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hwaflms · 16 days

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round & round! ★ [ l.dh ]

{💭} hyuck : i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you, but now everyone’s kissing you except me :/

[☆] pairing. haechan x reader, slight jaemin x reader ft. 00’ line, chaewon of lesserafim and sieun of stayc

[☆] genre. smut + fluff | stoner!nct, pwp bc it’s me

[☆] wc. 6.1k

[☆] warnings. explicit content (mdni), weed/marijuana use, lots of making out, slight choking, dirty talk, fingering, sexual stuff in a semi-public place, use of the word ‘slut’, very slight degradation, not very proofread, pretty tame tbh

[☆] notes. my first time writing again in like??? two years???? istg i didn’t mean to abandon this acc 😞 pls be nice i haven’t written in a while and this is not my most favourite work but i’m warming up for more stuff in da future i just wanted to post a lil self-indulgent smth abt hyuck bc bf☝️ idk how active i’ll be because of uni and other things but i missed u guys!!! any feedback is appreciated enjoy :p

even through the clouds of smoke engulfing the little living room of jeno and jaemin’s shared flat, your hooded eyes still met.

today was an important day amongst your friend group; it was chaewon’s first time smoking up with everyone. your friends weren’t really the type to pressure anyone into doing anything they weren’t sure about, but considering the astounding majority who enjoyed smoking some variation of weed, group sessions were a frequent occurrence. you either joined in or didn’t, chaewon being the latter until she decided of her own accord that she was going to try it with the people she trusted.

you sesh with jeno most often, seeing as he was the one who introduced you to weed and taught you everything you know about it. after weeks of listening to you complain about sleepless nights, jeno suggested you try smoking a joint before you go to bed, especially since it was starting to affect your attendance. (“i can’t keep attending these zoology classes without you, y/n. every time something stupid happens, i laugh and make a joke out loud because i forget you aren’t there, and now i’m pretty sure people think i’m either insane or just really fucking lonely”.)

now, smoking up has been a pretty regular occurrence, especially since jeno introduced you to a bunch of his friends and vice versa, all of you making up one big, happy group of stoners. chaewon and sieun were your friends who got along with everyone else just fine, and though they didn’t hang out with the others as much as you did, they were still welcome whenever.

presently, you are leaning back against the couch, all the way on the end, because jaemin is sprawled out alongside you, opting to rest his legs on your lap. haechan makes a joke that you don’t understand, but you laugh anyway along with everyone else, except renjun who covers up his laugh with cough.

“you can never let me have it, huh?”, hyuck scoffs, narrowing his eyes at renjun who’s mouth forms a thin line. “i know for a fact you find me funny.”

you hear that he makes a remark back at haechan but what he says doesn’t register in your head, everything sounding far away. remembering the special occasion, you turn to face chaewon and sieun, who are giggling away on the floor about something between the two of them. you don’t know what they said but you smile anyway. she clearly seemed like she was having a good trip, and so was everyone else.

swallowing nothing, you realise how dry your throat feels, and with that realisation came this undeniable desire for some form of liquid. “jen,”, you tilt your head back and call out to the boy who was already rolling another joint on the table behind you. “did you end up buying more coke?”

“check the fridge”, he mumbles without looking at you, tongue poking his cheek out of concentration as he focuses on what he was doing. with a groan, you heave jaemin’s legs off your lap, muttering a couple ‘sorry’s when he starts to complain about the change in position.

you all but float to the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and spotting the fresh cans of coke placed neatly in the overcrowded appliance. the first gulp feels like heaven against your parched throat, taking a few more while standing there.

“you gonna share or no?”, a voice startles you, turning to find haechan’s figure looming right behind you with a dopey smile on his face.

“god, we need to get you a bell or something. i never hear you coming”, you roll your eyes before grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. you’re disappointed to see that there was no ice in their freezer, but you pour the drink into the glass anyway.

“why are you pouring it into a glass?”, haechan furrows his eyebrows, looking pointedly between the glass and the literal can in your hand. “now we have to wash two glasses when we could’ve just drank it from the can.”

he’s right, of course, but you’re not gonna tell him that. instead, you pretend that you were planning on adding some lemon juice to the drink because you saw it on instagram. while you figure he doesn’t believe you, he humours you anyway and tries your little concoction, which ends up being pretty damn good.

out of all of jeno’s friends, haechan definitely stood out to you. you didn’t really understand why, you were just drawn to him, even way back before you met him, when jeno used to tell you about his friends. “loud and annoying” were the words he used to describe him, but the smile that appeared on his face anyway let you know that he was someone special to jeno. this was not to say his other friends weren’t special, you got along incredibly well with all of them, meshing right in with their group.

as of right on cue, jaemin’s voice loudly sounds out from the living room, “are you guys fucking in there or what?”.

sighing, you pick up your glass and begin to walk out of the kitchen, but not before purposely knocking haechan’s shoulder when you walk past him, hearing him snort before following you out as you exit the room. perhaps if you had lingered in the kitchen for a couple seconds longer, you would’ve heard haechan muttering something along the lines of “i wish” under his breath.

“jeez, took you long enough, can i have some of that?”, renjun drawls, lifting himself off the armchair with a smile, to which you roll your eyes but pass him your glass anyway. you sit down on the floor opposite the couch and he looks as if he is about to compliment your drink-making skills before haechan cuts him off.

“dude, chaewon and sieun look like they’re about to fall asleep, let’s do something”, he half yawns out, opting to stroll over to your spot on the floor and sinking down next to you.

“not…sleepy…”, chaewon murmurs, but her voice is muffled because her cheek is pressed against sieun’s shoulder, both of them sprawled out on the floor like it was a comfortable bed.

“sure you aren’t…”, jeno chides with a smile, getting up from the table to walk over to where all of you were situated. he twirls his newly rolled joint between his fingers, finally holding it out in his palm as if it were some magical gadget, and if you were being fully honest, you were sold. “round 2? or 3, I can’t really remember…”

some words of agreement were muttered across the room, chaewon and sieun even groggily getting up from what looked like a very comfortable napping spot. another rotation began, and you made sure to blow out your smoke directly into an unsuspecting haechan’s face when it was your turn.

“let’s play a game or something”, jaemin suggests, taking a long puff and passing it to jeno who sat beside him, and soon the room was hazy once again, the smell of weed infiltrating your nostrils.

“like what?”, chaewon coughs weakly in between her hit and renjun pats her back before he hands her your coke that you hadn’t received back after you gave it to him. so long for that.

“monopoly?”, jeno offers with a shrug and haechan lets out an obnoxious snore as a reply, making you laugh but you cover it up with a cough when you meet jeno’s playfully narrowed eyes. “okay then, big guy, what’s your incredible idea?”

haechan appears to actually think about it for a moment, looking around the room for some sort of inspiration maybe, until his eyes land on you.

