Not necessarily. I would just like to keep it quiet. It's not just between us eight now, she’s different. Humans are more private. I don't want her uncomfortable.”

“Honorable,” Yunho notes. “Perhaps you have grown.”

“There’s barely a hundred years between us,” Wooyoung deadpans, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not as young as you think I am.”

—

“They were together.”

“Correct.”

“And you have no qualms with that?”

“They are not young and we are not responsible for their actions, Seonghwa. I don’t care what they do in their free time. You’re just upset that she wasn’t with you first as all. She likely would have if it weren’t for that disgusted look you give her every time you’re in a room together.”

“She’s not a commodity to be passed around, Hongjoong. I don’t care if she is with me first or not at all. All that I’m saying is, it’s irresponsible to ignore it.”

If Hongjoong’s eyes could roll further back they would. He closes his notebook slowly, looking up at Seonghwa. “What do you suppose we do, then? Place a chastity belt on Wooyoung, perhaps cuff him to his bed so that he cannot move near her? Ship him off to Yeonjun himself to deal with?”

  “That is not what I’m saying at all. You treat this like it’s a joke,” Seonghwa frowns.

“What you’re suggesting is a joke. I’m not stopping either of them from indulging in one another. I didn’t expect Wooyoung to win her over so soon, but it was inevitable. You hid your suspicions from them, but even with it, it would only make it more enticing for him. He does not back down from a challenge. Especially one he is so obsessed with.”

“You told me to keep it to myself,” Seonghwa rubs his temple, breathing deeply. “I was going to tell them-”

“You still could have. You still can. What I said was a suggestion, nothing more.”

There is no use in arguing with him, Seonghwa thinks. Hongjoong knows what his suggestions are - oftentimes there are threats hidden beneath them. And though he loves him more than life itself, he cannot stand how nonchalant Hongjoong can be. Even if the human, you, does not know your true nature yourself.

“Fine.”

Hongjoong smirks, “That was much easier to deal with.”

“I will tell them tonight. All of them.”

Hongjoong’s smirk twitches. Seonghwa is not looking at him directly, so he does not see the slight dip in his expression, “You will?”

“As you said, it was merely a suggestion. Perhaps their minds will change once they all know of her true nature. And we can finally kill her.”

“You want her dead?”

Never. The thought forms bile in his mouth. “I’d rather not touch her at all. But what other choice do we have? She will kill us all if we let her stay. It is the best decision right now.” He found you, he tracked you down. If he killed you in the beginning despite the resistance to their powers, perhaps it would have saved him from the guilt that begins to riddle his body. He should not care for a creature like you, knowing it is what you do. And still, with knowing, he cannot stop it from happening. Which is why he needs to tell the rest of them.

“They won’t let you kill her. Most have already succumbed to her charm.”

“... I will do what I must to keep us safe.”

Hongjoong shrugs, “Then so be it. You have no objection from me. I’ve grown wary of her being around anyway. Humans are too… irritating.”

“Not a human.”

“Right. I won’t let the others know of my opinion and side with the majority.”

“Sometimes, they would like to hear what their leader thinks, Hongjoong.”

He pauses for a moment. “It will influence their decisions too much for me to say what I want.”

“And you think your thoughts do not influence mine?” Seonghwa asks, genuinely curious. Hongjoong laughs at the question, shaking his head.

“Seonghwa, I've known you for hundreds of years. You’d rather throw yourself in front of a deadly attack than take my opinion over your own. It is settled.”

—

You sit near the back of the room, Wooyoung’s presence wrapped around the headrest of the chair you occupy. No one else has approached you, though you sensed the lingering eyes of Yunho to the side of you. He gave you a smile when you entered, the slight downturn of his lips as he met Wooyoung’s gaze obvious. It did make you nervous that it was somehow your fault he looked furious. But the expression was gone with a blink.

“Mingi won’t be joining us, but he already informed me of his opinion prior to our meeting,” Hongjoong says, sliding past the rest and sitting in the loveseat farthest away from the entrance. His eyes bore into yours, oddly twinkling. “It will be kept in mind as we’re voting.”

“And what is it that we’re voting on?” Yunho asks.

“It has taken me a while to consider what has been going on the past few months, and how it affects all of us, including y/n,” Seonghwa does not meet your eyes as he speaks, staring at an unoccupied couch. “Our voting today is to decide if she lives or dies.”

Silence falls over the room. Your own chest tightens, palms growing moist as the seconds tick by. Kill you? Has what you’ve done destroyed their relationship with other faeries to the point of no return? Seonghwa’s reluctance to even be near you was not only for disgust like you thought before, but something deeper. Hongjoong wasn’t lying when he told you that they believed you to be not human. But you’re not hiding anything yourself. Being anything but human just feels impossible.

“You’re joking?” Wooyoung stands up from where he is behind you, slightly stepping forward. “She’s done nothing wrong.”

“She killed Beomgyu, Wooyoung.”

“So? I kill faeries and humans all the time! Why should that matter?”

“You know why,” San speaks this time, shaking his head. “It has caused us many problems. But Seonghwa, killing her? What use is that to us?”

Seonghwa sighs. “She is not entirely human, that’s why.”

Their gazes all meet yours from across the room. Even Wooyoung, his valiant effort to coax them into saving your life, expression drops slightly, confusion coating his gaze. As if questioning the validity of everything you’ve told him. Somehow that look makes you feel utterly guilty, despite not believing in his claim.

“I am a human,” you retort. “That, whatever happened at that time, it wasn’t… it was me, but it was a fluke. An adrenaline rush.”

“How can we assume she’s not human just because she killed a Seelie?” Yeosang asks. His expression remains neutral, potion book placed face-down on the counter. “Strength like that is not uncommon in humans.”

“Correct, but we all know that a human cannot tear apart a Seelie, especially the way Beomgyu was. His body was unrecognizable, torn to shreds. Someone with her size and strength, even with a burst of adrenaline could not take a Seelie down like that. She would have to know weaknesses, have weaponry-”

“It is unlike you to say allegations without undeniable truth,” Jongho interrupts him. “So I believe what you’re saying, hyung. What is she, if not a human?”

It’s interesting how despite being in the same room with them, they all ignore your presence entirely, speaking amongst themselves. Likely because you can lie with ease and without restraint. They won’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth, anyway, except maybe Yunho or Wooyoung.

“Now this may bother you all. But there is no other explanation. She is a kumiho.”

“That’s impossible-”

“It isn’t,” Seonghwa interrupts Wooyoung before he begins, holding up a hand. “We are real, so it is not too far gone to believe in something that was once unreal to us. There are still beings out there that we do not know of. Her strength, the claw marks on the dead Seelie. She has not turned on the full moon and her blood does not contain any sort of wolf characteristics. Kumiho can blend amongst humans the easiest after they have lived over a thousand years. It is not unrealistic to assume that she has moved past that point and become a human woman.”

“She hasn’t even attempted to lure any of us.” Wooyoung narrows his eyes. “Nor has she eaten human flesh.”

“That we know of.”

You can only scoff, shaking your head. “This is unreal.”

“There is no other explanation. Your strength is formidable to our own. Likely, the feline creature hiding inside this human appearance in front of us has prevented itself from remembering what it was. For protection or otherwise - we have yet to find out.”

Wooyoung’s gaze wavers the longer he listens to Seonghwa’s explanation. In fact, it seems that each of them believes everything that comes from his mouth. But it is impossible. What would be the reason for hiding your true being from yourself?

“Now we vote, then,” Hongjoong starts. “Mingi has voted yes to kill her. Seonghwa?”

“It is what needs to be done, yes,” Seonghwa agrees.

“Yunho?” Hongjoong asks, turning to him.

His gaze is on the floor, thinking. After a few seconds passed, “No. I don’t think she’s a threat to us. We keep her alive.”

Hongjoong looks at Yeosang.

Yeosang ponders the thought as everyone discusses loudly amongst one another. His eyes meet yours across the room, just being Wooyoung as he seemingly protects you with his body. You look afraid. Your eyes move to each person as they speak, your nerves palpable enough to be tasted in the thickened air. If he himself agrees to your death, it is likely that San would agree. Neither of them truly differ in opinion on things like this. Jongho would soon follow out of mere respect. And you would be killed promptly. It is what he has wanted since you’ve arrived here, turning everything sideways. So why, as he looks at your pathetic cowering behind Wooyoung, why does he feel such pity for you?

He looks at Wooyoung again. Though his fascination with you is beyond his capability of understanding, he can see it. How his eyes look at his spark desperately, pleading with them to save you. How Yunho’s jaw clenches, quietly observing. He wanted you here, wanted you protected by them. Though you aren’t exactly the pitiful human he once thought you to be, he still cares for you, strangely.

“Well, what do you want to do?” San whispers into his neck. Useless, since they all can hear what he’s saying aside from you. “Kill her?”

His next words will change everything. Yeosang meets your eyes across the room. His own widen slightly at your expression, flicking down to read your lips. The words mouthed to him are enough for him to decide.

Please help me.

“There’s no reason to kill her if she does not hold any threats to us right now.”

Seonghwa whips his head to Yeosang. Anger expressed along the vein on his neck, the set of his brows. He will not say it outright, but Yeosang has just betrayed his trust. Perhaps Seonghwa thought he would allow the woman to be killed just because … well, because he wanted it. But he cannot now, not when things are turning out so interesting.

“You are sure of this?” Hongjoong asks. His eyes sparkle. “Truly?” Despite only being the fourth oldest, his words hold weight for the rest.

“I am,” Yeosang says simply. The tense gaze of your expression has not dropped. Probably because you don’t realize that San would follow his lead, then Jongho. Your hand wraps around Wooyoung’s arm that traps you behind him. “If need be in the future with reason, sure. But now, no.”

“This is a mistake-” Seonghwa begins, stopping once Hongjoong flicks his finger. His mouth is shut in an instant, the feeling of magic swirling through the air.

“Hasn’t he spoken enough tonight? There are three remaining votes. As always, I will side with the majority. San, you’re next.”

“No need to kill her,” San agrees. Hongjoong’s smile grows louder, eyes flicking to Wooyoung.

“Your answer is obvious, but please Wooyoung, give your vote.”

Wooyoung covers your body almost completely as he speaks. “Of course, I will not kill her.”

“What does our youngest think?”

“I enjoy her being around, I can’t imagine her not being here,” Jongho smiles at you from across the room. “She can stay.”

“Well, as with the majority, y/n’s life is spared. Apologies to Seonghwa and Mingi, but as you know, it has now been decided. Take all the time you need to process this.” He flicks his finger again toward Seonghwa. The room expects him to roar his complaints, but he only looks around, tiredness seemingly flowing off of him.

“I trust you all and always have. And I assumed that you trust my words as well. But as Hongjoong has said, majority rules. I hope that you all keep an eye on her, and make sure that with the slightest change in behavior, monitor it. It can come at any time since she cannot control it herself,” Seonghwa looks at you, eyes meeting. “And I hope, y/n, you listen to my words yourself. Leave if you feel the change happening.”

He leaves the room, Hongjoong disappearing from his spot, likely following Seonghwa close behind along with Yunho. Leaving the rest of you alone.

Wooyoung’s body seeps into your figure the way he embraces you so tightly, lips pressing against your temple lightly. “I’ll be back, pretty.” His touch disappears as well. Jongho glances at you sympathetically, eyes glazing over yours for a moment before he too, blinks away. The instantaneous disappearing bodies is not something you’d ever get used to.

It does not distract you enough from what Seonghwa said, though. You are not human, despite how you’ve lived, how much you have insisted. A kumiho? As he further explained it, it still made entirely no sense to you. You’ve lived your life plainly, rarely if ever dated once in a while. Soobin was your second official relationship, the first lasting no more than a couple of years. The way he looked with such disgust as he explained it, how your age superseded everyone’s in the room. How your true nature was hidden from even yourself - it is impossible to think of.

“It is interesting to look at you, knowing what you are,” San says, looking around Yeosang to peer at you. “Do you have the urge to bite me?”

“I don’t feel anything, San,” exasperation coats your words. “I don’t even believe it myself.”

“Seonghwa is rarely wrong,” Yeosang murmurs. “That is why we take his word as the truth. Since you are kumiho, your training with Mingi will be much different now. Likely more intense.”

Your arms ache at the thought. You have yet to see Mingi yourself, but the training from before was strenuous. You look at Yeosang, remembering he expression on his face as he peered over at you, the tired eyes filled with curiosity as he voted to keep you alive. You are grateful, nonetheless. But the question lingers the longer you look at him.

“Do you want me dead?”

Yeosang pauses at the inquiry, straw resting between his lips. Eyes flicking to yours. There is little to decipher when it comes to him since he rarely tells what he may be thinking, and you're not with him often. But something in the way he looks at you. He does not respond right away – an indication that he may twist his words to satisfy your question.

“In the beginning I thought it'd be best to get rid of you before it escalated. Even more recently, I thought the same. But now I am not so sure,” he places his drink on the counter. “Most of us do enjoy having you around, human or not. Though I am not as enthused as Yunho or Wooyoung with your presence, I no longer hate it. So I have grown to tolerate it. Until I cannot.”

“You will kill me?”

His smile is strange, hollow. “If I must. Your life isn't that important. Or I'll wait until it has run out itself. You may only have a few more decades left, anyway. They will get over it – their fixation will move to something more interesting eventually.”

How casually he talks about your life. Like it is nothing. He does consider it as nothing, as he has said. None of the Unseelie is this house told you do directly as he has done. You should feel a bit wary around him now, knowing he could change his mind in seconds and kill you. Even now, as he reads the spellbook resting on his thighs, he could kill you. And San, sitting nearby, would only help.

So feeling comforted at the thought is unusual.

“Thank you for being honest,” you say, and he snickers. “Not much of that going around here.”

“Sure.”

San leaves a bit after that. The silence echoes around the small room, eyes moving to the doorway at the sound of the door clicking open. The sight nearly startles you, seeing him for the first time in months. Mingi is followed closely by Yunho, bodies brushing against one another as they enter. Yeosang takes that as a sign to leave you, closing his spellbook and gracefully hopping off the chair. His fingers drag across Mingi's arm as he leaves.

“Oddly quiet around here,” he notes, opening the fridge. Yunho sits where Yeosang just was, smiling at you. “Have you been getting along well despite today?” He asks, thanking Mingi as he passes him an apple. “Wooyoung said you've been making progress adjusting, but I rarely take his word for it.”

“It's been better now,” you say. “It's not one hundred percent yet, but I am getting used to being around here. I hope it just ends soon.”

“I heard your life was spared. It should make you happy. Ah,” he snaps his fingers. “They haven't told you yet,” Mingi sits on the opposite side of you. “We will have to leave soon.”

“We?”

“Half of us. Yunho, Wooyoung, Hongjoong, and myself. Seelie requested our presence. We would have all went, but with these circumstances, it may be best to leave half of us here.”

Circumstances meaning you. Mingi does not further explain and you do not insist on him doing so, instead sinking further into the chair you rest on. “So I am left with the rest of you.”

“Left is a strong word,” Yunho mumbles into his cup. “More like babysat.”

Your frown deepens, and he laughs. “It is but a joke. You can take care of yourself. They won’t do anything to you while we’re gone. Yeosang and San will likely stay to themselves now that Seonghwa has relieved him of his duty to watch you. Jongho will be entertaining enough, no?”

“She is older than us all, no need to treat her as a faerling,” Mingi murmurs.

“She thinks she’s almost three decades old, Mingi.”

“Time to see reality.”

They banter back and forth about you, clueless as to how you’ve already left, steps quiet as you make it to your own bedroom. Seonghwa’s words, no matter how convincing, is not something you believe to be true. He says you conjured up this false reality of your life to blend into the human world, but it makes no sense to you. Nothing, none of it does. You remember your parents, you remember your family life. How you so easily deluded yourself into thinking that it was real when it’s not is beyond your comprehension. Likely because you don’t believe it at all. Why would you hide it from yourself? There is no reason to block your own mind from it - even if you are as he says you are. Jumping to such a conclusion is ridiculous.

