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setsugekka · 11 months

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❥get you alone (m)

↳ In which your new job as the company financial advisor makes one thing loud and clear: the no dating the talent policy is one that is quite frequently disregarded.

bang chan x fem!reader — coworkers to lovers, idolverse, forbidden romance, explicit sexual content. [6k wc] cws: alcohol consumption, penetrative sex (unprotected), creampie, rough sex, Chan wants it bad-bad, Bang Chan has a Big Dick.

Starting the new job in the summer would be good.

This is what you told yourself when you begrudgingly hauled all of your belongings across Seoul in the blazing heat, for a move that took all of fourteen hours – from start to finish, and even with the help of some friends. It didn’t feel like it would be good then, but you had to hold onto the self-imposed reassurance that it would eventually be good. Autumn was right around the corner, after all, and a shiny new loft apartment in an excellent spot in town was hard to say 'no’ to, especially given the salary increase you were taking on to top it all off.

Your friends constantly prodded you with jokes the whole day about how lucky you were – to be working alongside idols. You insisted that this were hardly the case as someone working in finance of all things. Not exactly the glitz and the glam of microphones and high heels. You insisted that the chances of you meeting anyone all too often were slim to none, much to their displeasure.

You wanted that to be true. You genuinely thought it would be.

After all, that was the case at the previous companies you worked for as a temp financial advisor – you didn’t see much of anyone that had been on television. You could count the times you had run into someone famous in the hallways of your work place on one hand, and it was always simply in passing. Nothing exciting. Nothing to report. Taking on a full-time gig at JYPE – you had no reason to assume any different.

Three days into the job, you finally feel a bit settled in. Papers, pens, and comforting knick-knacks just in all of the right places on your desk – it’s a sign of a newbie for sure – someone not quite yet frazzled by the whirlwind of what the job would entail. Seated a bit in the back of the large office room, you hear the door open and the woman at the front most desk sighing exasperatedly – cautioning something about how someone can’t be here, but from the tone of her voice, it sounds as if this is not the first, second, or even third time she’s said the same – and only for it to fall upon deaf ears just as it seemingly had today.

“I just need to talk about the budget for the video,” you hear coming towards you – and you can’t see him yet, but you can hear him getting closer, accompanied by the sounds of other financial workers in the office shuffling about in an attempt to remedy the situation.

The situation?

“We have people for that, you don’t need to come and do it yourself!” the woman from the front nearly yells, but by that time, the man has just about reached your desk – and you’re a little worried about what it is that you might have to deal with right about now. What sort of absolutely nuts, disgruntled, higher-up is coming for your head already about a project that you’re not even filled in on yet?

“Yeah, but I like to do it my—”

The stranger reaches your desk finally, popping his head around the side of your cubicle wall to find something that apparently must be surprising to him, as it cuts his thought process off in an instant. You watch his brows furrow in confusion – not necessarily anger – but more so that he wasn’t expecting to find the sight he had found. His head cocks to the side suddenly, and he pulls himself into your field of vision entirely, still visibly confused by the fact that he’s looking at you.

“Y-yes?” you stutter out, completely frozen in place with uncertainty about what the complete fuck is going on right now in this office.

“Oh!” he exclaims, realizing now that the entire scenario is obviously absolutely bizarre to you. “Sorry, umm, so I guess the other woman doesn’t work here anymore?”

“Suppose…not.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure you can help me—”

But the woman from the front of the office finally makes her way to the back where the both of you reside. The mans face dropping and beginning to take on that of a childs who knows he’s about to get reprimanded.

“You don’t have to answer to him,” she says to you, but also sort of speaking to him as well. “Despite what they’d have you think, the idols don’t actually run things here. We have a particular way of doing things and Chris absolutely loves ignoring that.”

…The idols?

It hadn’t crossed your mind before, albeit, a lot was going on, but since the I-word had been mentioned now, a lot of things were beginning to come together now. He is quite good looking, and given how revealing his tank top is – appears to work out, as well. Nice skin, beautiful smile…a little short, but that’s okay.

“I’m just a guy!” the man you have now learned is named Chris retorts as the woman takes her leave, and he turns back to face you again, leaning his arm up against the wall next to you, “what’s a guy gotta do to get treated like a guy around here?”

“Probably not be famous,” you respond in sort of a half-giggle, trying to restrain the smile from your lips as you turn back towards your computer to finish inputting some data. “But if you need something, I’ll be happy to look into it. You came all this way after all.”

Chris catches the way sarcasm drips from your last few words and rolls his eyes, gently tossing the stack of papers he came in with onto a empty spot of your desk.

“Are you going to treat me like this now, too? The new girl already tainted, how tragic.”

“You asked, I gave you a legitimate answer as to why.”

“Mm, fair,” he nods, pushing his bottom lip out for a moment as he considers the fact – then quickly finds himself along a separate path of thought. “So, what’s your name?”

You tell him, he responds that it’s pretty. You find that more than a little bit annoying, given your awareness of the incredibly strict 'no dating’ policy among office workers in JYPE, and even more strict 'no dating the talent’ policy – one that lands your contract terminated if they so much as even suspect that you’re engaging in unsavory behavior with any one of the idols under their label.

Chris lingers about a bit longer before you finally look towards him again and tell him that you’ll take a look at the paperwork the next chance you get, which, despite not directly telling him to leave you alone, he does manage to take the hint and bids you farewell, that it was nice to meet you, and that he looks forward to your next meeting…to which the woman from up front once again responds, “you shouldn’t be in here!”

You think about this story often now – the story of how you and Chan met. It seems so cute and casual now, like a story that two children would tell about how they met on the playground because the little boy pushed the little girl into the sandbox…except now they’re thirty-five and married with three wonderful children. It only feels that way in essence, though, because while yes – your relationship with Chan was far from married with children, it wasn’t zero.

And that was a problem. Ironically, mostly for you, it seemed.

As the months carried on, Chan did indeed continue coming to your desk for all of his financial needs instead of going through the appointed channels put in place by the company. He eventually tells you that he does it this way because he feels more comfortable doing it himself – he knows who did it, and when, and whether it got done or not. He knows all of the steps, so if anything goes wrong, he knows exactly how and why. Easier to fix. It makes sense, of course, until the few times you have to call him for some unsigned documents and he tells you to come meet him in the studio, or the practice room, or even at the dorm.

It’s not okay, and the both of you know that. You find yourself very quickly sneaking around – hoping not to be seen on your way to your secret rendezvous with Chan – and not even for that. But certainly, that’s what everyone would think if they were to know.

You kind of wished it were the case, too.

And there had been a few nights where things got a little strange. A little out of line. Chan was a flirt, and you wanted to be flirted with by him. The occasional hand grabbing, or his hand placed at the small of your back as he passes behind you, lingering a little bit longer each time he does it – but nothing overt. If you were honest, you weren’t quite sure if chan was into you or not. He was never entirely clear about his intentions. While financials and paperwork had obviously, at times, fallen to the wayside and perhaps simply been an excuse to get you into the same room as him, he had never made a move, and never said anything that would indicate a completely inappropriate and – by work standards – illegal romance between the two of you.

That didn’t necessarily stop you from desiring it, though.

It took nearly a year before the wall showed a crack. The impenetrable Bang Chan.

“Can you come to the cafeteria with it? I’m trying to have dinner before I get back to work.”

You roll your eyes, shoulder and face craned to hold the phone in place as you type on the computer in front of you and sigh upon finding the time – already much later than when you were supposed to be out of the office and also well over your allotted overtime for the month.

But, it was Chan, and yeah, you were a bit soft for him and the few quiet moments you got to spend around him. Even if they didn’t mean anything. Even if they never would. A guilty pleasure – partaking in all of the things that you shouldn’t.

When you arrive, much to your surprise – Chan is the only one there. Being well past office working hours, it was prime time for idol working, and you think that you’ve never seen the place so empty before – although, if you were honest, you didn’t spend much time there, either.

Chan waves you over to his table, well into eating a bowl of mild cup ramen as you sit just ahead of him and place the stack of papers on the end of it. You take a moment to look around at the scenery – which perhaps isn’t much to him, but for a moment, it makes you consider what it must be like. To live life as an idol.

The man in front of you manages to mumble out a 'thanks’ in between eating and you assure him it’s no problem. In a moment of his looking away from you, you take in for a moment his features a bit more intricately. The bags under his eyes from restless nights and messy hair – the gray hoodie adorning him looking potentially slept in from the night before – and it’s a little charming. You know next to nothing about this man, but if there’s one thing you know, it’s that he works hard. Tirelessly. Selflessly. For the group of men he lovingly refers to as “the kids”.

“Can I ask you something? And you don’t have to answer if it’s too personal or anything,” you start suddenly, placing your chin in your palm and elbow on the table as you look across towards him. He stops eating, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively and hurries his chewing so that he can assess the question faster.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Do you have a girlfriend? Well, or boyfriend, I guess, didn’t mean to assume anything—”

And Chan snorts, looking down towards the table and grinning – and for a moment you could swear that he almost looks…embarrassed. Sheepish. Shy.

“No,” he says, ever so slightly shaking his head in response as well before looking up at you through his eyelashes, and it’s truly as if he’s self-conscious about the fact. “No I do not. Kind of hard to meet someone in this line of work.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little taken aback – both by the fact that he answered the question at all, and by – well, everything else about the interaction.

“Surely that can’t be true, you’re surrounded by beautiful people everywhere.”

“You see, the thing about being surrounded by beautiful women,” Chan starts, shoveling some more noodles in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before finishing his thought, “is that they are also surrounded by beautiful men.”

The implication of his response sound insane to you. Is he really implying that he’s…not?

But Chan doesn’t give you time you think it out much further, starting up another thought. “The truth of the matter is that I’m just too busy,” he says, wiping his face and hands with a napkin, crumpling it, and placing it on the tray in front of him before sliding it just out of the way of your conversation.

“Most days I work about fourteen, maybe sixteen hours? And that’s everything: any filming, recording, then there’s the producing I do as well, plus I’m on the business end of a lot of the things that we get to do, and then when I come home I’m still sort of dad even though they are, of course, plenty capable of doing things for themselves, but it’s just the position I’ve taken on within the group…I don’t have the kind of time someone would deserve, y'know?”

“Yeah,” you respond fast enough to show acknowledgment, but his words run through your mind for much longer than that. A man that takes on so much more than the average idol.

You’d have been lying if you said you didn’t think he was sexier now. That’s a problem. Especially because the next question out of your mouth is extremely self-indulgent, and perhaps even gives you away.

A woman of stronger might may have been able to avert the trajectory of this scenario. That woman was not you.

“You don’t even have anyone you like…just, see?”

Chan looks up at you slowly now, eyebrows tensed slightly together – and it’s not anger, but curiosity to match your own. It’s sort of a playful smile that purses across his lips as you watch the thoughts bounce around his head in real time – holding your facial expression perfectly as to not give even more away than you already had. He has to be the one to speak next or it’s doomed.

“What do you mean?”

Fuck.

It’s not what you wanted, because now you have to speak more. It’s not even like you’re offering, or extending the invitation as it were, you’re just…curious. Innocently curious. Completely innocently curious about where his dick has been lately.

“Like, a friend…with benefits? I guess?”

The man in front of you holds fast, continuing to stare at you for a moment before cracking up a bit again and shaking his head just as he had the first time you asked him something that, to him, is completely absurd.

“No,” and you watch as he cocks his head to the side suddenly and smiles an awkward smile into the table – knowing that he’s about to admit something even more humiliating than he already had. “It’s been quite a long time since anything like that.”

Oh, now you’re really intrigued. So much so that the allure of playing coy is completely thrown out of the window. You have to know everything, and now.

“Oh my God, how long?” you ask quickly, jutting yourself forward toward him as if he’s some sort of exhibit on display for your viewing pleasure, and he pulls back suddenly, still laughing, but obviously absolutely beside himself in sheepishness.

“Oh come on, really? Is it that hard to believe?”

“What!? Yes! Of course it is!”

“Why?”

“Because look at—”

It’s in that moment that you consider that this entire situation was a set up from the beginning, and not on your end. A sudden realization that all of the upper-hand you had thought that you had, never really existed at all. Had…Chan been playing you this whole time?

Chan sits back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and looks away with a smile, still shy, but obviously amused by the turn the situation had taken. Maybe it wasn’t a set up. Maybe it was just a happy little mistake.

“About three years, I just have other stuff going on, that’s all,” he finally responds to the originally intended question – before the derailment of what’s and why’s.

You choose not to respond, having already given far too much of yourself away to the discussion.

When Moa from the creative direction department celebrates her 10th year with the company, the higher-ups green light a huge party for it, citing her relentless contributions, hard work and loyalty. It’s your first time attending one of these anniversary parties, but you’re assured that most of them are not like this.

It’s one of the few times that the idols and the office workers mingle much. Given Moa’s direct work with the talent in particular, it’s expected for them to be invited to such a gathering, and despite it taking place at the company building, dress code is (not so) strictly enforced and everyone is told to “dress nice,” a guideline that works better for some than for others. If honest, not even you are particularly sure what this means – stuck somewhere between completely formal and business-casual, you simply decide on the latter…more or less. Something similar to the usual just above the knee length dress you would wear to work, but more casual, and a blouse with a bit more sheer to it.

When you get back to the building, it’s well past typical closing hours but the sound of a party is easily heard from even the lowest level. Nine floors up, the elevator dings and you step out with a bottle of wine in one hand and your bag in another – plus your eye out for Chan, of course.

And that makes you feel a little bit silly, yes, because this being an after hours party doesn’t make the company policies any more suspended. They are still very much in place.

But still, the joys of flirting aren’t to be ignored, and no one better to do it with than him.

When you step in, you quickly notice a few of the twice ladies there – beautiful girls, glowing from all of the way across the room, and Chan standing with two of them in particular, looking especially cozy – and you do your best to ignore the ping of pain in your chest that you know without a doubt does not belong there. Chan looks over and makes eye contact with you and you both nod a silent hello, before making your way over to your colleague, and the table in which you are to leave your offering of wine.

It’s rather quick, much quicker than expected, that Chan catches up with you – as you’ve barely had time to say hello to Moa before he’s placing that sly hand on the small of your back and greeting the both of you. You watch the look on your colleagues face switch to one of confusion – wondering why one of the idols is getting so handsy with you, but she simply smiles and thanks you for coming.

You suspect in that moment, that the 'no dating the talent’ policy is one that is frequently disregarded.

The black haired man to your side pours you a drink, then pouring himself, and you take notice of the way he’s dressed for the occasion – just a nice button down shirt and some nicely fitted jeans – nothing fancy but he took a moment to step out of the sweats that he had probably been wearing for a few days straight by that point. Appreciated. Chan hands you a cup and raises it towards you just the slightest bit in cheers before taking a sip.

You catch the way his eyes linger on the silhouette of your waist and hips before pulling away in an effort to not be seen.

“Friend?” you say, nodding towards the girls that Chan had been talking to previously, and watch him in nearly a panic raise a hand up as if to swear upon something.

“We’re just friends.”

“That’s…what I said,” you respond, chuckling into your cup and shaking your head, “calm down, we’re friends, not married.”

“And I’m sure that’s devastating to you.”

The response fully takes you off guard, practically causing you to choke on the drink you had quite disastrously already taken into your mouth. You think of why he’d say this to you – as best as you can in only the few seconds you have to do so: he’s been there longer, is he drunk? Is he stupid? Is he insane?

“What?” you retort, looking at him with a face that one would surmise that they had grown an extra nose since the last time they had looked in the mirror. A look of absolute bewilderment.

“You were going to say I was handsome that one time, back at the cafeteria, don’t think I forgot,” Chan replies with a smug tone, as if winning some sort of battle that you hadn’t known about.

“Yeah that doesn’t mean I want to marry you, are you insane?”

“I was filling in the blanks, whatever,” he answers back, waving a hand about playfully and purposefully avoiding eye contact with you. It’s true that he might have had a few and that’s what had been causing him to be so bold, but he was very much aware of the game he was playing.

Two can play, you think to yourself.

“So am I to assume then that you wish to raise a family with me, with the way you were just checking me out only a moment ago?”

You watch Chan bite his bottom lip in an attempt to keep himself from smiling – knowing he’s caught – he looks down to the floor before looking over at you. “Ah, saw that, did you?”

“Yeah, not sure you could have made it any more obvious, actually.”

“Sorry about that,” he says, playfulness dropping from his tone slightly and replaced with seriousness. It catches you off guard, because wait, no, I like what we’re doing right now.

“You don’t have to – it’s fine,” you answer back hurriedly, to reassure him and try to bring the both of you back to a flirtatious place, but the look on Chan’s face is yet again another reminiscent of that day in the cafeteria.

All according to his plan. You’re right where he wanted you all along.

“So, you like it when I look at you then?” he says in a whisper, leaning over closer to you to assure that no one else will hear the conversation.

Now or never, shit or get off the pot.

You lean towards him, meeting him just about halfway to close the distance between the two of you, before turning your head to look at him and find your faces only mere centimeters from the other.

“That’s not all you can do.”

Sneaking out of the party was the easy part, it was the finding a place where the two of you could be alone long enough to make anything happen that was the difficult part.

Ducking and weaving through hallways and doors – all led by Chan who had the better understanding of the area in which the two of you were now navigating, he dragged you around by the hand in an attempt to find a place that he could have you. Away from prying eyes. Just you and him. And from the grip he had on you, and the information he had divulged to you previously, his intent to completely devour you once the opportunity arose was ever present, and lended itself to a dull throb between your legs already – the man hadn’t even touched you yet.

“I know,” he whispers, darting around a corner and looking down a hallway to make sure that no one will spot you, “I have just the spot.”

“Ooh, so exciting,” you tease, but it’s only seconds later that Chan has his weight pressed against you, your back to the wall and chest to chest – lips just barely missing your own – and the bratty attitude is swept from you in an instant and replaced with unfathomable desire.

“Or I could just have you right here,” he whispers against your ear, hooking one of his hands up under your knee and granting his hips space between your legs against the wall – and you can already feel the tenting in his pants at simply the prospect of getting his dick wet again after so long.

It’s hard to tell him 'no’ to the idea, but thankfully you don’t have to, Chan knowing it being a poor one as he smiles and pulls himself off of you only to once again pull you towards an unidentified place that the man has mapped out in his mind.

You’re thankful that it’s only a few more twists and turns down halls before Chan looks around and opens a door to a room, hurrying you inside of it and closing it behind with a 'clink’ sound of the lock. the room is pitch black in darkness and Chan had already let go of you once ushering you into the doorway, but it’s not long before you feel his essence – the feeling of his hands softly grazing your hips and causing the fabric to bunch up at your lower back as his hands slide in the direction. Your behind meets a table at his insistence in pushing you only a couple of steps towards it, and the mans hands creep back down to the outsides of your thighs, only to slide up again and hoist you onto the table.

Chan hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties, and it’s the first time that he finally, after what feels like a fucking eternity, presses his mouth against your own. Kisses that at first start out gentle and experimental, quickly devolve into needy and sloppy – and mostly from his end. It’s easy to tell that he is quickly becoming unraveled, and the thought of it only intensifies the dull ache already present between your legs. Slowly pulling the fabric from your legs, he carefully pries them open by the knees and settles himself between – pulling your body as flush as possible into his as he kisses deeper, harder into your mouth. An attempt to taste every bit of you that he can, no doubt, and the absolutely intoxicating feeling of unbridled desire for you making your head spin. Chan was losing himself in you, and quickly.

It had been a long time, and he was going to ruin you.

Pressing one hand up against your face, fingers slightly woven into your hair to pull you harder into his mouth, the other hand quickly dips down in the space between himself, and the apex of your thighs. One, lone, fingertip gently pressing against your folds and it’s not only the whimper that escapes your lips and is quickly swallowed by him that makes him grin, but the physical desire for him dripping from you, as well.

“Good to know I wasn’t the only one dying for it,” he whispers into your lips as he begins slow circles right above your clit. “You might not walk out of here when I’m finished with you.”

The words cause an involuntary reaction, that surely he’d have felt had he been inside of you already, and you’re sort of glad he isn’t just for the sake of being able to get away with how absolutely, catastrophically, horny just the idea of it was making you.

And bless his heart, the fact that he’s only able to make a few circles into your pussy by hand before he’s pawing at the front of his own pants in an attempt to free himself and finally have what he’s been wanting all this time. He makes quick work of his confines for a man not necessarily practiced in the arts of having a quick fuck in a dark office, so it’s impressive – almost as impressive as what he has to show for himself when he pulls his length from his boxer briefs.

Chan’s kisses get sloppier by the second now as you feel him lazily stroking himself by hand against your sopping wet pussy, the head of his cock prodding between your folds and up against the entrance to your cunt as he shallowly presses into you, but never enough to enter much at all, and you don’t want to beg for it – well, you do – but you won’t. Maybe.

“Do you have a condom?” you finally whisper, pushing to the side one of the computer mice to illuminate the room slightly with a turned on monitor screen.

“No,” he responds, peppering kisses along your jaw, but pulling back his hips from you just slightly.

“Okay.”

“Should I stop?”

“I said 'okay.'”

“Yeah but you said it as like, an acknowledgment.”

“Chris, I said okay!”

“Okay, okay!”

It feels almost like a brutal display of force, the way he digs fingers into your thighs from the underside and pulls your hips towards his – the edge of your ass just barely hanging onto the edge of the table as Chan lines the head of his cock up with you and not-as-slowly-as-he-probably-should presses in – one arm wrapped around your waist for leverage and the other hand placed firmly onto the table – it makes your head spin, the burning stretch of him forcing your body to accommodate his, all the while kissing you deeply, passionately. The juxtaposition of Chan’s primal urges, his innate desire to have you, to be inside of you, to fuck you, compared to the whimpers that drop from his mouth at the way you’re so snug around his length, so warm and wet – a feeling he had almost completely forgotten in all of the time he hadn’t had it. So enveloping and all consuming in the moment.

When Chan finally bottoms out inside of you, it’s a hiss of “fuck, so tight,” and in your mind you think that it could be that, or combined with his substantial girth – the way you can feel every wall and muscle inside of you tugged and pushed with every movement he makes within you even in spite of your wetness. You don’t care to understand the how’s or the why’s necessarily – it doesn’t matter – what matters, is that you might be close already just from the way his cock relentlessly pulls at your g-spot with every motion, but you’re thankful when Chan seemingly begins to lose the will to be kind with his motions, and instead chooses to chase his own high with abandon – as thankfully for you, it’s precisely what you need to get there.

Chan brings a hand up, pushing you to lean back on your own elbows in an almost lying position now, hooking his hand under your shoulder for leverage to pull your body down and onto his cock harder. He’s losing himself in the moment, in your body, and it feels good watching him do it. Listening to, and now with the smallest amount of light in the room – watching him pant and grit his teeth at every throb and squeeze of your walls around him – nothing was sexier than a man fully lost in the moment of desiring you, and Chan was fully lost – the only thing bringing him back now, was the crash of his peak, which you are happy to accommodate, of course.