“okay jaemin, get that empty wine bottle from last week, we’re playing spin the bottle”, he is grinning from ear to ear, wiggling his eyebrows even though all his suggestion receives is a bunch of groans and sighs.

your eyebrows are raised however, and you try not to let your reaction show too much on your face. spin the bottle? you hadn’t played that since you were maybe fourteen, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. haechan wanted to play spin the bottle? who was he hoping to kiss? or was it just a whimsical little suggestion that was more of a joke?

it didn’t fully seem like he meant it as a joke, judging by his expression as he awaited some actual responses from the group. “what are we, fourteen?”, renjun might as well have read your mind, but he soon joins you and haechan on the floor, the others following suit. jaemin presents the empty bottle and places it in the middle of the little circle you have formed, everyone seeming slightly more keen as the joint runs out.

maybe it was the thc talking, but it didn’t really seem like a bad idea to you anymore. you were all single, attractive and close enough that it wouldn’t make things weird, and most importantly, you wouldn’t mind getting more familiar with haechan’s lips.

you shocked your own self with the sudden lewd thoughts in your head about the male sitting next to you, squirming in your position slightly. he turns his head towards you like he could hear your thoughts (“shut up, y/n, he can’t hear your thoughts…right?”) and you swear his eyes soften a bit. “are you sure you wanna play?”, he asks softly, mistaking your tenseness for discomfort, but you shake your head a little too quickly for your liking.

“no, no, let’s play, it’s not like we have anything better to do, right?”, you feign indifference and after everyone else agrees, the bottle is spun for the first time by haechan.

much to renjun’s dismay, it lands on him, and it’s almost comical the way he looks at the bottle pointing at him before slowly looking up at haechan. “renjunnie, let me kiss you”, haechan whines in a high pitched tone while drawing out the “you”, puckering his lips expectantly. the next three minutes consist of renjun listing every single person he would rather kiss than haechan, and you’d have half the mind to volunteer yourself if you weren’t clutching at your sides laughing at the whole exchange, slapping at both jeno and sieun who tried and failed to dodge your waving hands.

renjun finally relents when chaewon suggests he lets him kiss his cheek instead, but haechan is no quitter so he makes sure that he plants the loudest, most wet kiss on his face before sighing in victory when he sits back down. renjun is not the most happy with this, and he tells jaemin to take his turn instead while he rushes off to the bathroom to wash his face. hyuck looks indignant, calling out behind renjun, asking if he wants another one.

taking the turn instead of renjun, jaemin spins the bottle harshly, and it spins and spins and spins for what seemed like an eternity. your eyes are so focused on the way the bottle looks as it spins that you don’t even notice that it has stopped, until jeno nudges you with his shoulder. it’s neck is pointed directly at you, and you finally look up from your trance at jaemin, who wears an undeniable smirk on his face.

while you didn’t exactly see him that way, there was absolutely no denying that jaemin was a very attractive man, and he was no different presently, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up as he propped himself up with his arms, looking at you expectantly.

you don’t want to look at haechan right now, because you can see out of the corner of your eye that his face is looking straight forward, not at you or jaemin, just forward. you wonder what is going through his head, but your thoughts are cut short when jaemin scoots closer to you in the circle.

“are you okay with this?”

and when you think about, you are. “yeah, i mean it’s just a game”, you reply, not wanting to ruin the fun or raise any suspicions, to which jaemin agrees and inclines his head towards you.

he kisses you, more fully than you were expecting, but you had no complaints really as you kissed him back, titling your head in the opposite direction to slip your lips over his. you wonder if your lips were as dry as they felt, and in the back of your mind it registers that your friends are watching you kiss your other friend because they hoot and giggle, but you can’t really bring yourself to care.

jaemin’s lips taste sweet and he smells sweet, his touch soft as he brings a hand up to your cheek, gently holding it while he continues kissing you. it probably wasn’t as long as it felt, but jaemin finally pulls away, the remnants of his sweet chapstick lingering on your lips. you are aware of how hot your face feels when you pull away and return to your spot, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“dude, what chapstick do you use?”, you ask after clearing your throat, and jaemin rummages in his pant pocket for a moment before whipping out a cute pink tube, holding it out in front of him. “strawberry dream, baby”, he winks, reapplying it on his lips. “never go anywhere without it.”

renjun returns after god knows how long, stating that he had to re-do his skin care routine because haechan had completely thrown off his skin’s ph balance, and is saddened to hear that he missed witnessing you and jaemin.

the game continues in a steadfast manner for the next couple of rounds thanks to haechan insisting we play one more round, though it doesn’t exactly go in the manner you were hoping for. the group is practically in tears after watching jeno and jaemin share an awkward kiss, chaewon arguing that they can’t claim “no homo” because it was the most homo thing she’d seen in a while, and that was saying a lot because she was, in fact, gay.

you have now kissed sieun, jaemin once again and an especially endearing renjun, who’s cheeks and tips of his ears are painted a bright red after you plant a full peck on his waiting lips. haechan grumbles something about renjun not having kissed anyone besides his mom to explain his reaction, but jeno is quick to cut renjun off before another argument ensues.

“i don’t know about you guys, but i think that’s enough exchanging of saliva for one day”, he all but sighs, lying down on the floor dramatically. while you do agree, you’re disheartened, because not once has the bottle landed on you when spun by haechan, or the other way around. it feels like the universe is fucking with you, because really how many times can you spin a bottle between a group of seven people and not have it land on the one person you want to kiss even once.

haechan looks like he wants to say something, but appears to decide against it in the end, stretching and standing up. it is then mutually agreed by everyone that it was time to watch a movie.

“super bad?”, jaemin proposes, and even though most people had already watched the movie, no one argues against it and jeno starts setting up the movie on their big screen tv.

settling into the couch, you glance over at haechan and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling a tad bit disappointed. this whole spin the bottle thing makes you wonder about all the other times where you could have had an opportunity to make a move on the brown-haired boy.

you’d gone on long drives together, gone partying, even drank with just each other a couple of times. the closest the two of you had ever come to crossing that line was while you where dancing at a party and his arms were looped around your waist from behind, slowly swaying to the beat. you’d danced with him tons of times before that but you recall thinking the air was a little different than normal, more heated, but you also recall mistaking renjun for your professor, so you didn’t trust yourself. the moment came and went, and neither of you ever had the balls to address it, and now it had been way too long since to bring it up.

“this seat taken?”, haechan snaps you out of your bitter thoughts, jerking his head towards the spot on the couch next to you. you clear your throat and shake your head, scooting over slightly so he could sink down next to you. “what’s up, y/n, you look a little…not present. you still high?”

it’s funny because your mind certainly wasn’t present, it was in the gutter, but you choose to blame the weed. “yeah, i’m still high”, you answered truthfully, and so was he, his red, hooded eyes a dead giveaway.

“okay, perfect, i wanted to show you this stupid tiktok i saw”, he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket and leaning closer to you to show you some video of a cat, or maybe a dog, you weren’t paying attention. he laughs at whatever the animal did, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he does so, and you observe him instead of watching. when he doesn’t hear you laugh, he peeks over at you but you’re quick to turn your head back to his phone, letting out a very late giggle at the video.

if he did catch you, he doesn’t mention it, continuing to scroll and show you more videos. jeno finally gets the movie set up and turns off the lights, taking up the final seat left on the couch. the movie begins, and everyone falls into a comfortable silence bar hyuck, who makes the occasional comment that earns him a snort from you each time.

at some point during the movie, haechan stretches his arms out behind him, placing his arm on the head of the couch directly behind you. glancing at him quickly, you can’t tell whether the action was purposeful or not, because if it was, he was doing a very good job of looking nonchalant. you try your best to ignore it, but his hand is resting directly above your shoulder, inches away from touching you- but it never does.

you had never noticed what nice hands haechan had before. long and slender, nails clipped short and clean, his middle, ring and index finger adorned with various silver rings. you note that he wears three rings on his left hand, but none on his right. his right hand sits on top of one of his thighs, two of his fingers drumming against it following some rhythm going on in his head. his fingers are long, and the only thing you can think about is just how nice they would feel inside–

no, no, no, stop it, since when are you this horny?

you realise stressing out about how horny you are all of a sudden is just going to lead to a bad trip and you don’t want that, and you want to clear your head. even though you’re feeling a different kind of thirsty, you figure a distraction for a couple minutes would be helpful, so you excuse yourself to go get some water, jumping up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen. unbeknownst to you, haechan’s watchful eyes follow your figure as you exit the room.

finally away and in the kitchen, you fill up a glass and lean over the sink, closing your eyes to collect yourself. you can finish the movie without driving yourself crazy over haechan, right? tonight is no different than any other hangout and you don’t want to weird haechan out with your unnecessary staring and poorly concealed thirsting. you just need to stop thinking about his stupid hands, his stupid thighs, his stupid hair and his stupid kissable lips. “kissable? lock in, y/n, lock in…”

“who are you talking to?”

you wince but don’t turn around, eyes screwed shut tightly. you’ve been gone for a couple minutes and you don’t know when he left the room, but you put down the glass and turn to face him.