No. You’re not a kumiho.

You enter your room, shutting the door behind and locking it. Surely Seonghwa can easily create a spell to allow the others into your room, but he won’t. Not if he so vehemently believes that you’re a creature that he didn’t even think was real. You settle yourself into your sheets, ignoring the lingering feeling in your mind that he might be right.

[twistedheartsclub]

Dark King A Dark Romance Male x Female Reader PT1

⚠️ Trigger Warning (TW): This story contains dark themes that include psychological manipulation, coercion, dubious consent (dubcon), non-consensual sexual situations (noncon), possessive behavior, and kidnapping in later chapters. Please note: Part One of this story does not contain these elements and focuses on character introductions, emotional tension, and slow-burn development. These sensitive topics are introduced gradually and are part of a fictional narrative intended for mature audiences. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Please prioritize your mental and emotional well-being.

The Romano estate was too quiet.

Y/N adjusted her blazer, smoothed down her skirt, and stared up at the wrought-iron gates that looked more like they belonged to a fortress than a family home. Twisting, thorned vines crawled up the stone pillars on either side, their shadows curling like fingers in the early afternoon sun. The guard at the booth barely looked at her as he waved her through, his sharp eyes darting to the back of her car as if expecting it to explode.

She swallowed and drove forward.

She hadn't wanted this job. She'd stared at the Romano name on the inquiry email for a full five minutes before even opening it. A big name. A dangerous name. The kind of name whispered behind hands and buried in gossip, tangled up in words like “untouchable” and “blood money.”

But two years of scraping by as a wedding planner in a city that chewed up dreams and spit out bones meant she couldn’t afford to be picky. And maybe, just maybe, if she pulled this off—if she gave Celia Romano the perfect fairytale wedding—it would change everything.

Her nerves didn’t care about the potential. They crawled beneath her skin like ants.

The driveway twisted through perfectly manicured grounds, but it didn’t feel like a garden. It felt like a warning. Like she was being watched. And when the mansion came into view, it wasn’t some romantic villa—it was sleek and brutal, stone and glass and steel, like a wolf dressed in silk.

A man in a dark suit opened her car door before she’d even unbuckled. Silent. Professional. Terrifying.

“Miss Y/N L/N?” he asked, voice clipped.

She nodded, mouth dry. “Yes.”

“Follow me.”

Inside, the mansion was colder than she expected. All marble floors and high ceilings, gilded mirrors, fresh lilies that couldn’t quite mask the scent of gunpowder and leather. Opulence pressed in on all sides, but so did something else—danger in a tailored suit.

And then she saw him.

He stepped out from the shadows of a wide, columned hallway like he belonged there—like the house had been built around him. Matteo Romano. She recognized him instantly from the research she’d done the night before, the grainy newspaper shots that never quite captured the full weight of him.

He was taller in person, broad-shouldered with the kind of presence that bent the air around him. His suit was charcoal, his shirt black, no tie. Everything about him was understated, yet lethal—like a knife wrapped in velvet.

And those eyes—god, those eyes. A smoldering, iron-gray stare that pinned her in place like a butterfly under glass.

“So,” he said, voice smooth and low, “you’re the girl planning my sister’s wedding.”

Y/N lifted her chin, despite the way her stomach twisted. “Woman. And yes, I am.”

One dark brow ticked upward. Not amusement, not quite. Interest, maybe. Or curiosity—like he was watching a stray cat wander into a lion’s den, wondering if it would fight or flee.

He moved closer, slow and deliberate. “You didn’t want this job.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

Y/N swallowed. “I didn’t think I’d be the right fit. But your sister was insistent.”

“She was,” he agreed, gaze dragging over her face like a touch. “Celia likes… shiny things. Pretty things. She must’ve seen something she liked.”

His words were simple, but the way he said them wasn’t. There was a weight behind every syllable, as if each word was a hook meant to lodge deep and pull.

Y/N refused to look away. “I’m not a thing, Mr. Romano.”

“Matteo,” he corrected. “And I never said you were. But let’s be honest, Y/N. You’re standing in the center of a viper’s nest in five-inch heels and pretending you don’t feel the fangs.”

“I’m here to do a job. Nothing more.”

He smiled, slow and dark and absolutely without warmth.

“We’ll see.”

“Come, let’s sit,” Celia said, looping her arm through Y/N’s as if they were old friends instead of strangers from very different worlds.

She was beautiful—effortlessly so. Delicate features, wide brown eyes, long dark hair pulled back in a silk ribbon that matched the blush of her designer dress. She practically glowed, the golden youngest of the Romano children, and she moved through the marble halls like she owned the sun.

Y/N let herself be led into what looked like a sitting room but felt more like a museum. Velvet cushions. Heavy tapestries. Portraits of dead men with eyes that seemed to follow you. Everything was curated, gilded, expensive.

Celia flopped onto a tufted sofa with an easy smile. “Tea or wine?”

“Tea, thank you,” Y/N said, smoothing her skirt as she sat on the edge of the opposite cushion. “We should go over some basics before we get into design—budget, guest list, location. I like to get the skeleton in place before we start dressing it up.”

Celia grinned. “You’re serious. I like that.”

“I try to be,” Y/N said, pulling out her planner. “Weddings are like symphonies. A lot of moving pieces. If one part is off, the whole thing—”

“Crashes in fire and flames,” said a voice from the doorway, dry and rich like aged wine. “God help us, another metaphor girl.”

Y/N stood quickly, her breath catching.

A woman entered the room in a cloud of perfume and pearls. Her dress was immaculate. Hair swept into a flawless chignon, eyes sharp enough to cut stone. Older, elegant, terrifying. This had to be Viviana Romano, Celia’s mother.

Behind her shuffled another woman—stooped slightly, skin papery, hair pure white. But her eyes… those eyes were sharper than the mother’s. The grandmother. The matriarch.

Celia rose, kissing each on the cheek. “Mama. Nonna. This is Y/N L/N, our planner.”

“Planner,” the grandmother echoed, eyeing Y/N like a hawk might a field mouse. “Skinny. Too young. Why did we hire a girl?”

Y/N forced a smile. “Thank you for having me. I assure you, I’m qualified.”

Viviana stepped closer, examining her like she was a piece of artwork that might be a forgery. “You’ve done high society before?”

“Yes. A few events in Manhattan and a destination wedding in Florence. Small budgets, but high-end vision. I specialize in creating elegance without waste.”

“Waste,” the grandmother said with a snort. “Weddings are waste. But they make men spend money, and that is always amusing.”

“Nonna,” Celia warned gently.

Y/N kept her smile in place. “I believe weddings are statements. Not just about love, but legacy. A family’s image. Their name.”

At that, Viviana’s interest piqued. “You understand legacy?”

“I do,” Y/N said, voice steady. “And how fragile it can be in the wrong hands.”

Silence fell.

Celia’s eyes danced with quiet admiration.

The grandmother smiled, just barely. “Hm. Not as soft as she looks.”

Viviana hummed. “We’ll see. Sit, then. Let’s talk about the wedding. Matteo says you’re professional. I want to know if he’s right.”

Y/N sat again, spine straight, pen poised. “Of course.”

But even as she started her questions—flowers, colors, catering—the weight of three generations of Romanos pressing in on her made every word feel like walking across a tightrope. One wrong move, one crack in her voice, and she’d fall.

Still, she didn’t come this far to be afraid of sharp women with old money and sharper eyes.

She just had to survive the planning.

And Matteo.

God help her—especially Matteo.

The family had eventually dispersed—Viviana off to a charity meeting, Nonna to her garden, and with the room cleared of its frost, Celia had pulled Y/N into a sunlit parlor tucked at the back of the house. It was cozier than the others, with warm wood bookshelves, velvet pillows in soft rose and gold, and a faint smell of cinnamon and old paper. A forgotten corner of the Romano estate.

Sanctuary.

Celia was barefoot now, her heels discarded by the door, legs curled under her on a tufted chair as she sipped herbal tea. She’d softened, the tension from earlier fading with every minute away from her mother’s judging gaze.

“I like this room,” Y/N said, running her fingers along the edge of a worn side table. “It doesn’t feel like the rest of the house.”

“It isn’t,” Celia said with a smile. “It was my father’s mother’s room. No one comes in here but me.” She leaned forward, chin in her hand. “Okay, now that you’ve survived the she-wolves, tell me everything.”

Y/N blinked. “Everything?”

“About you,” Celia said, grinning. “You’re not some uptight planner like I expected. You’ve got a bite. I want to know what you’re doing in this mess.”

Y/N laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not that interesting.”

“I doubt that.”

She hesitated a moment, then sighed and sat on the arm of the couch. “Alright. I’ve been doing this for two years. I started in Manhattan, assisting a nightmare planner who believed crying was weakness and coffee was currency. Eventually I branched off, made my own little company.”

“And your boyfriend?” Celia asked slyly.

Y/N flushed immediately. “How do you know I—?”

“You blushed when my brother looked at you.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N groaned, hiding her face. “That’s not because of—Matteo—it’s just—he’s intimidating, and the way he looks at people feels like he’s reading their last will and testament.”

Celia laughed, delighted. “So you do have someone.”

Y/N smiled despite herself, cheeks still warm. “Yeah. We’ve been together for a year now. We live separately—he’s a little older. Travels a lot for work, so we do what we can.”

“What does he do?”

Y/N hesitated, picking at a thread on her skirt. “Something with logistics. Imports, I think. I never ask too many questions when it comes to his work—it’s not shady or anything, just… dull. He’s sweet. Stable.”

“Safe,” Celia said softly.

Y/N looked up. “Yeah. Safe.”

Celia stared out the window for a moment, her fingers tightening slightly around her teacup. “My fiancé isn’t.”

Y/N blinked. “You don’t love him?”

“No,” Celia said simply. “I don’t even know if I like him.”

The silence stretched.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said gently. “Is it arranged?”

Celia nodded. “Not in the way you’re probably thinking. It’s... strategic. He’s from a family that benefits ours. Keeps peace, solidifies business. My father promised me when I was seventeen. I’ve met him a few times. He’s polite. Handsome. Dangerous, in that quiet way men like him are.”

“Do you get a choice?” Y/N asked.

“Not really. But I pretend I do.” Celia offered a small, tired smile. “Mama says it’s my duty. Matteo… he tries to protect me. But he’s part of it too. He knows what this marriage means for the family.”

Y/N felt something tighten in her chest. She didn’t know Celia well—this was only their first real conversation—but there was something heartbreakingly human in the way she said it, like she’d already accepted her life was not her own.

“You still get to have your day, though,” Y/N said softly. “And I’ll make it beautiful. For you. Not just them.”

Celia’s smile warmed, this time real and glowing. “I knew I liked you.”

They sipped their tea in silence for a while after that. Two women from opposite worlds, sitting in a room full of ghosts.

Y/N's apartment smelled like garlic, rosemary, and freshly baked bread.

The tiny dining table was crowded with mismatched plates, wine glasses half-full of red, and candles flickering against the soft hum of music playing from her phone. Her heels were off, hair down, and for the first time all day, her shoulders weren’t trying to touch her ears.

“Okay,” said Jade, stabbing a fork into a roasted potato. “You went to the Romano estate and lived to tell the tale. Spill.”

“I’m not gossiping,” Y/N warned, pouring another splash of wine into her glass. “It was a professional meeting.”

“Yeah, and I wear Chanel to the gym,” Maya snorted, popping a grape tomato into her mouth. “Come on, Y/N. Give us something.”

Y/N laughed, leaning back against the cushions. “It was... intense. The house is like a fortress. There are guards. Real ones. With actual guns. Matteo Romano—he’s the brother—he showed up out of nowhere like he was summoned by shadows or something.”

“Oh my god,” Jade breathed. “Is he hot?”

Y/N covered her face. “I’m not answering that.”

“Oh, he is,” Maya cackled. “She’s blushing.”

“I am not!”

“You totally are.” Jade topped off her wine. “What’d he say? Was he mean? Did he try to test you?”

Y/N sighed. “He’s... sharp. Cold. But not unkind, if that makes sense. He just watches people like he’s figuring out what they’re worth.”

“Like a mob boss would,” Maya added. “You’re literally planning a wedding for mafia royalty.”

“They’re not openly mafia,” Y/N said quickly, lowering her voice.

“They don’t have to be,” Jade teased. “Their aura screams blood and black card.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “Celia—the bride—is sweet. She’s young. Kind of lonely, I think. Her mother and grandmother were…” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Strong. A little terrifying.”

“And you, my darling,” Jade said, raising her glass, “handled it like the badass you are.”

They clinked glasses and sipped. The conversation drifted, wine loosening their shoulders and smoothing the edges of the day.

“So,” Maya said after a while, eyes narrowing with playful intent, “how’s your man?”

Y/N smirked, lips still on her glass. “Still sweet. Still boring.”

“Hey, boring can be good,” Jade grinned. “My man cooked for me last night and folded the laundry. Boring is sexy.”

“Mine bought me bath salts,” Maya said dreamily. “And then ran the bath. Naked.”

“Okay,” Y/N groaned with a laugh. “Too much.”

Jade pointed at her. “But your guy? He still doing the import-export thing?”

“Yeah. He’s been in Texas for a week. Work trip. I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

“Do you miss him?”

Y/N hesitated. “Yeah. I do.”

The words felt true—but light. Like she was reaching for a sweater that no longer fit quite right. Her boyfriend was kind, thoughtful, consistent. But sometimes when she closed her eyes, she saw Matteo Romano’s storm-gray stare and felt like someone had opened a window in her chest and let the cold wind in.

“He’s good to me,” she added, more firmly.

“That’s what matters,” Jade said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “He makes you feel safe.”

Y/N smiled and nodded, taking another sip of wine. But her stomach turned a little—not in dread, but in confusion.

Safe.

Was that enough?

The Romano dining room was as grand as it was suffocating.

Thick velvet curtains muted the night beyond the windows, candlelight flickering across crystal and bone china. The long table was set to perfection, but no amount of gold trim or hand-stitched linen could mask the tension hanging in the air like smoke.

“Her guest list is ridiculous,” Viviana snapped, swirling her wine. “She wants influencers. Influencers, Matteo. I won’t have our name associated with women who take selfies in backless dresses and call it branding.”

“She’s young,” Matteo replied, voice calm but clipped. “Let her be young. She’ll only have this wedding once.”

“Don’t be naive,” Nonna said, her voice brittle but strong. “If she marries a man she doesn’t love, she’ll survive the wedding, not remember it. She’s not built for our world. She’s too soft.”

“She’s a Romano,” Matteo said, gaze fixed ahead. “She’ll learn.”

Across from him, Celia picked at her salad in silence, her lashes low, pretending not to listen. But he could tell she heard every word—he always knew when his baby sister was hurting, no matter how carefully she masked it.

Viviana sighed sharply. “And that planner she chose. The girl. She’s too young. Too modern. Too plain. We should’ve hired someone seasoned. I don’t trust these independent types—they make decisions based on aesthetic instead of legacy.”

Matteo’s jaw ticked. “Her name is Y/N L/N.”

His mother looked at him, surprised. “You remember her name?”

“I remember everyone’s name.”

Nonna smirked from the head of the table. “She had a spark, that one. Stood up straight even while we tried to gut her. I like her spine.”

“She wore sensible heels,” Celia murmured.

Matteo looked at her. “That’s how she’s survived this long.”

Viviana raised a brow. “You’re defending her?”

“I’m stating facts,” he replied coolly. “She didn’t flinch in a room that most men would’ve folded in. That’s useful.”

He didn’t mention the way her voice had stayed calm under pressure, or the quiet precision of her answers, or the tiny tremble in her fingers that she fought so hard to hide. He didn’t mention the way she’d looked him in the eye—looked, not stared, not simpered—and corrected him.