But as much as you were enjoying the show, his relentless fucking into you quickly brought you towards your own peak, where normally you were able to meet him with playful comments now the only sounds dropping from you pathetic whimpers and cusses – and his name, of course, which met you with a particular crash of his hips and a growl through gritted teeth.

“F-feel so good,” you whine, feeling the beginnings of your muscles tightening and knowing that he can feel the same with the way his eyebrows furrow tightly and his button lip pulls between teeth. Chan hisses at the feeling of your impending orgasm and the look on his face – beautiful brown eyes up through eyelashes and a weakened state, Chan is almost disappointed – knowing that your orgasm will inevitably be his own downfall, as well.

“Close?” he responds, knowing the answer, and you nod – allowing your head to drop back, only for Chan to pull you back to look towards him, pressing his forehead to your own as he continues his relentless pace into you. “Where do you want it?”

“In-insi—” you whimper again, unable to even finish the word. Chan takes the time to drag kisses down your lips, to your jaw, and it’s that moment that you truly break any sanity that he had maintained through the encounter.

“You w-wanted me, so have me.”

You know that he knows it’s in reference to his coming inside of you, that the distinction doesn’t have to be made in the moment, and it’s all in good fun, of course, driving him absolutely mad with only a few words. That’s the joy of it, after all.

The effect is immediate, as expected, as Chan pulls you tight into him and fucks into you at a relentless pace, chasing his orgasm without any other single thought occupying space in his mind. The only thing he can think about now is filling you with his cum, and that’s all by design, of course.

Luckily, the angle at which he has you immovable is one that works exquisitely well for you, rubbing at your g-spot and pulling at your clit in just the right ways that you’re babbling and on the brink of tears in orgasm well before even he is. A chant of asking you to come for him, come on him, and you’re gripping down and attempting not to cry out at the waves of release crashing over you – Chan fucking you all of the way through it before he finally reaches his own right after you – painting your walls with his cum and continuing to fuck his release into you, albeit gently, even well after he finishes and begins to soften inside of you.

It’s a long few minutes before he pulls away from you – out of you, gently tucking his overstimulated cock back into his clothing with a wince and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand before bending down and helping pull your panties back up your legs and into place.

Chan stays there, nestled between your legs and on his knees, arms crossed with elbows anchoring him on either side of your knee as he gazes up in awe at your beautifully fucked out state of being. For a moment, it’s hard to even imagine the same man being that animalistic, that primal, as he just was only a few minutes before.

But duality is sexy, after all.

“You’ll have to let me do a better job next time,” he smiles innocently from between your knees, head slightly cocked to the side.

There’s a lot of good things packed into that one, extremely short sentence, but figure you’ll address the most pressing of them first.

“A better job…?” you ask, intrigued.

“Yeah,” he replies, pulling his arms back and gently prying your legs apart again to make space for him to press kisses to the inside of your thigh, and you hate the way it’s already making you hot for him again.

“There’s so much more I’m going to do to you.”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

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skzdarlings · 5 months

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final part: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 19k words)

warning for this chapter: the usual story dynamics plus explicit violence, intense peril, threat and injury to reader, graphic depictions of death, explicit sexual content.

Your father will be here soon. He kept his distance during the rescue operation but will reconvene with his team before the journey home.

You and Felix wake long before his anticipated arrival, when dawn is only just peeking into the hotel room.

You lay in bed, your head on his bare chest and his arms around you. You discuss the potential confrontation ahead. Last time you were taken, your father was less than sympathetic to your plight. Even though this was more his fault than yours, you are certain you will take the blame. He cannot take responsibility for a misstep. If he is fallible, he is weak, and that puts his whole existence in jeopardy. It must always be someone else’s fault.

Therefore it is likely he will punish you. Therefore it is likely he will ask Felix to do it.

“Felix,” you say when he does not look at you. He is staring out the window with a look of pure frustration.

“I know,” he says. “You want me to do it. Last time I…”

“Yes.”

There is no need to discuss last time. You both know he fumbled that exchange. Felix is meant to be the personification of resolute strength and obedience, the perfect soldier. His moment of weakness snared your father’s attention, as weakness always does. Your quick response remedied the situation well enough, but you will not be so lucky next time. The only thing worse than a moment of weakness is the persistence of it. He cannot hesitate again.

“If,” you say slowly, “we want to find a way out… then now, more than ever, we cannot give him any reasons to be suspicious of us.”

“I know,” he says, but his jaw is still clenched and his gaze is faraway.

“Felix.” You touch his jaw, minding the darkening bruise, and turn his face to yours. His expression softens when he meets your gaze. “Thank you,” you say. “I love you. I trust you. It will be okay.”

He cups your cheek and lifts your face. His looks at you like he is studying every small detail. Even though he must know your face perfectly – seeing it when he wakes, before he goes to sleep, every day for so much of his life – he looks at you like he is seeing you for the first time all over again.

You laugh when he flicks your bottom lip, the little pout he has long since called his weakness.

“You could convince the sky it wasn’t blue,” he says, and kisses you tenderly. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Maybe it is the novelty of hearing that out loud, or maybe you will just be crazy about him forever, but you feel flustered. You laugh and squirm, your skin hot. It makes him laugh, the menace kissing down your throat just to make you wriggle more.

“Don’t let my daddy catch you then,” you tease, breathlessly. “He wouldn’t like that very much.”

The returned chuckle makes you shiver. You run your fingers through his hair but he grabs your wrist and pins it down. Your breath catches when he sucks a bruising kiss on your throat. He is usually so careful about leaving marks, but today he dips his head to the soft skin of your breast and bites a mean little mark into the tender skin, making you gasp and buck beneath his hold.

“No, he wouldn’t, would he?” Felix says, his deep voice dropping even lower. “What would everyone say, hmm? Your daddy, your guards… all those rich boys at those fancy parties who think they have a chance with you…”

“Everyone thinks I’m a frigid bitch,” you reply, joining his game, smiling knowingly. “And I am, aren’t I? Nothing but trouble.”

“Nothing but trouble,” he says with a grin. He flicks the covers off, then his hands are on your hips and he flips you as smoothly. You yelp when he drags you halfway down the bed, arranging you as he kneels behind you. “You can’t fool me, sweetheart,” he says. One hand curls around your throat and the other snakes down your backside. “Frigid? Mm. I don’t think so. I actually think you are very, very soft… and warm…”

His fingers slip inside you easily, wet from your previous lovemaking and wetter still from his voice. Every little breath and tortured groan has you twitching and gasping.

“Felix,” you say.

It is the right thing to say. You are clawing at the bedsheets moments later, hiccupping on each watery breath as he holds your hips and fucks you right down into the mattress. You press against it like you could disappear there, fucked into freedom, never to return to this dire world again.

You sink into the bed and float in your mind, sighing when he wraps his arms around you and covers you with his body. He is hot and whole and so alive, and everything seems possible while you are joined together. You have each other, completely and irrevocably. That is all you need to survive.

You finish not a moment too soon. You are nestled in his arms, kissing and kissing and kissing, flushed and satisfied and content, when reality comes knocking. Felix throws on some pants while you scurry into the bathroom and close the door.

Felix steps into the hall. Between the bathroom door and the hotel room door, you only hear muffled voices. Then a few clicks, then another knock, then you jump. You are wearing a blanket and it slips with your surprise. You adjust it frantically, but Felix says, “It’s just me.”

You crack open the door to Felix in a t-shirt and his combat pants. You recognize the tired lines on his face, cracks in the mask he is struggling to don. His reassuring smile is not convincing.

“Here,” he says, handing you some clothes. “Your father is here. He wants to see you at breakfast.”

“Of course he does,” you say, just for something to say, letting your frustration seep into your tone.

The bathroom tiles are cold under your feet. A sharp snap of sensation and a reminder of reality. Felix makes the world feel small in comparison to him, but the world is still there, ever turning with its usual machinations and politics and powers. You are still suspended helplessly in the centre of it all. Though you pushed the darkest truths to the corner for a few hours, making love and comforting each other, all those hurts and agonies are still there. You see it in his eyes, his glance flickering from here to there as he roams with his thoughts.

Neither of you have ever had a normal life and you do not know what to do with one. He has been making difficult choices since he was a child. Neither of you truly knows if you are making the right one now.

You do the best you can with a strong hug. It is a lingering, affectionate embrace, fitting your bodies together until you feel grounded.

Felix looks over your shoulder, catching his own reflection. You look back as well, his cheek against yours, your eyes meeting in the mirror.

“I couldn’t stand the sight of my own face,” he says, his voice low even though you are alone, like the words are fighting his tongue. It is hard to admit. He swallows hard but continues, “I hated the stupid kid looking back at me… I wanted to be someone better, someone who could actually do something right…”

You look at him rather than his reflection. When you touch a strand of blonde hair, he closes his eyes, as if he can feel the pad of your finger on a lock of hair, smarting more than his bruises.

“Is that why… the hair?” you ask clumsily. You do not know how to wade through ten years of emotion. Felix has coloured his hair regularly since the day you met him. The blonde suits him but it is clearly unnatural. It has not been soft in a very long time, coarse from repeated dye jobs.

The colour is just one more layer of his meticulous mask, crumbling in front of you as he nods and sighs. An admittance. He could not stand to look in the mirror and see that other version of himself, the boy he was, the boy who made all those mistakes. You see him, the years of questioning his choices, the impossible tether around his throat. There has never been a day he has not questioned his choices. Working for one bad man or another. Rescuing his friend or his lover. Letting violence happen or letting the violence use him.

You kiss his cheek, then below his jaw, threading your fingers through his hair. You scratch at his scalp, just a feathery light touch, one that makes him melt in your arms.

“I love you,” you say. You find it is an addicting word yet it never loses its potency. Your heart still races when he touches his forehead to yours, when he strokes your sides and hums a gentle sound of pleasure. “Things have changed a lot over the years. But we’re still here.” Still living your lives, even in broken bits, those stolen pieces you mentioned so long ago. “We’ve changed. We’ll change again. Things will happen and we’ll figure it out. But please don’t hate that boy anymore. I care about him a lot. I want him to be happy too.”

His face scrunches with the threat of tears, but he controls himself. He pushes the emotion into a laugh, though it is humourless. Then he closes the space between you and kisses you, cups the back of your head and holds you there until you are both satisfied.

“All right,” he says in a rough voice. “Get dressed. It’s going to be a long day.”

“You’ll be there, though,” you say.

“Always,” he says, a hint of amusement touching the corner of his lips. “I’m your bodyguard, hmm?”

You laugh and kiss him again.

“Right,” you say. “Always.”

Your father sits at a dining table in the penthouse suite. Behind him, a window wall flaunts the city skyline. Daylight casts a glow around him like some deified king lording over his petty kingdom. Guards loiter in the room and the corridor, keeping their eyes sharp as hotel staff prepare the table.

You sit across from him with the sunlight in your eyes, the usual position of discomfort and inferiority. He does not look at you, nor does he greet you, his eyes on his phone until the table is set. A staff member goes to serve him but he dismisses them.

“All of you, go,” he says, not just to the staff but his team as well. They filter out of the room one by one.

The penthouse is a ostentatious space, all white linen and gilded frames, tall ceilings and bay windows, but as the room empties, it becomes frighteningly big. Or maybe you just feel frighteningly small, his tactics working as they often do. Your father knows how to push your buttons because they are the same as his. He is scared. It makes him angry. He makes you scared. It makes you angry.

“Felix,” he says. “Stay.”

Felix is all that tempers you. He stands against the wall but you do not look at him, staring at your father until he finally looks your way. Despite the light, you hold his stare, feeling a modicum of triumph when he looks away first.

“Did they damage you?” he asks. His phrasing almost makes you laugh. Damaged. As if outside forces were needed for that.

“I’m fine,” you say. “My bodyguard rescued me. Your team was damaged, though.” You throw the word right back at him. You cross your leg and sit back, like you are as unbothered as him.

You know that underneath his cold exterior, he is anything but casual. He is letting his rage simmer as he builds to some awful retaliation. He was conducting a mission, sending his best asset on a job, and it was interrupted by your kidnapping. A kidnapping that nearly lost him more than his heir, but that same irreplaceable asset. An asset that previously made a mistake in front of his eyes. This is no longer a game, a squabble between a parent and child, but a real world crisis with dangerous consequences.

You should not provoke him, and that is why you do. Because provoking him is something you have always done and you need him to see you as that hapless child if you are going to beat him. You do not want to arouse further suspicion in him, that you are sitting here thinking about your own schemes, that you know more about his assets and operations than he could ever suspect.

So you toss your rejoinder and he catches it, as he always does, with a cruel smirk.

“There are more where they came from,” he says.

Returning like cockroaches and squashed just the same. If only a multi-generational empire could be toppled as easily. But your father is more than a man across a table; he is ten men in the corridor and more on the ground, he is paid staff and investors and a whole society.

Though you feign nonchalance, inside adrenaline pounds. Sweat gathers, your heart races. He is good at making you feel small, but at least it is predictable. The scene unfolds in your mind before it happens, the script playing before a single action is commanded. You will be scolded. You will be reprimanded. You will be punished.

“Felix, come here,” your father says.

You predicted he would involve Felix after what happened last time. The only question is what manner of punishment he will force from his hand. All you can do is trust Felix to play his role so you can play yours. You made it clear the physical pain was meaningless, that you could take whatever he inflicted. Just another inside joke between you. You will laugh about it one day.

You do not look away from your father. Your eyes are locked in a challenging stare, daring the other to break. You are scared, but you feel so much more than fear and rage. With your love for Felix, with the hope in your heart, you are an ocean of feeling and you are not ashamed of it anymore. You stare your father down and mutely convey that you are not broken, that he did not win, that he never will win.

His answer is the flick of a kitchen knife. It slides across the table and nearly tumbles right over the lip. It teeters within arm’s reach of you. It is tempting to look and consider its purpose with the trepidation you feel, but you do not. You tell yourself he will only hurt you so much, that putting you in true peril would surely be counterproductive to his overall efforts. Whatever plan he has for that knife will be a momentary pain you can recover from.

Then he says, “Felix.”

Felix steps into your periphery, the black of his fatigues a shadow at your side.

“Pick up that knife,” your father says. “Put it through your hand. Right through to the table.”

It is not the demand you were expecting, not by a long shot. As your father stares you down, steady where you start to waver, you realize this test is not for Felix. It is for you.

“I trust,” your father hisses the word, “you know the spot that will inflict the least permanent damage.”

The last time your father made this demand, you and Felix were kids at the start of your messy life together. Instinct propelled you to stop him. Over the years, you have mastered schooling your reactions. The girl who tackled Felix, the girl who sobbed while he was beaten, that girl learned to save her tears for later. Your father’s version of you is a cold, headstrong, hateful fool. She might stop Felix to combat her father, or she might let him suffer out of pure hatred.

Both options feel wrong. Regardless of what you choose, you feel like you are giving something away. You feel like your father will see right past it. He stares at you like he will find your secrets written on your face.

You have seconds to decide and that is not enough time. The moment passes you by. Felix plants his hand and takes the knife. Your father does not count him down. He watches you, willing you to make a mistake, to show your weakness. To prove him right.

You flinch when the knife thuds into the table, the soft reverberation of the wood accompanied with a gross little squelch that sounds too loud in this too big room. Your reaction is strongly stamped on your face, disgusted and upset. You look away to stop the tears that stab behind your eyes.

Everything that has happened, everything you have done, and you are right back here. After everything, he still ended up with that knife in his hand.

Your father rips it out. Felix catches his breath but does not cry out. You catch a glimpse of the bloody knife before your father tosses it on the floor, as if he is discarding something insignificant.

You slowly meet his gaze. He is still assessing you. You cannot tell if you passed or failed his test. By the scrutiny of his regard, it seems he does not know either. All you can do is look at each other while Felix bleeds beside you.

“You may go,” your father says, cold as the ice that locks your limbs. It takes you a moment to stir life back into them.

“Felix,” your father says. “You stay. We have business to discuss.”

You do not look at Felix. You cannot bear to look at him. On the escorted march back to your room, you are quiet, biting the inside of your cheek to stop any more unwanted reactions. Only when you are alone in the room do you let it out, an aggravated cry as you rip a pillow off the bed and whip it blindly across the room.

This was never going to be easy, but now it feels like the ongoing struggle between you and your father has led to an insurmountable deadlock. He has you enclosed in his fist and he is threatening to crush you in it.

You do not think he knows about the true nature of your relationship with Felix. He might suspect anything, an affair the last of it. Even a menial friendship would be a detrimental betrayal to him. All he sees is a smudge of a weakness in what should be the strongest cog in his machine.

He is testing you and tormenting you. He is perched on his pedestal, waiting for you to throw yourself at his feet in eventual penitence.

You will not. Not this time. Your father is expecting retaliation in the form of equal dramatics and you will not satisfy him. You will sit quietly. You will do what you have been doing, stealing pieces of your life in the silence and shadows. He controls a realm of power, affluence, and violence. You control yourself. Love has saved you all this time. It will be your means of escape for good.

You sit in quiet repose until Felix returns. Although you promised to remain calm, you cannot help but fuss over his injured hand. It has already been stitched and bandaged but you peek beneath the binding, almost gagging at the sight.

“All right, enough,” Felix says. He lifts your head and guides it onto his shoulder instead. You are sitting on the small loveseat under the window. You throw your arms around him and hold tight.

“I’m sorry,” you say, a tear sliding from your cheek to his shoulder. You sniffle.

“Don’t be,” he says. “I can take the pain. It means nothing. Sweetheart, he means nothing.”

“I know,” you say, but you sniffle one more time anyway. Gathering yourself, you lift your head to look at him. “What did my father want after I left?”

“I don’t fully know,” Felix says, the tenderness in his expression giving way to uncertainty. “He said he wants to continue the job,” Felix says. “He and Miroh, they’re both chasing these long-term investments in some government building contracts… Miroh has been getting in the way of your father’s deals, so he’s been mostly standing guard. Then he got intel that a significant asset of Miroh’s would be involved in securing an upcoming bid… And he thought… he thought with the right team he could… acquire whatever this asset was…”

“Chris,” you say, a breathless note. “That’s why he brought you on, isn’t it? He told you the acquisition was Chris.”

“If Chris was alive, if he was working for Miroh even after everything…” Felix swallows. He looks pained, like all these words are hard to say. His voice is rough and the words scratch like sandpaper as he forces them out. “Between me, your father’s back-up team, and the element of surprise… We had a chance of stopping Miroh’s subterfuge and getting… rescuing… Chris. Finally.”

But Chris might be dead. Your father might have killed him. Miroh has a vast artillery and the asset in question could be anyone or anything. It makes more sense your father was using Felix to eliminate this obstruction. That is what he always does. He uses someone like a thing, strengths and weaknesses calculated, and works them into his scheme.

You look at the bloody bandage, wrapped tight around that wounded hand, and you cannot bring yourself to vocalize these awful, pessimistic thoughts. You say instead, “But why would he want to continue the job now? You no longer have the element of surprise.”

“No,” Felix says. “We don’t. That’s because the job is over and your father is lying.”

“What?”

“Chris is dead.” Felix says it for you, with a hard set to his jaw that you recognize as a shield against emotion. He does not look at you because it exposes that vulnerable, human part of him, and right now he is fighting to maintain his composure. Cool, collected, he plainly states, “There is no chance of this job succeeding anymore. Miroh caught onto us. He interrupted us. Whatever we were after is not there anymore. Your father is just pulling my leash to see if I fight back.” He takes a deep breath before saying more. “He wants an excuse to question my loyalty.”

“He is provoking us,” you agree. There is a second of silence, both of you in contemplation, then you say, “We can’t let him.”

“If I refuse this job, he will just get worse,” Felix says. “If we try to run right now, we won’t get far. We need to do this right, we need to—”

“Take the job,” you say. “You said yourself, the job is over. My father is a bastard and an idiot but he would never risk sending his best team somewhere dangerous when he has nothing to gain from it. Call his bluff. Take the job.”

“I can’t leave you again,” Felix says, eyes closing as he clenches his good fist. “I won’t leave you alone with him again. Not right now, not like this. Sweetheart, if something happened—”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, wrapping your hand over his fist and gently uncurling his fingers. You nudge your nose against his chin, coaxing him to turn his head. He finally does, sighing as he looks down at you. You smile. “I’ll be safe in the house.”

“It’s more dangerous in there than out here,” he says.

“You know he won’t do anything worse than he’s ever done before,” you say. You look down when you touch the bandage on his hand. “We can take the cuts and bruises a little longer. Do the job, then come back to me. And who knows…” You kiss his cheek, a touch of comfort. “Maybe you’ll find the truth about Chris.”

“I know the truth,” he says, unmoved. “He’s dead.”

You do concede it is incredibly likely. If anything stopped your father from killing Chris, it was not morality, rather the practicality of breaching Miroh’s defences. But it sounds like Chris was trouble to Miroh, so it is possible there was no pushback.

It still breaks your heart to see Felix like this. The burden of this bargain has caused him strife for so long, but you can see how it motivated him too. As the hope leaves him, a light dims, and even your affection cannot ignite it.

“How do you know that?” you ask helplessly.

“I just feel it,” Felix says. “In my heart. I guess. I think, umm. I think. I think I’ve known for a long time. Maybe from the last time I ever saw him. But I needed to believe in it. I think I needed to believe Chris could be saved because then maybe—” He looks down at his injured hand. His fingers twitch when he fails to close his fist. “Then I would have done something good,” he says miserably. “Maybe then I could be worth saving too.”

“Felix. Baby.” You touch his face, still minding the bruise that grows more vicious by the second. It only adds to the ache in your chest as you look at him, beaten and battered for someone else’s sake. He has been taking hits every day since he was fourteen years old. Whether it was for you or his friend, he was willing to surrender his life if it meant even a possibility of saving someone else. “Felix, you have more heart and humanity than anyone I have ever known,” you say. “Everything you have ever done has been because of love, despite what they tried to make you otherwise. How can you not see what I see?”

He looks at you, really looks at you, the way he did this morning. He traces the curve of your cheek and brushes the subtle pout of your lips.

“You’ve always seen more than most people do,” he says. “You give me something else to believe in, you know?”

“Stop flirting,” you tease gently. “This is serious.”

He laughs, his smile soft but sincere. You kiss him slowly, until you are breathing the same uneven breaths, your hearts no doubt beating in tandem.

Then you pick yourselves up and prepare for what comes next.

Your father claims they will be gone for a week but you know it is not true. There is no real mission so they will return in a few days at the latest. For your part, you can only wait.

Even though you have a tenuous plan, it is still hard being separated from Felix. You remind yourself that you could not protect him in the field anyway, but logic is meaningless to your heart. You imagine a version of yourself that is possessed of so many skills, she could wipe out every obstacle without breaking a sweat.

But you are you. Your skills are more emotional than physical and right now that physicality is even worse than usual. You are lethargic from a brutal couple days, weak from the drugging, sore all over, and you cannot sleep well in an empty bed.