“what’s got you so jumpy?”, he questions, leaning against the counter. his arms are folded and his gaze is piercing, face tilted slightly to the left as he observes you. this is the second time he’s startled you in the kitchen today and also happens to be the very reason you’ve been so jumpy.

“nothing, i just…god, you need to starting announcing your entry into a room, dude…”

he furrows his eyebrows but lets out a chuckle anyway, slowly sauntering over to where you stood. eyes never leaving yours, he now stands directly in front of you, caging you in between the sink and his body. the closer proximity and dim lighting isn’t helping your case in the slightest, feeling all hot and bothered as if there was a sudden change in temperature. “what’s happening? you’re usually never like this, we’ve smoked up together so many times. are you having a bad trip?”

you understand why he might think that, what with your jerky movements, dazed staring and just overall disconnected demeanour. while you were wound up a little tighter than usual, you weren’t having a bad trip, your mind was just very slightly preoccupied. “no, hyuck, i’m fine, i just…needed some water”, it’s a half-lie you tell, choosing to not tell him the full truth for the sake of your own pride.

“you just seem…off”, he seems to pick his words carefully, eyes roaming over the expanse of your face. “no, i just…”, you trail off to try and find the words to explain this situation away, but he’s just looking at you so intensely. it’s so silent in the room and the air feels all too still, and you swear you’re trying to speak coherently but haechan switches his weight to his other leg, wetting his lips with his tongue while he awaits an answer and you just freeze. “i…”

“‘i’ what? see? you’re doing it again”, he starts, running a hand through his hair, and the muted light that leaks in through the window illuminates only one half of his face, but you can see him so clearly that even the way his pretty eyelashes brush against his cheek when he blinks doesn’t go unnoticed by you. you’re subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. “you have this look in your eye. like you wanna…”

“…what?”

everything is still and unmoving, until your eyes zero in on haechan’s hand as he raises it, slowly bringing it to graze his fingers over your cheek. his touch leaves a burning hot trail on your skin and using his thumb, he releases your bottom lip from under your teeth, hand lingering cautiously for a fleeting moment before he drops it.

“like what, haechan?”, you repeat yourself, urging him to just say whatever it is he has to say, getting tired of this back and forth. you could sell a kidney just to see what was going on in his mind right now, because he looks torn between speaking his mind and just staying silent.

“like you want to kiss me.”

a few beats of complete and utter silence pass, not even hearing the dull sound of the television in the living room anymore over the thudding of your heart in your ears. haechan takes a small and tentative step towards your frozen figure, gripping the counter you’re using to lean against with his right hand, effectively trapping you in your place. now you really are a deer caught in headlights, because he’s spoken what you’ve been thinking about for the past couple hours into existence and he is absolutely correct.

“am i wrong, pretty?”

judging by your sharp intake of breath and open-mouthed expression, you’d have to be a fool to think otherwise. he looks as if he’s waiting for you to answer him regardless, giving you a chance to get out of this, but your voice is no longer functioning, and it takes all the strength in your body to shake your head ‘no’.

his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, tongue peeking out to lick his lips again. “i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you”, his voice is strained as he admits this, quiet and careful like he’s holding back while his eyes are trained on yours like he’s daring you to break eye contact. you don’t. “but then everyone else was kissing you but me.”

normally you would giggle at his little frown, but all you can muster up is a whisper of his name, finally breaking his all-consuming eye contact in favour of looking at his lips again. you don’t know who moves first, but the next thing you know is your lips are pressed together in a fierce kiss, your hands tangled in his soft, brown locks while he grip your waist and pull you into him.

he kisses you like a man starved and you do the same with equal fervour, not even being able to process that your little daydream is coming true. his hand comes up to caress your cheek, soon moving down your neck after stroking your face softly, using it to tilt your head for you. the position of his hand is very purposeful because his thumb presses into your throat ever so slightly, but his grip is still tight enough that you couldn’t break the kiss (not that you wanted to, anyway). the other hand snakes around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, pressing his hips into yours.

you’re positively drunk off the feeling of haechan’s lips molding over yours and you think you might just ascend when he tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, using the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. body on fire, you mewl against his lips, swirling your own tongue around his while he slowly but surely bucks his hips into yours.

no wards are spoken while your hands thread through his hair, pulling on it and letting out a sound of surprise into his mouth when his hand trails down to your ass and grips it harshly. he finally releases you from the searing kiss, but he doesn’t let you catch your breath, instead spinning you around in his hold so that his front presses tightly into your back, hands slipping around your waist from behind. this feels like a déjà vu kind of moment because you are reminded of the time when you both were dancing in this exact position, except this time you were getting exactly what you wanted.

“you know how bad i wanted this?”, his voice echoes your thoughts and breaks the silence, hands running up and down your front in a teasing manner. lifting your shirt up slightly, he trails his fingers over the exposed skin of your torso and the action makes you squirm in his hold a little, and much to your surprise, he groans lewdly against your ear. “fuck, i’ve been thinking of this for so long. kissing you, having my hands all over you…”

you get the sense he’s talking more to himself than you, but you revel in it nonetheless. his hand grips your jaw and squishes your cheeks together so your lips form a pout, forcing it to the side where he plants one, two, three kisses to your puckered mouth. his other hand slips further up your shirt where he brazenly cups your boob through your bra, fondling one of them while his tongue peeks out to flick at your bottom lip.

you’re putty in his arms, all gasps and squirms and whispered ‘haechan’s. “what, baby?”, he mumbles into your cheek, the hand gripping your jaw letting go in order to slink down to your hip where it lingers for a moment. “what do you want?”

your lack of answer doesn’t bode well with him, earning you a tight squeeze to your hip as a kind of warning. “need you to touch me”, you whisper out defeatedly, and you feel haechan laugh mockingly against your face.