That had stuck with him. Not like an obsession, not like hunger.

More like a puzzle left half-finished on a table. Something you noticed again and again without meaning to.

“She has a boyfriend,” Celia said suddenly.

That earned a flicker of attention from him. “Does she.”

Celia nodded. “They’ve been together a year. Doesn’t live with him.”

Viviana waved a hand dismissively. “She’s too focused on work. She’ll be married to her career by thirty.”

“That kind of woman doesn’t stay long in this world,” Nonna said, sipping her wine. “They either get eaten, or they become something else.”

Matteo didn’t respond. He reached for his glass, his expression unreadable.

His thoughts weren’t on the wedding anymore. Or the fiancé they’d chosen for Celia. Or the complaints echoing off the crystal.

Instead, they lingered—irritatingly—on a flash of quiet defiance, a sharp tongue in a soft mouth, and a planner who didn’t want to be here… but came anyway.

He wasn’t interested. Not really.

But he’d noticed her.

And in Matteo Romano’s world, that was the beginning of everything.

The second visit to the Romano estate was less terrifying—but only slightly.

Y/N had worn soft beige slacks and a cream blouse this time. Practical. Neat. Safe. Her hair was pinned back with gold clips, her planner tucked tightly beneath one arm as she followed a familiar path to the drawing room where Celia waited.

The door opened before she could knock.

“Y/N!” Celia greeted with a warm smile, hands clasped in excitement. “Come in—we’ve already started without you.”

Inside, sunlight streamed through the tall windows. The table was scattered with samples—lace swatches, invitation mockups, and color palette charts. Celia sat cross-legged on a velvet chaise, cheeks pink with enthusiasm, while Viviana and Nonna flanked the table like two marble sentinels, wine glasses untouched but ever present.

“We were debating florals,” Viviana said sharply. “Celia wants peonies.”

“They’re romantic,” Celia argued.

“They’re overpriced and wilt too fast,” Nonna muttered. “Like some husbands.”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Peonies can be used in moderation. Maybe blended with ranunculus and garden roses for durability.”

Viviana arched a brow, but said nothing, merely gesturing for her to sit.

Y/N sank into the cushion beside Celia, laying out her planner and flipping to her sketches. She was mid-sentence—something about table arrangements—when a loud shriek rang through the hallway beyond the open door.

A moment later, two tiny whirlwinds of energy tore into the room.

“Nico!” Celia shouted in warning, too late.

The twins—identical boys with dark curls and matching button-downs—darted past the table, one of them skidding on the marble with socked feet. His little body wobbled, arms flailing, dangerously close to crashing into a glass vase.

Y/N moved on instinct.

She lunged, catching the boy before he could fall. He landed safely against her chest, breathless and blinking, his tiny hands fisting in her blouse.

“Whoa there,” she murmured, her voice soft. “You alright, little guy?”

The boy blinked, stunned for a moment—then grinned. “You’re pretty.”

Celia groaned into her hands. “God, Nico, no flirting.”

Y/N laughed, kneeling with the boy still tucked against her, brushing his curls gently back. “How old are you?”

“Five and three-quarters,” he said proudly. “I’m older than Leo by four minutes!”

His twin, Leo, hovered near the doorway with wide eyes, until Y/N held out her hand and smiled. “You can come too.”

He hesitated, then sprinted across the room and launched himself into her lap.

Viviana made a noise of disapproval, but Nonna only sipped her wine. “You’re good with children.”

“They’re just small people,” Y/N said, bouncing one on each knee. “They just want to be seen.”

Neither woman responded, but their silence was thoughtful.

And that’s when he walked in.

Matteo.

The air shifted instantly.

His footsteps were quiet, but his presence filled the room like thunderclouds rolling in over calm skies. His eyes flicked to the twins, then to Y/N, who hadn’t noticed him yet—her face soft with a tender smile, her body curled protectively around the boys like she’d done it a hundred times.

One of the twins tugged on her sleeve. “Can you come play later?”

“Maybe,” she said gently. “If it’s okay with your family.”

The moment lingered—too long, too still.

Then Y/N looked up.

Her eyes found Matteo’s.

Something passed between them. Not heat. Not tension.

Something quieter. Deeper.

Recognition.

She blinked, straightened a little, gently setting the twins down. “Mr. Romano.”

“Matteo,” he corrected automatically.

Viviana rose, brushing invisible lint from her skirt. “They barged in like wild animals. Celia lets them run like strays.”

“They’re children,” Matteo said, his gaze still on Y/N. “They need freedom. And structure.”

Nonna made a low sound of approval. “The girl has both.”

Y/N rose, smoothing her slacks. “They’re sweet. Just curious.”

Matteo stepped closer now, slow, deliberate. He wasn’t watching her the way he had last time—testing her. This was different.

He’d seen something.

Something he didn’t understand yet.

“Celia,” he said without looking away, “let’s move the meeting to the library. Give them more space.”

Celia nodded, but her gaze darted from her brother to Y/N and back again, a spark of interest igniting behind her lashes.

The moment passed.

But Matteo felt it press into the edges of his mind, lingering long after the twins had gone.

She had held them like she’d been born to. Like she belonged in the center of something warm and real.

It wasn’t important.

It shouldn’t matter.

But now, he’d seen her that way.

And Matteo Romano never forgot what he’d seen.

The Romano gardens stretched beyond the back terrace like a secret realm—walled in with towering cypress trees, rose-covered trellises, and gravel paths that led nowhere in particular. Birds chirped lazily in the early afternoon sun, and the air carried the scent of lemon balm and thyme.

Celia had slipped out first, sandals in one hand, hair tumbling over her shoulders. Y/N followed with two tall glasses of ice-cold lemon water, grateful for the excuse to take a break from lace samples and logistics.

They sank onto a shaded bench beneath a wide olive tree, the stone warm beneath their legs, the twins’ laughter echoing faintly from somewhere deeper in the garden.

“They really love you,” Celia said, smiling behind her glass.

“They’re adorable,” Y/N replied. “Wild, but adorable. Who do they belong to?”

“My cousin Enzo’s boys,” Celia said. “He’s one of our older cousins—married young, had twins by accident, got terrified and grew up fast. His wife’s lovely. Quiet. They live on the property, but far enough to pretend they don’t.”

“That sounds… ideal, honestly.”

Celia laughed, a soft sound. “It is. They keep their heads down. Enzo’s smart like that.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, sipping their drinks and watching bees dart from flower to flower.

“You’re different from what I expected,” Celia said, finally.

“How so?”

“I don’t know. You’re not… scared. Or fake. Most people who come through here are either terrified of my family or trying to impress them.”

Y/N tilted her glass thoughtfully. “I guess I’m just too tired for either.”

Celia’s smile widened. “I like you. You make this whole thing feel less… hollow.”

Y/N glanced over. “Do you ever get to leave?”

Celia blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you ever just… go out? To dinner, or dancing? Coffee with friends?”

“I go to charity events,” Celia said dryly. “And galas. Does that count?”

“Nope.”

Celia sighed. “Then no. Not really. Matteo doesn’t like it.”

“Matteo?” Y/N raised a brow. “Your mom doesn’t like it either, but you didn’t mention her.”

Celia looked down at her glass. “Matteo’s opinion matters more. If he says no, it’s no. He’s not cruel, he’s just… protective. Controlling. He thinks keeping me here keeps me safe.”

Y/N was quiet for a long moment, then reached out and nudged her knee gently. “What if I stole you for a night?”

Celia’s head snapped up. “What?”

“Just you and me. No guards. No designer gowns. We’ll go to this place I love—tiny Greek place near my apartment. We’ll eat too much garlic, drink house wine, and make fun of bad wedding DJs. Maybe even dance a little.”

Celia’s eyes lit up with something like wonder. “You’d do that?”

Y/N shrugged with a smile. “Only if you say yes.”

Celia looked away, biting her lip. “Matteo would hate it.”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

Celia let out a breathless laugh. “God, you really are trouble.”

“I’m actually very well-behaved,” Y/N said, grinning. “But maybe you need a little trouble.”

Their laughter blended with the wind in the trees, sweet and light—two women stealing a sliver of freedom from a world that demanded they stay in their boxes.

Neither of them saw the figure watching from the terrace—still as stone, unreadable as ever.

Matteo Romano.

He didn’t hear the conversation.

But he saw the way Celia smiled.

The way Y/N leaned toward her, easy and warm, like a summer breeze through a sealed room.

And something cold stirred in his chest—not jealousy. Not yet.

But the quiet, unfamiliar ache of possession.

The little Greek place was tucked between a closed flower shop and an old bookstore that smelled like dust and poetry. Inside, the air was warm and humming with quiet music, and the walls were lined with faded black-and-white photos of Athens. There were only six tables, each covered with mismatched linens and flickering tealights in small glass cups.

They sat near the window, tucked into a corner, half a carafe of house wine between them and plates of lamb skewers, feta, olives, and crispy lemon potatoes spread like a feast.

Celia had pulled her hair into a braid and worn jeans with a fitted cardigan—simple, casual, a soft rebellion in itself. She looked lighter here. Brighter. Like her laugh had been waiting years to be let out.

“This is so good,” she moaned, stealing another wedge of pita. “Why does everything at home taste like it was cooked under threat?”

Y/N laughed, refilling her glass. “Because it probably was.”

“I can’t believe we actually got away with this,” Celia whispered, eyes gleaming.

“I told you—low profile, casual, nothing flashy. We’re just two normal girls out for dinner.”

“I haven’t been a normal girl in years,” Celia said, swirling her wine. “Do you know how many of my firsts were... choreographed?”

Y/N tilted her head. “Like what?”

“My first kiss? At a garden party. My date was the son of a diplomat. Our mothers basically pushed us into a rose bush and gave us ten minutes.” Celia made a face. “He tasted like champagne and fear.”

Y/N snorted. “That’s tragic.”

“What about yours?”

Y/N grinned, tucking her legs under the booth seat. “Seventh grade. Behind the theater building. He had braces and called me the wrong name right after.”

Celia laughed so hard she nearly choked on her wine. “No!”

“Yes! I was too embarrassed to correct him.”

“Oh god, we’re pathetic.”

“Speak for yourself,” Y/N said with a mock huff. “I’m a very romantic person now. I light candles. I make dinner. I am extremely kissable.”

Celia raised her glass. “To being extremely kissable.”

They clinked and sipped again, warm and loose from the wine, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

“How old are you, by the way?” Y/N asked. “You never told me.”

“Twenty-six,” Celia said. “What about you?”

“Same.”

Celia smiled. “That explains it. You feel like someone I would’ve been friends with in another life. One where my family didn’t control every detail of my existence.”

“You still can be,” Y/N said softly.

There was a pause, a shift in the air.

Then Celia reached forward and stole another olive. “Okay. Crushes. Who was your first?”

“Oh, easy,” Y/N said. “My fourth-grade art teacher. He had a ponytail and wore leather bracelets. Total hippie. I was convinced he was secretly a prince.”

Celia giggled. “Mine was my cousin’s friend Luca. He used to come over and play piano. I’d sit on the stairs and pretend I wasn’t watching.”

“Did Matteo know?”

Celia rolled her eyes. “Matteo knows everything. He told me Luca was a degenerate gambler and forbade me from being in the same room with him.”

Y/N laughed. “Wow. Subtle.”

“He’s always been like that,” Celia said, her smile fading just a little. “He means well, but… his idea of love is protection. Control. He doesn’t understand softness. He respects it, I think. But he doesn’t trust it.”

Y/N stirred her drink slowly, considering that.

“He watched me when I caught Nico,” she said quietly.

Celia looked at her. “I figured.”

“It wasn’t like he was angry. Just… seeing something new.”

“That’s probably true,” Celia said, her tone unreadable. “Matteo doesn’t notice most people. But when he does…” She trailed off.

Y/N looked up. “What?”

“He never forgets them.”

The music was old and loud, thumping through the worn floorboards of the little backroom bar Y/N had promised would be “low-key.”

It wasn’t packed, but it was alive—warm bodies moving in time, a rainbow of lights flashing across upturned faces and bare shoulders. The air was thick with laughter and cheap perfume, and the whole world felt far away from marble floors and legacy-stained bloodlines.

Y/N and Celia were laughing breathlessly, hips swaying, arms linked as they danced near the edge of the floor. The wine had softened their movements, made everything feel lighter. Like being young again—normal.

Celia’s braid swung behind her as she spun. “I can’t believe this is real.”

“I told you,” Y/N said, grinning. “We’re magic when we’re out together.”

“I feel… free.”

Y/N was about to respond when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. A man—mid-thirties, too polished for a place like this. Slicked-back hair. Designer watch. Something sharp behind his smile.

He was watching Celia.

Y/N stiffened as he approached.

“Ladies,” he said smoothly. “Mind if I cut in?”

Celia faltered, smile fading. “I’m fine, thank you—”

“I wasn’t asking you, princess.”

Y/N stepped in front of her without thinking. “Back off.”

The man’s eyes flicked to her, condescending. “Easy. Just trying to be friendly.”

“She said no.”

Something in her tone changed the air between them.

The man leaned in just enough for Y/N to catch the glint of something under his jacket—metal. Not a wallet. Not a phone.

A gun.

“You don’t know who you’re talking to, sweetheart,” he murmured, too low for the music to carry.

“Actually,” Y/N said, steady now, “I really don’t care.”

He smirked—and reached for Celia’s arm.

Y/N moved.

It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t graceful. But it was fast. Her fist connected with the side of his face, snapping his head sideways with a sickening crack. He stumbled, clutching his jaw, eyes wild with shock.

Celia gasped. “Y/N!”

“Run!” Y/N shouted, grabbing her hand.

They pushed through the crowd, Y/N shoving shoulders and spilled drinks out of their way. Adrenaline burned through her veins as they burst through the exit door and into the cold night air.

And slammed straight into him.

Matteo.

He was waiting beside a black car, arms crossed, jaw clenched, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

The sight of him brought everything to a screeching halt.

Celia froze, wide-eyed. “Matteo—”

“Get in the car,” he said, voice low and venomous. His eyes never left Y/N.

She stood her ground, chest heaving, blood still buzzing in her ears. “It wasn’t her fault.”

“I said—” he took one step forward, towering over her “—get in the car.”

Celia obeyed without another word, slipping into the back seat.

That left Y/N and Matteo alone in the street, steam rising from sewer grates, music still thudding behind the closed door.

“You followed us,” Y/N said, voice shaking—but not from fear. “How long were you watching?”

Matteo’s stare was unrelenting. “Long enough to see you break his jaw.”

“Good,” she snapped. “Because he grabbed her.”

His silence was colder than anger.

“You think I can’t protect her?” she asked, stepping closer, fire in her veins.

“I think you don’t understand what kind of people come sniffing around my family. Or what it costs to draw their attention.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

They stood in the silence of the city’s edge—her chest rising, his fists clenching.

Then, something in his expression cracked. Just a little.

“You could’ve been killed,” he said, softer. Not gentle—but raw.

Y/N swallowed. “So could she.”

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Then Matteo opened the car door.

“Get in.”

She hesitated—just long enough to make him twitch—then climbed in beside Celia.

The door slammed behind her, the locks clicking into place like a seal.

And for the first time since he’d met her, Matteo Romano didn’t know what to do with what he felt.

The Romano estate was silent when the car pulled through the gates.

Too silent.

Y/N stepped out before Matteo could open her door, jaw set, hands still scraped and trembling from the punch and the panic. Celia trailed after her, quieter now, her earlier glow faded into a shadow. Matteo said nothing, his footsteps hard on the marble as he stormed ahead.

They followed him into the sitting room. The lights were too bright, the room too cold. A maid tried to speak—but one look from Matteo and she vanished.

The door slammed shut behind them.