You wake repeatedly in the night, startled by a nightmare where you are being taken, where Felix is being beaten, where your father kills him and a dozen boys like him and all you can do is watch. The nightmares drag you into consciousness where you are barely eased, the reality of the world not so different from your nighttime horrors.

In the daylight, you maintain the healthiest disposition possible. You keep your distance from the security team, sitting in your room or quietly on the couch. You do not engage when they antagonize you. They grow bored of your presence soon enough, especially when they cannot get a rise out of you, leaving them with nothing to report to your father.

You expect the hours to drone endlessly.

Then you have a visitor.

You ignore the doorbell. The security team does not seem surprised by the interruption so you disregard it. Maybe it is just another member of the team.

You ignore the bell and the bustle of guards. You head to the kitchen to scrounge for some lunch instead. You hum as you chop vegetables, not paying any mind to the footsteps behind you. You expect it is a member of the security team, stalking you in the name of supervision. You turn to address him, a saccharine sweet smile at your face and a drole quip on your tongue, but your heart stops at the figure standing across from you.

“Hyunjin?”

You breathe more than whisper his name, like surprise has winded you.

You stand there, knife in hand, jaw hanging open as you stare into the face of your old friend. He is somehow even more handsome than you remember, long dark hair framing his face, eyes fierce and cheekbones sharp. An expensive blazer hugs his trim form. His boots resound with a softer thump than combat boots, so you should have realized it was someone else sooner.

You never would have guessed him. You have not seen Hyunjin in years.

“Hello, my girlfriend,” Hyunjin says with a smile, dazzling and beautiful and oh-so very fake.

“What are you doing here?” you ask tentatively, so perplexed by his appearance in your house that you do not know where to begin. You nearly pinch yourself to make sure you are not dreaming.

“Your dad called my dad,” Hyunjin says, his voice very light and casual, like he is picking up a conversation you paused an hour ago and not years ago. “He thought you needed company so you wouldn’t try running away off or something. So here I am. Ta-daaa. Company.”

Security shuffles past the kitchen. Hyunjin pauses, listening to the scuttle of their booted feet. When the din quiets, he smiles at you again. It does not reach his eyes.

“Hyunjin,” you whisper, laying the knife down. “What on earth is happening? Why are you here right now?”

Voices, laughter, the team in the other room. You and Hyunjin look at the door. His smile droops and he leans closer when he says, “Somewhere quieter please.”

You are still in something of a daze when you lead Hyunjin downstairs to the gym. A guard departs after giving the room a sweep, as if anyone or anything could have gotten down here with all the security.

Then it is just you and Hyunjin.

Hyunjin crosses the room, taking in the space and equipment. He whistles long and low while shaking his head. It makes you laugh despite everything.

“No, no, it’s nice,” Hyunjin teases. “I never saw this room before. But I always remembered your house was very small and understated.”

It’s a joke but you cannot force a laugh because his reminiscence sends you hurtling through your own memories. He turns and you see a younger version of him, just for a moment, beaming and bright. Hyunjin used to be the hopeful one, the person with a plan and ambition. He believed there was more to life and he believed he could achieve it. He was so certain that it sparked a flicker of hope in you. Now your flame is an inferno but there is no light or fire behind his eyes. He is so cold that it is hard to believe there was ever a flame.

“Hyunjin,” you say, imploringly. “What happened?”

“A lot,” he says. He puts his hands in his pockets like he feels at ease, but his eyes keep darting around the room, betraying his discomfort.

Though your friendship was short, it was substantial. You know him. Right now he is labouring beneath the weight of his performance, his charming expressions crooked, like poorly fitted clothes. He looks like an uncanny duplicate of the boy you once knew.

You step closer to him. He does not move, frozen in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets. When he eventually looks at you, it is with a slow lift of the head. You swear you can see a curtain drawing across his face as it happens. This close, you realize just how pale and wan he looks. He is grey at the edges, like he is fading away before your very eyes.

“Hyunjin,” you say, instinctively reaching out. He flinches away from your touch, then tries to smile like it didn’t happen. You do not hide your distress.

He finally drops the pleasant façade. His hands fall out of his pockets and swing at his sides. His countenance is even colder, his striking features sharper than ever as he levels you with a venomous stare.

“Don’t pity me,” he says. “I can’t stand it. I made my choices and I’m living with the consequences.”

“Consequences?” you ask. “Did they catch you trying to—”

“I never left,” he says. “I never even tried. I was close. I had a whole plan. A way to start over. But then...” He turns without any warning and walks to the mirror wall where he looks at himself. His hand hovers in the air, fingers curling. “I met someone,” he says. “And he wasn’t who I thought he was.”

When he does not elaborate, you step closer. You reach out to touch his shoulder, a consolation on the tip of your tongue. Before your touch even lands, he spins around and looks right at you.

“It turns out he was working for my father,” Hyunjin says. He speaks in a plain tone, conveying facts without any unnecessary sentiment, but you can see the red in his eyes as he strains to hold back emotion. “It was my fault for being so stupid. With the way things were going, I should have seen it coming. There is no such thing as selfless love. Everyone serves themselves in the end and I was stupid to compromise my well-being for someone else. I deserved the betrayal.”

“That’s not true,” you say without hesitation. He is talking about someone else but his words feel like a slap against your friendship too. You grab his hand like you can squeeze sense back into him. “I’m so sorry you were hurt,” you say. “But you can’t honestly think—”

“Hurt.” He chokes on the word and rips his hand back. “It nearly killed me. I wish it killed me. I wish I was anywhere but here. But I am stuck here because of my stupid feelings. Everyone has a weakness waiting to be exploited and you can’t trust anyone not to take advantage of yours.”

It sounds so much like your father that you stumble back. It resonates with a heavy slam against your ribs and the heart beating inside them. That heart feels so wrung out these days, swollen with so much love one second then shrivelled with pain the next. It throbs now. You are hurt just witnessing his pain. He has been betrayed and broken and he is unreachable in his grief. You can only imagine what he has endured to end up back here, in this house, with you.

You cannot blame him for guarding himself, but your combative side rears its stubborn head.

“There are good people,” you say. “There are people that can be trusted. You can trust me, after all.”

“I don’t know that,” he says. “We don’t know each other anymore.”

“That is definitely not true,” you say. You and Hyunjin clicked so well because your circumstances were so similar, your fears and pain the same. “We know each other perfectly, Hyunjin,” you say.

He looks away, blinking rapidly. His shoulders hunch. It looks so wrong for a man like him to curl in on himself in shame.

“Fine,” he says. “One person. It doesn’t make a difference.”

“One person makes all the difference,” you say. “Remember Minho?”

That one really makes him flinch. You are pretty sure a slap would hurt less.

“And Felix,” he says, his voice softer now. He scrunches his eyes shut like he can stop his pain with enough concentration. He pushes through and says, “He works for your father, doesn’t he? I remember him at that party. He was with the security team.”

“Yes,” you admit. “He works for him. In a way.”

“And you still trust him?” Hyunjin laughs. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “That’s just stupidity.”

“It is not.”

“He works for your father and takes his money and you still trust him not to betray you? That’s stupid.”

“It’s not.” Frustration bubbles inside you. You want to grab him and shake him around, like you can sift through and find the real Hyunjin underneath all this. “I know I can trust him completely.”

“You can’t possibly know that for sure,” he says. “He’ll betray you for the right price. Everyone has a price. You don’t think there’s something he’d trade you for?”

That does sting, if only infinitesimally, as you recall Felix and his conflicting desires. But you do not begrudge Felix for his life choices. He was an impressionable boy, raised to follow orders with no thoughts of his own. It made him wise in some ways and naïve in others. He fell into a bad bargain with a scheming man and found himself trapped. He was forced to make difficult decisions. It was not about choosing you or Chris. You would never make it about that.

“Felix loves me,” you say. “And I love him. You’re right. There are things he wants desperately. But he doesn’t have to trade me for it. He knows I would surrender myself willingly to see him happy. Just like I know, no matter what else happens, he will always come back for me. No matter where they hide me. No matter where I hide myself. No matter what men like my father do to him. We choose each other.”

“Everyone breaks,” Hyunjin says weakly. “No one’s that strong.”

“Not on their own, maybe,” you say. “We’re not alone.”

There was so much ice in his feigned arrogance that you are startled when Hyunjin starts crying. He covers his face with his hands. His shoulders shake and his breath hitches.

“Hyunjin,” you say, your own voice breaking. You rush up to him in a flustered hurry. You touch his head and his shoulders, trying to peer at him through his fingers. “Hyunjin, talk to me, please,” you beg. “Something else is wrong, isn’t it? Hyunjin, why are you here? Where are your parents? Why did my father call yours?”

“My parents are dead,” he barely manages to speak, gasping between his hiccupping cries. “It’s just me. They came for me and my father was difficult, he asked for too much, and they— and I—”

“They?” you say.

It is then you see it. You are clutching his shoulder and it tugs at his blazer. A shirt button pops open and your eyes drop to the exposed bruises across his collarbone. You blink in disbelief at the horrible mosaic beaten into his skin, angry welts of red and purple and yellow. It seems to go all the way down his chest. When you part the material of his shirt, something else catches your eye.

You freeze.

“Oh,” you say. “Hyunjin.”

He is wired. Someone is listening. Your father is listening.

You stop breathing for a moment. The world gets quiet. You look at Hyunjin. An old friend showing up at your house out of nowhere, presented like an offering. Jisung was not important enough for your father to remember, but Hyunjin is a different matter. He is rich if not wealthy. His parents were upwardly mobile, his father the kind of pathetic rich man who thought he was equal to a man like your father. Willing to do awful things to his own son to keep him in his clutches, then selling him to the highest bidder if it meant advancement. His only mistake was asking for too much when he was ultimately expendable. There are always more where he came from.

You want to be wrong. Your father is a busy man. He would not waste time finding Hyunjin and putting him through so much just for this, just to corner you into a confession. But you know he did. This is exactly what he would do. He moves like a coward, killing civilians and poisoning innocent boys, then he makes a show of throwing it in your face.

He always told you friendship was beneath you. What a way to prove it.

“I think you’ve fallen in with a bad crowd,” you say, forcing a laugh through the gathering tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, a tearful whisper. He touches your arms like he wants to hug you, but holds himself back.

“Me too,” you say. You warned him a long time ago that befriending you was dangerous. You wish you had been wrong.

You pull him into a hug and he immediately envelopes you, his arms around your shoulders and yours around his waist. He chokes out a sob and squeezes you so tight that your breath catches. Then he just holds you there.

You do not know if it is his cologne or his shampoo, but it smells so familiar. It takes you back to that treehouse, looking over a glittering neighbourhood as the sun set and he dreamed about the dawn.

“I still remember that rhyme, you know,” you say. The address of that cabin, written in a rhyming lilt that you never forgot. “If you ever have a chance again… promise me you’ll try…”

He chokes out another sob.

“How can you still care about what happens to me?” he asks. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” you say. It is spoken calmly, for all that it is a lie. “Promise me?”

He just nods, then pulls you closer again.

You cling to him for as long as you can. It gives you the strength to stay upright despite your shaking legs, even when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. You brace yourself for the worst, halfway expecting the whole house to erupt in a violent explosion.

It is just a guard. He says, “Time to go, Hwang. Visit’s over.”

You want to keep hugging. You feel like you will fall through the floor if he lets you go. He is just as reluctant, but withdraws when the guard steps into the room. He does not look at you as he leaves, head down as he trails towards the stairs.

“Goodbye, Hyunjin,” you say.

It stops him for a moment. He nods then continues. There is nowhere else to go but back up those stairs.

You are left standing by yourself in the middle of the room. The mirror wall makes the space feel never-ending. You look at your reflection. You look so rough already, scarred from your kidnapping, tear-streaked from crying. Your hands tremble uncontrollably. You remember a younger version of yourself sitting in front of this mirror with Felix, for a moment feeling like a normal girl with her boy. His touch brought you to life. He made you feels things you thought you would never feel.

It will be your own voice your father plays back to you, your own confession betraying you.

You will not be sorry for it.

You look at yourself and wipe your face. You take a breath. You walk to the stairs, one step after another. There are guards upstairs but they pay you no mind. They have clearly received no orders, not yet. You could try to make a run for it, but you would not get far on your own.

Instead, you go upstairs to your room. You look around like it is the last time you will ever see it. You know that is not true, logically. Your father will not kill you, but there are fates just as devastating.

You walk through the room. It is plainly decorated with a mix of things owned by you and Felix. For all that this house is not a home, you carved a shared space in this room. You sit on the bed and study everything from discarded clothes to books to computer parts.

Something compels you to open the drawer on his side of the bed, that same single drawer you allotted when he first moved in. A ragged old beanie sits at the bottom of it, the first thing he ever owned. You fold it over in your hand and squeeze it like a talisman, like it will infuse you with some magic to endure whatever storm is blowing your way.

You cross the room and touch a few more things. You find some university textbooks and your heart aches with the desire to return to those times. You lived a fleeting few years like you were completely free, in love and happy and home.

You will probably never see Seungmin or Jeongin again, but it brings you some peace to know they will live good lives. You will never forget their willingness to intervene on your behalf despite the odds being so stacked against them. Maybe they were not very good at it, smacking chairs and throwing drinks, but you will remember them fondly. You wish you could say goodbye.

With that thought, you pause. Your gaze drifts to your computer.

You cannot say goodbye to Seungmin or Jeongin, but you can say goodbye to someone else.

You never wanted to risk contacting Jisung from home, just in case your father was found out. But everything is ending today, one way or another. There is nothing more you can lose. You will take some comfort in a final word to an old friend before you are sealed in this gilded mausoleum.

You sit at your computer. You log into the blank profile you made some time ago. It is hard to tell if you are nervous because your stomach is so twisted in knots already, but you think there might be some happy anticipation. You try to manage your expectations because there is a chance Jisung did not read the messages, seeing as they came from a blank account.

You should have known better than to doubt him. You log in to several new messages, laughing from the first line.

OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! IT’S YOU????? MY GIRL!!!!!!!

Okay sorry about that I am totally so cool I promise. I’m just in shock.

I know you told me not to, but just so you know, I spent a year trying to reach you...

Well, actually, I spent like four months crying my eyes out and being miserable and pathetic first.. On god, I eyed a jar of peanut butter with some serious thought for a minute there!!! But then no, no way. I had to keep going.

I tried to find you. Your bitch ass dad is famous because he’s an ugly rich loser so his properties are listed all over a million websites. I found the one in town where you must live and I rode my bike there a bunch of times but uhhhhh yeah much to my eternal disappointment I am not James Bond and that security system was insane. Don’t even get me started on when all the dudes in the army gear kept showing up.

On an unrelated note it’s way harder to buy explosives than you’d think.

Just want you to know I did try to get in there. You were never alone even if you felt like it.

But it sounds like you’re not alone anyway HELLLL YEAHHHHH she is getting SOOOME. All jokes aside I am crazy happy for you. You deserve it for real. He better be treating you right though or I WILL find a way through that gate and I WILL kick his ass. Just say the word and I will be there in a heartbeat.

He goes on for a while, the whole length of his message making you smile. When you did not respond, he sent a few more, spaced further and further apart from each other. The last message he sent was just a few days ago.

Hey I don’t know if you’re getting these. I like to think so. You don’t have to answer if you are. I know you are in a dangerous spot. Or maybe you’re not anymore and you got out. In that case, I hope you never read these. I hope you’re out there living your best life. Maybe we’ll cross paths again but if not, I count myself lucky for knowing you at all. I think we’re both slightly insane and everyone else I meet is way too normal haha.

What I’m trying to say is I miss you like crazy. I hope we can laugh together again someday. Even if we never do, let’s say we will. Keep smiling till I’m there. Catch ya later crazy girl.

You smile. Then emotion takes over, tears returning as you lay your hands on the keyboard to type a response.

You have just hit send when there is a knock at your door, then it is opened without your permission. You turn and look at the stoic guard who beckons you forward.

“Your father is home,” he says. “He wants a word.”

You nod. You spare one last look at you screen before logging out and shutting down. You are certain it is the last message you will get to send. A warmth fills your chest regardless. You know it will reach Jisung. His laughter and energy fills you with the strength you need to walk steadily out that door and down the hall.

Hi Jisungie.

Thank you for your messages. I just read them all now. It wasn’t easy for me to check them before, but I did it today because it might be the last time I have an opportunity to do so. My father found out about my love affair and seeing as it was with the one person he could not afford to lose, I have no doubt that a reckoning is on its way. I thought he was bad before, but he has only gotten worse over the years. I am sure this betrayal will put him over the edge.

I do not know what is going to happen. I was scared until I read your messages. They truly made me smile. You have always made me a little braver. I think I got less rebellious over the years because I got scared, but now… The worst has happened and I’m still here.

I will figure it out. But in case I never get the chance to talk to you again, I just wanted to say thank you one more time. I miss you too, Jisungie. I think about you so much. I wish I could laugh with you again, the kind of laughter where nothing is all that funny but we can’t stop anyway. Thank you for the times we did.

I am happy to have lived my life because I knew you. I appreciate all the good times so much more because of the hard times. You were a one-of-a-kind friend. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

Keep smiling for me.

Goodbye.

Your father is behind his desk.

There is no one else in the room. They close the door behind you. You walk calmly up to the desk and take a seat in your usual spot. You sit as straight as you can, perched on the edge of the seat. You are still lower than him, but you feel bigger and stronger than you have ever felt in your life.

Your father draws out the silence, perhaps waiting for you to break down. You stare at each other. When he opens his mouth to speak, you interrupt him. You are uninterested in games and dramatic embellishments, which you know he will indulge. You simply ask, “What did you do to Hyunjin?”

“I would not worry about the Hwang boy if I was you,” your father says spitefully. “You have bigger concerns—”

“And yet I am asking about him,” you snap. “What are you doing with him?”

“What I do with everything when it is no longer useful to me,” he says.

It is the answer you were expecting but it still draws your rage like a magnet. It punches out of you, your eyes wet with tears when you say, “You’re pathetic.”

“How many times must you suffer humiliation at my enemy’s hands before you understand that none of this is a game?” His voice rises as he speaks. “Do you want to be out on the streets? Do you want to be brutalized? Do you want—”

“I would rather die rotting in the sewers with Felix than spend even one more minute under your roof,” you say.

You wonder what surprises your father more: the vicious tone or your blatant confession. It stuns him into silence. You know you have disrupted his script. There is little sense in taunting you with your words if you utter them plainly before he can try.

“I see,” your father settles on saying. He presses a button on his desk and the buzzer in the corridor resounds. “Let’s put that to the test, shall we?”

The door opens and several guards usher inside. You spare them a fleeting glance before your attention narrows to the figure between them.

“Felix!” You stand but cannot reach him. He is surrounded by guards and they will not let you touch a hair on his head.

He moves like he is completely boneless, evidently drugged with something to make him bleary and slow. He thumps heavily onto his knees when they put him there. His eyes are hazy as he looks around the office. They pause on you, flicking up and down, then he smiles through the pain.

The pain. It is not just a drug. He looks like he went a few rounds with a cement wall, his lip split and his jaw bruised. His bandaged hand is soaked through with blood, the rest him as battered. His injuries disappear beneath his shirt and pants but you know it is not a pretty sight. You swallow down the bile in your throat before looking at your father.

“He’s your best asset,” you say. “You can’t lose him.”

“Oh? Can’t I?” your father asks. “Can’t I? Can’t I? You think you know something? You think you can tell me what to do? You, when all you do is destroy what I make? I give you everything and this—this is how you—” His yelling sharpens to a shriek before he starts breaking things. It pulls Felix further out of his haze, his eyes tracking the frantic movements as your father smashes a vase near your feet.

You think about that tiny shard of glass from last time, the miniscule thing that started it all. It makes you laugh even though nothing is funny. Laughter is an emotional output just like crying, so it pours out of you with no regard for the actual gravity of the situation.

It only worsens your father’s rage.

“Does something here amuse you?” he asks, but you are laughing too hard to answer. There is a vein throbbing in his forehead and you imagine it bursting. You imagine all your problems solving themselves as he drops dead from his own rage. The image is even funnier because you truly cannot imagine this man dying. He is a monster. If you stab him, you fear he will just mutate and come back worse.

“You want to laugh?” he snaps. He crosses the room to Felix. “Laugh.”

He holds out his hand and someone places a gun in his open palm. This snaps you out of your delirious giggles, a winded whoosh spilling out of you.

Your father does not execute action himself. He always puts the gun in someone else’s hand. The fact he is pointing it at Felix should tell you that his threat is not serious.

But he has never been this furious, his anger a white hot cascade of fire. Felix is just inches from the barrel of the gun. Even an inexpert marksmen like your father could drive a bullet between his eyes.

So the moment he grips the weapon, you shout, “Stop!”

Your father looks at you with a cock of his head, satisfied with your reaction.

Then he jumps back because Felix rushes to his feet, most of the fog dissipated. Your father’s stupid men did not think for a moment that Felix would repeat a strategy. Just days before he allowed himself to be captured so he could rescue you. It seems he has done that again, feigning the depth of his condition. He swings to his feet and kicks out.

His injuries restrict his movement. He is good at ignoring pain but his body overrides his consciousness. He fights nonetheless, struggling with the guards while you watch.

You look around for something that can help. You snatch a paper weight off the desk and prepare to throw.

Your father is a step ahead of you. Suddenly you are staring down the barrel of a gun, your father on the other end, fuming.

“No—!” Felix says before he is beaten down. With his attention diverted, a guard kicks the back of his legs. His knees buckle and he goes down with a groan.

You look at him then flick your eyes back to your father. You raise both hands and lift a challenging eyebrow.

“You want to do this?” you ask. “Really? After everything?”

“After everything,” your father says. “Exactly my words. A house, an education, unending protection. You want for nothing. All I ask in return is obedience and you cannot even grant me that. You have the audacity to betray me for this animal.” He waves the gun around like the clumsy, ungainly thing he is. It makes a few heads duck, including yourself. You fear this man will kill someone without even trying. It makes it hard to listen, which might be for the best, as he goes on a long tirade about privilege and position and loyalty.

He starts merely angry but it turns downright diabolical.

“And you.” He turns to Felix. “I dug you out of Miroh’s gutter! I made you a bargain! I gave your meaningless life purpose! You are nothing without me. How dare you think to take what is mine. How dare you think you are anything more than a dog. How long have you kept this secret? How am I supposed to trust it is the last? You are a liar. For all I know you are lying about everything. Is that it? Are you a spy, feeding reports back to Miroh? Is that why I can never succeed in my missions? Have you been—”

Felix bursts into laughter. His face scrunches with delight, his cheeks dimpled. The low rumble of his laughing voice sounds real, honest amusement at the proclamation. It fades to a sigh, then he looks up.

You have never seen such a dark glare shadow his features, made all the more horrifying thanks to his bloody injuries. It makes your stomach drop even though it is not directed at you.

“You fail at all your missions because you’re an incompetent idiot,” Felix says. “You couldn’t even control two children. What makes you think you can control Miroh?”