“yeah? need me to touch you?”, he mimics your voice while tutting, letting his hand slip further down to where you needed him the most, but not letting you have it just yet. “think you can be a good girl and keep quiet for me? we don’t need everyone outside hearing what a little slut you’re being in here.”

everyone outside. the fact that you were just a room away from all your friends who were sat watching a fun little movie together had completely slipped your mind, but if you were being honest, you couldn’t find it in you to give a shit. everything about your current disposition was so dirty. one hand under your shirt, the other about two seconds away from fingering you right in the middle of your friends’ kitchen, while said friends were sat outside, unaware of the goings-on under their own roof.

though you didn’t think actually getting caught in this position would be the most pleasant experience, the idea of it dampened your panties and caused you to whine out loud, tilting your head back against haechan’s shoulder. you receive an immediate hand clamped over your mouth in return, haechan tutting in your ear condescendingly. “looks like the little slut can’t follow a simple request.”

even though he reprimands you, his hands begin fumbling with the button of your jeans anyway, undoing it and pulling the zipper down. one hand comes up to wrap around your front and rests on your shoulder, holding you in place, and the other he sticks down your pants and cups your heat but makes no effort to move, chuckling when you try to move yourself against it. his crotch ruts against the swell of your ass and for you, any friction is better than no friction at the moment. with one hand gipping the arm around your shoulder, you slip the other behind you to palm at his hard cock over his pants, making him let out a sound of approval.

“please, hyuck”, you shake your face free of his hand and turn to look him in the eye, and he grips your throat and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

he seems to accept your plea, finally moving his hand against you and you breathe a sigh of relief, lost in the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit over your wet underwear. he’s quick to slip his hand inside your panties, cold fingers pressed directly on to your bare pussy, spreading your wetness all over you. when he ultimately slips a finger into your tight, waiting core, you moan but it’s cut short when he slaps his hand over your mouth again. “keep. quiet.”

if someone were to walk in, the two of you would be a sight to see. you writhing in his tight hold while his hand is stuffed in your pants, two fingers pistoning in and out of you at a fast pace as his forehead is pressed against the side of your face, releasing short breaths. you look positively fucked out, and you’re both in a state of complete bliss as you grind against each other in a timely rhythm.

“my pretty girl. if i had known you wanted this too, i would’ve just grabbed you and kissed you like i wanted, in front of everyone.”

his voice is honey-like and sultry, and his fingers are nothing short of heavenly. they pump in and out of you, and he still manages to use his thumb to toy with your clit in this position, leaving you breathless and on the edge. “can’t believe jaemin and renjun got to kiss you before me.”

you’re so wet that your cunt makes downright sinful noises as he fingers you and you’re hoping that it isn’t really as loud as it seems. “you’re so wet, angel. so this is what had you all jumpy today”, he laughs like he’s stating the obvious, and you’d have half the mind to feel shy if his ministrations didn’t feel so fucking good right now.

you’re aware that you’re close and so is he because you’re clenching around his fingers, so he quickens his pace both inside you and against your clit. “you gonna cum for me, baby? right here, in the middle of kitchen, while everyone’s outside?”, he purrs against your face and you grip the part of his arm that isn’t shoved in your pants, digging your nails into his skin in a way that’s sure to leave a mark. his words make you feel dirty in the best way, not even knowing you could feel this turned on.

he peppers kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking here and there, and through the pale moonlight bleeding into the room from the window, the red blemishes that begin to bloom on your skin are visible to hyuck, and he seems pleased with his artwork. “that’s it, sweetheart, let go for me.”

your moans are muffled against his palm when you finally come, the orgasm ripping through you so strongly that you go limp in his hands, legs almost buckling at the sensation. with the added boost of the weed you smoked earlier, your orgasm is immense, feeling it pulse through your body until it’s too much, whining and wriggling in haechan’s firm hold. he holds you still and helps you ride out your high, whispering utterances of “that’s right, baby” and “my good girl” into your ear while you throw your head back and try to regulate your breathing.

in a moment, his hand slips out of your pants, turning you back around so you’re now facing him, grinning down at you from ear to ear as if you both hadn’t just defiled jaemin and jeno’s kitchen. “you feeling okay?”, he mumbles, tucking your hair behind your ear with the hand that wasn’t soaked, pressing a number of kisses all over your face as you nod and giggled, trying to evade his attack. he lets you go just to wash his hands, and it’s when he dries his wet hands on the material of his pants that you notice his raging boner, immediately feeling bad.

“wait hyuck, let me–“

as if he’s reading your mind once again, he shakes his head and takes both of your hands into his, wrapping them around his own waist while pulling you into him. “we can save that for another time, pretty”, he insists, his expression turning shy when he realises the implications behind his words. “that is, i-if you want another time, of course–“

it’s your turn to cut him off this time, but you do so by leaning up and connecting your lips again, bring a hand up to stroke his cheek. “of course i want another time, hyuck. i want this. i want you.”

your assurances do good to bring a smile to his pretty face, taking ahold of the hand on his cheek and pressing his lips to your skin gently, lovingly. “so, so, perfect.”

taking note of the prolonged amount of time the two of you had been gone, you skulk back into the living, but this time, hand in hand.

the scene you’re greeted with is a surprising one, because you find every single one of your friends to be sound asleep, much to your amusement and hyuck’s dismay. “so you’re telling me i could’ve been hearing you moan the whole time and none of these idiots would have even known?”, he is appalled, a hand coming up to rub at his face out of frustration. “i did all that for nothing?”

“i wouldn’t say for nothing”, you reveal, biting your lip and smiling up at the boy shyly. “i might have woken them up.”

“oh yeah, well now you’re going to”, and with that, he’s dragging you back to the kitchen while you giggle, nearly tripping over your own feet before he all but scoops you up in his arms, muttering to himself about having left something in the kitchen that needed urgent fetching.

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nocreativityfornames · 3 months

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Everything we know about Michael so far, lore wise.

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR ALL SEASONS

➤ He's an high-ranking angel from the Celestial Realm, more specifically a Seraph. (nb: 18-2 and nb card: Luke - "I can do it too!")

➤ His love for sweets is the reason Luke took interest in baking. (swd: 5-12 and 23-5)

➤ He and Lucifer were equals in the Celestial Realm and no other angel shared the same status as them. Simeon referred to them back then as "the two great leaders of the Celestial Realm's legion of angels." (swd: 23-7) But currently Michael carries that position alone. (swd: 23-5)

➤ He was supposed to meet MC when they visited the Celestial Realm with Solomon but couldn't because a secret spring suddenly started drying and Michael had to go there to investigate the situation. (swd: 23-7)

➤ He used to be Mammon's mentor and tried his best to train the white-haired brother while in charge of him but wasn't able to figure out how to handle him and eventually went to Lucifer asking for help. And since Lucifer was somehow able to get Mammon to listen to him, he ended up taking over Michael's role and became his mentor instead. (swd: 27-19)

➤ He was originally the one in possession of the Ring of Wisdom but gave the ring to Solomon at a time when the human was feeling "lost" and Michael wanted to help him. (swd: 29-5)

➤ During MC's 2° stay in the Devildom when Diavolo was keeping secret from everyone that their powers had become a threat to the three realms, Michael sent the prince a message through Simeon, warning him that if whatever he was keeping a secret affected the Celestial Realm, angels wouldn't hesitate to intervene. (swd: 31-16 Hard Mode)

➤ He's the one who found the Ring of Light, counterpart to the Ring of Wisdom that Lucifer had lost during the Great Celestial War (swd: 37-9), and quickly noticed it was missing when Simeon stole it to give it to MC ( since it was the only other way to control their powers ), shooting the other angel a text stating that they needed to have a "good, long talk" and that he wanted to see him as soon as possible. (swd chat: M, "untitled")

➤ When MC was given the Ring of Light and fell unconscious because of it, Michael appeared to speak with them. And during their talk, the seraph told MC that he had pictured them to be truly wicked person due to being so well-liked by the brothers, but that he had been proven wrong after meeting them. (swd: 38-17)