And then, he turned.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

His voice was thunder—quiet and shaking with the kind of anger that didn’t explode, but burned.

Celia flinched. “Matteo, please—”

“No,” he snapped. “You lied. You snuck out. You went into the city without protection. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if I hadn’t been there?”

“We were fine,” Y/N cut in, stepping forward. “Until someone tried to grab her. That was the only threat. And I handled it.”

“You?” Matteo laughed once, bitter. “You think you can protect her?”

“I did.”

“You threw a punch in a back-alley bar, and that’s your definition of protection?”

“Matteo—”

“No, Celia!” he barked, spinning toward his sister. “You risked everything. You knew this marriage is the only thing keeping peace right now. You jeopardized—”

“I don’t care!”

The words ripped from her throat—louder than either Y/N or Matteo had ever heard her speak.

And just like that, the room fell still.

Celia stood in the center of the marble floor, her braid slipping loose, eyes shining with sudden, overwhelming tears.

“I don’t care about the deal, or the family, or the name!” she cried. “I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want a life that feels like a cage dressed in diamonds.”

Matteo’s mouth parted, but no words came.

“Do you think I don’t know what this marriage is?” she whispered, voice breaking. “Do you think I don’t see how it’s all just business—just another transaction with my life?”

Y/N stepped beside her, instinct taking over. Her hand slipped around Celia’s waist, guiding her gently to the couch. She pulled her close, smoothing her hair, pressing her cheek against her temple.

“It’s okay,” Y/N murmured. “Let it out.”

Celia shook against her, sobbing now—ugly and raw and far too big for such a soft girl.

Matteo stood frozen, hands at his sides, his breath shallow. He looked like a man watching his whole world crack open and realizing he didn’t know how to hold the pieces.

“You never asked me if I wanted it,” Celia whispered. “You just assumed I’d go along because it’s what’s best for you.”

“It’s not about me,” Matteo said hoarsely.

“Yes, it is,” she said, lifting her head from Y/N’s shoulder, tear-streaked and trembling. “You want control. You want to protect me, but only on your terms. You don’t trust me to know what I want.”

Y/N’s arm stayed tight around her.

And slowly, slowly, Matteo’s walls began to show their cracks.

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” he said. “You don’t know what kind of people we’re dealing with—”

“I don’t want to,” Celia whispered.

Silence again.

Y/N looked up, meeting Matteo’s eyes across the room.

He wasn’t furious anymore.

He just looked tired.

And beneath the fury, the pride, the family name—he looked like a man who had no idea how to love someone without turning it into armor.

The echoes of Celia’s sobs still lingered in the marble halls by the time she’d slipped upstairs to her room, wrapped in Y/N’s soft words and a promise of tomorrow.

Now it was just Y/N and Matteo.

The house was silent around them—too grand, too hollow. Only the low flicker of firelight from the drawing room offered any warmth, casting golden shadows over the cold edges of the night.

Matteo stood near the fireplace, arms folded across his chest. No longer furious—but unreadable. A man made of stone and pressure and things he didn’t know how to say.

Y/N sat on the edge of the leather armchair, spine straight, fingers curled around the armrest like a tether.

“You love her,” she said softly.

Matteo looked up, eyes dark and distant. “Of course I do.”

“But you’re loving her in a way that’s killing her.”

His jaw tensed. “I’m keeping her alive.”

Y/N didn’t flinch. “And what kind of life is she supposed to have, Matteo? One where she’s passed from father to brother to husband like a bargaining chip?”

“She was born into this.”

“She’s still allowed to want more.”

He didn’t respond. Just stared into the fire like it might offer him answers he didn’t already own.

Y/N leaned forward, voice firm but gentle. “If you want this marriage to work—if you really believe it’s necessary—then her fiancé needs to actually be there. He needs to show up. Talk to her. Listen. Learn her favorite color. Ask how she takes her tea. That’s all a girl wants, Matteo. To be seen. To be respected.”

His gaze slowly slid toward her, something shifting behind those storm-gray eyes.

“Respect,” he murmured, like it was a foreign word.

Y/N nodded. “Understanding. Kindness. A little effort.”

They sat in that silence for a while, the fire popping gently between them. The distance narrowed—not just in space, but in something deeper. Something neither of them had asked for but now felt the edges of with startling clarity.

Matteo stepped closer.

She didn’t move.

“You fought for her tonight,” he said, voice low. “Risked your safety without hesitation.”

“She’s not a soldier, Matteo,” Y/N said, meeting his gaze. “She needs someone who won’t make her fight for every ounce of freedom.”

He studied her face, and it wasn’t the usual calculating stare. It was... quieter. More personal. As if seeing her in a new light unsettled him more than any threat ever could.

“You’re dangerous,” he said finally.

Y/N gave a soft smile. “Because I said what no one else will?”

“No,” he murmured. “Because you make me want to listen.”

His hand brushed against her arm.

The tension coiled between them like wire pulled tight, drawn together by something that neither of them could name. His gaze dropped to her lips. The firelight flickered across his features, softer now, less iron and more man.

He leaned in.

And so did she.

Their breaths mingled, close enough for heat to pass, for shadows to tremble—

But Y/N pulled back, slow and deliberate, her lips parting with a soft exhale.

“I need to go home,” she whispered.

He blinked once, like he’d forgotten there was a world beyond this room.

Y/N stood, smoothing her blouse, heart thudding.

“You’ll walk me out?” she asked.

Matteo nodded once, but didn’t speak.

As they reached the door, she glanced back at him. “Think about what I said. She needs someone who chooses her.”

And with that, she slipped out into the night, leaving behind only her perfume, her warmth, and a man who had never been left wanting.

Until now.

Sunlight spilled through the windows of Y/N’s apartment, casting soft golden lines across her hardwood floors. The scent of coffee drifted from the kitchen, and somewhere, a playlist of gentle jazz crackled softly from her phone.

She stood in front of the mirror in a soft robe, towel-dried hair curling at the ends, fingers brushing mascara onto her lashes. Her skin still hummed faintly from last night’s adrenaline—her hand sore, her heart unsettled.

She didn’t want to think about Matteo. Or his eyes. Or how close their mouths had been.

A knock at the door startled her from the thought.

She glanced at the clock—8:03 a.m.

Another knock. This time gentler. Familiar.

She padded to the door and peeked through the peephole.

And smiled.

Elias.

She opened the door and was immediately greeted by the smell of warm cinnamon and the sight of her boyfriend standing there—tall, dark blond hair tousled from sleep, dressed in a gray hoodie and black jeans, with a bouquet of sunflowers and wildflowers in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Elias said with a grin. “I brought bribes.”

Y/N’s heart softened. “You got back last night?”

“Late. Didn’t want to wake you,” he said, leaning in to press a soft, warm kiss to her lips. “But I missed you.”

She kissed him back, smiling against his mouth. “I missed you too.”

He handed her the bouquet. “Your favorites.”

She inhaled them deeply. “You remembered.”

“I always do.”

She stepped aside and let him in. He dropped his bag on the counter and started pulling out breakfast—flaky croissants, egg sandwiches, a small tub of her favorite honey Greek yogurt, and two bottles of fresh orange juice.

“Okay,” she said, impressed. “You really missed me.”

“I figured you’d need fuel. Heard through the grapevine you’re planning a wedding for a mob princess.”

Y/N blinked. “Where’d you hear that?”

He smiled over his shoulder. “A little bird. I pay attention.”

“Too much attention.”

He shrugged playfully. “I worry. You’re the softest tough girl I know.”

She leaned against the counter, watching him. He looked so calm. Steady. The kind of man who folded her laundry, made playlists for road trips, rubbed her feet when she had long days. The kind of man you marry when you want peace.

And yet…

Last night still burned beneath her skin like a brand.

“How was Texas?” she asked, pouring juice into two glasses.

“Boring,” he said, pulling her close with one arm. “Long meetings. Long drives. Nothing half as interesting as what you’re wrapped up in.”

She leaned into him, resting her cheek against his chest. “I punched someone last night.”

Elias pulled back slightly, brows raised. “You?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not—I swear.” He cupped her face, eyes filled with admiration. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

“Want me to go beat them up for you?”

She laughed, really laughed, and buried her face against his neck. “No, I already did a good enough job.”

They stood like that for a moment—wrapped in warmth, familiarity, and affection.

But even as she held him…

Matteo's voice haunted the edges of her mind. You’re dangerous. You make me want to listen.

Y/N closed her eyes.

She was safe here.

So why did she feel like she was only half-awake?

The Romano estate was already vibrating with tension by the time the morning sun cleared the hills.

Voices echoed off the marble.

“You promised me he’d cooperate!” “That man has no spine!” “His father would’ve handled this already—” “You think I care what his father would’ve done? He’s not marrying his father—”

Matteo stood at the head of the long dining table, jaw tight, shoulders tense beneath his crisp black shirt. His younger brother, Rico, paced across the room like a caged dog—wiry, sharp-featured, eyes flaring with frustration.

“He didn’t even call after what happened last night,” Rico barked. “Celia could’ve been hurt—hell, Y/N hit someone, and that guy still thinks he can treat this marriage like a goddamn brunch date!”

“He was never worthy,” Nonna snapped from her seat. “His blood’s thin. No teeth.”

Viviana stood beside her, arms folded, voice sharp and clear. “But we need this alliance. Matteo, fix it.”

Matteo didn’t move. “I told you this would happen. He doesn’t respect her because he doesn’t know her. He sees her as a favor—not a future.”

“So change that,” Viviana snapped.

“Or end it,” Nonna growled.

The room surged with shouting again—Rico cursing, Viviana hurling accusations, Nonna raising her cane and slamming it against the floor like a gavel.

Matteo stood still through it all. Not indifferent—just waiting.

Listening.

Calculating.

Then the bell rang.

Three short chimes.

Silence dropped like a stone.

Rico rolled his eyes. “Perfect.”

“Let the chaos in,” Viviana muttered.

The butler moved toward the door, but Celia was already flying down the stairs.

Y/N stood in the entryway, the morning light soft on her face, her coat draped neatly over one arm, a hand-wrapped in gauze and tape from last night’s chaos.

“Hey,” she said, a little breathless. “Sorry I’m—”

“You’re here!” Celia squealed, launching into her arms with the kind of joy that shattered the stale air in the house like glass.

Y/N hugged her tightly, blinking in surprise. “You okay?”

“I am now,” Celia whispered, her voice pressed to her shoulder. “Come. Come upstairs. I don’t want to see anyone else right now.”

She grabbed Y/N’s hand—careful not to touch the bruised one—and practically dragged her up the staircase.

Matteo turned to watch them go.

Y/N didn’t look back.

But he noticed everything.

The way her wrapped hand rested against the banister. The way Celia leaned into her, trusting her like she hadn’t trusted anyone since their mother stopped tucking her in. The way her presence, quiet and graceful, sucked the fury from the room without saying a word.

“She makes her feel safe,” Nonna said quietly, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Matteo didn’t reply.

He didn’t have to.

Upstairs…

Celia’s room was nothing like the rest of the Romano estate.

Where the halls were stone and sharp edges, her space was full of softness—canopied bed draped in white gauze, floral wallpaper worn at the corners, books piled on the windowsill like she’d started ten and finished none. It still felt like a girl’s room. A girl who’d tried to grow up before she was ready.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed while Celia rifled through a drawer for a tin of ointment.

“Let me see your hand.”

“I’m fine,” Y/N said, but held it out anyway.

Celia winced at the sight. “It’s so swollen.”

“You should’ve seen the guy.”

They both laughed, the tension from the night before melting under the sunlight and the scent of lavender from a nearby candle.

“I’m serious,” Celia said as she gently applied the balm. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Y/N replied softly. “But I wanted to.”

There was a pause—quiet and meaningful.

“I meant what I said last night,” Celia whispered. “You make me feel like I’m allowed to want things.”

Y/N smiled. “You are.”

“And I do. I want more than this house. More than business and bloodlines. I want a real life.”

“Then let’s plan it,” Y/N said suddenly.

Celia blinked. “What?”

“You’re a bride. And for once, let’s plan a wedding you actually want. A dream one. Just for you. No guests. No alliances. Just… what you’d choose if the world didn’t belong to your last name.”

Celia’s eyes sparkled, wide with wonder. “Can we?”

“We already are,” Y/N grinned. “You just haven’t told anyone yet.”

Downstairs…

Matteo sat alone in the study, the fire low and crackling, the scent of ash curling into his collar.

A small folder lay open on the desk.

Photos. Reports. A timeline.

Celia’s fiancé, Emilio Mariani—fifth son of a lesser crime family. Titled. Protected. Lazy.

Weak.

Matteo’s eyes trailed over a photo of Emilio at a rooftop bar—surrounded by women. Not Celia. Never Celia.

Another image: his car parked outside a strip club. A charge to a hotel not registered under his name.

The final straw: a police report. Altered. Buried. A bar fight, three years ago. Another man took the fall. Matteo hadn’t known about it—until now.

“I trusted him,” Matteo muttered to no one. “I sat at a table with his father. Took his hand like it meant something.”

His fists clenched.

Then, footsteps.

Rico entered, shutting the door behind him. “You’ve decided?”

Matteo nodded once. “He’s done.”

“What about the alliance?”

“We’ll build another.”

Rico hesitated. “And Celia?”

“She’ll be protected.”

A pause.

“And the planner?”

Matteo didn’t look up. “What about her?”

“She’s… involved now. Whether you like it or not.”

Matteo stared into the fire for a long moment.

“She’s a problem,” he said finally.

Rico smirked. “Then why do you look at her like that?”

Matteo didn’t answer.

But his jaw tightened.

Because deep down, he already knew the truth.

She wasn’t a problem.

She was a threat.

And he was already planning how to keep her close enough to control—

Or never let go.

At the Mariani Estate…

The air was stiff with cigar smoke and ego.

The Mariani patriarch sat behind a polished oak desk, flanked by his two sons: Emilio, lounging in his seat like the spoiled heir he was, and Luca, the younger—clean-cut, thirty-seven at most, dark-haired and watchful with sharp, calculating eyes.

Matteo and Rico stood across from them, both in tailored black, radiating a kind of cold pressure that turned the office into a crucible.

“You embarrassed my family,” Matteo said calmly. “You humiliated my sister.”

Emilio scoffed, tipping back in his chair. “It was a misunderstanding.”

Rico moved first.

One second, Emilio was talking. The next, he was on the ground, blood spilling from his nose, his chair overturned behind him.

“You don’t speak her name again,” Rico hissed, standing over him.

“Enough,” the elder Mariani barked, rising to his feet. “You come into my home, throwing fists like animals—”

“Your son put hands on a Romano woman,” Matteo said, still steady. “Do you think I’d let that pass? She’s not available. She’s sacred.”

“And what would you have me do?” the old man snapped. “Cut him off? Apologize like a dog?”

“I don’t want apologies,” Matteo said. “I want something better.”

A beat of silence.

The elder Mariani sighed and glanced toward Luca.

“This one,” he said, gesturing. “Luca. My second son. He’s not like his brother. He studied in Rome. Quiet. Clever. Disciplined. He could make a woman like your sister feel safe… and respected.”

Matteo’s gaze shifted to Luca.

And Luca, to his credit, didn’t look away.

“I would take it seriously,” Luca said. “And I would court her, not collect her.”

Matteo gave a single nod.

“One meeting,” he said. “She chooses.”

And with that, the terms were set.

Back at the Romano Estate…

Celia twirled in front of the mirror, holding up a swatch of chiffon like it was already stitched into a gown. “Do you think Luca would like something off the shoulder? Or is that too much?”

Y/N smiled from the bed, legs tucked beneath her. “You haven’t even met him yet.”

“I know,” Celia said, breathless with hope. “But Matteo agreed to the meeting. That’s something.”

“I’ll be here if you want backup.”

Celia turned, eyes soft. “You’ve already done more than anyone ever has.”