“Have you forgotten our bargain?” your father yells, waving the gun towards Felix again. “You lie and trick your way into my household and still expect—”

“Our bargain,” Felix spits the word and some blood sprays out. He spits the rest on the floor and shakes his head. “I know he’s dead. You killed him a long time ago.”

The room is quiet for a moment. Your father is still holding the gun, though it dangles at his side. He and Felix stare each other down. Although Felix is kneeling, his sinister stare is far more terrifying than your father’s blank gaze. But then that empty gaze turns cold and your father smiles, one of those sharp smiles that opens like a slash across his face.

“Now how would you know that,” your father says, “if you are not a spy for Miroh?”

“One of Miroh’s men told us at the warehouse,” you interrupt. It earns you nothing but a wrathful glare from your father. He gestures to you and a guard puts a threatening hand on your shoulder.

“You will speak when spoken to,” your father snaps. He looks at Felix again. “Oh. Yes. You. Whoops. I very nearly forgot, it was so long ago when I killed your friend. Does that make you sad? Poor little boy. You should have remembered your place. Your kind are born to die for men like me.”

“Men like you,” Felix says. Mourning will have to wait so he laughs because he cannot cry. “You’re pathetic. Not a surprise, though, yeah? Since your father took care of everything before I killed him—oh. Whoops.” He tilts his head and smiles, speaking with the same saccharine tone your father just used to mock him. “It was so long ago. I almost forgot I shot your daddy in the fucking head. Does that make you sad? Poor little boy. You should have remembered your place and stayed behind your walls. You’ll never be a man like him.”

Your father has never looked so stricken. You did not even know his face could contort such a way. It makes him look very human for the few heartbeats that it lingers. You can almost picture a younger version of your father, breaking under the fist of his father before him.

Then he schools himself. Once more, the untouchable monster stands before you. The gun wobbles only a little when he raises it, taking aim at Felix.

“Stop!” you shout. You were just picturing the passing of generations, so maybe that explains why your panicked brain compels you to blurt, “You can’t kill him! I’m pregnant!”

This time every head in the room swivels towards you. Even the other guards do not hide their surprise. Your father stares, jaw agape, and Felix looks just as bewildered. You feel bad because you can see thought flickering behind his eyes, wondering if maybe you are telling the truth. It makes his face change, pain flashing. Panic seeps into his veins.

“Excuse me?” your father says.

You almost trip on the chair. Your knees knock and your voice shakes when you say, “You heard me.”

“I know what I heard.” At least it succeeds in garnering your father’s attention. He forgets about Felix entirely as he stalks towards you, gun clutched in his undoubtedly sweaty hand. “My problem lies in understanding how this can be.”

“Well,” you say slowly. “I can’t imagine you really want me to explain that—”

You father backhands you across the face. You careen into his desk, barely catching yourself.

“It could work in my favour yet,” your father says. “Start fresh. Fix where I went wrong with you. Because you are an irredeemable and entirely lost cause.”

This baby is not even real yet you panic at the thought. It unspools an infinite and horrifying future, this house an eternal monstrosity birthing a new generation of tyrant and monster. Hurting and contorting everyone in the family name for the sake of maintaining that vast estate.

This has to stop.

“Of course I am,” you say. You take a long, steadying breath, then you push yourself upright. You turn to your father and meet his gaze, aware of the gun but feigning complete nonchalance. “I can’t believe it has taken you this long to realize it,” you say. “You lost me a long, long time ago. You want to control everything because you’re scared of losing anything. But you’ve already lost what you were trying so hard to protect and you can never, ever get it back. I will not continue what your father started. I will not be what you have become. I am not like you and I am proud of that. I am proud that I love my friends, and Felix, despite how much you tried to stop me. But I am me and I am not scared.”

You dive at him, a vicious tackle spurred by that hurricane of emotion inside you. You tackle him so quickly that it takes the guards a second to react. The gun clatters to the floor as it flies out of his hand. He throws up his fists to protect his face when you swing down with all your might. What you lack in physical strength you compensate with drive, slamming your fists down without care for where they land, again and again and again.

Then someone grabs you by the collar and yanks. It is one of the guards, pulling you to your feet. Your father shrieks and hollers like a wounded dog, snarling and frothing like one too. He gets to his feet and swings at you.

Felix rises, struggling to reach you. You stretch out your hand, your fingertips touching before you are yanked apart from each other. You cry out, struggling in the guard’s death grip to no avail. Felix is fighting the other guards but his injuries put him at a disadvantage.

You are dragged away from the chaos. Your father picks up the discarded gun on his way.

“Take her outside!” he shouts at the guard, then turns to the mess in his office. “Don’t waste your energy. Shoot the boy.”

“No!” you scream, so guttural you hardly recognize the sound. You cry as gunshots ring in the office, but you lose sight of the skirmish as you are dragged, kicking and screaming, down the stairs and out the front door.

You curse at your father and the guard, bits of your shirt ripping when you fight to escape. You are smacked and twisted, your shoulder popping so painfully that it makes you wail.

“Stop it, stop it!” You are fully sobbing, either from pain or panic. It does no good as you are dragged into the night. The grand driveway is lit like a stage awaiting players, lamps and towers beaming over the pavement. The gate opens to the street beyond. It is pitch black. There are no other houses on this hillside, the estate sprawling across its expanse, so there are no streetlights. A black car is parked on the curb. It feels like a chariot to the underworld, black and swallowed by shadow. You are as good as dead. Felix might be truly dead.

You struggle some more but you are in so much pain. Your father is shouting directions at the guard and it splits his attention. His grip loosens and you successfully break free.

You do not hesitate. You run into the street, straight through the pitch black. If you run far enough, you will eventually reach a proper street leading into the city. You do not even care which direction you go. You just run, ignoring the screaming pain in your muscles as your feet hit the pavement.

A gunshot pierces the quiet night. You stumble to a stop, throwing your hand up over your heart. You touch your chest, expecting to find a bloody wound. But there is nothing, not a single drop. You were not shot.

You spin around and watch the guard fall to the ground, a bullet in his head. Your father turns too, holding his own gun at the approaching figure.

Your knees almost buckle as relief washes over you, Felix storming down the driveway with a gun of his own raised at your father. Felix is badly wounded, but even at his worst he is a far better shot than your father. They both know it too, staring each other down as Felix gets closer and closer.

“Stop where you are!” your father screams, his voice breaking.

Felix ignores him, gun still raised. Your father fires a shot that goes wide. Felix does not even blink as it ricochets off a wall. He walks calmly to the sidewalk where your father stands. He does not smirk or gloat. He just looks at the frightened man who terrorized the world to make himself feel better, and he lines up a shot.

Felix pulls the trigger.

Nothing happens.

His brow furrows before his face twists with fury. The gun has jammed or it’s out of bullets, but either way it is useless. He lowers his arm, the gun dangling from his hand as he stares at your father.

Your father just laughs, a ridiculous and semi-hysterical laugh as he stumbles back but never lowers the gun. Felix is much closer now. Even your father could not miss this shot.

Felix drops his gun and smiles weakly.

“She’s funny, you know,” Felix says. “And smarter than anyone I know. She picks up on things everyone else misses. It’s too bad you can’t see it. But then, you’re not like her.”

“Shut up,” your father snaps. “You have exceeded your uses, boy.”

You realize you are running. Even before the conscious thought reaches your mind, your body spurs you into action. Instinct commandeers control and you hand yourself over to it. Felix looks up just as you emerge from the dark. He sees your face for a split second, enough time for him to realize what you are doing and shout, “Stop!”

Your father’s finger is already on the trigger. A shot rings out and this time it does hit you, sharp and searing as you dive in front of Felix.

The gun hits the ground. Your father looks at you with petrified eyes. Felix catches you, supporting your weight as he sinks to his knees with you in his arms.

“Sweetheart,” he says, touching your face, your neck, your chest. “Sweetheart, look at me. Stay with me.”

The pain is excruciating, like nothing you have ever felt before. You cannot even tell where it is coming from. It feels like your neck and shoulder and heart all at once. It radiates and burns. The pain is so overwhelming that you do not notice the wet, tacky feeling of blood. You see it before you feel it, all over Felix’s fingers as he finds the bullet wound in your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he says, barely more than a gasp. His chest is rising and falling rapidly. You scream in agony when he grabs your shoulder and squeezes it hard in his fist. “I know, I know,” he says. “It exited clean. There’s nothing vital there. You’ll be okay, sweetheart, I got you. I just have to staunch the blood. We just have to—” His voice breaks on a sob and he looks up at your father, his hand covered in your blood and his rage as red on his face. “We have to get her help. Now.”

Your father’s response is to pick up the gun. He nearly drops it, his shaking hands clammy, but he gets an unsteady grip eventually. He points it at Felix again.

“Are you fucking serious?” Felix shouts in aggravation. “Your daughter is going to bleed to death if you don’t do something. Put the fucking gun down!”

“Get away from her,” your father says. “Get away from her and put your hands up. I’ll get her help.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head then crying when pain lances down your neck. “No, Felix. Don’t.”

Your father will not take another shot at Felix, not with you in his arms. Your father might want to control you, but he does not want you dead. You are the only thing that is protecting Felix now. If he moves, he dies.

“Don’t go,” you beg. “Felix, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Felix says. He looks up at your father, venom in his voice as he asks, “Are you really going to stand there and let your daughter die?”

“Are you going sit there and let her die?” your father retorts. “Get away from her and I will save her.”

You feel Felix twitch. He presses his fingers a little harder, stopping a rush of blood. It makes you weep and you plead, “Felix no. Please. I can’t watch that. I’d rather it end like this.”

“Don’t say that.” Felix looks down at you. His bloody hand is shaking, tears spilling down his cheeks as he looks at you. “Nothing’s ending. You’re gonna be fine.”

“It never ends,” your father babbles. He almost drops the gun when he trips over the lip of the sidewalk, stumbling backwards into the street as he stares at you. You stare back, wondering if it is your blurry vision or if he is really crying. All you can see is him wiping his face, the gun trembling in his hand. “It just keeps going,” he says. “Only I can end it.”

He is taking aim again. You cannot tell if he is aiming for you or Felix, maybe some half-baked delirious plan in his twisted mind to put you out of your misery and take Felix with you.

Felix does not have time to attack. He can only curl his body around yours to protect you from the shot.

Then a beam of light shatters the dark. It flies up the street, illuminating your father. He looks in that direction. Everyone is drowning in their sobs and it is all so loud that it takes a second to hear it: the heavy, growling drone of a speeding car, hurtling ever closer. The white of a high-beam headlight blinds your father with lightning hot intensity.

It is the last thing he ever sees.

Felix is as startled as you. You both cry out in horrified shock. He blocks your body to shield you from the sudden and unexpected gore. Noiseless convulsions tremble through your whole body as you stare up at Felix, not understanding what just happened.

You both look over as the car rapidly reverses, disappearing just as quickly as it came. In its wake is your father, or what remains of him.

Just like that, the whole world tilts on its axis.

You cannot comprehend what you are seeing. This man was a towering, nightmarish monstrosity, bigger than life and death, holding the world in his fist. Even he desperately believed in his own mythology. It seems impossible that he could be that nightmare but also be this, a broken and very human body, muscle and gristle and protruding bone, half flattened to the tarmac. A sudden and entirely undignified death, comically animal, and as lowly as everything he ever disparaged.

You and Felix stare at him, at the mess of his ruined dead body on the dark street. It is so, so quiet. The house is so still. The street is empty. You can hear the soft buzz of the floodlights.

You make a hurt noise. Felix looks down with a perplexed shake of his head. But he only has a moment to mind you, his mouth open with some unspoken thought, when you hear the car again.

You both look over, your heart racing and your blood spilling over his hand. He is wearing his most determined face, braced to face an adversary.

You do not know who to anticipate. It makes no sense for Miroh to be here. He would not have known anything unusual was transpiring at this house tonight. How could he know to send someone? Yet it is the only thing that makes sense. The only person who could have taken down someone like your father would be someone just like him.

You are braced for the worst when the car comes to a stop. The dead body looks more grotesque as the headlights flash over it.

The driver does not turn off the engine. You hear the patter of frantic footsteps before the silhouette is illuminated by the car lights. Wide eyes meet yours and your heart stutters. Your tears are halted by the face staring back at you.

“Oh my god,” Jisung says. “That was the bad guy, right?”

Felix reacts first, a bark of laughter made in disbelief as he stares at your startled best friend.

Han Jisung is both the same and different, with a flop of dark hair and big brown eyes, but years have passed, leaving him bulkier and more mature. He pushes a pair of glasses up his nose, the wide frames only exaggerating his eyes, making it very easy to hold his gaze when he looks at you.

“Jisung,” you say, and start crying all over again. “Jisung.” You cannot seem to find another word. You just gasp his name between sobs.

Jisung practically flies towards you, landing on his knees.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, carefully touching your cheek. “You’ve looked better, I’m not gonna lie.”

You laugh even though it hurts, reaching for him with a shaking hand. He takes it despite it being sticky with blood, cupping it safely in his own.

“You’re here,” you say. “How? Why?”

“Of course I’m here,” he replies in a soft voice. “I got in my car as soon as I saw that goodbye message.” He gently squeezes your hand. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away twice, did you?”

Your laugh is more of a sob, in too much pain to truly smile. Felix asks Jisung to help, showing him where to apply pressure. Jisung complies, holding you while Felix tugs off his shirt. It leaves him in a tank top, all his scars and bruises on display. You want to fuss over him too but he gives you no opportunity to linger, using his shirt as a makeshift tourniquet for your wound.

“So your boyfriend is Felix,” Jisung says while he works. “That’s great. I was rooting for you two crazy kids. Felix had a pretty obvious crush on you in high school. I didn’t say anything because you kinda seemed to hate his guts but I guess that’s not true anymore. You had some bigger bastards to hate. Speaking of, that was your dad I got right? I mean, I didn’t even think, I just saw him waving that gun around and I hit the pedal. Next thing I knew—ohhh shit, Felix, you’re really strong, what the fuck, man. Have you been working out—”

Felix scoops you into his arms and stands. His usual unwavering strength falters just a little, his injuries protesting his action. You tell him to put you down because it will do no good for you both to collapse. Jisung stands and helps steady you. They both lay a hand on your back, taking some of your weight as your feet touch the ground and you wobble.

“That’s my girl,” Jisung says. “Oh man, that’s a lot of blood, ha ha ha – AHH. No, it’s fine, we’re okay. Careful—”

“Jisung,” Felix says, looking past you to meet his eye. “Are you okay?”

A more than fair question considering how fast everything just happened. Jisung stops rambling and takes a few deep breaths before he answers.

“Okay, yeah,” he says. “Totally fine. For now.”

“Okay,” Felix says. “Because I need you to take her while I—”

Your ignore their conversation. Your eyes are on your father. You cannot even call it his body; it is a carcass. His lower half is gored but his face is mostly whole. You half-expect his mouth to open with a wailing shout. You are so distracted with the thought, you misstep and your weak ankles give out. You are spared a kiss with the pavement when Jisung catches you. It is a haphazard embrace, throwing his arms around you to keep you upright.

“Can you take care of her until I get back?” Felix asks.

“Uh-huh. Yes,” Jisung says. He puts his growing bulk to use and lifts you into his arms, bridal style. You cannot move your shoulder to lift your arms around him, but you rest your head in the curve of his neck as he carries you to his car.

His car. Hysterical giggles bubble inside you, quashed only by the physical ache of your body. Han Jisung really raced back into your life and annihilated the worst of your demons by driving right at him.

Years of nightmares and beatings and pain. Years of your father lording his power over you and the world. Years of believing he was terrifying and untouchable.

Jisung always said it was that easy. He was just a teenager, lookingat the impossible powers that surrounded his friend but believing whole-heartedly he could save her anyway. You argued and pushed him away, but he knew better all along. Jisung was not cowed by money and influence, not impressed or frightened by men like your father who ravaged the world and gloated about it. Jisung had no power or influence of his own but that didn’t matter. He saw his friend was in a bad situation and he wanted to save you. So he did.

He carefully rests you in the passenger seat. In the time it takes him to circle to the driver’s side, you break down crying. The pain exacerbates it, your body seeking release, but it is sentiment that pours out of your heart.

Jisung gets in, looking very startled. He adjusts his glasses.

“Did it get worse?” he asks, reaching for you with a bloody hand. You look at it, you look at him, very literally stained with blood on your behalf. He is staying composed but you can see the jitters under his skin. He just killed someone for you. It might have been a panicked, spur of the moment decision, but the end result was the same. Even though your father was not a good man, taking a life is a serious burden.

And here he is, placing that weight aside so he can check on you.

“Jisung,” you say. You wish your hands were not so dirty because you want to touch his face or hold his hand. You satisfy yourself with leaning towards him, touching your forehead to his cheek as you cry.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jisung says. He shifts so your foreheads are touching, his clean hand cupping your cheek. “I got you, okay? It’s over now. Felix is gonna take care of it and I’m gonna take care of you. It’ll be okay. Don’t be scared, all right?”

“I’m not,” you say. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You’re my friend,” Jisung says. “You don’t have to do anything to deserve it, okay? Look. I know what will make you feel better.” He reaches past you into the glove compartment. You have no idea what he could possibly have in there that will make you feel better while bleeding out of a bullet wound in the passenger seat of his car, the same car he used to murder your abusive father.

He fishes around then pulls out a bag of spicy peanuts, the same flavour you used to eat all the time in high school. Even though he was allergic, he bought them whenever he found them, just because he knew you liked them.

You take them slowly, staring at the familiar packaging. You sniffle.

“It was always going to be you, wasn’t it?” you say softly. You could cry all over again. “You really came back.”

Of course Jisung saved you. You realize now your father could never be bested by Miroh or someone like him. They would be locked in a perpetual stalemate, predicting each other’s every step, giving and taking and killing in a circle of violence with no end. But Jisung is not like them.

Whether the gesture was big or small, whether it was peanuts or a rescue, it was selfless, and someone like your father would never understand that. He never saw it coming.

“Well, yeah,” Jisung says. “My promise was forever, remember?”

You can only nod, bumping your heads together. Jisung wraps you in a hug then kisses your forehead before buckling in and taking the steering wheel.

“All right,” he says. “We can catch up after. Let’s get away from this place. It’s giving me the creeps.”

It is strange looking at your house on a news report. It makes you feel like you are watching someone else’s life.

You are stitched and showered, sitting on the floor of a twin bed motel room. You are still damp from the shower but each little trickle feels like blood, your jittery fingers constantly swiping at your skin.

Jisung sits behind you on the bed, his legs bracketing you, double checking your stitches. Felix said it was paramount to avoid a hospital or any other institution that would identify you. He told Jisung to book a room at a motel on the highway and wait for him, that he would stitch you up himself when he arrived. Jisung took the initiative, boasting some first aid training for his job at the grocery store.

“Usually I’m putting bandages on a cut finger,” Jisung said, hands covered in blood as he fixed your wound, “but this is, uh, similar I guess. Sort of.”

Felix arrived while you were in the shower. Now he is in there, cleaning himself and minding his own injuries while you and Jisung watch the evening news report. The blinds are closed, rain pelting the canopy over the balcony, but you are tucked away from the storm, hidden from the world as it mourns you.

“A devastating house fire is believed to have left no survivors on the premises,” the reporter says, backdropped with a video of an inferno ravaging your father’s house. “Police are still investigating, but among the suspected dead is a prominent local businessman and his daughter.” They show a portrait of your father and an old yearbook photo of you. That girl looks nothing like the battered woman you are now. You really do feel like you are watching someone’s else story end.

“Wow,” Jisung says, watching too. “How does it feel to be dead?”

You rest your head against his knee, sighing as you stare at the television.

“I’m not dead,” you say, staring at the photo of you. That girl might be dead, but you are very alive.

Felix accidentally swings the bathroom door too hard, the thud like a gunshot in your mind. You jump a mile out of your skin, digging your nails into Jisung’s leg unthinkingly.

“Ah ah ah ah—” Jisung grabs your wrist to pry you off.

“Sorry,” Felix says, truly apologetic. He closes the door with a gentle click then approaches. He sits beside Jisung on the bed, laying his hand on your head and looking you over. “How are you?” Felix asks. He pays no mind to the news report but that is likely because he is responsible for the story they are broadcasting. You know Felix would tell you every detail if you asked, but you decide you do not want to know how he moved the bodies around. It is enough to see the walls of that place burning.

He packed a few things first. A stuffed duffel bag sits on the other bed. Perhaps it should feel daunting, that all you have left is a single bag of necessities, but it feels freeing. You are not burdened by the weight of more. Your hands might be shaking and you might be hurt in more ways than one, but you can exhale.

You take Felix’s hands and kiss his scraped knuckles.

“I’m fine,” you say. “What about you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he says. He looks more tired than you have ever seen him, but he manages a laugh when you pout at him. “Don’t do that,” he says, flicking your bottom lip. “Just some bad bruises, yeah? I’ll be fine.”

You know he is not fine but you respect his desire for peace. You can check his injuries later when he has settled.

“Well then, what about you, Jisungie?” you ask. You turn around to face him. “How are you?”

“Uh, honestly…” Jisung rakes his fingers through his hair then exhales on a shaky laugh. “I’ll let you know when I know. It’s all a bit—uh—”

“Yeah,” you say, taking his hand. “I know.”

You suspect there will be no proper words for a while. You cannot even think of recovery while your wounds throb. There are still gunshots firing in your mind. When you close your eyes, you see a body on the pavement. You expect a knock at the door and a gun in your face, even though there is no reason for that. Miroh is probably sitting back and laughing at the detonation of your father’s house. Your father’s people and investors will scramble over the company tomorrow. That world will turn without you. You will not miss it.

You struggle to sleep that night. You lay on your back to mind your shoulder but that is not your only grievance. Felix lays beside you where he belongs and Jisung is in the other bed, so you are not alone anymore, but your adrenaline will not dwindle. Now that you have a moment of peace, it feels more chaotic than ever.

When you start breathing harder, Felix wraps an arm around you.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers. He does not ask what is wrong. It is more than self-explanatory. You do not need to speak.

You want to roll over and bury your face in his neck, but you cannot move because of your shoulder. You suffice to hold his arm tight, closing your eyes as his protective embrace surrounds you. His heart beats against your body and you let it lull you into a gentle repose.

You do not sleep for long. There is morning light when you wake but it is a bleary, early grey light. Everything smells a little damp from the rain. This is a small motel, meant to serve as a momentary respite for passing travellers. You cannot stay here.

Felix wakes when you do. After a few morning kisses, he rises to use the washroom. Jisung is still fast asleep in his bed, his cheek squished and his hair a shaggy mess on the pillow. You smile, looking at him. There is a gap between the beds but he is close enough to touch if you stretch. You content yourself with looking, thinking about how lucky you are to have him again. It is a light and happy thought, but it darkens very swiftly when you recall what he did to save you. It is going to weigh on him, whether all at once or in pieces.

The weight of trauma will be a heavy burden, but you are alive to carry it. There are others who are less lucky. You think about Hyunjin and your heart strains, recalling his final miserable departure. Your father implied he had Hyunjin killed. If he was not bluffing to antagonize you, then Hyunjin did not stand a chance.