➤ In that same conversation, Michael confessed to being jealous of MC. He told them: "I must admit that I'm jealous of you, MC. I wish I could have been more like you. Because I loved Lucifer and his brothers, and I lost them. Perhaps things could have been different..." (swd: 38-17)

➤ When asked, Satan explained to MC that Michael was the opposite of Lucifer appearance-wise but that they felt like twins at the same time. And when Mammon brought up Michael's adoration for Lucifer, Satan chimed in saying that in his opinion the reason Michael liked Lucifer so much was because he was the embodiment of everything he wanted to be but couldn't. (swd: 43-19)

➤ He would be the one having meetings with Diavolo when the prince took over the kingdom if he hadn't thrown the responsibility onto Lucifer in the last minute, making Michael in a way the stepping stone that led Lucifer to question his faith and start having doubts about God and the Celestial Realm in general. (swd: 44-15)

➤ When MC ended up in the past Celestial Realm through a dream Solomon sent them to accidentally by feeding them his food, Michael was the one to bring them back home. The angel told MC that they and the brothers would likely forget what happened in the dream but that it would still have an effect on all of them and he would keep an eye on them to make sure that said effect didn't have negative consequences in the future. (swd: 44-18)

➤ Luke told MC that he often found Michael in the hall where the brothers' portraits used to hang staring at the empty space, lost in thought. According to the small angel, Michael to this day still deeply misses the brothers and has regrets about the war. (swd: 49-15)

➤ He was the one to cast out the brothers from the Celestial Realm and send them to the Devildom. (swd: 50-7)

➤ According to Mammon, Michael and Simeon must've pulled some strings behind the scenes to get Luke to participate in the exchange program and be able to visit the Human World with Simeon because, with his low ranking, he'd never be the one chosen for those sorts of things and the Avatar of Greed is convinced that they're doing this because they want Luke to experience life outside the Celestial Realm, see that there's more out there than heaven, and stop thinking that angels are perfect beings who can do no wrong. (swd: 50-10)

➤ He's knowledgeable on constellations and likes them so much he had Raphael rebuilt a whole room so Human World constellations could be seen even from the Celestial Realm. (swd: 52-7) He also taught Mammon about them when he was still in his care, and later on taught Luke as well. (swd: 50-12)

➤ It was actually he who went into the Devildom and told the brothers that they had been forgiven by God and had to choose between staying in the demonic kingdom ( and making an enemy out of heaven ) or coming back to the Celestial Realm and leaving Satan behind. And in a conversation with Raphael, Michael said the reason for his disguise was that he was worried about what could happen if he showed up as himself. But Raphael quickly rebutted that by saying that the true reason Michael didn't go as himself was because he wouldn't know how to act around the brothers. (nb: 20-14 Hard Mode)

➤ Still disguised as Raphael before going back to the Celestial Realm, Michael told Luke that he wasn't surprised that the brothers didn't accept his offer to go back to heaven and actually knew that would be the outcome of it. He was also surprised not too long after when Luke, not knowing it wasn't Raphael who he was talking to, pointed out that Michael seemed sad and lonely whenever he was staring at the wall where the brothers' portraits used to be. Michael's exact response to the younger angel's words was: "...I didn't realize that's what people thought.” (nb: 20-A)

➤ When asked by Raphael if he planned to attend RAD in the future, Michael avoided giving an direct answer and left. (nb: 20-14 Hard Mode)

#there are some things here that have not been “confimed to be him” because he was under the name “???” during the scenes but #I added them here anyway because we all know it was him at this point #! there might be stuff I didn't add because I couldn't remember so tell me if you notice something is missing !#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omswd #obey me michael #obey me solomon #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me mc #obey me satan #obey me raphael #obey me #obey me lorebible #☙ no creativity for names ✾

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ohthewh0rror · 5 months

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ETERNALLY YOURS.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — The follow up to ‘I’ve Dug Two Graves For Us, My Dear.’ Now that your marriage has been irreparably damaged, where do the two of you go from here?

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Word count: 2k

A/N: I changed my mind after writing a completely different ending. At first I wanted to make it angst-filled and unhappy but I keep writing sad stuff, and you guys deserve a break. Thank you to my best friend Madie for proof-reading/editing this once again and to @brooklynscherry-z for helping me get a better understanding of Tom & Mattheo’s lore. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this (much shorter) continuation to ‘I’ve Dug Two Graves For Us, My Dear”!

“A letter arrived for you this morning, Y/N,” came the soft voice of your great aunt Delia, her wrinkled hand holding the letter out for you. For a second you were confused, unsure of who would have sent you a letter, especially at such an early hour, until it dawned on you.

Your husband.

A pang of hurt hit your heart at the thought of him. It had been two months since you had seen or spoken to him and though you hated him, another, smaller, part of you missed him terribly. He had been your first love and dearest friend, and his infidelity wasn’t enough to completely erase the love you’ve held for him since the two of you were only seventeen.

As you held the letter in your hands you contemplated not opening it, to instead toss it in the trash and forget it ever arrived. You eyed the entrance to the kitchens, the trash was right through that door, you could throw it away and leave the contents of the letter a mystery. But, as you turned the letter over in your hands, you felt curiosity eating at the back of your mind, beckoning you to open the letter and dissect its contents.

‘Well…it couldn’t hurt,’ you thought, gently unfolding the parchment. As your eyes skimmed over the opening of the letter, you soon realized this was not a letter you should read in the company of others. Folding the letter back up, you looked at your aunt, asking “may I be excused?”

Her eyes darted between the parchment and your eyes, and she looked as if she wanted to ask you something but she waved you off instead, wordlessly telling you that you may take your leave.

You gave her a nod of gratitude before heading to the room you were staying in, trying your hardest to seem normal. Once you entered your room, you made sure to lock the doors and cast a silencing charm for good measure. You did not want your aunt to hear you in the event that you became upset.

Sitting at the desk in the corner of your room, you unfolded the letter and began to read it once again.

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you well. It has been two months since I have seen or spoken to you, and I must admit that I miss you more than I thought myself capable of. I understand that what I did was unforgivable in your eyes, but I hope by telling you everything it will help you process what is going on so we may move forward from this.

A year ago I approached Bellatrix with the proposition of conceiving and carrying my heir. I explained I did this out of a need to produce an heir and you had not been able to get pregnant yourself. Once she had the child, the child would be ours to raise, she was merely going to be a surrogate of sorts; she understood and agreed to the terms and from there we began the affair.

She finally fell pregnant 6 months ago with a boy. While I should've told you about my plans before approaching her, I most definitely should have told you once she was with child. I am sincerely sorry that you found out the way you did. I wish I could have told you myself, under better circumstances.

Please consider coming back home so that we may be a proper family.

Eternally yours, Tom

You felt a few tears slip out and drip from your eyes onto the parchment, smearing the ink that stained the page with its terrible words. Oh how you wish he hadn’t written to you. His answers did not bring any form of acceptance of his actions, only further heartbreak. It was hard for you to comprehend how he could have sex with her and then return home to you as if all was normal.

“Reducio,” you muttered, shrinking the letter. You carefully folded it, being sure not to rip it, before you got out of your seat and made your way to your closet. On the top shelf, in the furthest corner, sat an intricately carved wooden box with flowers lining the top and sides. The initials M.R sat right above the lock. You conjured a small stepping stool, but even with the stool you were still unable to reach it, leaving yourself to blindly swipe your hand across the shelf till you finally felt your fingers bump the edge.