They hugged tight at the top of the stairs before Y/N slipped out, her heels quiet on the marble.

At her apartment…

The warmth of the day still lingered in the air when Y/N stepped inside, unwrapped her bandaged hand, and curled up on the couch.

Her phone buzzed.

Elias.

She smiled softly, thumb hovering over the answer button for a moment before picking up.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey, gorgeous,” Elias said, voice warm and relaxed. “How’s your hand?”

“Better. Still sore.”

“I hate that you got hurt.”

“I don’t.”

A beat of silence. “You wanna do dinner tonight? I was thinking your place—I’ll bring wine. Cook.”

Y/N hesitated. Then smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

They chatted a little longer—about the Romano estate, Celia’s nerves, Elias’ meetings—before hanging up.

But even as she changed into something soft and started setting the table, her thoughts drifted.

To firelight. To a man who called her dangerous like it was holy. To a kiss that hadn’t happened—and still lingered.

And the strange ache of having everything she thought she wanted…

And wondering if she was already losing interest.

Two weddings.

Two lives.

Two entirely different kinds of chaos.

Y/N moved between them like a storm with a clipboard—balancing floral orders, finalizing menus, fielding last-minute seating chart disasters. Her new client was a high-strung heiress who needed everything now, and Celia’s wedding—still months away—remained wrapped in tension and centuries-old expectations.

She was exhausted.

But she was moving. Always moving.

Her weekdays were meetings and mockups. Her weekends were for herself—wine nights with Jade and Maya, rooftop brunches, dancing until her cheeks ached from laughing. And most nights, Elias was waiting—at her apartment with takeout, or at his place with wine and slow jazz playing low on the speakers.

He was steady.

Warm hands. Soft kisses. Gentle promises.

“I love seeing you like this,” he said one night, stirring pasta on her stove. “Busy. Happy. Glowing.”

She smiled, leaned against him, and kissed his shoulder.

But in the back of her mind, there was always a flicker of something else. A hallway. A wrapped hand. Firelight. And gray eyes watching her like she was something rare.

She didn’t speak of Matteo.

Not even to herself.

Celia and Y/N still met—quiet moments between meetings, dress fittings, and floral discussions. But they were shorter now. Softer. Less laughter, more glances over their shoulders.

Her mother and grandmother hadn’t forgotten the escape.

Neither had Matteo.

Still, Celia kept her head high, and when she finally agreed to the meeting with Luca, she did so with a grace Y/N hadn’t seen in her before.

And Luca… was nothing like Emilio.

He was kind. Thoughtful. He listened when Celia spoke. He asked her what she wanted, and meant it. He brought her books instead of jewelry. Asked her questions instead of offering compliments.

After their second meeting, Celia pulled Y/N aside in the garden.

“He’s… good,” she said, cheeks flushed. “And I think he actually wants me.”

Y/N squeezed her hand, smiling. “Then maybe this can be your story. Not theirs.”

Celia nodded slowly, eyes distant. “I hope so.”

In the greenhouse...

Celia walked beside Luca through the Romano estate gardens, the glass panels overhead dripping with condensation from the late spring heat. She wore pale yellow, hair loosely braided, eyes bright.

Luca kept his hands in his pockets, respectfully distant—but attentive.

“You like roses,” he said.

“I like wildflowers,” she corrected. “Roses are too... expected. Too manicured. But I like them best when they’re a little overgrown. Imperfect.”

He smiled, quietly charmed. “Then I’ll have to bring you some that refuse to behave.”

She laughed. Not the polite kind. The real kind.

When they stopped by the marble bench beneath the lemon tree, she finally said, “Why are you really agreeing to this?”

“Because your brother offered me a life built on loyalty and legacy,” he said. “But you… you’re something else entirely. You’re a choice I’d be proud to make.”

She looked down, blushing. “That’s the right answer.”

In Matteo’s private study...

“I don’t care if she blushes when he talks to her,” Matteo said flatly. “I want to know if he can handle pressure.”

Rico leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “He’s not like Emilio. That much is clear.”

“I need more than not Emilio. I need stable. Calculated. Humble—but with teeth.”

“He’s all of that.”

Matteo’s gaze flicked to the surveillance photo on his desk—Luca holding the greenhouse door for Celia. Not touching. Not hovering. Just present. A steady figure in the frame.

“I want a background run done again,” Matteo said. “Anything buried, I want it dug up. If he hurts her, there won’t be time to fix it.”

Rico gave a knowing smile. “You’re not used to men treating her right.”

Matteo didn’t smile back.

“I’m not used to anyone loving her the way she deserves.”

At Y/N’s apartment...

The kitchen smelled like roasted garlic and rosemary, the candles were lit, the wine poured.

Elias sat across from her at the table, sleeves rolled, collar undone. He looked like something out of a cozy film: handsome, tired, reliable.

And yet…

Y/N couldn’t shake the quiet tension between them. The distance.

“You’ve been quieter lately,” she said.

Elias paused mid-bite. “Just tired. Work’s been nonstop.”

“You’ve said that a lot.”

He looked up at her.

For a beat, his expression softened—but then it twisted, slightly defensive. “Do you think I’m lying?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I just… I don’t know. Something feels off.”

He pushed his plate aside and leaned on his elbows. “Maybe it’s not me that’s changed.”

She blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I see the way you talk about your clients,” he said. “You light up when you mention that girl—Celia. Or when you talk about her brother.”

Her breath caught.

“You don’t say anything,” he added. “But it’s there. In the way you talk around him. Or avoid his name altogether.”

Silence stretched between them.

“I’ve been good to you,” Elias said softly. “I’ve loved you quiet, steady. I’ve never tried to own you. But sometimes it feels like you’re somewhere else.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

And that terrified her.

She reached for his hand anyway. “Let’s not do this tonight.”

He nodded.

But even as they finished their wine and sat together on the couch, something between them had shifted.

Not broken.

Just… bent.

And things that bend under too much pressure don’t always snap.

Sometimes they just stop fitting

The warehouse had been dusty, humid, and completely unfit for the kind of elegant, last-minute wedding transformation Y/N had promised.

But she never backed down from a challenge.

She’d been moving crates, climbing ladders, helping hang strings of lights and vintage drapes herself—half because she didn’t trust the new assistant, and half because she needed the distraction.

She didn’t see the broken step.

Didn’t hear the crack until she was on the ground.

By the time she limped out of the rental van and up the steps to her apartment, the adrenaline had faded into a dull, throbbing ache up her ankle and into her hip. Her palms were scraped again. Her nails were chipped. Her dress was wrinkled and dusty.

But worse than the physical pain was the silence.

Elias hadn’t texted back.

Not last night. Not this morning. Not after she told him she was working late and sore and needed to hear his voice.

He’d left two days ago for another "work trip"—only this time, there had been no soft goodbye, no airport kisses, no “I'll miss you.” Just a single-word reply:

"Safe travels."

And since then… nothing.

Not even read receipts.

He’d never done this before. Not even when they fought. Not even when they were new and messy.

Y/N sat on her couch, still in her work clothes, her ankle wrapped in ice and her phone sitting useless in her lap. She stared at it like it might light up if she just wanted hard enough.

It didn’t.

And that’s when the knock came.

Three firm taps.

She rose slowly, wincing, one bare foot dragging behind her as she crossed to the door.

She opened it—

—and her breath caught.

Matteo stood there.

In black slacks and a slate-gray shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, his hair slightly mussed like he'd run his hand through it one too many times. There was something restless in his posture, like he wasn’t used to waiting on the threshold of anything.

His eyes scanned her instantly.

The limp.

The bandages.

The redness around her eyes.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came.

He filled the silence.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m—fine,” she said too quickly, clutching the doorframe.

His eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

She gave a bitter little smile. “Well. Apparently I am.”

Silence crackled between them.

Matteo's gaze dropped to her hands, then to the shadows beneath her eyes. His expression shifted—not pity. Not concern.

Just… awareness. Of the hurt. Of the cracks.

“I didn’t come here to cause more problems,” he said quietly.

She laughed once—short, brittle. “You didn’t have to. You are the problem.”

He didn’t flinch.

But he didn’t move.

“I just needed to see you.”

“Why?”

Another silence.

“You looked tired. At the estate last week. Different.”

Her throat tightened. “That’s what you came here for? To tell me I looked tired?”

Matteo stepped closer, crossing the invisible line of the threshold, and she didn’t stop him.

“I came because I knew something was wrong,” he said.

“And what exactly are you going to do about it?” she asked, her voice hoarse now. “Fix me like one of your family problems?”

“No,” he said, voice low. “Because you’re not a problem. Not to me.”

Her eyes filled, hot and sudden, and she hated it—hated the way the tears burned without permission. Hated that it was him here, in this moment, while the man who was supposed to be hers vanished behind silence.

She looked away.

“I’m so tired of feeling like a placeholder.”

“You’re not.”

She swallowed. “Then why does it feel like no one ever stays?”

Matteo’s hand rose—hesitated—then touched her cheek, warm and slow.

“I’m still here.”

And god help her…

She leaned into him.

Not because it was right.

Not because it was safe.

But because it was real.

For the first time in days, it was real.

Y/N didn’t know why she said it.

Maybe it was the ache in her ankle. Maybe it was the weight of being alone. Maybe it was the way Matteo touched her face like she wasn’t a battlefield—but a secret he wanted to keep.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked.

Matteo didn’t answer right away. He just looked at her for a long, silent second. Then he nodded.

Inside, the air was warm. The apartment smelled like old flowers, burnt garlic, and something else—something restless.

He followed her in, quiet as a storm. She limped back toward the couch and sank into the cushions, hissing as her ankle flared with pain.

Matteo crouched in front of her.

“Let me see.”

“I’m fine,” she murmured.

“Let me see.”

She gave in.

His hands were warm, careful, steady. He unwrapped the ice pack, adjusted the bandage, and checked the bruising with the kind of gentleness that made her heart throb.

“You should’ve gone to urgent care,” he said softly.

“I didn’t want to go alone.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

He looked up. Met her eyes.

And stayed there.

“I’m not good at this,” she said, voice breaking. “Holding everything together. Pretending I’m not falling apart. Elias… he hasn’t called. He’s never gone this long without calling. Even when we were fighting. And I don’t even know why it hurts this much, because he’s probably just busy, and—”

Her voice cracked.

Matteo didn’t interrupt.

He just listened.

His hand was still wrapped lightly around her ankle, his thumb tracing one soft, slow circle against the edge of the bandage.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said quietly.

“I’m not pretending.”

“You are,” he murmured. “You’ve been pretending since the day we met. Smiling when you wanted to scream. Apologizing when you wanted to run.”

She inhaled sharply.

His hand slid from her ankle to her knee. Not forward. Not greedy. Just… there.

And it felt like too much.

Too much silence.

Too much truth.

Too much him.

“You drive me crazy,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was slow and heavy, a dam breaking. Months of tension. Words unsaid. Moments missed. Her hands curled into his shirt, fisting the fabric, pulling him closer as his lips moved over hers like he meant it. Like he needed it.

He leaned over her, guiding her back against the cushions. His hand slid beneath her shirt, brushing her waist, her ribs, just under her bra—a slow, reverent touch that made her arch into him.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed against her neck.

She didn’t.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, his body half-over hers, one hand sliding over the soft curve of her breast, thumb grazing her through the lace. She gasped into his mouth, fingers in his hair now.

She didn’t want to think.

She didn’t want to feel anything except this.

And then—

RING.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, screen lighting up.

Elias.

The name might as well have been a gunshot.

Y/N froze.

Matteo stilled against her.

She reached blindly, snatching the phone and sitting up. His hand slipped away from her body like it burned him.

Her chest rose and fell, lips swollen, eyes glassy.

“I need to take this,” she whispered.

He stood slowly. Backed away. Silent. His jaw clenched, gaze unreadable.

She answered the call.

Her voice was soft.

Too soft.

“Hi…”

And Matteo walked out without a word.

Y/N held the phone to her ear with fingers that still trembled. Her heart hadn’t settled. Her lips still tingled. The taste of Matteo was still in her mouth, and Elias’ name was glowing on the screen.

“Hi,” she said softly, voice barely steady.

“Hey…” Elias’ voice was breathless, like he’d just stepped out of a meeting. “God—I’m so sorry.”

Y/N closed her eyes.

“I’ve been a mess. I know I’ve been distant. I just—work’s been swallowing me whole. And I took it out on you, and that’s not fair. You didn’t deserve that.”

She stared at the floor, her toes still curled against the carpet where Matteo had stood. Where he’d knelt. Touched. Tasted.

“I was just scared,” Elias continued. “Scared that you were slipping away and I was watching it happen without being able to stop it.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. “You’re not losing me.”

Not yet.

He let out a soft laugh—relieved, grateful. “I just… I miss you. I’ll be grounded for a while after this next trip. No more travel. No more late nights. I want us to get back to where we were.”

She forced a smile that he couldn’t see. “That sounds good.”

They talked a few more minutes—about safe flights, rescheduled dinners, quiet plans.

She didn’t tell him what had just happened.

She didn’t tell him about the hands under her shirt. The mouth on her neck. The fire still curling low in her stomach.

When they hung up, she was alone again.

Except she wasn’t.

Matteo’s cologne lingered in the air—dark and musky, laced with amber and something sinful. It clung to the cushions. Her skin. Her soul.

She didn’t sleep that night.

Across the city…

Matteo stood in the dark, shirt half-unbuttoned, jaw tight, a glass of untouched whiskey in his hand.

He hadn’t gone home.

He couldn’t.

The memory of her was carved into his hands, his mouth, his blood.

The way she’d pulled him in—hungry, aching—and the way she’d whispered “I need to take this” like it didn’t just shatter something deep inside him.

Elias.

That name had felt like betrayal. Not because he didn’t know. Not because he thought she owed him something.

But because she hadn’t pushed him away until after she’d let him touch her like she belonged to him.

She’d wanted it.

He’d felt it in the way her body arched under his. The way her hands fisted in his hair like she’d been starving for this. For him.

And yet—she’d chosen someone else.

For now.

He tossed back the whiskey, jaw tight, throat burning.

But he wasn’t letting her go.

Not yet.

Not when he knew how she looked when she wanted him.

Not when he knew what her silence tasted like.

Not when she smelled like regret and his name.

The Next Morning…

Sunlight cut through the blinds.

Y/N stood at her mirror, face pale, eyes heavy. She smoothed on concealer like it might cover up the guilt. The confusion.

Behind her, the bedsheets were still rumpled. Her phone buzzed with a good morning text from Elias, sweet and simple.

And beneath it…

One missed call.

From an unknown number.

But she knew who it was.

She didn’t delete it.

She didn’t answer, either.

The Romano estate buzzed with quiet activity—staff moving chairs for an afternoon tasting, Celia fluttering between dress swatches and menu updates, Luca chatting politely with Viviana by the windows.

Y/N moved through it all like a ghost in silk.

Poised. Graceful. Smiling softly when appropriate.

And carefully, deliberately—never looking at him.

Matteo stood near the library doors, watching her from beneath lowered lashes. He’d said nothing when she arrived. Hadn’t spoken when she passed within arm’s reach. But his gaze tracked her like a lion in tall grass—silent, lethal.

And she knew it.

She felt it burn between her shoulder blades.

So she smiled at Celia. Asked the chef if they could try something less creamy for the starter. Complimented Nonna’s earrings. Took notes like her hands didn’t remember the way he’d touched her.

Kind. Professional. Untouchable.

Cruel.

Later.

The house had quieted. Most of the family disappeared after lunch. Celia had gone upstairs with Luca. Y/N gathered her files, intent on leaving quickly.

Too late.

She turned down the hallway—and he was there.

Blocking her path.

“Excuse me,” she said softly.

He didn’t move.

“Matteo,” she said.

Still.

Then—“You’re ignoring me.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “I’m working.”

“You think this is going away because you’re polite about it?”