You are sniffling with tears when Jisung blinks awake. He mutters in groggy gibberish before reaching for his glasses. His tired voice is tinged with concern when he asks, “What is it? Do you need something?”

“No,” you say, wiping your tears. “I was just thinking I know where I want to go next.”

It is hard to talk about Hyunjin so you opt for vagueness over specificity. The boys do not question the subject of the cabin when you mention his name. You do not tell them he might be dead. You feel like if you speak it out loud, it will make it true.

It will take a week to reach the cabin by car. Jisung helps you loads the necessities into the back a truck that Felix procured, only questioning its seeming manifestation after the fact.

“I stole it,” Felix answers.

“You stole a car?” Jisung asks. It is a good thing the motel parking lot is empty because he practically shouts it, like stealing a car is the most horrifying thing he has ever heard. You remember how you had the same reaction the first time Felix stole a vehicle.

It makes you laugh when Felix draws his lips into a thin line, shaking his head at Jisung. He turns to you and says, “You two really are identical, you know?”

“What does that mean?” Jisung asks.

“I said the same thing the last time he stole a car,” you say.

“Dude!” Jisung whips around. “You stole two cars?”

“You know I’ve killed people, right?” Felix says dryly.

“Well yeah, I mean, who hasn’t,” Jisung says with a nervous giggle.

You whack him on the arm and shake your head. “That’s not funny,” you say.

“It’s a little funny,” he whispers while you roll your eyes.

Though you want to keep him at your side, it feels selfish to ask Jisung to come with you. He has a life here and he has already done so much to help you. But he surprises you by emphatically volunteering himself, saying he at least wants to help get you there.

“I don’t think I could just walk back into my normal life tomorrow like nothing happened,” Jisung says, tucking you under one arm. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen next. Can’t control it. But I know where I want to be right now. I’ll figure out the rest after.”

So you take to the road, your destination a small cabin far away from your old life. You stop along the way, at first for food and other necessities, mostly stolen by Felix, but then for pleasure when you drive through towns with interesting landmarks. On the clearer nights, you sleep in the bed of the truck.

You still do not stop for a real discussion. You indulge the mental break while you can, all three of you taking the time to literally stop and smell the flowers on the journey.

Bandages still need changing. Stitches need minding. The night before your anticipated arrival, you are in another motel room. You and Felix sit in the small kitchenette, playing cards at the tiny table, while Jisung showers and goes about his nightly routine.

You throw down a couple cards. You look at Felix while he studies his hand. The swelling on his face has gone down which is good for numerous reasons. He has been wearing a baseball cap everywhere, the brim pulled low, to stop people from staring.

There is a hard set to his shoulders. It has been like that for a few days. Even in your father’s house, there were moments Felix would soften, namely when he was curled up in your shared bed and the world seemed far away. Maybe he cannot relax because the world is so immediate now. It is strange that potential happiness can cause as much anxiety as its opposite. Perhaps it is because it is so unfamiliar. Your body only knows how to brace itself.

Felix was raised for that express purpose. Road trips and gardens and motel rooms was not in his training. High school corridors and uniforms once baffled him, the mundanity of everyday life more exhilarating and frightening than a battlefield.

You want to smooth his brow and soften his shoulders. He sits like he is holding a breath and you want to draw it out of him. A part of your stirs with arousal at the consideration, thinking how you could do that. You have always found your humanity in that intimate space. But you are both much too injured to try anything heavier than a kiss right now.

This time, you reach across the table and touch his cheek, with no intention but a soft caress. He blinks up at you, the cards forgotten. You do not know what to say. You just touch him.

He cups his hand over yours, holding it to his cheek. He looks at your shoulder and other bruises. It will take you a long time to heal, but nothing is infected. You do not know how his injuries are faring because he will not let anyone look at them. He claims he is fine. You know he is not.

“I love you,” you say. “I swear it gets stronger every day. Is that crazy? Not a day goes by where I am not grateful for you, just as you are.”

He closes his eyes and swallows. He nods.

“I love you too,” he says in a soft, low voice.

When Jisung leaves to get some dinner, Felix proves you wrong about lovemaking. You are too injured for anything vigorous, but he can still lay you down, can still stretch alongside you. He slips his hand beneath your waistband and touches you with long, careful strokes. You unravel in his arms, your sore spots aching but the pain worth the pleasure. You wrap a hand around the back of his neck and tug him down for a kiss. You kiss him until he sighs and rests his forehead to yours.

“Can I please see?” you ask.

He finally acquiesces. His scars are not too bad, more plentiful than painful. He hisses but exhales when you kiss your way across a couple worse marks.

“We’ll find a way to feel better,” you say, grazing your fingertips along his skin. You recall what Jisung said, about how you did not have to deserve love, you just had to accept it. “You don’t need to prove yourself anymore, Felix,” you say. You dance your fingers down his bare chest to his waistband, kissing his shoulder as he sucks in a breath. “Just be with me. Let me love you.”

“Always,” he says, dropping his head back as you touch him. He cups the nape of your neck, squeezing lightly as you flick your wrist and stroke.

You reach the cabin the next day. It is late afternoon when you find the right place, passing a few other cabins before you find a quaint but charming one in the midst of a meadow. The cabin itself does not flaunt much excess, but the meadow is flooded with flowers, a carpet of colour in the late afternoon light that makes it look like a something out of a fairy tale.

The only problem is the smoke in the chimney. The cabin is clearly occupied.

“Is this the right place?” Felix asks. He and Jisung were admiring the meadow while you stared at the cabin, heart palpitating when you realized it was not empty.

“It is,” you say.

“Maybe it’s Hyunjin,” Jisung says.

“It’s not.” You close your eyes. Hyunjin did not say anything about selling the property when you brought it up. But, then again, there was a lot happening in that final exchange. You made him promise he would try to get away if he could, but it might have been an empty platitude. He knew he was going to die. He knew you would never find out anyway.

The distractions of the past week flutter into nothingness as you reckon with the grim reality of the world your father left behind. You hang your head, swallowing hard.

Jisung and Felix stare at you, their faces falling when they realize what you mean.

“How?” Jisung asks.

“My father chased him down,” you say. “He used him. He discarded him. It’s what he does.”

“What he did,” Jisung reminds you. “And maybe Hyunjin got away. We did! That stupid hot weasel was a bitch but he was resourceful as fuck.”

“Jisuuung,” you say, smacking his arm.

“What? I’m not speaking ill of the dead because he’s not dead,” Jisung argues. “And if he was, he wouldn’t want me to suddenly be all fake and nice to him. I annoy him. That’s how I show my love.” He kisses two fingers and waves it at the sky, then flips his middle finger too. You laugh in spite of yourself, shaking your head.

Felix steps behind you and takes your hand. He kisses your cheek. A breeze blows through his hair, his hat in his other hand. The three of you stand in the meadow for a time, looking at the flowers as you contemplate what to do next.

The front door of the cabin opens. You all turn. An apology sits on your tongue, sorry for trespassing on someone else’s property. The sight of you is no doubt disconcerting. Despite showers and meticulous first aid, you all look very rough, three obviously tired and run down people, a little dusty from the road and streaked with dirt from your hike to the cabin.

You look at the person as they stand on the front stoop. Your brow furrows and the apology disintegrates on your tongue, a bemused question poised to take it’s place.

“Minho?” is all you manage.

You have not seen your first teenage crush in many, many years. He looks older but not too different overall. He is still very striking, even in his homey flannel and jeans, standing on the cabin stoop and looking at you with equal confusion.

“Do I know you?” he asks, which makes sense. You might have had a crush on him, but so did half the school. He was a popular guy. He knew Hyunjin but he only met you briefly.

You want to tell him that. You want to say you are friends with Hyunjin but you find it hard to say his name, especially with Minho gazing at you so innocently. Why is he at the cabin? Was he still friends with Hyunjin? He likely does not know he is dead.

You are spared your turmoil when Felix tugs on your arm, a sharp bid for attention. You look at him, bemused, and he nods his head forward. You look past Minho to the open cabin door as another figure steps into view.

All that twisted pain unspools in your chest. You nearly start sobbing in relief.

“Hyunjin!” You ignore the surprised look on Minho’s face and run right past him.

Hyunjin is standing in the doorway, looking wary until he recognizes you. Then his face breaks into a smile and those long limbs jump the porch steps. You trample a few flowers that have grown over the path, meeting in an embrace amidst sprigs of lavender and vibrant hyacinths. It is a very messy embrace, you and Hyunjin both forgetting you are injured. You crash together only to yelp, your shoulder smarting and his bruised chest just as tender. You laugh at each other then hug gently. When your cheek touches his chest, your eyes water.

“Am I dead after all?” you ask thoughtlessly, the beauty of the terrain and the embrace of your friend momentarily making you think so.

Hyunjin laughs and shakes his head. “I thought you were,” he says. “It was all over the news. I thought for sure—”

“I thought for sure you—” You overlap with him, both of you laughing again. “How did you get away?”

“Nothing special,” Hyunjin says. “I was being watched but they were waiting for final orders from your father. Then word got out that he was dead so they just left. I don’t know if they went to investigate or just abandoned post. I didn’t stick around to find out. I packed my things and disappeared the first chance I got.”

“We made a few stops on the journey over,” you say. “I’m not surprised you beat us.”

“I really thought you were—” Hyunjin shakes his head. “And that it was my—”

“It wouldn’t have been your fault anyway,” you say.

“That’s what I told him,” Minho interrupts, his tone quippy but his lips quirked up in a smile. He wiggles his fingers in a wave when you look at him. “So you’re the friend,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m the friend’s friend,” Jisung says, skipping into the scene and waving at Hyunjin. “Hey, man. Missed me?”

He is being playful but Hyunjin pulls him into a hug, very obviously surprising Jisung who almost falls right over. Poor Jisung’s face goes red as a rose. You remember his video about having a crush on his high school rival and can’t help but giggle into your palms.

Felix puts a hand on your shoulder, smiling cordially at Minho. “Hi,” he says.

“This is Felix, my—” You look at each other. You lips move as you look for the right word. Bodyguard is not strictly true anymore. Boyfriend and partner sound so very mundane, but you realize that is what you are now. “Boyfriend,” you say, feeling hot with embarrassment for no good reason. You suspect the little things will have you flustered for some time.

“Boyfriend,” Felix repeats, looking quite delighted for a second. You are certain only you see the flicker of sadness that follows. He blinks, his gaze faraway, but he covers it with another smile quickly enough. “Nice to meet you,” he says.

“I guess I’ll have to make a bigger dinner,” Minho says, playfully dry like the idea is a hardship, but smiling a knowing smile at Hyunjin, clearly very happy for him. “Come on then. Get inside already. You’re crushing the tulips.”

The cabin is one floor with a loft. The main bedroom, kitchen and facilities are downstairs, some extra makeshift bedding thrown together in the small sitting area by the fireplace. The upstairs loft is a small second bedroom, sparsely furnished with a mattress and blankets and little else. The ceilings are low but the space is blessedly private. You think it is some of the finest accommodations you have ever stayed in.

You throw yourself on the mattress, curling up with a pillow and blanket. Felix smiles and leans down to kiss the top of your head. When he pulls away, you take his hand, regarding him imploringly.

“Just gonna take a shower,” he says. “Wanna clean up, yeah.”

You nod. Even though you can see he is struggling with something, you let him go. If he is not in the mood to talk, you will wait. A shower will help him feel better.

He takes his bag and climbs back down the ladder. You mean to wait for his return, but you feel such calm at finally reaching your destination. The laughing voices of your friends float up to the loft, putting you even more at ease. You release a breath and lay your head on a pillow. The next thing you know, you are blinking awake. The sky is a purpling pink, the day drawing to a close. You can smell something cooking downstairs. Your friends are still yammering away. Hyunjin’s relentless giggles at Jisung’s goofy jokes makes you smile.

You climb down the ladder and wander into the main room. Felix was not upstairs but he is not with the others either. He must have finished his shower a long time ago now.

“Where’s Felix?” you ask, an edge of panic in your voice.

“He’s just outside,” Minho says from behind the kitchen counter. “He said he just wanted some air.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little foolish for panicking without reason. “Right. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry,” Minho says, winking to comfort you. You smile but nonetheless wrap your cardigan tighter around you, feeling a little embarrassed.

Felix has been glued to your side for ten years. Your instinct now panics in his absence, but you realize his absence is a good thing. He does not need to be beside you at all times. He is free to wander if that is what he wants. You are glad he stepped outside for some air, rather than sitting over you.

You step onto the small porch and look across the meadow. You can see a shape sitting among the flowers at the edge of the field, looking down the slope to the park valley below. You cross the flowers, minding where you step. The breeze parts your cardigan and you tug it closed. It is a somewhat clumsy walk overall. Your last few steps are a proper stumble over a rock. You miss it completely, distracted with what you find.

Felix sits with his back to you. You thought he was wearing a hat, but now you can see it is his hair. He dyed it a shock of pitch black and trimmed the edges. It is a messy, jagged cut that you will certainly have to fix later. You suspect he did not spend much time looking in the mirror.

“What’s this?” you ask. “Is this why you wanted to stop at that drug store?”

Felix looks up at you. The dark hair somehow makes his freckles stand out more. He looks different but still very handsome. You think you might be falling in love all over again, a little flushed inside as you sit beside him on the grass.

“Yeah,” he says. He runs his fingers through his hair, glancing up at the dark locks from beneath his lashes. He sighs. “And I don’t know why. I just…”

You put your arm around him, drawing him close to rest his head on your good shoulder. He falls against you, breathing out again. His shoulders droop, losing some of the tension that has plagued him.

“I don’t know what to do now,” he says. “I know this is all good, but I feel like I’ve done something wrong. Like I’m not supposed to be here. And I keep thinking about Chris. How I—” He rubs his face, then chokes tears. “What am I supposed to do with all this life, especially when I couldn’t give him back his?”

He cries properly now and you let him. There is no right thing to say, not that you can think of, so you just hold him until he has expended the worst of his pain through his tears. He takes a few shaking breaths before he sits upright, wiping his face. You rub a circle on his back.

“And you,” he whispers. “It’s like, I feel everything all at once. You call me your boyfriend and I’m happy, then I see you hugging Hyunjin and I think—he knows how to be a person. I don’t know how to be anything.”

“Felix, you know Hyunjin is gay, right?” you ask. You guarded that secret before but seeing as Minho is here at the cabin, you suspect Hyunjin is not keeping it secret anymore.

Felix stutters on a shaking breath, looking momentarily confused.

“Huh? He is?” he asks, then gets a little weepy again, saying, “That’s nice for him.”

“Oh, baby,” you say. You kiss his cheek and snuggle close to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what to say. I’m a mess too. I don’t know how to do any of this right. But I’m pretty sure grieving your friend makes you more of a person, not less.” You look at each other. You touch his cheek and stroke a thumb over his freckles. You think you have them mapped by memory, every last dot. “You’re not alone,” you say. “I want to be with you when things are bad, not just when they’re good. And you and me, we’ve known a lot of bad.”

He laughs, his breath dancing over your lips with your proximity. You smile fondly.

“I think it’s time we feel some good,” you say. “We’ll figure out what that means eventually. Together.”

He draws you close and kisses you, a sweet kiss that deepens. You cuddle when the breeze blows a little harder, the evening chill creeping into the sunset. Still, you do not move, sharing heat between you and sitting among the flowers until the pink has left the sky and a blue evening blurs into the purple wash.

Minho sticks his head out the door to call you in for dinner. You stand first and offer your hand. Felix takes it, then kisses you one more time. You walk back to the cabin, hand in hand.

Warmth wraps around you like a fuzzy blanket when you step inside from the cold. Hyunjin and Jisung are playfully arguing at the table, Minho standing over them and yammering some nonsense back. You and Felix smile at each other before joining them all at the table. After he has served the portions, Minho sits as well.

There is a moment of silence, everyone looking around the table at everyone else. They all looked flushed with warmth and life, Hyunjin smiling and Jisung beaming at you. Felix puts his hand on your knee under the table, squeezing softly. You look at him with another smile, then a laugh, a sound of disbelief that resonates with everyone. You are here, impossibly but truly. You have no idea what happens now.

“I’ll break the ice,” Jisung says. “Because I have a confession, while we’re all here, and Hyunjin has his hot boyfriend cooking us a meal. Hyunjin, my man, I’m sorry for being the dick of all dicks when we were in high school.” Jisung lays a hand on his heart and dramatically makes his confession. Hyunjin’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as your goofy friend continues, “Turns out having an arch nemesis is super gay. And I was a stupid repressed bisexual who thought furiously staring at you for seven hours a day was a totally normal thing to do. Sorry, man. Congrats on the hot boyfriend, though.”

“I’m not his boyfriend,” Minho says. His elbow is on the table, chin in his hand. He is grinning at Jisung.

“Come again?” Jisung says.

“Not his boyfriend,” Minho says, laughing. “I’m his friend. He was in trouble and asked for my help. I’m a good friend so here I am, helping him get settled. I’m actually married.” He holds up his hand, proudly displaying a wedding band. He giggles some more. “He’s single, though.” He gestures to Hyunjin.

Jisung looks at Hyunjin who has gone very pink in the face. He glances at Jisung and laughs, covering his mouth to try and contain it.

“Oh. Oh. Oh. Yeah. Cool.” Jisung scratches the back of his neck, then his brow, then his chin. He taps the table and nods his head rapidly. “Awesome,” he says. “Well, I’m really glad we clarified that before I made a really ridiculous confession in front of everyone. That would have been super embarrassing for me.”

You all laugh, genuinely as Jisung soaks it in with a silly little grin. The sound of your collective delight fills the cabin before chatter begins again and you start eating.

You glance around the table while taking a bite. Your shoulder aches, and Felix’s bruises are still healing, and you will not be surprised if a nightmare jolts one of you out of sleep tonight. But you will wake beside Felix, you will comfort each other, and you will fall back asleep. You will wake up tomorrow and try it all again.

You know the times ahead will not always be easy. You are ready to make mistakes and try.

It is not a perfect ending, but it is a perfect beginning.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader

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howdoesagrapewrites · 4 months

Text

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐕

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, sexual content, no actual smut, again, Daemon is violent

Taglist: @faesspace

>Jacaerys had come to terms with his status as a bastard, even though it was never to be said out loud

>Laenor was still his father, even if not biologically, he was the men he called "dada" with his first words, and it would remain that way for the rest of his life

>This made him closer to you, your situation was different, as everybody knew you were a bastard, and you were not to inherit anything

>He felt like he had to prove people wrong about him, so he overexerted himself. There was little you could do to stop him, so you contented with staying by his side in the library, late at night, falling asleep to his voice practicing high valyrian

>In these nights, you likely had little Aegon or Viserys on your lap, because they'd cry until they were put to sleep only by your or their mother

>Jacaerys would revel in this image, you peacefully asleep, holding babes, your silver hair caressing your cheeks

>He could sometimes allow himself to imagine what if the children you were holding were his, if you could be his queen. If he could kiss you and rut against you, if he could suck your nipples until milk would come out

>But he was always quick to dismiss these ideas, you were forbidden fruit, and the last thing a bastard king needs, is a bastard queen. His mother had gone through hell and back to uphold his claim to the iron throne, and he would not disappoint her, no matter how desperately he needed you

>And even though, he was ashamed to admit it, he was scared of his step-father. There was one specific memory he would always go back to

>He was a young man, maybe a little older than you. And he had come to Dragonstone while you were in King's Landing with Rhaenyra. He had come bearing expensive gifts and displaying a beautiful crimson doublet with embroidery details in gold and plum

>He had spoken flowery promises of old alliances of his house with the conqueror, and Daemon's face was reflecting his achingly strong boredom and weariness, demanding him he speak whatever idiotic trade he had in mind. That's when the lord said he'd be "most delighted" to present himself as a suitor for lady Y/N. Daemon didn't respond, he let the awkward silence seat, he let him marinate in anxiety. He then took his dark sister and cut the poor boy's head off. He told his guard he'd be spared if he returned to tell the tale, that no one should try to approach his firstborn daughter.

>"Nobody likes a peeping Tom" he shouted to Jacaerys, who was hidden watching the scene

>He still sometimes thinks of how easily his head fell off his neck, how quickly it did

>So he knew Y/N couldn't be his, not now not ever. But he still hated to know there was one person that Daemon could not scare off

>Jacaerys felt lucky he could see your metamorphosis from a girl to a maiden in a first row seat, but this change meant that one day you'd leave, and he'd have to get a wife, a proper wife for a king

>But that person that was not scared of Daemon, also didn't have that problem. He was talking about Daeron Targaryen

>Despite the collective best efforts of the Velaryon brothers, you still talked to Daeron regularly, fortunately, not as much now that he was in Oldtown, but still too much for their liking

>Lucerys did not realize the puppy crush he had on you, thinking he just saw you as his older sister, but he was on board with anything that meant sabotaging your possible paramours

>So they were incredibly frustrated when they all had to travel to King's Landing, and Daeron was going to be there

>Lucerys used Daeron's presence to distract himself from the fact that his grandsire could die, and that that was the real reason why they were there, for him to inherit Driftmark

>This was the first time in years you'd actually spend time with Aemond, as you would avoid him everytime you visited

>Dagahrion was too large for the dragon pit, so he stays in a cave in Aegon's hill

>Alicent ran to hug you, Rhaenyra stood there, silently judging her

>When you went to see your uncle Viserys, it was heartbreaking, he called for you, and you kneeled at the edge of his face, so he could see you clearly. It took him some time to recognize you

>"Y/N... She's nothing but an infant, I know she must be playing, but I'd like to see her"

>You patiently explained, until he could remember you, you saw a lonely tear when the realization of your age, and the pass of time had hit him

>You got into an argument with your father when he accused Alicent

>"Can't you see she just wants to have your trust to whore you out to his depraved sons?!"

>"Are you one to talk about depravity, father?!" You shouted, offended and angry at him

>"I am one to talk because I know exactly what goes through the heads of men like that, and I know exactly the type of woman that bitch is"

>"What are you scared of? That someone might treat me like you did my mother?!" You are a dragon, and you spit fire. Your father goes quiet, not out of shame, but out of astonishment. He had waited so much time to see himself in you, he thought that your lack of ill intentions was what made you perfect, but it was not. Daemon would enjoy seeing more of this, after all, it would be laughable if an innocent, irreproachable maiden rode a dragon like yours

>Daemon smiled at you and left the room, leaving puzzled and embarrassed at your words

>Rhaenys and the twins were second to greet you, your sisters had missed you so dearly

>They excitedly spoke of all that happened, and how much they missed being with you, you spent an hour in the gardens before you were interrupted, to go to Lucerys' hearing

>After catching up, Rhaenys left you to have "girl time" with them, they hugged you once again, and you could swear Rhaena left a kiss on your collarbone, and Baela's hands wondered a little too low from your back to your tailbone

>The announcement of the marriages had complicated reactions, you could see it, but you were glad the family would remain together, strong

>You hugged Lucerys when Vaemond yelled for all the realm to hear of his accusations, and you saw your father smiling at you and Rhaenyra once he had sliced Vaemond Velaryon in half

>During dinner, you sat between Jacaerys and Baela

>You were pleased to share a table with your family, it had been so long since you last did

>Aegon's unsavory comments made you cringe, but you sweetly smiled when Jace and Baela defended you, Alicent and Daemon were glaring daggers at him

>When it was time for the toasts, you looked at Helaena with sadness, thinking of how miserable Aegon had made her

>You toasted to your uncle Viserys, Viserys the peaceful, who had earned his title as protector of the realm

>Aemond kept looking at you, you could not decipher his expression, what he wanted from you

>You danced with Daeron and Helaena, Rhaena then joined, with her pentoshi grace and coquettish moves, she had always loved dancing the most out of you three

>The tone completely changed once Aemond decided to toast to his nephews, the three strong boys

>Before Jace could go to punch him, you spoke up

>"Say what you mean, cousin" you taunted

>"It was but merely a compliment, don't you believe your step brothers to be strong?'