With what you were looking for finally in your grasp, you got off the stool and went back to your desk. You sat down again, reaching towards one of the desk drawers, and pulling it open to retrieve the small key for the box. As soon as the lock clicked, you opened the top, revealing an empty interior.

The box was made to hold important milestone objects and keepsakes for your son. You planned to fill it with your own letters and pictures so that you could look back on it when he is older and no longer needs you, to remind yourself of simpler times. You hadn’t planned on putting anything related to Tom in there. The thought of him was far too painful, and you didn’t want to taint the little bits of happiness within.

Taking the shrunken letter you placed it in the box before sliding off your wedding ring and putting it on top of the letter. As you closed the box once again, you felt as if you were also closing the metaphorical lid on your marriage. You wouldn’t grace Tom with your presence, a simple letter would have to suffice as you decided you were going to effectively cut him out of your life.

Dear Tom,

I will keep this letter simple and to the point. I appreciate your honesty and your willingness to take some form of accountability for your actions, as I know it’s not something that comes easy to you. But, I will not be returning home nor will we be playing at being a happy family. If you want to be a family as badly as you say, then leave our marriage intact but let us live separate lives. Don’t worry, I do not plan to date or remarry, for you are my first and final love.

That all being said, do not contact me again unless it is with divorce proceedings.

P.s. congratulations on the heir you always wanted.

Sincerely, Y/N

Putting your quill down, you read over the letter one more time to be sure this was what you wanted your final words to him to be. Satisfied with what you wrote, you got out of your chair once again and left the room, heading towards the back garden where you knew the owl belonging to your aunt would be.

Walking into the small building that housed her owl you saw the bird, Chipp, still here and not away delivering mail for your aunt. You gave Chipp a few treats as a thank you for going out in the cold for delivering this letter for you before holding the letter out for the owl to take. Chipp happily took the parchment and flew off to take the letter to its recipient.

That was the last time you spoke to Tom. As the months turned to years, Tom became a distant, painful memory.

11 years later

“Mattheo! Wait up!” You called out to your son, as he excitedly ran ahead of you. You were winded trying to keep up with him, trying hard not to lose him in the crowd of teary-eyed mothers and nervous children. When you finally caught up to him, you grabbed him by the shoulder, halting him. “I understand you’re excited, but will you try not to run off,” you were panting slightly, “I would at least like to tell you goodbye.”

Mattheo looked exasperated, trying already to seem too cool to tell his mother bye. “But mum—” he started, trying to justify his running off. “No buts; now, let me see you,” you said, motioning him to turn around. He groaned, turning around to face you. You held him by his arms in front of you, “listen, and actually listen to me for once; listen to your professors and don’t cause trouble, I know how—” you paused mid sentence when something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

It was your husband.

Your husband, who you hadn’t seen in 11 years, with a young boy standing beside him. The two of you locked eyes and you felt a wave of discomfort hit you. How could you have been so stupid? Of course he would be here, his son and Mattheo are close in age, they’d obviously go to school together.

You decided to skip the speech and quickly walk further up the platform, trying to put more room between you and Tom. You didn’t want Tom to approach you and attempt to talk to you or your son. Mattheo didn’t need to go through such a confusing altercation on such an important day. This day was only about him and you wanted it to be special.

Once you put a satisfying amount of room between the two of you, you stopped and your son decided to ask why that man was staring at you. Waving him off, you explained, “he’s just someone I used to know, that’s all.” Mattheo looked like he had more questions, but you didn’t give him the chance to ask them. Instead, you gave him a parting kiss on the forehead and told him goodbye before all but pushing him onto the train.

You backed away and watched Mattheo walk further into the train before he finally disappeared from sight. You felt your eyes well up with tears at the reality of your son leaving for Hogwarts, giving you definitive proof of how old he was getting. It made you wish you possessed a time turner, just so you could go back to the beginning and do it all over again.

As you shuffled back toward the exit, you were lost in thought over how Mattheo would do at Hogwarts. What house would he be in? Would he make friends? How would he do academically? You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed someone closing in on you until it was too late.

You felt a hand wrap around your bicep and pull you back slightly causing you to stumble into their chest. You whipped around, about to give the owner of the offending hand a piece of your mind when you saw who was touching you.

Tom looked at you, and though his face remained neutral, you swear you saw a glint of hurt in his eyes. He released your arm only to place a hand on the small of your back, “walk with me, Y/N?”

You hesitated for a second before giving him a small nod and walking with him back towards the entrance to platform 9 ¾. There was a moment of tense, awkward silence before he spoke.

“What is his name?” Tom asked. You thought about whether you wanted to tell him or not, as you knew where this conversation was headed.

“Mattheo,” was all you said. Not giving away his full name, as you weren’t ready to admit you’d given him Tom’s last name.

Tom went silent again and you looked up to see him deep in thought. Not wanting to make the situation any more uncomfortable by just staring at him, you looked away, waiting for him to speak once again. Though, once he spoke, you wish he had kept the awkward silence between you two.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

Taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @mypolicemanharryyy @jessysfangirlworld @homan-oid @motherofdragons1998 @theeslutintheroom @pasta01 @lovefks @mwahbella @storminacloud @brooklynscherry-z @eri-s-big-sis @eversei @tomhollandisabae @rlblackbarbie @cyphah @cookielovesbook-akie

#tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #take it #I’m going to bed

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fatesundress · 1 year

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⭑ observations ii. tom riddle x reader

part i here.

summary. two weeks after your last encounter with tom shatters all of your previous observations, tensions are high, and eventually, something's gotta give. (it's tom. he’s giving head)

tags. smut (so. so much. minors BE GONE TO WHENCE YOU CAME!), fem anatomy + reader is referred to as a woman by someone, fingering, cunnilingus, piv, again implied tall!tom or short!reader (take it however you prefer), jealous tom does not understand friendship but then again neither does reader apparently, a little wine is had, the room of requirement is used shamelessly as a plot device, did i mention smut, i’ve lost my mind etc etc.

note. this is a part two, so go ahead and read the first part and come back if you'd like :) obligatory preface: it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also woahh was not expecting the love on my last post so thank you! i'm still trying to figure this whole acc out so support, questions, (requests? never done those before) anything is appreciated ♡

word count. 6.3k

The next two weeks are agony. You don’t, in fact, stop meeting with Godefrey to study, because you do, in fact, still need a good mark in Ancient Runes and for all his faults he can reach the tallest shelves and he’s a faster writer than you. Also, Tom Riddle is fantastic with his hands but this does not make him God.

You find pureblood politics a bit archaic. You find muggle courting a bit stifling. This leaves very little space for what took place between you and Tom in the middle of a corridor two weeks ago (you can’t stop wincing at how insane that sounds) and very little patience for his utterly original and not-at-all entitled request that you halt your studies with Godefrey. Godefrey doesn’t stick his hands up your skirts while the two of you are studying, doesn’t silence your gasps with a shush and a finger to your mouth, doesn’t — wouldn’t (you’re so imaginative when you want to be) — tell you to keep reading as his thumb draws circles between your legs, tell you to repeat the words that get caught in your throat, tell you how much he likes it when your eyes go dumb and glassy and all you can say is his name. So, really, Tom should have nothing to worry about.

“I swear,” Selwyn says, picking at a plate you don’t think she’s actually eaten anything off with how distracted she is, “he’s looked over here at least three times.”

You don’t dare glance at who you know she’s talking about. “You’re obsessed.”