She met his eyes. Steady. Sad. Trying to be firm.

“We’re going to pretend it never happened,” she said. “Because it shouldn’t have.”

He took a step forward.

“No.”

Her spine stiffened. “You don’t get to decide how I carry what happened.”

“I carried it all night.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“You let me touch you,” he said, voice low and rough. “You whispered for more.”

Her eyes flashed, but her voice stayed quiet. “And then I stopped. You want credit for not pushing past that?”

Matteo’s hand shot out—not hurting, but firm—gripping her wrist. Possessive. His fingers curled over the bandage like he owned the bruise beneath.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t want it,” he growled. “Don’t insult me like that.”

Y/N stared up at him, heart pounding.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want it,” she whispered. “I said it shouldn’t have happened.”

His breath caught. Just for a moment.

But he didn’t let go.

“You’re mine,” he said. “You just don’t want to admit it yet.”

Y/N’s lips parted. She hated the heat that rose in her cheeks. The way his grip sent sparks to her spine. The way part of her wanted to lean back in and let the world burn.

Instead, she whispered, “Let me go.”

And—slowly, reluctantly—he did.

She took a shaky step back.

“Don’t follow me,” she said, and walked away with her head high, even if her chest was splintering.

Behind her, Matteo stood in silence, jaw locked, watching her like a man who’d just found something precious…

…and wasn’t ready to lose it.

Y/N sat curled on Jade’s couch, nursing a second glass of red wine, her ankle elevated on a velvet pillow. The living room was cozy—dim fairy lights along the ceiling, music humming low in the background, and pizza boxes scattered like wreckage from an emotional storm.

Maya flopped onto the carpet with a dramatic sigh. “Okay, so… when exactly were you going to tell us you made out with the Don of Darkness?”

Y/N groaned. “I didn’t make out with him.”

“You kissed. You let him feel you up on the couch. That counts.”

Jade raised a brow from her armchair. “He touched you under your shirt, didn’t he?”

Y/N flushed. “Yes. Okay. Yes. But I stopped it.”

“You stopped it after letting it happen,” Maya said, wagging her finger. “That’s not a no. That’s a ‘not yet.’”

Y/N buried her face in her hands. “I shouldn’t want him.”

“But you do,” Maya sing-songed. “And he wants you, babe. That man’s stare could set fire to ice.”

“He’s dangerous,” Jade said quietly.

Y/N looked over. “You’ve said that before.”

Jade didn’t smile.

Because she wasn’t teasing.

“I mean it,” she said. “I wasn’t going to say anything but… Elias called me.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

Jade hesitated, then sighed. “He’s been shopping for rings.”

Silence.

“He wanted help picking one. Said he’s going to propose after this last work trip.”

The wine glass in Y/N’s hand suddenly felt very heavy.

“Oh.”

“Y/N,” Jade said gently. “He’s planning a life with you. You can’t risk blowing that up over a man like Matteo Romano. You know how this ends.”

Maya frowned. “Okay, but do we know? I mean—what if Matteo’s serious? What if he’s the one she actually wants?”

“That’s not the point,” Jade said. “She needs to choose who she can live with. Not just who makes her pulse race.”

Y/N didn’t say anything.

Because she didn’t know.

Not yet.

Later… Across the City…

The Romano estate hummed with quiet activity. Plans for an upcoming social gathering—charity adjacent, but meant for power networking—were already underway. Matteo sat at the head of the room, fingers steepled, listening to the rundown from Rico and Viviana.

“We’ll invite the DeLucas, the Rosellis, the rest of the big fish,” Viviana said. “And keep the press to a minimum.”

“We should have Celia there,” Rico added. “It’ll solidify the new arrangement with Luca.”

Celia looked up from her tea. “Can I invite someone?”

Viviana arched a brow. “Who?”

“Y/N.”

Matteo’s head snapped up.

“She’s been working herself into the ground,” Celia continued, oblivious. “She deserves a night off. And she knows how to handle a room better than half our PR team.”

Rico smirked. “Would be interesting to see how she handles it. Or who she handles.”

Matteo didn’t speak. But his eyes darkened.

He already knew what he wanted.

And she was already threading herself into his world—

Even as she tried to pretend she wasn’t part of it.

Celia twirled a silver spoon in her tea, her legs curled beneath her on the oversized settee in the Romano conservatory. The sun filtered in through the glass ceiling, warming the lush greenery that surrounded them. It was one of the few places on the estate that felt untouched by politics—just light and leaves and peace.

Y/N sat across from her with a notebook on her lap and a faint frown tugging at her mouth.

“You’re quiet today,” Celia said gently.

Y/N looked up. “I’m just tired.”

“That’s not it,” Celia said, setting her cup down. “You’ve been somewhere else all morning.”

Y/N hesitated. Her fingers stilled on the edge of the paper.

Then she sighed.

“I think Elias is going to propose.”

Celia’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Celia tilted her head. “Isn’t that… good?”

Y/N stared down at her hands. “It should be.”

The words settled like a stone between them.

Celia didn’t rush her. She just sat there, waiting, always more intuitive than she let on.

“I should be happy,” Y/N said softly. “He’s kind. Safe. Good. He’s always been good to me.”

“But?”

Y/N met her eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about someone else.”

Celia didn’t need to ask who.

She looked down into her teacup instead and whispered, “He’s not good for you.”

“I know.”

“But you want him.”

Y/N let out a quiet breath that felt like defeat. “I do.”

Celia reached across the space between them and gently took her hand.

“I know what it’s like,” she said. “To want something you’re not sure you’re allowed to have. To love two things at once and not know which one is your future.”

Y/N’s eyes stung. “What did you do?”

Celia smiled, soft and sad. “I’m still trying to figure it out.”

They sat there like that for a while, hand in hand, surrounded by green things and quiet truths neither of them could yet outrun.

Then Celia leaned forward. “Come to the gathering.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“It’s just a social thing—lowkey, wine, people in suits pretending they’re saving the world. Come. Breathe. Wear something pretty.”

Y/N hesitated. “Will… he be there?”

Celia didn’t answer right away.

Then, with a small smile: “Do you want him to be?”

Y/N looked away.

Which was answer enough.

The Romano estate glittered that night.

Candles danced along silver candelabras. Waiters moved like shadows through the crowd, trays balanced with champagne flutes and bite-sized indulgences. String music played softly beneath the hum of conversation and laughter—power disguised as charm.

Y/N stepped into the foyer like a secret unveiled.

She wore a satin dress the color of moonlight—elegant, draped, sleeveless. Her hair curled loosely, falling over her shoulders like silk. Lips soft, eyes lined in shadow. Understated. Breathtaking.

Heads turned.

But she didn’t notice.

Because her heart was beating too loud.

Celia appeared first, radiant in midnight blue, her eyes widening as she saw her. “You look like you just stepped out of a dream,” she breathed, grabbing her hands.

“I feel like I’m going to pass out,” Y/N whispered back.

Celia laughed and tugged her further inside. “You’ll be fine. Come on. You need to meet Luca’s brother, and the DeLucas, and—oh, Luca’s over there, he’ll want to say hi—”

Y/N moved from one introduction to another, each smile more rehearsed than the last. She could feel eyes on her. She always could. But one gaze burned hotter than the rest.

She didn’t need to turn around.

She knew.

And then—

His hand.

Warm, familiar, low on her back.

Her breath caught.

“You’ve made a scene,” Matteo murmured behind her ear.

“I walked in,” she replied, forcing her smile to stay as she nodded at the man in front of her. “That’s not a scene.”

“It is when you look like that.”

Her cheeks flamed.

Celia glanced back, saw them, and gave a look somewhere between amused and concerned—before quietly moving on, slipping into the crowd like the good sister she was.

Y/N turned slightly toward Matteo, keeping her posture poised, her expression polite.

“Leave me alone,” she said beneath her breath.

“I tried.”

“Try harder.”

He stepped closer, his hand still on her back, guiding her gently toward a quiet corner near the window where the flickering candlelight couldn’t quite reach.

“You haven’t answered my calls.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“But you keep showing up.”

“I work here,” she said sharply. “I’m Celia’s planner. That’s all.”

“You didn’t wear that dress for her.”

Y/N’s lips parted.

She looked up at him, and for a moment, her smile cracked. “You don’t get to do this. Not with your hands on me. Not when I’m trying to pretend last week never happened.”

He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Then stop pretending.”

Before she could answer, movement across the room caught their attention.

Viviana and Nonna stood by the fireplace, flutes in hand, eyes narrowed in their direction.

“She’s holding herself well,” Viviana murmured, sipping her drink. “Even with him breathing down her neck.”

“She hasn’t cried. Or cowered. Or flinched,” Nonna said with a soft, impressed hum. “She might be perfect for him.”

Viviana raised an elegant brow. “He’d destroy her.”

“Or,” Nonna said, watching Y/N’s spine stay tall as Matteo leaned in, “she’d change him.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dark Shelves 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes (archivist AU)

Summary: your new job is much of the same, with a hit of new misery.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You peer up at the romanesque pillars and the curved dome of the elaborate building. It’s a step up, a high one, and you’re proud of yourself for taking. After years in a basement, blowing dust off of rusted spoons that may as well be at the good-will, you’re finally exactly where you want to be.  

Not associate, not assistant, you are an archivist in your own right. You will not be pushed into the corner again. Though you aren’t too presumptive. You could get lost in any stacks. You like how your job affords you pockets of solitary, but you didn’t choose the career on that alone.  

You work to preserve and share the past. It sounds more noble in your head than out loud. It’s a good enough reason for you. 

You climb the stairs and pause before you pass through the double doors. Inside, the lobby is airy and polished to a shine. You try not to marvel too obviously. Too often you’ve been caught and ridiculed for the very act. Most people look at you and assume less than more of you. 

You walk up the front desk, a grand circular structure with shelves behind it. The man behind it has a metal nametag on his brown plaid shirt; Peter. You greet him stoically. You quit smiling to appease strange men a while ago. 

“Hi, I’m here to get my employee ID.” You take out your phone. “Then I’m supposed to meet someone named James.” 

“Right, I have your welcome packet,” he reaches under the desk. “It’s here.” 

“Great,” you accept the folder as he beams back at you. He’s young and fresh-faced. He must still be a student. “Thank you.” 

“Have you been her before?” He asks. 

“A couple times,” you answer. 

“Cool, cool,” he accepts, “there’s a map in there in case.” He points to the folder. “You’re going to second floor. East wing. The office number is in the email.” 

“Yes, I saw that. Thanks so much,” you nod. 

“Oh, your card’s activated. So any access thingies, just swipe,” he says. 

“Got it,” you cross your arm over the folder and continue around the desk to the double set of staircases that open behind it. 

You climb patiently. You’re early. You always are. A long academic career has drilled the habit into your very being. 

You check the email one last time and put your phone away. You’re not one for stereotypes but in your experience, the senior archivists tend to hate screens. You always resented their stubbornness. Digital backups are essential to the future of your profession. It could also just make their lives easier in general. 

As you count down the office numbers, you slow down. The short heels of your lace-up boots clack softly on the oaken floor tiles. The door you need is already open and there’s a man standing in it. He leans slightly on the frame as he faces inward. His deep voice carries behind him. 

You push your shoulders back as you approach. You don’t want to interrupt. You stop about a foot back, unsure how to go forward. You check your watch with a subtle tilt of your head. 

The man in the door is tall. He has one foot pointed to the floor, and arm bent back as he pushes back his brown corduroy jacket and grips his hip. He wears a dark blue turtleneck that meets the long tails of his outgrown hair. There’s never an in-between with archivists. They are either immaculately preened are shaggy and stuffy. 

“Right,” the man glances over his shoulder at you and his eyes squint, crinkly his nose, “I think I’m holding someone up.” He turns to face you, “hello, miss, do you need some help? Looking for the newspaper lab?” 

You’re not surprised that he assumes you to be a student. It’s a common presumption among his demographic. They are always the authority and everyone they don’t know must be ignorant. 

“No. Hello, I’m an archivist. Newly-hired. You wouldn’t happen to be James Barnes?” 

“James?” His mouth slants. “Only his mother calls him that. Bit of advice, it’s Bucky.” 

“Steve,” a voice drawls from within the open office. 

“Alright, alright,” the man shows his hands then extends one to you. “Steve Rogers. I’m the next door down. Fellow senior archivist, with James.” 

“Steve,” another snarl. 

You shake the man’s hand, “nice to meet you.” 

His cheek ticks, “you too. I like that vest. Very... quirky.” 

You don’t thank him. You merely retract your hand and adjust the scarf between the open front of your coat. He sidles out of the doorway as he wears a pompous smirk. 

“Come in,” the bodiless voice calls out to you. 

You step into the doorway. The man you’re looking for sits behind his desk. He uses an envelope open to pick at what appears to be a metal shell for a coil of parchment. He delicate traces the lines of the ornate metal cap on the end. 

“I’ll be a moment,” he says. 

“Alright,” you stand in the doorway. He doesn’t welcome you to sit. You introduce yourself in the stagnant lull. 

“I know who you are,” he grumbles as his brow wrinkles at his work. “After all, I sacrificed my day to training you.” 

You don’t appreciate the insinuation. You’re a task he doesn’t want to tend. A burden on what he really wants to do. You can find your way around just fine without him but the email said training was mandatory. You didn’t exactly have any say in who was handed that unlucky chore. 

“I have experience. Three years in the Heron’s Corner archives. And I’ve also done some volunteer work for museums. If you’d rather, I learn just as well from paper or email.” You suggest. 

He huffs, “typical.” 

You don’t reply. Whatever he assumes about you isn’t true but you’re not biting the hook. He grows exasperated and sets the container on its stands and stabs the envelope open into his pen cub. He slaps his hands on his desk and stands. 

“You young ones just want to sit at a computer all day,” he comes around and slides his hands into his pockets. “This job isn’t that.” 

“I’m aware of the job description,” you assure him. 

He stops before you and reaches to brush his fingertips along his thick beard. A thicket of hair falls forward he swoops it back just as swiftly. The cleft in his jaw deepens with his distaste. 

“That’s good. Less to explain, doll face,” he pulls his hand away to check his watch. 

“Fine, let’s get started.” He sniffs, “take notes.” 

He steps forward and you barely have a chance to get out of his way. His jacket flaps as he passes you and you stiffen as you grip the folder tightly. You reach to your coat pocket and take out your silver pen. 

It’s only the first day. Soon enough, you’ll be free to focus on your own work, and he his. 

[eempyreall]

♪ 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ♪

༺ Exotic Trouble ༻

Oneshot ~ Blue Lock x Female Reader

Summary ~ You accept a job offer for monster-sitting exotic cat hybrids, only to realize they’re far older—and more dangerous—than expected.

Featuring ~ Isagi Yoichi, Bachira Meguru, Chigiri Hyoma, Seishiro Nagi, and Itoshi Rin

Extra Notes ~ Tokyo Revengers’ Version - Jujutsu Kaisen‘s Version

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr, ao3, wattpad, subscribestar, and patreon. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

l apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

|| Warning ||

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Desperation can drive anyone to make impulsive, unexpected choices in search of a solution to their misfortune. For you in particular, this appeared to be accepting an under the table job offer for monster-sitting five hybrids—something that is highly illegal and should only be handled by a professional. Due to the dire consequences that could affect your person and overall well-being, the pay is relatively high and could solve your overgrowth of debt.

This agreement brings you to the front door of the grand structure—a gothic designed mansion that stands tall. The manor has a modernized, victorian exterior that exudes a brooding and menacing presence. Despite the gloomy guise, pigmented colors of pink, purple, and blue surround the land as flowers spread throughout the lush, fern green shrubs and grass.

You exhaled sharply, echoes of the informal meeting you had with your employer swirling through your mind.

The woman’s voice is low amongst the sea of voices that echo throughout the crowd of people who sit in the small diner. Her fingers are entangled over the table, eyes narrowed and sharp as she sat upright in the booth. “First rule, do not speak first.”