>"I believe my king ordered to cut off the tongue of everyone who would insinuate or reference the foul rumors spoken against your future queen and king"

>"That was the day I lost my eye, was it not, dear cousin?" He spoke with a voice that made you want to recoil, it was frankly disgusting

>"It was, if I were you I wouldn't want to become Aemond One Eye and no tongue" you could almost feel your father's approval as you spoke poison

>With all the noise and stress, you felt your knees start to fail, you could see Daeron was holding you

>Aemond walked towards you before being stopped by a punch from Jacaerys

>After seeing Jace come to you, you blacked out

>Of course your fainting was attributed to being a young maiden in the presence of violence, but you knew something was strange

>Though it ended in a bitter note, you knew your spell was beyond psychological, you felt sick, maybe it was the food

>The maesters said you were not fit for travel, nor boat less dragonback

>Daemon refused to leave you on King's Landing, trying to sneak your asleep body out of the castle to take you with him on top of Caraxes, but he was discovered

>When he inevitably had to go, he left you in Misarya's care, had you wake up and be unable to travel back to your family, she would be rewarded handsomely to take you to Dragonstone

>The night prince Daemon left, was the night Viserys the peaceful, first if his name, died

#dragon jaws #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere targaryens #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #daeron targaryen x reader #daeron targaryen #rhaena of pentos #Rhaena Targaryen x reader #Baela Targaryen x reader #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader

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twinsimming · 7 months

Text

New Scholarships by Twinsimming 🎓

"Need some extra simoleons for university? Sims University now offers a variety of scholarships for prospective students!"

This is a script mod that can be placed in your Packages folder. It was built and tested on 1.69 but should work fine on 1.67.

Requirements

To access all of the scholarships available with this mod, the following packs and store content are required:

The Sims 3: World Adventures

The Sims 3: Ambitions

The Sims 3: Generations

The Sims 3: Showtime

The Sims 3: Supernatural

The Sims 3: Seasons

The Sims 3: University Life

The Sims 3: Island Paradise

The Sims 3: Into the Future

Fit As a Fiddle Violin (The Sims 3 Store)

Artisan Glassblowing Station (The Sims 3 Store)

Stiff as a Board, Light as a Feather Dance Floor (The Sims 3 Store)

Overview

Applying for Scholarships

Types of Scholarships

Maintaining Scholarships

New Moodlets

Online Aptitude Test

New Cheat

Applying for Scholarships

Teen sims and older have a new “Apply for Scholarships” interaction available at the school rabbithole or on the computer under “Sims University Online”. Though they’re less likely to win a scholarship if they apply online rather than in person.

If your sim wins a scholarship, they will not be able to reapply for that scholarship again. If they do not win, they will be given a Disappointed moodlet and have to wait a day before applying again.

Types of Scholarships

There are four (4) types of scholarships your sims can apply for: General, Legacy, Skill Based, and Occult. In total, there are 18 scholarships, each with their own custom moodlet.

Sims have a 45% chance of winning a scholarship in the General, Legacy, and Occult categories when applying in-person and a 40% chance when applying online.

Sims have a 6% chance of winning a Skill Based scholarship at Level 1 of the required skill. This chance multiplies with each skill level, with a maximum of a 60% chance at Level 10.

Certain traits can either increase or decrease your chance of winning a scholarship by 5% (note: this value stacks the more traits your sim has):

Increased Chance Traits - Lucky and Ambitious

Decreased Chance Traits - Unlucky and Loser

Some of the scholarship names are originally from The Sims 2 and the others I made up myself. They are listed below by category:

General

Young Entrepreneurs Award (§750) - Requires Level 3 part-time job, Teen only

Orphaned Sims Assistance Fund (§750) - Requires deceased or non-existing parents, Teen only

Golden Year Scholars Grant (§1000) - Elders only

Gemini Hidden Masters Prize (§1500) - Requires Level 10 in one hidden skill

Legacy

Student Service Workers Fund (§1000) - For sims with a service worker hidden trait (Makes No Messes, Pyromaniac, Can Apprehend Burglar, Can Salute, Immune To Fire, or Pizza Appreciator)

Cultural Exchange Program (§1000) - For sims with one of the hidden culture traits from The Sims 3: World Adventures

Students of Tomorrow Scholarship (§1000) - For sims with the hidden Future Sim trait from The Sims 3: Into the Future

Skill Based

Dreamer Family Artisan Award (§750) - Requires at least Level 1 Artisan Skill

Tsang Footwork Award (§750) - Requires at least Level 1 Dance (Store) Skill

Violin Society of SimNation Scholarship (§750) - Requires at least Level 1 Violin Skill

Occult

Undead Education Scholarship (§1500) - For Vampires, Zombies, and Ghosts

Extraterrestrial Reparation Grant (§1500) - For Aliens and sims recently abducted by Aliens

Spellcasting Scholars Grant (§1500) - For Witches, Fairies, and Genies

Lycanthropy Philanthropy Fund (§1500) - For Werewolves

Bots Opportunity To Specialize (B.O.T.S.) (§1500) - For Simbosts and Plumbots

Forbidden Fruit Fellowship (§1500) - For PlantSims

Real World Acclimation Fund (§1500) - For Real Imaginary Friends

Aquatic Allies Award (§1500) - For Mermaids

Maintaining Scholarships

After winning a scholarship, your sim will get the new custom Won Scholarship moodlet. They have a week to either enroll in online university with my Attend University Online mod, or in-person university to remain eligible for their scholarship.

If they fail to enroll in time, their scholarship will be rescinded and they will have to pay back the money they were awarded. If they can’t afford to pay back the scholarship amount in full, it will be added to their next household bill. (No free money here!)

Once a sim has a scholarship rescinded, they will get the new custom Lost Scholarship moodlet and be barred from applying for scholarships for 3 days.

New Moodlets

Won Scholarship: Given when a sim wins a scholarship, lasts 1 day, +20 mood, each scholarship has its own custom moodlet icon

Lost Scholarship: Given when a sim has a scholarship rescinded, lasts 3 days, -20 mood, makes sims stressed

Online Aptitude Test

Teen sims and older can now take the university aptitude test on the computer under “Sims University Online”. It works the same as the default interaction.

Tuning

All of the tunable values can be found on the mod download page under the header “Tuning”.

New Cheat

If you want to clear all scholarship winners in your world (on a per save basis), enter the cheat menu and type “ClearScholarshipWinnerData” without the quotation marks.

Conflicts & Known Issues

This is a new script mod so there shouldn’t be any conflicts.

Credits

EA/Maxis for The Sims 3 and The Sims 4, Visual Studio 2019, ILSpy, s3pe, Notepad++, and Script Mod Template Creator.

Thank You

Thank you to gamefreak130, Battery, @zoeoe-sims, @greenplumbboblover, and @monocodoll!

If you like my work, please consider tipping me on Ko-fi 💙

Download @ ModTheSims

#sims 3 #ts3 #sims 3 mods #ts3 mod #download #my mods #new scholarships mod

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itsvaleriesucka · 3 months

Text

forbidden love

pairing: demon!joel miller x angel!fem reader

rating: explicit 18+ (minors dni)

word count: 3.1k

summary: you and joel lovingly spend the rest of the afternoon together in your room. things began to get steamy.

warnings: sex, kissing, smoking, unprotected p in v, cock riding, oral sex (m!receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, creampie, light choking, age gap (50s/20s), no use of y/n, no outbreak

a/n: my love for demons and angels will always have a special place in my heart. i seriously need demon joel in my life. this is the only way to fulfill this fantasy of mine. i hope you like it! i have other stories in mind that i would like to write soon so stay tuned. please do not read if you’re sensitive to any of these topics. you have been warned.

The dark ambience of sounds coming from your Crosley record player touches a comfortable feeling deep inside your aching heart. The sound escaping lingered throughout the atmosphere of your own room. The aroma of expensive perfume and cigarettes fills the air and into your nostrils on this peaceful afternoon.

Your cherry red almond nails did their little dance across Joel’s tousled salt and pepper hair, feeling every soft strand there is. You both layed in bed beside each other heavenly. Your right leg wrapped and pressed against his lower body, skin bear and visible from your mini white lace slip gown you decided to wear. Your eyes lingered all across his handsome facial features. He’s perfect and he is everything to you.

His strong arm wraps around you, his hand and fingers soothing your soft skin on that bare thigh of yours. He draws you in closer, a feeling he did not want to let you go. With such a feeling, you pulled yourself away and positioned yourself above him, both legs locked and pressed against the sides of his hips. You sat gently upon his lap. You felt Joel’s large hands grip your hips to keep you in place. His thumb softly rubs against your hip bones in a circular motion.

Both of your hands press themselves against his bare broad chest. Your eyes wandered each of his scars he’s had over the past years. Joel reached beside your nightstand to grab his cigarette that’s placed on a red heart shaped ashtray that was handmade by you. Staring at the piece of work, you already remembered you took him to a ceramics studio on one of your dates with him when you both were starting out.

You and Joel are the total opposites. You take him to cute and fun places while he takes you to places that are, well, questionable and odd. He’s mature and you’re young. He wears black and you wear white. He’s a demon and you’re an angel.

Just the thought of a holy and unholy being together made the corner of your lips to curl downward into a frown. You felt your own stomach turn. You were so calm and content seconds ago and now you’re suddenly feeling sad. You tried not to reveal your emotions by forcing yourself to smile and looking away to distract yourself. You felt a tear drop escape from the outer corner of your eyes. You felt the liquid stream down against your cheek. You quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand but it was no use, Joel can already sense there was something wrong, even before you managed a frown.

“What’s the matter, angel?” Aside from being an actual angel, it’s indeed a lovely nickname for you. You always adored the way it draws out from him with that southern accent that sounded as pure as honey can taste.

“Nothing.” You watched the excess smoke from his Lucky Strike cigarette he inhaled, exhale through his nostrils, filling the air in your room. Joel quirked a brow. He kept his expression as stoic as usual. He wasn’t buying that pity answer from you.

“Bullshit.” His eyes analyzed every single expression you gave off.

Fine. He wins.

“For a moment I thought about the opposites of you and I. Our kind being together…It’s forbidden…” you softly remarked. Already reminding yourself of the bigger books and the higher Gods. You completely detest yourself for ruining a precious moment between you two. You wanted to vanish in thin air right now. All you could try to concentrate on was the music that played in the background to numb your thoughts.

Joel rubbed the tip of his cigarette against the ashtray to put it out. He sat himself up while still holding you in place against his lap. You felt his fingers gently pinch the sides of your jawline. He wanted you to look at him and you did.

“I don’t care about that,” Joel pulls you in closer, his gaze never leaving your precious face, “I care about you.” You felt his other hand rubbing small circles against your lower vertebrae to calm you down.

You knew he did. Despite who he truly is, you knew he wasn’t lying. Your mind was anxious and filled with fear of what can happen but your heart says otherwise. You cupped both his cheeks and felt his lips press against the palm of your delicate hand. You lean forward to press your lips against his, never pulling away. His mustache tickled your upper lip which made you smile from the sensation.

Your rushed thoughts were silenced when you felt his tongue slide across your bottom lip. You part your lips, allowing his tongue to explore inside your mouth. You brushed your tongue against his tongue and it felt delicious. It felt delicious to be kissed by the devil. To Joel, it felt amazing to caress and taste an innocent angel such as yourself.

You managed to pull away from his kiss and released a low sigh trying to catch your breath. Both foreheads pressed together. The smell of coffee and cigarette lingers from him. You felt his hot breath against your cheeks when he decided to plant kisses along your jawline down to your neck. You whined at the feeling of his teeth nibbling your sensitive spot against the soft flesh of your neck and your collarbone. You pushed your hips forward against his lap as your reaction to ease a certain tension that began to stir in between your inner thighs. The sudden friction caused his cock to twitch underneath his black boxers.

As much as you needed him, he needed you. You did not hesitate to remove yourself from Joel’s lap and positioned yourself on your knees. Joel knew exactly the kind of move you were about to make so he sat himself up. He watched the hesitancy of your movements. How those soft hands gently rubbed the fabric that covered his growing erection. He lightly hummed at the gentle movement.

Joel did not hesitate to assist you by guiding your hand into the fly of his boxers, allowing you to touch him as you please. You gripped his thick cock and slowly worked your wrist to start a burning sensation in his core as you stroked his cock willingly. His throat vibrated from a satisfactory groan he released. You removed his large cock from his fly and watched as his precum dripped down, from his pink tip that swelled, against his length landing upon your hand.

You brought your hand and licked the precum off your thumb and index finger. Joel grins at your insatiable desire. That naughty glint within his eyes began to shine. You lowered yourself close to his erection.

“Open that pretty mouth of yours.” He commands and you obliged instantly. You part your mouth and shivered at the feeling of his cock brushing precum all over your plump lips. You kissed his tip, allowing a string of his precum stretch in between. You languidly licked your bottom lip to obtain the salty taste. You lean yourself further more to shove his cock inside your mouth. You felt your mouth slowly becoming full. Cheeks hollow. Your taste buds swell to form excess saliva from the taste of his skin.

It was a natural instinct to breathe through your nostrils from the absurd gesture. You tried not to choke but yet you always do for how large and thick he is. You should know better. You felt your cunt lightly clench at the sensation. Your core was starting a fire on its own.

“You look so beautiful like this f’me.” Words that almost sounded like whispers slipped past his mouth as he brushed your hair with his fingers, petting you. You hummed in return to his compliment that his cock, again, twitched at the sudden vibration. With his hand still pressed upon your head, Joel wasted no time and lowered his boxers down, along with your head further down. He wanted the tip to touch the back of your throat. He wanted your mouth full of his entire length.

“Good girl…” he praised and you released a broken groan, almost choking. Your tongue danced along his shaft. He tastes just so damn good that your saliva mixed with his precum is already dripping down past your chin. You managed to follow his rhythm by bobbing your head at a steady pace. You’ve done this so many times and every single time it just keeps getting better and better. Your eyes fluttered shut in order to concentrate. Your hums mixed with soft melodies from your record player tune perfectly together.

Your right hand squeezed his shaft, stroking him firmly while your other hand worked their magic by massaging his balls. If Joel always makes you feel good, he deserves the attention of feeling good as well.

“Fuck,” the demon cursed and thrust his hips forward. He pushes your head further down to the point your nose rubbed against his happy trail and saliva that splattered across. You gagged at the sudden reflex of his cock shoved deep down into your throat. Your eyes watered and trailed down each side of your cheeks. Your cunt kept clenching, begging for more. “You filthy slut…”

The way he called you a filthy slut made you giggle. You felt butterflies form inside the pit of your stomach. Don’t get yourself wrong, you are indeed a good holy being. You always do the nicest things for mankind and try to help out in the darkest of times. But when you’re alone with Joel, it seems like you’re nothing but his devil woman.

You brought yourself to pull away from his cock, trying to catch your own breath. You opened your mouth to release all that excess saliva that mixed with his own juices right upon his cock, lubricating him like the good angel you are. Your small hand now glides easily against him. Wet and sloppy. “I love being your filthy slut.”

The way Joel’s pupils are nothing but wide and filled with lust with such an obscene gesture and words leaving past your lips was a sight to witness. He knows you don’t curse, but in bed, you miraculously do. And he fucking loves it too.

“C’mere,” Joel shoves you towards himself, he wanted you to sit on his lap and so you did. Your breasts pressed against his chest. You felt fingertips tickling on each side of your thighs as he lifts the end of your white mini slip gown to remove the garment completely off of you. You were left in nothing but your white lace undergarment. How cute, it even has a tiny cross pendant that adorned underneath a tiny silk bow. He chuckled darkly at the sight. “You’re gonna fuckin’ ride me.”

You nodded your head so fast that you probably should be ashamed of yourself. You bite your bottom lip to refrain your contentment. You can feel your blood circulating towards your cheeks becoming warm and hot, flustered even.

Using his index and middle finger, he hooked your damp panties that covered your sensitive cunt and pulled them aside. You can feel your own cunt coming in contact with the skin of his fingers. A shiver ran up and down your spine at his touch. His low humming was a pleasant melody to your ears. You lightly gasped at the sudden touch of his thumb pressing your swollen clit. Joel began to rub circular motions and watched how your body reacts. He knows you all too well, he just loves how your body twitches by the devil’s touch.

“There we go…” he murmurs while focusing on that sweet spot of yours that is beginning to cause his mouth to water. Joel can feel his own erection twitch again with anticipation. His eyes fixated upon yours the entire time. He was prepping you for his cock that ached to be sucked inside of you.

“That feels so g-good.” You softly moaned and placed your index knuckle in between your teeth to refrain from moaning out loud. The walls surrounding your room were rather dense that you can sometimes hear certain conversations from other neighbors. Eyes fluttered shut in order to concentrate on the way his calloused thumb skillfully flicks and rubs your clit.

“Yeah?” He purrs and pressed your clit harder. His thumb wandered towards your folds to then wet your sweet clit with your own juices to make rubbing easier. Joel smacks your hand away from your mouth which caught you by surprise. “I want to hear you, angel. Don’t be shy and let it all out f’me. Besides…” He brushes his thumb upon your wet swollen lips and you amorously suck your own taste off, releasing his thumb with a pop. A low hum vibrating from your throat, “…I want the neighbors to hear how good you’re ridin’ me.”

You felt his angry tip poke your entrance that glistened with your own natural lubricant. You are forced to lift yourself up to allow more room for his cock to comfortably slip inside of you. His fingers still hooking the fabric aside. You gasped as your jaw became slack at the way his thick length slowly stretched your inner walls. You watch as his cock slowly sinks and disappears into your aching entrance. As mentioned, you have done this plenty of times but his cock never fails to make you gasp every time at the sudden stinging sensation of the stretch. It’s bizarre.

Joel chuckled darkly and began to thrust himself into you. He needed you to adjust to his length comfortably before anything else. The moment you feel comfortable, you sway your hips forward and backwards, soon bouncing freely against him. You felt every inch of his cock rubbing your warm stretched walls. The way the tip of his cock hits your cervix has your head spinning. Sweet moans and squeals escape past your lips. The lewd sounds of both your precum secreting together echoes.

Your arms wrap around his neck for support while his arms wrap around your waist, holding, guiding, and encouraging you to milk his cock deep. The sight of your own breasts bouncing to the rhythm and movement intoxicates Joel’s arousal. He did not hesitate to pinch and tease your hardened nipples. The pain enticing your mood.

“Oh fuck right there, yes!” You cried as you continued to ride his cock. The way you grind against his lap got you both drowning in arousal. Skin tacky from the sudden heat mixed with sweat forming within you both. With each harsh thrust, oxygen hitches away from your lungs. It honestly felt like he was punching a hole inside of you. But the way his cock feels doing so was absolutely divine.

“You’re doin’ so well baby girl.” You earned yourself a tight squeeze from both his hands that managed to slide down toward your ass. You smiled at his encouragement. He took the opportunity to plant another kiss upon your lips. His teeth nipping against your bottom lip, pulling the flesh teasingly.

“It feels so good, mmm, I need you…” You moaned into Joel’s mouth. You were too carried away pecking his lips a dozen times to finish your sentence. He slows his pace, wanting to hear the right words come out.

“You need…?” He breathes and groans all against your pretty mouth. The way you paused from bouncing and focused on grinding against his lap ferociously while his cock stuck deep inside was driving him mad. In a matter of seconds he was going to spill his sticky seed.

“Cum inside me…p-please.” You begged and bat your eyes towards him, your doe eyes that were filled with nothing but inevitable lust told him everything he needed to know. The perfect green light but yet he still managed to tease the shit out of you, as per usual.

“Mmm, don’t know about that.” He murmured as he paints a wicked grin across his face. The way your brows furrowed with a frustrated expression actually amused him. “C’mon…please…”

A cry that seriously turned him on even more. To your sudden surprise, Joel switched positions where your back instantly touches your mattress. He grips your ankles and brings your legs up to hold you good. He removed your precious panty and tossed it somewhere behind him. You were too flooded with mixtures of sin and lust that all you were able to do was toggle a lazy wiggle from your hips, encouraging him to stick his cock back inside of you as quickly as possible. And so he did.

Joel buries his cock deep inside of you and begins to roughly pound his hips against the back of your thighs, obtaining that tantalizing pace. You huff with each rhythm of his smack trying to fight back a moan but to no avail. It is certain that your neighbors can already hear your glorious cries. You’re too horny to even be embarrassed at this point. They were so sweet, so angelic which always drives Joel insane. He enjoyed stripping away your innocence. Always.

“Look at you angel, takin’ this cock so well. Such a fuckin’ good girl. ” You felt nothing but a tight hand wrapped around your neck. His hand. All you could see were only stars, you began to feel dizzy. “My good fuckin’ girl.”

You began to feel your climax almost pooling in. “Yes! Oh fuck…Joel! Baby, I’m gonna cum!” To help with that, you arched your back so that his cock can rub against that aching g-spot of yours.

Just by his cock hitting your favorite spot had caused you to overstimulate. You frantically released your final loud moan that ringed against his ears. You felt like the earth had stopped spinning once that orgasm came crashing over your entire body that exploded into a blissful sensation. Your cunt clenching around his thick cock caused Joel to collapse right above you, spilling his load right inside of you coaxing a heavy groan against your ear. The warming sensation of his cum seeping inside eased your body. You thrust your hips forward to obtain that final aftershock.

You felt Joel’s cock pulling right out of you along with some of his cum spilling out from your sore entrance. He laid right beside you to try and catch his breath. Rolling yourself, you stopped right on top, embracing him with a hug, never wanting to let him go.

“Like I said, I don’t care what anyone thinks.” Joel kisses the side of your head, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m yours and you’re mine.” You lovingly whispered.