Pot. Kettle. Whatever.

“Are you sure you didn’t do something to upset him in Potions? Didn’t botch something that might mar his perfect record?”

You flick her forehead and she scowls. “I’m not an idiot, Selwyn. I handle myself just as well in Potions as he does — he wouldn’t —” Wouldn’t have complimented your rapport if that weren’t true, wouldn’t have said you communicate efficiently, make a good pair, probably wouldn’t have — fingered you in the hallway? — yes, that too. Slipped your mind. So easy to forget.

You take a long exhale, and smile impassively at her. “I didn’t botch anything, trust me.”

She finally takes a bite of food. “Maybe I did something…”

And then she’s lost in thought again, eating now, at least, and you shake your head softly as you watch what are likely a million different theories flitting through her head.

“Morning,” Tom says to you when you enter Potions after breakfast, a delicate smile tugging at his lips.

You have, of course, trained for this.

It’s your fifth — sixth? — time sharing a table with him since that night and it is somehow easier by nature and harder by anticipation (of what, you have no idea) every time. The first was terrible. Unsalvageable and without a silver lining. It had taken almost an hour that morning to charm the violent hues of red and purple spanning the column of your throat, and ultimately, the marks were so persistent you’d forgone the glamours and decided to just wear a turtleneck. You’d been fortunate it was completely inconspicuous to wear such a thing in December, but that was about all there’d been to be grateful for. You hadn’t been able to look at Tom all class and his hand had brushed yours once to take a phial from you and you’d flinched so sharply it would have shattered on the floor if he hadn’t caught it. And he’d smiled, like he’s smiling now, a soft, “Careful,” that honestly, for a short moment, made you want him dead.

Now you could speak just fine, look him in the eyes in practised intervals, and almost, impressively, make articulate conversation with him again. Make stupid comments about Slughorn and Lestrange and bear the weight of his grin knowing it was there for you.

His, he’d called you. A very funny thing.

“Morning,” you answer on a smiling sigh, sleepy but jovial all the same.

You deserve applause for this.

“Tired?”

“Mhm — Essays for Ancient Runes are due Friday and it’s been keeping us up all night.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve yet to ascertain. Your research has been put temporarily on hold, scattered and splintered by the revelation that your first observation was, admittedly, a little bit off, and you have no means of figuring out a look like that when you can’t even begin to figure out anything else.

“Has it?” he asks, a tinge less friendly.

“Well,” you say, grinding the lacewing flies, “that’s commonplace, isn’t it? You take all sorts of advanced classes, I’m sure you understand the work it takes.”

“...Hm.”

That’s it. That’s all you get from him.

And if Selwyn’s concern over you botching your work in Potions wasn’t already, obviously dispelled, the glee on Slughorn’s face as he assesses your and Tom’s cauldron should do it.

“Brilliant! Just brilliant!” He claps a hand over Tom’s back, regarding you both with pride so thick it clouds his eyes, like he's drifted into a revery of the future (you and Tom, you expect, are his most prized graduates, making history under his name, proving his immense wisdom) before he appears to return to Earth. “Ten points between the two of you, hm? Very, very good — though, of course, no surprises there!”

He chuckles to himself as he evaluates the other students, and you catch a horrified wheeze of Godefrey’s name (bless his heart) as one of the cauldrons in the back begins to sputter and froth.

You look to Tom with some droll little comment at making it to the end of term with top marks, but his gaze is burning into Godefrey’s table in such a way you wouldn’t be surprised if it was what was causing his cauldron to boil.

Well. Perhaps not, then.

You and Godefrey hand in your essay that Friday with more relief than apprehension — you both decide it’s quite good — and you laugh loudly and breathlessly as he picks you up and thanks you a thousand times, spinning you until you’re dizzy. You refrain from making any promises to attend his Quidditch games, but he vows to let you have the snitch he catches.

And Slughorn, you come to find, was not exaggerating his elation at your skill. After trotting after you on your walk back from Ancient Runes to invite you to the last Slug Club dinner of the year, your spirits are high with the blissful satisfaction of a job well done and a night to celebrate it with.

You can breathe, finally, when it’s the last week of school before Christmas break and Selwyn’s zipping the back of a last-minute dress you purchased in Hogsmeade.

“Gorgeous,” Selwyn says with a grin. “Wish this school would have a bloody ball so I could really dress you up.”

“Buy a doll, Selwyn; you can dress them however you like.”

“You are such a —”

You burst into laugher, swatting her wand away as she pokes your side with it.

“Just — go then, before I hex you.”

“All right, all right!” you concede, arms raised in surrender. “Don’t ruin all your hard work now.”

“Oh,” she calls on your way out the door. You turn and there’s a mischievous look in her eyes as she tucks her wand back in her pocket. “And do tell me before I leave tomorrow if Riddle stares at you all night.”

You groan as if it’s a truly abominable thing to imagine. Riddle, staring with those dark eyes of his? You, the centre of his attention? Ghastly. You daresay you’d never recover from the horror of it.

“Don’t leave before I tell you how remarkably uneventful a night it was,” you say with a sidelong glare, and leave before she can edge in the final word.

You have no idea what a Slug Club supper typically consists of, but you imagine for Christmas he’s gone a little further with his festivities. His office is glittering in hues of green and red and fleecy, snow-dappled gold. The lights overheard (some similar charm to the one in the Great Hall but a tad less complex, you think) drip and then vanish into the air like squeezed berries, and the berries — served with pastries and ice cream — taste like they must be enchanted with something.

Selwyn was right that the standard dress isn’t quite formal enough for a ball, but it’s… formal. The boys are in clean-cut dress robes and the girls are in fine gowns of different lengths. By the overwhelming number of them you recall being archetypes of Slytherin pureblood fanaticism, it makes sense how expensive they all look. You yourself brush up nicely, if not a bit more frugally, but you haven’t been to an event like this at the school yet, and that’s exciting on its own.

It’s another degree of training (is there going to be a marathon? Are you at war?), a step up from your preparations before Potions every other day, to be ready when Tom Riddle enters the room a respectable five minutes late with a gleam about him more captivating than any of the lights.

“Ah, Tom!” Slughorn exclaims, and ushers him into a seat you remark before Tom is even in it is discomfitingly near to yours. “We’re all here at last… Supper, then? Hope you aren’t too full already, I’ve got the House Elves running laps!”

You’re spared Tom’s closeness by a Ravenclaw couple sat in the chairs between you, their hands clasped under the table while they sip wine from their goblets, and you only realise the length of your observation when Tom glances at you from the spot over, and you startle yourself into reaching for your own goblet and pretending to enjoy Slughorn’s bitter wine.

You eat. You listen to cluttered, unending tales of Slughorn’s time at school and how he earned his post. You drink, and then you regret not drinking before eating because there’s only a very light, very nice buzz that warms you when you finish your cup, and the Ravenclaw couple is — oh, wait, it isn’t just them — they’re standing up to dance as a gramophone sparks to life and a low, dulcet instrumental begins to play. There are now two notably empty seats separating you from Tom.

What had you said this night would be? Blissful satisfaction?

You couldn’t blame Selwyn for suggesting you’d blundered Potions — you didn’t feel exceptionally smart right now.

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight,” Tom says, pulling the chair beside you.

Where is the bottle of wine? No. Nevermind. You behave regrettably enough sober.

You manage a simple, “And yet.”

“...And yet.” His lips quirk before he takes a drink from his goblet.