You use the key that she had given you to proceed with unlocking one of the wooden doors, taking a cautious step forward as you entered the building.

An eyebrow raises to the statement in curiosity. “If you don’t mind me asking, why?” you question, arms crossed over the table as your head tilts, slightly.

The interior design is a little less ominous, the brighter colors of the walls and marble flooring contrasting with the darkness that radiated outside. The crisp air kissed your skin, goosebumps protruding from the hair follicles of your arms. There’s a tint of cinnamon that swirls satisfyingly with the scent of vanilla. Your head turns as you observe the antique monuments and pillared surfaces that lined the foyer.

Before you can make your way to the spiral steps, your body stiffens, the sensation of a ghostly presence suddenly appearing behind your form. Their breathing is hollow against your neck as the hold on your duffel bag’s strap tightens.

She ignored your question, continuing with her list of expectations. “Second, if one approaches closely, do not make any sudden movements.”

You naturally hold your breath, brows raised as you look ahead. The beating of your heart is the only sound you hear, aside from the slight ringing of your ears as your pulse hammers. You want to move, to turn around and run out the door. Your instincts are erratic, thoughts racing through your head as the dire scenarios play out.

The male hummed. “No reaction?” his voice a low murmur as if he was speaking to himself. The amusement is subtle behind the curiosity.

“Hah… Thought you’d be more fun,” he exhaled through his nose. You could hear the smirk in his statement as the warmth of his body disappeared.

Your brows furrow as you take a look at the man who stood in front of you. His black strands sweep over his head, blonde poking through at the ends as blonde ears protrude from his head. A tail of the identical color sways slowly as his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his pants.

A lion hybrid.

His eyes are naturally wide, golden orbs that flick over your form as he examines you. The smirk is absent, replaced with a curious gaze.

Why is there a grown man standing here? I thought they were supposed to be children.

“You gonna tell me your name or what?” His tone is playful with an underlying expectancy—demanding as he tilts his head. You could see the fangs poking through as he spoke.

“Third, speak minimally and stay out of their way,” the lady warns.

You swallowed. “Y/n.”

This is a problem. You were under the impression that you’d be monster-sitting hybrid children—not grown men. The kids were a lot less menacing than the adults who are significantly stronger than regular humans.

He nodded in response, allowing the silence to spread as time passed with you standing in place. “Bachira,” he stated with finality in his voice.

You nod, tongue sliding over your lips as you readjust the strap on your shoulder. “Cool. I’m gonna set my stuff in the guestroom. You know where that is?”

Of course he knows where that is, Y/n. He lives here.

He hesitated before a smirk cracked on his expression, a chuckle escaping as he jerked his head to the nearest hall. “That way. On the end to your right.”

You exhaled a small, “Thanks,” before walking, with urgency, to the bedroom.

You miss the side glance he gives you as you nearly jog away, irises boring into your back as he stands in place.

You were ecstatic to escape from the tension between you and Bachira. The look in his eyes was intense, as if he was reading through you. You felt a chill crawl up your back at the memory while you continued to search for the bedroom.

Why do they need a monster-sitter when they’re not children?

You shook your head, disregarding the thought and replacing it with the cash that was handed to you. You figured that it would all be worth it. After all, your stay is only for a month. Initially, the timing seemed excessive, but for the payment you received, you’d stay for six months if you were asked.

Once you found the correct door, your hand wrapped around the knob before you pushed it open.

You yelped in surprise as you saw two men on the bed. One male, with tousled, platinum hair faces away from you as he lies on the bed. His patterned white ears sat neutrally as the matching tail curled over his thigh.

A snow leopard hybrid.

On the foot of the bed sat a man with black hair that acquired a faint green hue. His patterned ears match that of his tail that sways behind him. He’s balanced on the palm of his hands, sitting on one of his legs, with the other foot meeting the ground. His head tilts slightly as his gaze slowly shifts to you.

A jaguar hybrid.

Teal irises shift up and down your form. “Looks like we’ve got company,” he muttered, detachment clear in his tone.

Your eyes shift to the man who groans softly, stretching his arms and legs out as he turns over to face you, gradually lifting his upper body as he scoots to sit upright. “Oh really?” he purred, expression unreadable as he gazed at you.

You hesitate as you stand in the doorway. “Is this not the guest room?” you questioned, stunned at the unexpected residents.

The males exchanged glances before shifting their gazes back to you. You tense as they both stood from the mattress, making their way toward you as their tails swayed slowly.

Suddenly, the shorter one snatches your wrist, yanking you further into the room as his head dips low. You tug against his iron grip as he sniffed your neck. You were so distracted by the male in front of you that you failed to notice the taller, gray-eyed man’s movement as he grabbed your other arm to sniff your wrist.

Rin hummed. “Smells a little too sweet for lunch,” he murmured, lifting his head away from you as his eyes reached the snow leopard’s gaze. “What do you think, Nagi? Should we eat dessert before dinner?”

Your blood runs cold.

Another fact about hybrids is that they don’t eat normal kibble or wet food. They are carnivores who like to hunt their prey, despite being half human. The monster aspect of them overrides any lingering humanity.

“Do not react to provocation. They will test you for weakness,” the woman states before taking a sip of the black coffee in the mug.

“She’s too plain. Probably lacks any flavor,” Nagi murmured, the sharp ends of his claws poking your skin.

“Asshole,” you exhaled, accidentally.

Dammit! Why the fuck would I even say that?

You hadn’t meant for the insult to slip through your lips. It was ideal for them to think that you wouldn’t be a tasty meal. You were supposed to remain stoic and emotionless so they wouldn’t gain any interest in bothering you.

Both males move back slightly, a stunned look appearing on their expressions as they exchange a glance. Once Rin’s irises shift to yours, amusement clear despite the stoic gaze. “Oh? What was that?”

“Yeah, I didn’t hear you the first time,” Nagi mused, eyes slightly narrowing as his grip tightened.

“You guys done terrorizing our baby-sitter?”

Your eyes shift to the newcomer who leans against the doorway. His arms are crossed, one ear upright as the black strands of his hair frames his facial structure. His black tail is upright, curled at the end.

His blue irises shift between you and the two hybrids while his expression remains unreadable.

Rin scoffed. “Terrorizing?” he muttered, an eyebrow raising. “Don’t you think that’s a stretch, Isagi?”

Nagi hummed. “We’re just havin’ some fun,” he mused, expression blank as he released you.

Isagi wasn’t convinced. An eyebrow raises as a smirk curled on his face. “Yeah, okay.”

Rin scoffed. “Whatever. I’m bored of this anyway,” he said, tone dripping with indifference as he walked towards the exit.

Nagi followed, slightly turning his head back to you with a heavy-lidded gaze. “See ya around.”

After the two hybrids make their leave, your gaze flicks to Isagi, body remaining stiff, though a breath of relief exhales through your lips. You figured that speaking first in this instance could be acceptable considering the situation.

You swallowed. “Thanks for that,” you say, politely, despite the underlying cautiousness lingering in your tone.

Isagi doesn’t respond. There’s an unsettling, hollow gaze that replaced his mischievous smirk from earlier. It was empty, devoid of any emotion as he stared at you, tail flicking lazily behind him.

You couldn’t help but feel like a prey being observed by a predator. The hairs on your skin stood straight as your heart continued to thump against your chest. Despite the lingering anxiety, you stood—calm and collected—as you faced him head on, keeping your eyes locked on his.

“Avoid eye contact for more than three seconds. Anything longer is considered a challenge,” the employer stated.

You understand the protocol, however, you must prove to the beasts that you’re not going to tread around carefully. You have a job to complete, a task to handle, and money to earn. You’re going to finish this assignment whether the hybrids intimidate you or not.

It seems as though Isagi received the message loud and clear. The sudden change of your demeanor caused a puckish smile to grow on his expression. You could practically feel the excitement radiating off of his ambience.

“Make sure you enjoy yourself while you can,” he said, his tone focused but carrying a subtle warning. “We don’t ask for much… just don’t make things boring.”

You stood in place as you watched him walk out of the doorway. For a moment, you contemplated his remark, attempting to read into the truth that hides behind the words he spoke.

When midnight finally arrived, you found yourself wide awake as you scrolled aimlessly on your phone. Despite the comfort of the soft, warm bed, you couldn’t elude the alertness of your instincts.

You tossed the covers off your form before swinging your legs over the mattress. You swiftly tugged on a pair of socks before walking out of the bedroom. As you crept down the corridor, the cool air brushed against your dermis as you entered the foyer, mindlessly rounding the corner to find the kitchen.

Your aim was to grab a glass of water to quench your thirst and soothe your parched throat in the process. You had been nervous to make your presence known throughout the night, so you stayed put, awaiting the morrow when you would inevitably have to complete the tasks you were assigned to.

Unfortunately, your need for a substance to drink became overbearing, especially after your minor usage of the dab pen you brought to relax your nerves. You figured that all the men should be asleep at this time, so you shouldn’t run into anyone.

A gradual exhale slipped through your lips as you flicked the light switch on, content that you had successfully found the kitchen without getting lost. You rummaged through each cabinet until you found a glass before heading to the refrigerator to press the button.

You listened as the sound of water filled up the cup, the only frequency added to the quiet, dimly lit room. You pulled your head back to chug the beverage before heading to the sink to wash it out.

Just as you turned the faucet off, you paused, a sudden warmth appearing behind you as the person closed in on your form. You’re frozen, locked between the arms of the presence who pressed their palms on the counter. You could feel the hot air of their breath against your neck.

“Never turn your back. Always keep them in sight or else it’ll show vulnerability.”

You swiftly set the glass in the sink before rounding your body to face the intruder, your lower back pressed against the edge of the counter as you leaned against your palms.

A male with red hair sweeping over his face eyed you, patterned ears pressed forward as the sharp gaze of his pink irises studied you. He gave you a quizzical look as his tail flicked at a swift pace.

A jaguar hybrid.

You stared back, your own gaze sharp as you stood your ground. Your brows were slightly furrowed, though you kept your expression as stoic as you could.

He hummed, tilting his head as he leaned in closer. “I can smell the fear radiating off of you,” he began, tongue gliding over his lips. “Think you can hide it from me, babysitter?” he mused, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

You didn’t respond, holding your gaze as you subtly positioned yourself to stand taller. His eyes flicked over you before a subtle smirk curled on his expression. Suddenly, his hand snatched your jaw in a tight grip, the pointed ends of his claws poking your cheek as he observed you.

“It’s… irritating,” he murmured, a subtle drop in his amusement as his smirk twitched to a frown. “You humans think you’re so tough, don’t you? You couldn’t stand a chance against me.” A sharp pain ignited on your cheeks as you felt the tingling sensation of blood trickling down your skin.

Your hand grasped the wrist that held you, squeezing your fingers around the surface tightly as you snatched the hand away, the male releasing you as you held his hand up.

“Don’t put your fucking hands on me,” you almost growled, ignoring the pounding of your heart as you leaned in closer. “I came here to do a job and you’re gonna let me, no matter how many times you guys try to intimidate me.”

His expression morphed, stunned at your words before he recollected his aloof demeanor, yanking his arm from your grip. “Interesting…” he purred, finally pulling back from you as he walked away.

Your eyes never left his form, even when he casually grabbed a bottled beverage from the fridge and gave you one last glance before leaving the kitchen.

You leaned against the counter with a hand grabbing your chest as you breathed heavily. You couldn’t deny the fear you had felt in that moment, the vulnerability of being stuck in that position against your will. It was terrifying. Especially since you knew that he was right.

Your fingers reached the trail of blood on your cheeks, some of the substance already in the drying process as you scoffed, “Great.”

“Need a hand?”

“You know I could’ve cleaned it myself, right?” you question as Isagi dabs the cotton against your wound. You wince as the alcohol tingles against your skin, causing a sharp stinging sensation to appear.

He gives you a pointed look. “Tch. Just shut up and let me do it,” he mutters, standing between your legs as you sit on the bathroom counter. “Not like you even knew where to find the first aid anyway,” he continued.

An eyebrow raises on your expression as his tail lazily sways behind him. “I could’ve figured it out.”

He ignores you, continuing with the finishing touches after he patches the scars. “You’re as difficult as Chigiri.”

You scoff. “Is that his name? What’s up with him? Actually, what’s wrong with all of you?” You decide to push for answers. The energy of the room is light, and the added intake of your pen makes you a little bolder.

Isagi’s gaze shifts to yours as he closes the kit. “What are you getting at?”

“Your weird behavior from earlier. You guys were so ominous. It was creepy. Especially your cryptic warning.”

He scoffs. “Oh, that? I was just being honest. Can’t speak for the others, though.”

You hum, confusion morphing on your face as you watch him sniff the air. Your body freezes as his hand dips into the pocket of your pajama bottoms.

“Hey—!”

You’re surprised to see your pen in his hand. Without permission, he brings the tip to his mouth, sucking the fumes in before he inhales once more, puckering his lips to exhale a large puff of vapor.

You grab the device from him as you tilt your head. “You smoke flower?”

He shrugs. “When the master gives me some,” he responds, pulling back to allow you to hop off the counter. “We’re more human than you think, Y/n.”

Time passes, and you have become quite accustomed to your environment, adjusting to the strange rhythm of your new life with the hybrid men. The atmosphere of the house became less intimidating and more comforting as you completed the tasks asked of you. It was interesting to notice the change in behavior between the men as they grew accustomed to your presence.

Bachira was obvious with his affection. He spent the most time in your presence, following you around as you completed the daily tasks of cooking and cleaning up after them. His physical affection seemed to grow by the day, as he was always hooking an arm around you or pulling you into an embrace as you worked. He enjoyed teasing you and pulling reactions out of you. He also liked to steal your pen from you and either hide it or take his own hits, almost draining the entire thing just to set you off.

Nagi was slightly more subtle with his affection, but he enjoyed challenging you, testing your will and seeing how much you could endure before snapping at him. It was a game used to fulfill his boredom. He was surprisingly as touchy as Bachira, though more in the bedroom when you’d both fall asleep or if he was playing a game on his device. He’d curl against you or even on you if he caught you lounging around. He also liked to steal small hits from your pen, without asking for permission.

Rin was more distant, watching you with a detached curiosity as he studied you. When no one else was around, he’d engage in quiet conversations with you, observing your responses and using them to learn more about you. He was attracted to your resilience, making him respect you more than he did initially when you first met.

Isagi was a little more hands-on than the rest, always ready to offer a helping hand during your tasks or making sure that you were well taken care of despite your position as his monster-sitter. Though he teased you about your human nature, his demeanor softened every time you reacted with defense. He enjoyed your company and especially took it as a challenge if you showed a little more attention to the other men.

With Chigiri, you took the initiative to aid in his comfortability with your presence. You put in a little more effort in making sure he was treated with care and attention. You knew that despite his cold exterior, he was a sensitive, vulnerable man under that facade. When he noticed the gestures, he became attracted to your supplementary attention and admired your ability to act despite intimidation. He had a habit of following you around, though, like Rin, remaining at a distance while Bachira, Nagi, and Isagi were all over you.

Unknown to you, their affection for you grew in ways they’d never imagined it could for a human. They’d flown through sitter after sitter, and it all ended the same—with a gory murder and their stomachs full of raw, human remains. They wanted a taste of you, but in a different manner than with normal visitors.

That’s why that moment was so…

Disheartening.

“If one starts acting affectionate, resist the urge to reciprocate. It’s not love…”

It had been a normal day for the most part. The television was on, streaming an adult cartoon show that you all enjoyed watching—or that they were entertained by your enjoyment of the show. Bachira had his arms hooked around one of yours as he curled up next to you on the couch. Nagi had his head on your lap, eyelids lowered as he was nearly asleep, relishing the sensation of your fingers combing through his strands.