You earned yourself a warm smile from the devil. A smile only you’re able to witness alone. “Let’s get you cleaned up, angel.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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sykosugu · 20 days

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♤♢ on the run ♧♡ | prologue

♤ summary: she's an infamous bank robber, and he's the only detective that's been able to get close to her. he was never apart of her plans. but he's got his clutches in her and she can't let go. a geto suguru au

♢ warnings: this story will contain descriptions of violence, destructive behavior, toxic behavior, illegal activities, sexual content, death. use of weapons. forbidden romance

♧ currently: on going | no posting schedule

♡ taglist: open! just let me know

♤ wc: 1.4 k (they will get longer I promise)

♢ carlile speaks: hi everyone! welcome! I was working on chapter one, and the mood boards (yes boards, there are two more bc I'll do anything to avoid writing even though I love doing it) and this idea popped in to kind of give you a beginning thought as to how they officially met. But chapter one is coming! enjoy this little insight, and I know it definitely is little right now!

Seventy seconds. That’s all you had until the silent alarm blared at the local police station. But lucky for you, you only need thirty of those seconds to get what you needed. A simple in and out procedure was always how you operated.

In through the front door, dressed to impress. A Bag under your arm and an umbrella in your hand. The umbrella is the key. Literally.

Bank managers always approach you from first entry, wanting to impress someone who looks so lavish; we must keep our high end customers happy. You’re led to the safety deposit room, with the intent of placing your precious jewels into a box.

Until the handle of the umbrella is twisted and a knife is drawn.

The knife held to the manager's throat while he opened every single box he could in the 30 second time span. But you know exactly which boxes to open. You've been surveying this area for weeks now. Camera hacking. One of your specialties. Every customer who entered this room in the last month, you’d seen and known what to take. Totally under wraps; never to be seen until the job needed done.

When the managers think they can overpower a girl like yourself, the gun stashed in your waistband makes its appearance, deftly putting the men in their places.

This was always how you operated. Never the cash; always the safety deposit boxes. Sometimes the items placed inside were of monetary value, but some were of unmatched value; precious family heirlooms that could get ransomed for way more than any cash vault would hold. That’s always what you were after. Sometimes, jewels were involved and that was a plus. A girl can never have too many diamonds. They are your best friends after all. But the ransomed heirlooms, some of kings and queens of the corporate world: that was your MO. You were the Red Queen.

Were.

Suguru was not something you’d anticipated. Suguru was your biggest flaw. He was now your weakness. But he was also the enemy.

He’d been tracking you for months; been minutes from you so many times. You were his biggest project that he’d never been able to get his hands on. You were a myth at this point. Never actually seen, except by the bank managers who were never able to give a good enough description.

“She had big sunglasses, bright red lipstick and a killer smile.”

He knew that much. That was it.

Until now.

He had you.

You walked out five seconds too late.

He had you.

A hand harshly grips the back of your upper arm, spinning you around. Your fist instinctively reaches up, elbow colliding with the person in question; a cracking sound fills the air as your arm connects with their face. You’d successfully knocked their head back. Killing was never your objective when it came to defending yourself, a body leads to problems. You don’t have time for problems. Suguru’s used to combat though, with gritted teeth he takes the blow. Cracking his neck, his other hand reaches to grasp your other arm, flinging you down onto his car's hood as pedestrians continue on their day. Most stop for the show, but others see the badge hanging from his neck and don’t question anything. Your back comes in contact with the car, your head bouncing off the surface; ears ringing from the loud bang. Your arms are braced in front of you as you feel the handcuffs being placed around your hands.

He had you.

Nobody could ever get you. You were like a ghost in the nighttime; but he found you out. Who was this guy? Why does it kind of turn you on? But it also definitely terrifies you.

“We finally meet,” he grins down at you. “I’m Detective Geto, and you’ve been my biggest foe for almost a year,” You just stare back at him. “But you can call me Suguru.”

You were in the back of his car in minutes. Hands cuffed in front of you while he stared at you in the rearview mirror. Unbeknownst to you until now, he’d lied about catching you. He said you’d gotten away again.

He watched you walk into the bank this time. He was the one who was ahead. He finally had the upper hand.

And he liked it.

“No, sir. She got away again.” you heard him say flatly in the front seat. “Yes, sir, I get that but if–” he stops, pressing his thumb and pointer finger into his eyes. “Sir, if i can just speak for a minute,” you can hear yelling through the speaker, but no words can be made out.

Why isn't he telling him you’re right here? What is going on?

“Sir, I had her. She got away. I’ll get her again.,” he pauses again, “Yes sir, I understand. Thank you, Chief. I got it. I’ll handle it. Thank you.”

He’ll handle what? What is happening?

Suguru’s eyes catch yours in the mirror. “You’ve been eluding me for the longest time, Y/N. Or should I say The Red Queen.”

“Call me Ruby. I don’t use that name anymore,” you mutter. Unsure why you’re even responding. What does he want with you? He lied about you to his boss.

“Ruby,” he swirls the name around his tongue, “Pretty,” and he’s starting the car.

“Where are you taking me?” you question, fingers reaching down to pull one of the bobby pins from your boot. You’re always prepared.

“Even if you free yourself, the doors are locked,” he smirks at you in the mirror. You catch his gaze, offering him a glare. “I’m not a threat to you. Not right now.”

What the hell does that mean?

“You’re literally a cop, and you’re not telling me where you’re taking me.”

“I just want to talk to you before I decide what to do next,” his eyes fixed on the road again. You notice the white in his knuckles from gripping the steering wheel so hard. He’s nervous. You could use that to your advantage. Wherever he was taking you, you were going to use your biggest asset: yourself; to get what you needed.

Your freedom. Your biggest job was coming up soon, and you needed to be prepared.

This cop obviously had an attraction towards you. If only he wasn’t a cop, you could entertain the thought of a relationship if he hadn’t been. But honestly, it would probably hold you back.

“Where are we going? Why did you lie? What’s going on?”

“So many questions, Ruby. Live a little,” he chuckles at you. Was this guy insane? A cop isnt taking the opportunity to turn you in? He’d be decorated for the rest of his life.

“Live a little? Do you hear yourself? You said I’d been eluding you for nearly a year, why arent you taking me in? Don’t you want the accolades? Detective Geto takes down the Red Queen,”

“Thought you didn’t go by that name anymore?” He questions, a smirk on his lips.

“I don’t,” you grumble. “But word obviously hasn’t spread yet,” your eyes roll.

“Besides, I'd rather get to know you first,” he says nonchalantly.

“Are you insane?”

“Maybe. But you are too,” he eyes you, making your face redden like your lipstick.

“You don't know anything about me,” you bite out at him. Who does this guy think he is?

“I do,” he states matter of factly. He states your full name. Your fake secured social security number. The list of aliases you use to book hotels, rental cars whatever you needed. He knew what he needed to know. But after seeing you in person, he needed to know more.

He put two and two together based off your appearance. A long black Chanel coat. Big black sunglasses. Dark red lips. The umbrella.

He just knew it was you. He watched you walk into the bank.

“Count to thirty,” he thinks to himself. He’d studied your tactics. He knew them like the back of his hand.

And waited. You were late. One. Two. Three. This might actually happen for him. Four. He’s sweating. Five. You’re here. You’re right here. If he just reaches out—

And now here he was, you in the back of his car driving you to his safe house.

Where he’d get to know what he wanted—needed—to know.

He would figure out a way to know everything.

♧ tags: @celestie0 @lostfracturess @carlacujo @alwaysfreakingout @shervinss @jaelahh @gojolvrr34 @shesplendl

(pls make sure your settings are right to get tagged!)

#jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #geto smut #suguru geto #suguru x you #suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto x y/n #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto suguru x you

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unboundprompts · 1 month

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How do you make a villain unlikable? Not “badly written” unlikable, but more “I’m terrified of this guy, and I would not want to be caught alone in a room with him” unlikable. His main motivation for being a villain in the story is that he was the Elv king’s Hearthsman, which is basically the court mage of the Elv kingdom, but he became mad with pride, and began abusing his given power. He was to be put on trial by the court, but he slipped away in the night, taking a forbidden book of spells with him. I thought about calling him “The Butcher” since he goes around slaughtering people without being caught, like Jack the Ripper, but I was wondering what other names would work. I just want to know how to make him terrifying, and since he’s not in the story most of the time, I want the readers to be scared of when he’s going to pop up next.

How to Make Readers Fear Your Villain

-> 10 Ways to Make Readers Loathe Your Antagonist: helpingwritersbecomeauthors.com

-> How Do I Make My Audience Fear My Villain?: Reddit

Show Your Audience How High the Stakes Are

Show what the consequences of crossing this villain are. Show how powerful they are and what they are capable of. Why is this villain such a threat? Why are your characters so afraid of them?

Having your characters talk about how afraid they are of your villain will not have the same effect as having readers experience why your characters are afraid.

Include scenes of your villain demonstrating what they are capable of. Have scenes of your characters being afraid of the villain.

Give Your Villain a Clear Goal

What does your villain want most? What are they willing to do to get it? How far will they go to get what they want?

Do they believe that what they are doing is justified?

Make Your Villain Cruel

Villains that are cruel just for the sake of being cruel. Show your villain acting heartless and doing cruel things without remorse.

Give them a history of evil. This gives them credibility and makes the readers believe they could truly do something horrible.

How Your Other Characters Act Around the Villain

When the villain is mentioned in conversation, how do your other characters react? Does their demeanor change at all? What if the villain was in the room?

Flesh out your other characters' fear of the villain. Why are they so afraid of them? Did they do something to them personally? Are they afraid because of the stories they've heard?

Examples: An outgoing character who is usually happy-go-lucky going dead silent when the villain is mentioned. A character who is never afraid having nightmares about the villain.

Villain Name Ideas:

-> here are some name generators!

Killer Names - fantasynamegenerators.com (this one will give you more names similar to the vibes of "The Butcher")

Killer Name Generator - name-generator.io

Villain Name Generator - namegenerator.og

Villain Character Name Generator - blog.reedsy.com

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #ask box prompts #how to write #villain prompts #how to write a scary villain #how to make readers fear your villain #villain writing tips #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writing resources #writing characters

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depthsasunder-if · 8 months

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Depths Asunder is an 18+ pirate interactive fiction infused with magic. It follows you, a young and fresh pirate captain, contracted to find a gem that is rumored to manipulate life and death to the wearer. It's a race against other crews who are just as determined to fulfill the contract and collect their riches.

[DEMO TBA] 𓊝 [CHARACTER POSTS]

Content warnings include violence, suggestive themes, substance use, gore, dark themes, emotional turmoil and more.

Your mother was a legend in the seas; a revered pirate captain, her legacy has followed you even after her death. All you want is to live up to the legacy she has given your family name, though all you've amounted to so far is the occasional thievery to survive.

When you're contracted by rich and powerful noble you're promised a swell of riches. In return, you must find and bring back a rare treasure that holds power beyond anything you know. Countless crews have attempted to find it, only to either end up dead or lost.

Now, it's your turn to collect your crew and bring your ship to the sea. You'll go up against not only dangerous mythological creatures of the sea but other ruthless pirates determined to find the treasure before you.

As you travel through the world of Sikara, you'll find that there's an even bigger mystery afoot. Will it all be worth it?

Customize your pirate captain from identity, your nickname, pronouns, gender which changes the story, appearance, personality.

Decide what kind of pirate captain you are: are you a bloodthirsty pirate hellbent on destruction? Or a merciful captain paving a new path? Do you treat your crew with kindness or hostility? Are you relaxed or a dictator?

Customize your ship: name your ship, choose the look, the features and enchantments. Will it help you during your sea battles?

Stop at different locations: will you raid like a typical pirate or help the locals? Will you steal treasure?

Customize your crew and decide who joins you on your journey. And who walks the plank.

Romance a slew of characters that include your ruthless rival, a merperson, a stowaway, the person who contracted you, and your best friend.

Play a character-driven narrative that is both on land and in sea. Discover what Sikara has to offer.

Captain Morgan 'Deadeye' Price [m or f]: Morgan is the bloodthirsty captain of the Lady Triton. They also happen to be your biggest rival, seeing as they're the child of the pirates that killed your mother. Morgan is bloodthirsty, unforgiving, cold and arrogant, and is determined to find the treasure. Part of you thinks they care less about the coin and more about beating you....and eventually killing you.

𓊝 enemies to lovers, rivals

Anton/Antonia St. Marteen [m or f]: The nobleman/woman who contracted you. They insisted on joining you on your travels, determined to see the treasure for themself. You don't know much about them other than the fact that they are stinking rich, which is all you need to know. Unfortunately, being on the sea with them means you're their unofficial bodyguard.

𓊝 bodyguard romance (MC is the bodyguard), forbidden, opposites attract (noble and pirate)

Castor Morgana [m or f]: the stowaway that hid in your ship alongside their sister, Ruth. Majority of your crew wants them thrown overboard, though a few think Castor can be helpful to the cause. It's up to you to make the final choice.

Gaelin 'Straightlace' Haval [m or f]: your best friend, second-in-command, and advisor. Gaelin is levelheaded, logical, serious, and deals little with emotion. They also seem to be the only one who cares little of pirate culture. They just want the mission done.

𓊝 best friends to lovers, opposites attract (possibly)

Sage/Soren of The Sea [m or f]: a mermaid/merman who, in a series of events, ends up on your ship. It's lucky that they grow legs off-sea, but no matter how human they look, they treat you as an enemy. Pirates and merpeople don't mix, and Sage/Soren is determined to keep a distance, even if the world of humans interests them so. They don't trust you, not with all the blood that's been spilled from both sides.

𓊝 romance with merperson, forbidden, doomed romance

Ruth Underwood [non-RO]: Castor's younger half- sister. She seems to have taken a liking to you, following you around like a puppy. How you deal with her is up to you.

+ and more!

Development of Depths Asunder will fluctuate based on my free time. I hope you like it and join me on this voyage :)

#interactive fiction #interactive game #interactive novel #choice of games #cog #dashing don #cog wip #interact-if #interactive story #dashingdon #if game #choicescript #if wip #upcoming if

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creamsickle-writes · 1 year

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Forbidden Fruit: Shanks x F!Reader (Part 2)

Tags: nsfw, modern!AU (therefore Shanks has both arms and no scar on his face because he’s not doing pirate stuff lol), Age gaps, phone sex, oral sex, penetrative sex, creampie, squirting, daddy kink, dirty talk, and sex toys

Co-written with @littleblueeyedmoon

Thank you @aces-sweetheart for making this post which inspired me to write this fic!

Click here to read part one!

Heaven existed.

After calling Akagami for a few weeks, you were sure of it. You still didn’t have a boyfriend, but you weren’t frustrated anymore; you still hadn’t gotten laid either, but your numerous talks with Akagami gave you the best orgasms you had ever had, so you had no complaints.

You were in a really good mood; you had just finished college, and you were moving back home with your dad until you found a job, which meant that not only could you call Akagami whenever you liked, but you’d also get to see Shanks often, your dad’s best friend. He was ridiculously handsome.

You thought to yourself as you continued packing the stuff in your dorm; you were excited for the day ahead. A knock on the door interrupted your train of thought. When you went to open your door, you gasped in surprise.

Shanks was leaning against your doorframe, an amused smile decorating his face, “Hey, kid.”

“S-Shanks?! What are you doing here? Where’s dad?”

He chuckled, “Lucky had an emergency and needed your old man’s help. He asked me to pick you up, little girl.”

He laughed at you in good fun as your face flushed slightly. He looked around at your packed-up boxes and grinned, “You in a rush to get home?”

“I guess I’m feeling a bit homesick.”

“Aww, don’t worry, kid. Just get the stuff in the car,” Shanks smiles warmly, “I’ll bring down the rest of your boxes.”

You nodded and went to his car as Shanks began stacking up boxes to bring downstairs.

As he finished up, he accidentally stumbled, causing one of the boxes to burst open. He quickly scrambled to put its contents back but froze when he saw a bunch of sex toys on the floor.

He laughed loudly. Who would’ve thought you were a perverted little thing? But no matter, your secret was safe with him.

As he finished putting the toys back in the box, he suddenly realized most of these toys seemed familiar; His little princess had described toys to him over the phone that kind of looked like these ones.

Small world… Shanks thought to himself as he brought the last box to the car.

Even though the toys were yours, he couldn’t help thinking of his little princess and how his world changed once she started calling him.

Working as a phone sex operator was a fun thing to do. It got him off, and he also got to help other people. It was a fun, casual thing to make some extra cash. But then, once she called for the first time, everything changed. Shanks began looking forward to hearing her voice every time the phone rang.

She was a naughty little thing, a girl young enough to be his daughter who wanted him to take advantage of her; she even called him “Daddy.”

He’d had clients call him more than once before, but her calls became regular. He felt almost possessive of her; she was a slutty needy little girl who needed her Daddy to guide her.

He almost growled at the thought of her getting off with another man.

He had spent the last few weeks fantasizing about his little princess and what she would look like in person. What color were her eyes? Was she curvy or slender? How would her body writhe for him when he showed her how to properly squirt? What would her face look like when he shoved his cock inside her tight pussy?

The thought of her was driving him crazy.

Shanks was brought out of his train of thought when you looked up at him, patiently waiting for him to unlock the car’s front doors. He fished the keys out of his pocket, opening the door to you.

He suddenly remembered something when the two of you were buckled up in his car.

“Ah! Before I forget, I brought you something, kid, here!” He smiled widely as he handed you your favorite candy bar.

You smiled brightly at him in return as you quickly opened the candy.

“This is so good; you’re the best, Shanks!” You moaned in pleasure as the flavor of the candy hit your tongue.

Shanks’ brain stopped working for a moment.

He needed to get himself together; for a millisecond, an image of his little princess moaning for him flashed in his mind as you savored the candy.

Seeing your toys must’ve thrown him off.

Yes, that had to have been it, he reasoned. After all, if you were his sweet princess, he would’ve been tangled in such a complicated web. You were his best friend’s daughter. He and Beckman had been buddies since college, so if he were to go after his daughter…

Shanks swallowed, sweat building on his brow.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, leaning forward a bit, “You look stressed.”

You laughed, and Shanks laughed along with you, “No, it’s nothing, don’t worry.”

Shanks tried changing the subject quickly.

“So, how was college? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“College? It was a piece of cake.” You shrug off sarcastically.

Shanks laughed, and the sound warmed your heart. For a moment, you even forgot about Akagami.

Shit, Akagami.

You felt bad, you had been fantasizing about him for months, but now Shanks would be back in your life.

You and Akagami weren’t together, even though some part of you felt emotionally attached to him. But at the same time, your heart still yearned for Shanks, even though you knew it would never happen between you two.

You let out a sigh.

Shanks eyed you before asking, “What’s on your mind, kid?”

“Nothing; why?” You shrugged

Shanks smiled, “Well, because now you look down in the dumps.”

You hummed, “I guess I’m dealing with some pretty complicated feelings.”

“What, is there someone you like?” He smirked, looking back at the road again.

You shifted in your seat, “Well, yeah…”

Shanks let out a laugh, “And who could this mystery man be who stole the sweet princess’s heart, huh?”

You blushed, “Well, that’s the problem… there are two guys. And… I don’t know how to choose.”

Shanks hummed, “That’s a tough spot to be in, kid.”

After a few moments of silence, Shanks’ curiosity got the best of him.

“So, who are they?”

“Huh?”

“The guys you like, who are they? Maybe I can help you decide” He winked playfully.

“W-Well, uh,” you hummed as you thought how to describe them to Shanks without letting it spill that one of the guys is closer than he thinks, “One guy I’ve known forever… and the other I met just a few months ago.”

Shanks nodded, and you kept talking, “This new guy gives me lots of attention, but the guy I’ve known forever barely seems to know I exist.”

“Then go for the new guy!” Shanks smiled, “If he treats you well, then that’s who you should stick with.”

A long silence hangs between you and Shanks in the car as you drive past buildings on the road’s edge. You cleared your throat.

“W-Well, uh, that’s kind of the thing: we haven’t met in person...” Shanks raised his eyebrow at you.

“You haven’t met? Then how does he give you all the attention you were just telling me about?”

“Uh,” you had to think fast, “W-We’re Internet friends!”

Shanks hums, “Be careful about guys online, kid. They could be anyone, you know? This guy could be an old guy trying to creep on girls like you.”

You blushed when he came closer to the truth than you would’ve liked, “W-Well, we’ve talked on the phone. He’s not a creep, believe me.”

“But he is old, huh?” He chuckled, “Ah, I’m just kidding. I know you’re a good kid who wouldn’t go for that sort of thing.”

You looked away from him as you blushed harder.

“R-Right, of course not!” Your response had Shanks raising his eyebrow at you again, but he let the comment slide.

A long silence settled again as you couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound even more suspicious.

Shanks smiled, “Anyways, I’m going to be staying with you and your dad at your house tonight.”

Your head whipped to look at him so fast Shanks thought you might’ve pulled a muscle.

“What? I thought you and Dad were staying at your house!”

Shanks raised his eyebrow at you again. You were acting strange; you were usually eager and excited to see him, and you loved spending time with your dad.

“What’s gotten into you, kid? Do you need your dad and me out of your house or something?”

“What? N-No, I just thought, you know…” you trailed off, not really knowing what to respond with.

You wanted to get out of the car as fast as you could; this was getting embarrassing.

As you neared your house, the silence made things even more awkward.

You sighed, “I was going to talk on the phone with my online friend.”

“And your dad and I can’t be home for you to do that? Are you sure he’s not a creepy old guy, kid?”

“He’s not creepy,” you pouted, crossing your arms, “Can’t a girl just want some time alone with a guy she likes?”

“Easy, tiger,” he chuckled, “Just stay in your room. Your dad and I won’t barge in.”

You pout, “You promise? I really want to talk with Akagami tonight, and I don’t want Dad or you to interrupt us.”

Shanks slammed on the brakes, causing you to jerk forward.

“Shanks?”

“What did you just say?”

You blink, furrowing your brows, “I asked if you promise not to barge in ’cause I wanted to talk to my friend Akagami-“

Shanks’ heart begins pounding, and sweat falls down his brow.

Oh shit.

He was so fucked.

The toys, the moan, the voice, the friend’s name.

He’s been dirty-talking his college friend’s daughter for months.

“Are you okay? You’re sweating.” You eyed his sudden change of behavior, a bit frazzled.

Suddenly, Shanks is taken out of his head by the sound of drivers honking behind him, reminding him that he stopped dead in the road. He quickly regained his composure and started driving again.

Shanks cleared his throat, “Uh nothin’, it’s just that name… I once knew a guy named that a long time ago, that’s all.”

Your eyes widened a bit. Did Shanks know Akagami? Did your dad? You bit your lip as you imagined a world where Akagami was much closer to you than you thought.

“You still keep in touch with him?” You prod, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Uh,” Shanks hesitates, “No, not anymore.”

You try not to look upset, “I see…”

The ride back to your house is filled with silence. It’s as if bringing up the name “Akagami” was a mistake in itself. Did this guy die young or something? Get in a tragic accident? Shanks’ face seemed to lose color at the name.

When you arrived home, your dad was waiting for you outside. You bolted out of the car, hoping to eliminate the awkwardness.

“Dad!” You jumped into his arms.

“Hey kid, how was the ride home?” He chuckled while hugging you tightly.