Chigiri sat on the floor beside your leg with his knees propped against his chest, while Isagi sat on your other side with an arm hooked around your leg and his head leaning against you. Rin stood behind the couch, leaning over as he rested his arms against the surface, quietly chewing gum.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, catching everyone’s attention. When you answered the phone, they noticed the subtle change in your voice. It was higher-pitched with excitement—and, worst of all—affection. They paused as they listened to the casual conversation, as if you were catching up with someone dearest to you. They could hear a male’s voice distantly as you held the device to your face.

Once you pressed the end button, you paused, finally noticing that all eyes were on you.

“Y/n, who was that?” Rin asked, his tone quizzical but with an underlying edge that sent a chill up your spine.

You raised an eyebrow at their demeanor. “Just my boyfriend,” you shrugged.

“…It’s possession.”

It didn’t make sense… not with the compatibility of the chemical reaction they all have with you.

The room went eerily silent, the only sound being the pulsing of your heartbeat against your chest. Your instincts heightened, blood pumping through your veins as adrenaline surged through your body. The eyes of the men glowering at you did little to ease your anxious discomfort as you felt a weight of pressure in your lower stomach.

You could feel the tightening grip of Bachira’s claws around your arm, pressing against your skin painfully. Isagi’s hand also gripped your leg, compressing the dermis as the pointy tips of his nails pricked the surface. Nagi stretched, sitting upright in the process as he positioned himself on the couch to face you, one leg propped while the other hung over the seat.

Why are they looking at me like that?

You couldn’t tell if it was a hallucination of yours or if their eyes were truly glowing with an emotion you had never seen from them before. The rapid flick of their tails was unsettling—unnerving. It made the hairs on your skin stand tall as you tried to make sense of the sudden circumstance.

“Guys… is everything okay?”

The woman exhaled sharply as she unlocked the door. It had been a prolonged month—more extensive than usual. She had expected to hear a call from at least one or two of her monsters—waiting to hear of their boredom after the finished consumption of their new meal—but when she hadn’t seen any notifications, a sudden realization struck her.

And it was confirmed as soon as she walked into her own living room.

As she rounded the corner of the sofa, the display of sudden domination and territorial marking was exhibited right in front of her very eyes. You were sprawled on the marble floor, cheek pressed against the ground as a hand gripped the back of your neck. Your bottom half was pointed high in the air, knees pressing against the surface as tears streamed down your face.

Behind you was the teal-eyed male, who pierced the inside of your vagina with an abrupt compulsion that had your body rocking against his at a brutal pace. Despite biting your lip to refrain from any noises escaping you, the grunts and whimpers slipped through your throat amongst the heavy breathing of the men surrounding you.

They were kneeling, lower halves exposed as they sat patiently, waiting for the moment to claim you and your body. The woman could see the thickness of their cocks pumped full of blood, the pink hue of their tips gleaming behind the white substance that leaked from their rounded heads, pulsating as they refrained from touching themselves.

They were supposed to have eaten her, not gained an attachment. You must’ve been a human of higher quality.

Suddenly, Rin aimed deeper by curving the bridge of your spine as he thumped against your g-spot, the sensation of the electricity surging through the extended depth of your pussy ached as it had your jaw locked open, nose scrunching, and eyes rolling.

The woman hummed, tilting her head as she saw the notification on your phone. Grabbing the device, she eyed the contact name labeled ‘boyfriend’ before clicking her tongue. “Now that won’t do.”

This must’ve set them off.

She swiped to answer the phone, walking into the distance. “Sorry, this is not Y/n. She’s busy with a couple of tasks and asked me to answer.”

There was a pause before she continued. “I would love to invite you over for dinner tonight! You know, as a thanks to your lovely Y/n for helping take care of my little monsters.”

The gleam in her eyes shimmered mischievously as she grinned. “That’s perfect. See you tonight.”

—𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.

—𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍

wc: 1111

Kind and reliable.

That’s the energy that radiated from your boyfriend, Kairo. It’s what you loved about him—the light-heartedness, the reassurances, and the stability. Despite his carefree demeanor, you had never seen him obtain such a somber expression except for when he had warned you against taking the monster-sitting job.

He couldn’t deny the feeling of impending doom when you had confirmed the meeting with the suspicious woman—especially when he had seen the amount of cash she had given you. An under-the-table, illegal job that pays a tremendous sum would strike anyone as an opportunity that was too good to be true.

—

[wonryllis]

previous poll won fic: watermelon sugar ( jake )

TEASER!!!

GOT MY EYES ON YOU (revamp) · heeseung

strangers to lovers classical trope, college au, popular frat guy with quiet girl trope, quite literally only has eyes for his girl, loves to make her heart race tropes kinda thing. lotss of fluff, smut, some sprinkles of angst and a happy ending. typical popular frat & basketball captain!heeseung with his shy and inexperienced!angel. the always chased after guy chasing someone for the first time. the 'fuck i didn't know i got the hots for someone like that' trope. my writing was not that good then so will be heavily revamping this series into a oneshot(new scenes) with probably the third installment included. like 15k word vomit probably??

DADDY ISSUES: MY LITTLE GIRL (revamp) · jay

neighbour to lovers, age gap (like 7 years), romance, smut, comfort angst, fluff, happy ending, doctor(might change that)!jay with his doll!girl, heavy on daddy issues and dark topics alike. jay literally always at his girl's beck and call, he cares about you a lottttt trope. the "i know you can do it, but let me do it for you" trope. did i mention it starts with jay babysitting you? kinda ddlg concept idk? he's like your pillar, comfort person and just everything you have ever needed. practically your dream man come to life. first part was 16k so will include the next part and make it a oneshot but if it gets like 25k-30k then i'll probably do it in two parts.

CALL ME DESTINY (new) · jake

an online to offline love au, loosely based off of the cdrama love o2o, college setting, smut, literally tooth rooting fluff and crack, angst... what's that? dumb x dumber couple with their fed up friends, slight misunderstandings and miscommunications but it's just full of crack no hard feelings. flirty nerd!jake with his online game mentor!crush. know each other online and offline but don't know it's the same person. the 'im crazy about her but i don't have the guts to tell her' trope. they're just so over each and everyone can see it but them, about 30-40% done. hmm i got no idea how long it'll be maybe 10k or more not sure.

[chocoloom]

Adding onto my last post, Imma make an Eden’s Garden prediction on who I think may survive or die, or at least seems to be more likely to die to ME.

Spoilers Ahead for Project Eden’s Garden btw! If you haven’t played it, please do, it’s FREE RN

If you’re still here, here we go!

Damon Maitsu - Survives (Protagonist clause, he’s gonna be hella traumatized though). Dude still has a whole character arc to go through, he still has trust issues to get rid of.

Ingrid Grimwall - Probably Dead. Look I love this lady with my whole chest. Her passion and charm hit me like a train and as a southern woman myself, I love her accent. But. Her death would hit like a truck and that is exactly what Danganronpa thrives in doing. Especially considering her death would cause the group to lose a pillar of emotional support, and would devastate a certain little matchmaker. Speaking of which.

Toshiko Kayura - Survives. She’s gonna get some character development related to Diana or Ingrid, especially if one of them dies (looking at Ingrid specifically). Ingrid dying would fuck this girl UP, which is why I think it’s going to happen. They have been setting up these two having a mother daughter relationship early on. I don’t see this girl as a murderer, but I can see her filling a similar role to Aoi’s. Specifically how Aoi was acting during the Sakura trial, hiding evidence cause she blames other people and herself for the death of someone she cares about. I can’t see her dying though, she’s too young. That’s a baby. Then again, this isn’t the main Danganronpa world, so I could be wrong. Absolutely off topic, but I think there’s a reason she’s hiding her face. Not a bad one mind you, she strikes me as someone who would try to hide things she doesn’t like about herself in an attempt to seem more mature or lady like. Maybe she still has braces and is embarrassed about it.

Jean DeLamer - Solid fifty fifty. I straight up don’t know, I could see this going one of two ways. One, he survives to the end (in which case, awesome, he’s honestly one of my favorites in this game). Two he dies in a sacrificial manner to save the rest of the group, as they have become his new crew in a sense. In which case, I’m sad and my heart is in tatters. He gives off big Nekomaru or Gundham vibes in his role in the group. Regardless, I see him as a big source of reliability and moral support for the group going forward. I can also see him taking up more of a leadership role going forward. Maybe he helps out Diana in her attempts to unite the students.

Ulysses Wilhelm - Dead. That bit about him not being able to smell strikes me as a Chekhov’s gun that has yet to be fired. I can practically taste the metal. I could see him being either a murder victim or a murderer. Regardless of which, it will likely involve Wenona in some way, as those two have been maintaining a positive relationship. I can see them conspiring with each other, or betraying each other. Either way, dramaaaa~

Jett Dawson - Dead. 100%. I do not see his ass surviving. Sorry Jett enjoyers. The fact that we don’t know what his face looks like also feels like a Chekhov’s gun. Maybe it’s connected to Tozu and Mara, or maybe it’s connected to another student (looking at Mark). Maybe someone impersonates him, or the other way around.

Mark “Mayhem” Berskii - Dead. I could see him being a murder victim or murderer tbh. I think it may depend on what happens with Jett, as those two have been linked together, much to Mark’s initial chagrin (The shippers are gonna sob I just know it). There’s a darkness in that boy’s soul, and it specifically mentioned that Mark specializes in remixing songs and voices. I could see a scenario where he takes the recorded voices of his fellow students and uses them to create confusion, maybe make people think that a person is in a specific place when they are not, or cause confusion as to whether or not a person is alive or dead at a specific time. Maybe he kills Jett, would that be fucked up or what :D?

Desmond Hall - Fifty fifty, but I think he Survives. He’s more likely to in my head, but if he does die, he’s the murder victim. From what we know about his personality, I think he’s less likely to try and kill anybody in comparison to some of the other characters. He’s got a very low key personality, and even though his talent is the most connected to killing out of the whole cast, I actually think he is probably one of the people who is least likely to do so. Dude is a killer shot, but he’s no killer.

Wenona - Fifty fifty, leaning more towards 25-75 in favor of death. She COULD survive, but I think it’s more likely for her to die tbh. She’s been one of the people who has been the most vocal about waiting for rescue, but she’s also a billionaire. And you don’t get that much money without being willing to take advantage of, manipulate, and hurt people. She’s definitely going to be an antagonist in a future chapter, aided by Ulysses. She’s also going to have some sort of conflict with Cassidy, as they have been setting up this bad blood between the two since Cassidy’s intro. She strikes me as someone who could play a similar role to Byakuya or Celestia, especially if she finds out that help might not be coming. Or if her company is on the line. Cuz we still don’t know what the situation is like outside of the Academy. Also, murder is just as much of a girlboss move as it is an immoral one.

Eloise Taulner - Dead. I don’t know enough about her to say for sure, but I think she could be the murder victim or murderer. If it’s the latter, good for her ig. Girl slays, or I guess stabs would be more applicable.

Cassidy Amber - Survives. I think she’s more likely to survive than die. Girl is feisty, and the survivor groups usually have some upbeat and optimistic. If she dies however, she dies mid game. I could see her plotting to murder Wenona, or getting into a confrontation with her due to her status as a morally bankrupt billionaire. I don’t want her to die, I like her dynamics with a lot of the other characters, but I could see it happening.

Grace Madison - Dead. I would wager she might die within the next chapter or two. Her primary connection as a character was to Wolfgang, and he’s gone, soooo, yeah. Something is definitely up with her that’s going to get addressed next chapter regardless. For one, we still don’t know why she was so adamant about nobody going into Wolfgang’s room at the time of his death. It could be because she was just embarrassed about people discovering and questioning her about her relationship with Wolfgang, but I think there could be more to the story. There’s secrets in each students room, but we don’t know what secrets could be contained in Wolfgang’s room. But Grace might. What’s more, her behavior after Eva’s execution peaked my interest. She’s uncharacteristically silent, not saying anything, even when someone says something that would typically elicit a violent reaction from her. I think she’s conflicted about Eva now, cause Grace definitely despised Eva, but after watching her death, in all its horror? I think even she feels like it was too cruel. She might act a bit more toned down and less angry going forward. Additionally, during Diana’s speech, she doesn’t insult Diana or say anything. Wenona is the only one to really insult Diana, while the rest of the group just kinda try not to acknowledge it. Either Grace is still in shock, or maybe she was actually kinda moved by Diana’s gesture to try to honor Wolfgang’s memory? Maybe she’ll help her, who knows. Would be interesting to say the least.

Okay, these last two are really hard. Figures, they have the most interesting relationships and dynamics with Damon, our protagonist. I can see this going in a lot of different ways, and they are all interesting.

Kai Monteago - Okay, hear me out. Kai strikes me as someone with confidence issues in spite of being an influencer. He underestimates himself, and that lack of confidence combined with his cowardice leads to him wanting to leave stuff like the investigations and the trials to other people. But I also think he wants people around him. The guy craves genuine connection, and he seems to have found the beginnings of that in Damon. He latched onto him like a butterfly to a flower, and I can’t see him letting go anytime soon.

Because of that, I see Kai filling the role that people initially thought Eva was going to fill. Kai will be Damon’s Assistant character, his support. The role of an influencer is one that involves the manipulation of people, be it to follow them on instagram, to buy their products, or simply to listen to them. Damon can argue and debate all day, and he’s good at it, but Kai I think will aid in getting people to listen to his points, and could even manipulate people to uncover lies or get them to confess. This will increase his confidence in his own abilities as a result. Kai is not as dumb as he seems to think he is, and I think he’ll learn that in the arcs going forward. He may also kiss Damon on the mouth, but only time will tell. I hope they do tbh.

Because of this, Kai is mostly safe. If he dies, he dies late game and it mentally destroys Damon, or helps further his character development. Otherwise he survives until the end. And honestly, I think there’s a pretty good chance that the latter option will occur. Regardless, Kai is going to play a crucial role in Damon’s arc. I could see him being one of the catalysts for Damon actually trusting people in this game, after his trust was so broken up by Eva’s murder plot.

Diana Venicia - First of all, she is not gonna be a murderer. Girly was framed last trial, they aren’t gonna pull that shit twice. Plus it was established that she couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger on Wolfgang, even though her life was actively in danger and he ATTACKED her. If, IF, she becomes a blackened, it is purely by accident or she didn’t intend to kill (maybe smth similar to Chiaki where her actions led to the murder unintentionally, but she never intended to kill). Even then, I think the chances of that situation happening are veryyy low.

I think she is going to serve as a foil to Damon in the trials to come, kinda like an antagonist. As an antagonist isn’t someone who is necessarily evil. They either serve as foils to the protagonist or prevent them from reaching their goals. She won’t obstruct or prevent Damon from reaching his goals, as they both want to go home and get out of the killing game. Rather, she’ll be an antagonist in the moral or metaphorical sense, and I think she’ll be more vocal and try to take a leader position in an attempt to emulate Wolfgang. Her trusting and open nature clashes with Damon’s closed off and suspicious demeanor, and that’s going to play a role in the trials going forward. I can also see her finding allies in her attempting to unite the students in Toshiko, Jean, and possibly Jett, Cassidy, and maybe Grace.

I’ve seen some people saying she will die come Chapter 2. While I see the reasoning behind that. I don’t think that will be the case. If she dies, it’ll be late into the game, maybe come Trial 4 or 5. I could also see her surviving, but it’s too soon to tell. She either dies late game or survives the whole thing, like Kai. That’s my take anyway. Still, the poor bubblegum girl. The horrors are just beginning for her I think.

Wolfgang and Eva: lol they dead as hell. Rigor mortis is already setting in. They’re extra crispy.

In Summary:

Potential Survivors (most to least likely in my head) - Damon, Kai, Diana, Toshiko, Desmond, Cassidy, Jean

As for who may be next to die in chapter two, my money’s on Grace, Ulysses, or Eloise.