Before you could respond, Shanks beat you to it.

“It was good,” he grinned, ruffling your hair, “She was all packed up and ready to go, so we were in and out pretty quick.”

Beckman smiled widely, “Good. Shanks and I are going out for a bit, but he’ll be staying the night with us, and tomorrow the three of us will go out and have a celebratory breakfast.”

“Great, uh-I’ll be talking with a friend on the phone later, so please don’t barge into my room, please, and thank you!”

You ran to Shanks’ car, grabbed a few boxes, and bolted inside the house under the stare of Shanks and your dad.

Your dad raised his eyebrow at Shanks, “What was that about?”

Shanks smiled awkwardly at him, “Kids these days, no?”

You unpacked for the rest of the afternoon while Shanks thought deeply about what to do. You were his little princess. He had spent months wondering how you looked, how you’d feel, and he fantasized about you constantly...

And now he found out you were his best friend’s daughter.

You were going to call him later; he needed to decide what to do. But the more he thought about it, the more enticed he was by you, the more he wanted to ravish you, care for you.

You were forbidden, after all, and that’s what made you even more appealing.

Hours passed, and your dad and Shanks came home, their laughter carrying throughout the house as you set up everything for your phone call with Akagami. You rolled your eyes, hoping they would settle down soon.

Your wish is granted in moments as you hear someone come up the steps and into the guest room. You assumed it was Shanks. You had to be quiet if he was staying across the hall…

Finally, your time slot came around for when you usually called, and you called up Akagami.

You waited for the phone to ring, and soon enough, Akagami answered.

“Hey there, little princess.” already familiar with his greeting, you smiled.

“Hey, Daddy! I’ve been thinking about you.”

He chuckled, “Have you now? Have you been a good girl for Daddy, sweet thing?”

You pouted teasingly, “When am I not a good girl Daddy?”

He chuckled, amused, “Fair enough… But listen, little princess; Daddy has a surprise for you.”

You clenched your thighs together, “A surprise?”

Your mind was imagining multiple possibilities. What could he have up his sleeve?

“Mhm, think of it as a little graduation present from Daddy.” He hummed, well aware of your moving out day as you had told him ahead of time.

“Now, sweet girl, is the door of your room unlocked?” His deep voice rasps, and you furrow your brows in confusion.

“U-Unlocked? Uh, yes, Daddy, it’s unlocked; why?”

“It’s part of the surprise, little girl. Now, get your favorite toys out for Daddy, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you got out your favorite clitoral vibrator and dildo.

“Good, little princess, now I want you to tease yourself, okay? Take your top off, grab your nipples for Daddy, and pinch them. Make them really hard for me.”

“O-Okay, Daddy”

“Good, keep that up, little girl. Are they perky enough, or have you not listened to Daddy?”

“No, Daddy! They’re really hard. They feel so good.”

He hummed, “Good, very good, little girl. Now lose your pants and underwear. Tell Daddy how wet you are.”

You lay naked on your bed, perky nipples exposed as your fingertips grazed your wet pussy.

“Really wet, Daddy,” you panted, “I barely touched, and the cum’s all over my fingers…”

“Is that so? Then ease in your dildo for me, princess,” He growls lowly, “Tell Daddy, are you wet enough for it to just slide in?”

“Yes, Daddy, it eased right in. I think I’m so wet that I might get it on the bed...” You bit your lip and mewled, “I was so worked up while I was waiting to call you. My panties have been soaked all afternoon…”

He chuckled amusedly, “What a slutty and needy little girl Daddy has…”

“Now, princess, turn your vibrator on. Put it in the lowest setting while fucking yourself slowly with your dildo.”

You pressed the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you obeyed your Daddy’s command.

“Does it feel good, little girl? Let Daddy hear your moans as you describe how you’re fucking yourself.”

You mewled harder as you slowly moved the toy in and out of yourself with one hand while pressing the vibrator harder on your clit with your other.

He laughed softly, “I take it my little princess feels good?”

“Yes-” Your voice came out broken, “Yes, Daddy. I missed you so much-”

“Sweet girl…” He cooed, “We just talked last week... you missed Daddy that much?”

“Yes…” You mewled, and suddenly you froze up as you heard footsteps in the hallway.

“Sorry, I think someone is walking by… I’m back home now, so my dad and his friend might be around. I’ll have to be quiet…”

You could almost feel his smug grin through the phone.

“Is that so? Is my naughty little girl afraid of getting caught?”

You nod and say, “Yeah, It’d be awkward if my dad heard me… Plus, it’s his cute friend that’s over too…”

Shanks tsked, “You’re still on about that guy? I thought you were loyal to me, princess?”

You whine, “I-I am! I want to be yours, only yours, Akagami.”

He hummed, “I don’t know, little girl, I might have to make you forget all about this man…”

“Daddy, I promise!” You bit your lip, “After thinking about it, I realized that it’s you that cares for me and gives me the attention I love. You’re the one I want, really!”

You felt your heart stop as someone opened your door.

Shanks entered quietly and closed the door behind him, then he turned to face you, his eyes never leaving your body as he pulled his phone up to his ear.

“You really mean that, princess?” He murmured into the receiver, and your eyes grew wide as you realized that Shanks was the one on the other end of the phone, “You wanna belong to a perverted old man like me?”

Your heart pounded as blood rushed to your ears. You dropped your vibrator, and the phone slipped from your shoulder, falling onto the covers below you. Shanks gave a smug, toothy grin.

“Shanks? You’re...?” Your body lay frozen on the bed.

He hummed, “I am, and now that you’re in front of me, I want to show you everything I’ve wanted to do to you…”

You stammered, trying to find your words as he slinked closer to you, crawling onto the bed, “But first… it looks like I have a naughty little girl to punish, isn’t that right?”

That caught your attention as you looked at him, “Punish?”

He hummed, crawling in between your legs as he grabbed your forgotten vibrator.

“Naughty girl,” He teased, “I have to punish you because your loyalty wavered… You were thinking about someone else. The other man you mentioned in the car.”

“N-No, Daddy, it’s a misunderstand-” You were cut off by your own gasp as he turned the vibrator up a notch, bringing it towards your needy clit.

“Misunderstanding, you say? No, I don’t think so, little girl.” You gasped again as he started fucking you with the dildo with his other hand as he pressed the vibrator harder against your clit.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, princess. Let Daddy see you cry.” You released a broken gasp as he fucked you harder and turned the vibrator up another notch.

“Aww, is this too much for my little princess? I have to prep you, sweetheart. If not, Daddy might not fit in your tight little pussy. And nobody likes to break their toys before they get to use them, right?”

You whimpered as your hands flew to your mouth to cover your moans. Your eyes rolled back as Shanks fucked you relentlessly with the toy. Your legs shook as he guided you to the edge, your body instinctively catapulting off of it. You couldn’t help it, you were already so close and Shanks' presence made it all the more overwhelming.

“Now, what is this? Did my little slut come without her Daddy’s permission?”

Your chest heaved, “S-Sorry, Daddy… I was just… so excited that the man I always wanted was you all along.”

Shanks’ ears perked up at that, “What do you mean, baby?”

He dropped the vibrator and rubbed his thumbs into your hip bones, the dildo still packed inside your tightness.

“The men I was stuck between… Was Shanks and Akagami.” You laughed breathlessly.

Shanks smiled a bit at your words, “Yeah? I guess you’ve fallen for me twice…”

You nod, and he crawls up your body, kissing you sweetly. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer to you. A muffled moan escaped your lips as you felt his tongue dart over your lower lip. You willingly opened your mouth to him, allowing you to explore it. Your tongues slid over each other, your bodies seeming to melt together as they mingled.

“Shanks-” You moan happily between kisses, “Ah, feels like…”

You blushed when you reached between your legs, feeling his hardness grind into your palm. He looked at you, a dark interest in his eyes, “Can’t you tell I’m happy to see you?”

He winked, and you looked away sheepishly, “I-I can see that now…”

“Here,” He pulled away, “Let me get out of my clothes too.”

He makes quick work of his shirt and pants, leaving him in only his underwear. You reach forward timidly before looking up at him with innocent eyes, “Can I, um…”

“Go ahead, princess, it’s all yours.”

You slowly tugged down his waistband and gasped when he came springing out. His giant, thick cock was throbbing and red. It looked desperate. You held it tenderly, the girthy dick pulsing in your hands.

“Woah…” You gasped, looking him over. He’s even better than you imagined.

As if lust possessed you, you sat up and situated yourself between his legs, eager to please him.

You looked up at him with innocent eyes while tentatively giving little kitten licks to his dick. As he hissed and fisted your hair with one hand, you hollowed your cheeks and took him in your mouth. Then, without thinking, you swallowed him down as far as you could, your nose brushing against his light pubic hair. He moaned out for you, tilting his head back.

“Fuck, that feels so good, sweetheart...”

You smiled to yourself, bobbing up and down his length as fast as you could, gagging all the way as little tears started to pool in your eyes. Still, you persisted, wanting to make your Daddy feel good.

You pulled off for a moment, watching his cock twitch in the open air. The way it throbbed and twitched made your pussy wetter than ever before. Drool escaped the corners of your lips and you wiped it off with the back of your hand before diving between his legs, lapping at his full balls.

“Fuck-” He growled, grabbing at your hair even tighter, “Not leaving a single inch untouched, are you, princess?”

You pulled off his balls for a moment, your face red as your hands continued stroking his shaft.

“Nuh uh,” You shake your head, “I want Daddy to know how much I love his cock…”

He let out a hearty laugh before you went back to work, licking him from base to tip before swallowing him up again. With each movement upwards, you swirled your tongue around his aching tip. Shanks groaned happily.

“That’s it,” He encouraged, “You’re good at this, sweetheart. How many boys have you practiced on, huh?”

You pulled off him, stroking his leaking tip, “I-I’ve only had sex with one person before you, Daddy… But I wish I saved myself for you. I just- I figured you never would’ve done this with me, no matter how much I fantasized…” You shook your head, “I tried to move on.”

“Oh, honey…” He smiles softly, tucking your hair behind your ear, “Let’s make up for lost time then, alright?”

He picked you up and laid you on the bed, kissing your inner thigh softly. “Let Daddy take care of you, alright, princess?”

You gasped when you felt him lick a long stripe of your pussy. “D-Daddy!”

“Just relax, baby.” Shanks mumbled into your cunt, “Let Daddy show you what a lifetime of experience feels like…”

He groaned as he pressed delicate kisses to your clit, making your pussy clench around nothing. You tossed your head to the side as Shanks kissed your sensitive nub, his tongue eventually teasing it as well. Your legs relaxed as his warm, rough hands stroked your thighs, soothing you.

“What a pretty little pussy…” He kisses your cunt again, “So sweet… So swollen…”

“Ngh,” You tilted your head back, “Daddy…”

He continued pressing kisses to your clit. The action was surprisingly sweet and tender, his lips feather light on your sensitive, swollen nub. Eventually though, his tongue peeked out from his lips, the kisses feeling wet. His facial hair tickled your pussy lips, the feeling completely foreign to you.

Shanks then guided his hand to your slit, rubbing your hole with his fingers. Slowly, he pressed one inside, his middle finger instinctively hooking upwards. You arched your back, loving how he rubbed that special spot inside you.

“Ah, Daddy-!” You whimpered, and he looked up at you, long hair falling in his face.

“Quiet, don’t want your dad to come knocking, right?” He chuckles, “Man, this is reminding me of high school… Fucking girls while their parents were home… It’s so fucking hot, isn’t it?”

You nodded, placing a hand over your mouth as Shanks teased that bundle within you.

With deft fingers, he continued teasing your g-spot as his tongue busied itself with your clit. Sweet soft kisses turned to absolutely messy licking, his tongue swiping over your clit with drool dripping from his mouth. His movements were quick as the flat of his tongue worked you over and over. Your legs trembled, your second orgasm approaching much faster than your first now that you were so sensitive.

“D-Daddy, stop-”

“What’s the matter, princess?” He stopped, worried about you.

“I-I feel like-” you stuttered, “Like I have to pee-”

Shanks’ eyes light up, “Yeah? That’s good, baby. Let it go; that means you gotta squirt. You’re gonna do it for Daddy, right? You know how much he loves that.”

“I’ll try, but-” You whined, “I-I’ve never done that before-”

“It’s alright,” he shushed you, “I know just what to do, alright? It’ll feel so good once you do it, princess- just trust me.”

You nodded quickly, “I-I trust you, Daddy.”

Shanks smiles and inserts a second finger into your hole, two fingers rubbing your g-spot smoothly. You whimper as his other hand touches your clit, rubbing the bud. His fingers begin to pick up speed, causing you to clench your teeth.

“S-Shanks-” You moan, “I-I feel it- I-It’s coming-”

“That’s it, baby, let it happen-”

Your eyes shut tight, and you felt all the pressure inside release. You heard it, too, the sound of your juices wetting the bed sheets underneath you. You tried opening your eyes, but everything was spinning. You attempted to catch your breath as Shanks praised you.

“That’s it…” he cooed, “You did so well. You’re definitely ready for Daddy’s dick now, pretty girl…”

Shanks kissed your clit one last time before readjusting himself so he was leaning over you. He took his desperate, swollen cock in hand and rubbed it against your sopping-wet hole, your hip in his other hand.You whimpered as his fat head slid over your desperate, yet overstimulated clit. Even though you had already cum twice, your body couldn’t get enough of him.

“This is it, princess. You sure this is what you want?”

You nodded eagerly, “Yes, more than anything.”

Shanks sighed, “Here goes…”

He eased himself inside inch by inch, only stopping once he bottomed out within you. You gasped and reached for his back, gripping his shoulders tight. Meanwhile, both of his hands held your waist.

Shanks cooed at you, “Alright, pretty girl, Daddy will go slowly, okay? Let him know when he can move. He knows it’s been a while for you, so he wants to be gentle… at least at first.”

Shanks hissed, feeling how tightly your snug walls pressed around him.

As he was sheathed entirely within you, he pressed his forehead against yours, staring deep into your eyes.

“You’re the best little girl. Daddy is so proud of you. You are such a good girl, fuck-”

Shanks’ little ramble about you was cut short when your walls tightened a bit more.

You kissed him deeply and once you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his, “Y-You can move, Daddy.”

Shanks nodded and started pulling out slowly, his thick length stretching you out. He only pulled out halfway before thrusting back inside, causing you to whine. You gripped his back even more, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Mm, Daddy-” You moan, “More-”

Shanks chuckled a bit before pulling out halfway again, this time forcing himself into you even rougher.

You let out a louder whine at the feeling.

As you were going to beg for more, Shanks shoved three fingers inside your mouth. Your eyes widened as you were taken by surprise.

“Now, little girl, didn’t Daddy tell you to be quiet? Do you want your dad to find us like this? Do you want him to see his daughter under me crying and begging for my cock?”

You shook your head as he started pounding a bit rougher into you.

“Then be a good girl for Daddy and suck on his fingers as he fucks your little pussy raw, yeah?”

His words made your needy cunt clench around him like a vice. You shut your eyes tight, eagerly sucking his fingers as he stretched you out.

Shanks’ hips are desperate, his balls smacking against your lips as he rammed himself inside you. You felt as though you were ascending to Heaven with how he was fucking you. Your toes curled and your back arched, your body desperately needing more of him.

You opened your eyes timidly to see his dark red hair hanging in front of his face, his brow furrowed as he put all his energy into pounding you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, no doubt leaving red marks on his tanned flesh.

You let out a disappointed groan when Shanks’ hips stop moving.

“Let Daddy show you a position that’ll let him give your cervix kisses…” Shanks mumbled before folding your body into a tight mating press.

When he slammed back inside, you let out a loud moan around his fingers. You had never felt so full before in your life. Nothing compared to this feeling.

When you heard Shanks laugh, you opened your eyes to look at him. He slipped his fingers from your mouth, drool connecting his fingers to your lips.

“Now look at that, little girl, you can see Daddy’s cock in your stomach. How cute…” You looked down to see the faint outline of his dick poking out of your stomach.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying as he pressed down your stomach, feeling his cock through you.

The pleasure was getting too much, having already cum twice. You started tearing up a bit at the overstimulation.

Shanks cooed at you, “Is this too much for my little princess? But Daddy hasn’t come yet, sweetheart. We can’t have that now, can we?”

You shook your head, more tears falling down your cheeks as you pressed your hand to your mouth to avoid making too much noise now that Shanks’ hands were occupied.

“You look so cute with little tears in your eyes, princess. Are you gonna let Daddy fuck you raw until he’s satisfied? Will you let Daddy creampie your little pussy?”

Shanks’ thrusts were getting rougher each second. Your eyes roll back as he rams his cock into your further walls, the curve of his cock brushing your g-spot along the way.

You took your hand off your mouth so you could whisper, “Yes, Daddy, please creampie my pussy, fuck me until you’re satisfied. I-I’ll take it like a good girl.”

Shanks growled lowly at you as your pussy clenched harder.

Life felt like eternity as Shanks pleasured you. Your bodies fit together perfectly, your hushed sounds like a muted symphony. Everything was perfect.

Until there was a knock at the door.

“Sweetheart?”

Shit, it was your father.

“Y-Yes, Dad?”

“Have you seen Shanks?”

“Uhm-” You looked up at Shanks who had a wild grin on his face. You reached for his stomach, trying to push him away, but he only pounded faster, making your head fuzzy. Your legs quivered as you tried to come up with an excuse.

“H-He’s- uh- in the bathroom!” You squeaked out, hoping that would satisfy your father.

“I just checked,” Your dad responds, “The door’s wide open.”

Shit.

“Uh, maybe he’s outside then?” You let out a frustrated groan, “I-I don’t know dad! I thought I told you I’d be on a call with a f-friend! I’m sure he’s somewhere around here!”

There’s a silence that follows, the sound of hips smacking against each other filling the room’s air. You hoped and prayed your father couldn’t hear it through the door.

“Right.” He says, “Sorry I interrupted your call.”

And with that, the sound of footsteps grew faint.

“Now it really feels like high school,” Shanks smiled, “Fuck, I was so close-”

You blushed furiously, “Y-You owe me for that!”

Shanks laughed, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, “C’mon, you had to admit, the thrill of it was amazing. We could’ve gotten caught just now…”

You whimper as Shanks bites your earlobe, his quick, powerful thrusts making you melt.

“S-Shanks, you’re crazy-” You gasp out, trying to look at him with a stern expression, but your lustful expression beats it easily.

“Just crazy about you.” He winks.

He moans softly as he buries his head in your neck, his chest positioned between your pushed back legs. His forceful thrusts somehow get even more strong, the power behind them knocking the air out your lungs.

“Mn, S-Shanks-” You whimper, your voice shaking.

“That’s it, little girl, so good, you’re so good for Daddy,” He cooed, “Daddy will keep you forever, fuck you dumb until your little pussy can only cum with Daddy’s dick. Is that what you want? For Daddy to keep you as his little girl forever?”

“Yes, Daddy, please,” You cried as low as you could.

Shanks’ thrusts were getting a bit sloppy as he fucked you, the thrill of everything finally getting to him.

“Can you cum again for Daddy?”

As he said those words, you felt yourself squirt again for him, the force of your orgasm pulling Shanks over the edge as you felt his cum fill you up. He groaned lowly, biting his lip to muffle his sounds.

The both of you collapsed, panting together, not letting go of each other.

You looked up to stare into his eyes, “Did you mean it, Daddy? Will you keep me forever?”

His eyes softened as he slowly pulled out, cum leaking out of you, as he went to hug you tightly.

“Did you mean it, princess? You really wanna belong to a perverted old man like me?”

You cuddled into him, “I’ve always wanted you, Daddy.”

He chuckled, “Then all we gotta do is think of a way to break the news to your old man that doesn’t end up with him killing me.”

Post Credits Scene

In the morning, you yawn and stretch as you come down the stairs, Shanks following not far behind. Your dad is already awake, as usual, his cup of coffee in his hands as he sits at the table. He gives a slight nod to you and Shanks, and you both take a seat.

“How did your call go?” Benn asks, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“It went well!” You chirped up, unable to hide your excitement from last night’s events.

“Yeah, I heard.” Shanks grins, “Up all night talking to that guy, huh?”

You fight the urge to kick him under the table.

“I’m curious, though,” your father looked at you both, “What kind of call was it that involved all that noise?”

Your face paled, and you looked at Shanks, who wore an uneasy smile, trying his best to formulate some kind of excuse.

“W-What do you mean, Dad?”

“Oh, just…” Your father pauses, sipping his coffee, “There was a lot of thumping last night, is all. I don’t recall hearing those sounds since I was roommates with Shanks in college.”

Shanks’ face has a soft tint to it.

“Ah, well, you know…” Shanks vaguely gestures, his voice trailing off.

“Oh yes, I sure do. I just never expected for you to do it with my daughter as well.”

Your face lost all color as Shanks’ face blushed a bit harder. Your eyes darted to the older man, but it looked like even he couldn’t charm his way out of this one.

“D-Dad, listen, I-” Your dad cut you off before you could finish.

He suddenly snaps, his calm demeanor gone, “What the hell is wrong with you, Shanks?!”

“H-Hey, it’s not like that…” Shanks’ voice shakes a bit with uncertainty.

“Bullshit, How long have you been fucking my daughter?”

Benn’s stern expression causes chills to run up your spine. He’s usually a serious man, but that look is one you haven’t seen in a long time if you’ve ever seen it this intense.

“It’s really not like that, Dad, I swear!”

“You don’t have to protect him, sweetheart.” His tone softened just for you as he glared daggers at Shanks.

“I’m not! I started it; I-I just didn’t know it was him!”

Then understanding seemed to dawn on your dad. Still, though, he had that same disapproving look on his face. You were having trouble reading him now.

“You called a phone sex hotline?” Then he looked at Shanks, “My daughter is the ‘little princess’ you haven’t shut the fuck about for the last few months?”

“You told my dad about this?!”

Shanks looked pale now as both your dad and you glared at him, “I-I didn’t know it was you at the time!”

Shanks begins to scramble for his words, now confronted with two angry people instead of just one. His cool is suddenly out the window as his best friend stares at him, his gaze showing that he’s debating how to kill Shanks and hide the body.

“Look, I know this is bad, sleeping with your daughter was never my plan, it’s just, y-you know I’ve always liked younger girls, a-and then she called me, and I started to look forward to her calls and-” His rambling was cut short as he looked at both your dad and you.

Shanks took a deep breath before talking again, “I really like your daughter, Benn, like for a permanent thing. I promise I won’t hurt her!”

“I really like him too, Dad; please don’t hate us!”

His face is hard as stone, your father’s gaze is disapproving, and you let out a deep sigh, your shoulders slumped. You knew this wouldn’t have gone well.

“You break my daughter’s heart,” He starts, “And I break your fucking neck.”

Shanks gives a nervous but excited smile.

You let out a happy laugh as you hug your dad, “Thank you, you’re the best! I love you!”

“Yeah, you’re grounded for the rest of the month, kid.”

You sigh but give a smile nonetheless. There were certainly worse outcomes.

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