You lament for a second that you’ve only actually kissed those lips once. They spent a great deal longer on your neck.

“Will you be here over break?” he asks, and it isn’t an unreasonable thing to ask, you suppose.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to know whether to expect you or not.”

Expect you… No, yes — revert to observation two: unusual is not an apt enough word for him.

It takes you a moment to conjure a response befitting polite dinner conversation. That is, after all, still what this is.

“I suppose you can. I’ll be busy, of course.”

Well, you didn’t say you conjured something good. It’s a big fat lie. Placating, vague, empty. And you suspect Tom knows that.

“Pity.”

Yes, he knows. He’s all quiet amusement again.

You stare off, satisfied to be left alone —

"And what is it that'll be taking so much of your time?"

“Well, I'm —” And now you have to build the lie — “I’ve told Godefrey I’ll attend to his Quidditch practise. Since the pitch isn’t in use.”

God, it’s so stupid it’s almost impressive — you don’t even know if Godefrey will be here over break, and you could have chosen any number of excuses that would pique Tom’s interest less than it’s apparently consistently piqued by the mention of your study partner.

There’s that strange, indecipherable look again. Riddle is a perfect surname for him, you decide then, and you almost laugh at yourself for it, but that would probably not go over well should he ask what’s so funny.

“Have you, now? That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s hardly charity.”

“Hm, it’s kind of you to think so.”

You huff, tipping your goblet back to swallow the last meagre dregs of your wine.

“You look lovely.”

It’s just a little bit — just a tiny, straggling little bit of elderflower that captures your throat — and you cough into your goblet. “Thank — thank you.”

And, well, he looks lovely too. Obviously. Sickeningly so. You know little about his personal life but you’re positive he’s at least a half-blood, if not muggle-born, and it makes you wonder the influence of his renownedly plain black suit in a crowd of neat, long robes.

He manages with little effort to look better than all of them at their best.

His eyes drift over you appreciatively, quick enough not to be rude but — enough. (Enough that you daresay you might never recover from the horror of it.) You adjust under his gaze even when it’s situated on your face, far too heavy a thing for you to carry. “Does Godefrey call you lovely?”

What?

You blink at him, your mouth is probably open and you probably look stupid but he’s so… irritating. Yes, of course Godefrey calls you lovely. Godefrey tells you you’re the smartest woman he’s ever met (after his mother), and he drowns you with sherbet lemons at no cost, and he writes at the speed of light to match the quickness with which you recite your textbook, and none of it means anything. Tom is just —

“Unbelievable…”

He quirks a brow. “What was that?”

“I said you’re unbelievable, Riddle. Is it impossible for you to comprehend that I might have friends? That Godefrey is my friend?”

“Well, memory serves me right that you seemed a bit confused on the conventions of friendship last you mentioned it. Do forgive my uncertainty.”

He — that was —

“Well, that’s because we are not friends.”

“No.” He leans in. “We are not.”

You push your chair from the table with all the grace you can manage for such an abrupt thing: a tight, impersonal smile on your face as you walk away and approach Slughorn, only realising when you get there that your empty goblet is clutched in your hand like you’re trying to strangle it.

Whatever he sees on your face, he isn’t drunk enough not to frown at. “Ah, our newest gem — hardly seen you all night! Not leaving already, are we?”

You glance at the clock. It isn’t as though you’re being impolite by abandoning his party in the middle of the event. It’s quite late, the servers are stuck to the walls with little to do, and most of the room has divided into waltzing pairs.

“I’m taking my friend to the train station tomorrow, sir. Unfortunately I need to be up quite early.”

Yes, yes, it’s all so tragic. You’re depressed to go.

“Such a shame,” Slughorn frets, wobbling a tad and balancing himself on the wall. “You’ll be all right getting back? Not at all dizzy, are you?” His laugh is cleaved by a loud hiccough, and then he laughs even more. “My, well, I myself will need to be carried!”

“...I’ll be fine, sir. Thank you.”

“Oh, no trouble at all — there’s — hm… ah, Tom!”

No, no — is it bad you almost reach over and slap your palm over your professor’s mouth? Is it at all impressive that you don’t? You should look on the bright side in moments like these. You should admire your restraint.

But of course, Slughorn’s eyes don’t fall upon Tom for nothing. He's halfway across the room already, and Slughorn must have spotted him approaching to achieve this brilliant solution. “Tom can escort you back, no?”

Tom (unforgivably) is beside you now, a very mean, very pretty smile on his face.

“Not too much to ask, I should think? You know the castle best. Head Boy — sometimes I still can’t believe it!”

You look up at Tom and your jaw is clenched where you’ve since put down your goblet. There is too much tension in you to know what to do with, and he looks positively thrilled.

“It’s hardly charity, sir.” He holds out his arm.

You wonder what spell would catch him most off-guard if you were to blast him in the face right now.

Slughorn claps his hands together. “Ha! Yes, well… perfect, then! Off now, the two of you, off now. Do have a good — ” He hiccoughs again — “rest!”

You don’t even bother the diplomacy of smiling at Slughorn as your arm loops through Tom’s and you’re exiting the party.

Neither of you say a word on the journey, and that’s very well.

If you could just get back to bed without speaking to him you may still consider it a good night. You may be able to push his strangeness and his entitlement and the annoying way his hair falls to another day, when he pesters you about Godefrey’s nonexistent Quidditch practise, which — come to think of it — you do think he told you he'd be headed home for the holidays. You really fumbled that one.

And then Tom’s thumb is brushing the bare skin of your arm and your walk stutters a bit. But he doesn’t mention it, and so neither do you.

And then he’s drawing down your elbow to your forearm so softly it almost feels like he isn’t touching you at all. He doesn’t mention it. Neither do you.

And then your arm, without really meaning for it to, is slipping from his and his hand is holding yours instead, feather-light as his fingers clasp yours and your breath is not the same as it was when you left.

He doesn’t mention it. He just keeps going.

His fingers work back up your arm and you shiver as they drag across your shoulder, gaze searing your neck as the soft digits find their way to your jaw, and you get the sense he’s remembering just how much he liked the taste of it, and you’re… you’re allowing it all again. You’re leaning in, you’re seeking him out, you want him flush against you and even that might not be satisfactory.

You are, in the end, a half-decent observer and a terrible liar.

You’re grabbing his hand with a small amount of direction and a great deal of meaning. You suppose it's because, historically, you’ve proven to have trouble with words in moments like these, and you don’t really know where you’re taking him but god, you know where you want him. Somewhere soft, this time, thick enough that you can fist your hands around it and melt. Somewhere he can hover over you, maybe hold you down a little, just until — maybe, miraculously — you might make him break a little too. Clamber over his lap. Make him yours.

“Tom,” you mouth, some question in the way your eyebrows knit.

The moment you say his name — the instant — he’s pulling you in, crushing his mouth against yours. And, ah, right, that’s what his lips feel like. You’d almost forgotten.

This kiss is not chaste, hardly tender. It resists in that it asks you to push, to plead, to take this for yourself to prove how badly you want it, and he smiles into it when you do. And then, sated by your efforts, he lets you have him. You’re gripping the collar of his suit in your hands as his wander appreciatively over the back of your dress, pulling you into him as the kiss deepens. He’s savouring you like you’re something religious that’s been offered to him, and there’s the taste of wine on his tongue and you’re still here, aware enough that the symbolism isn’t lost on you.

“I've been thinking," he says between kisses, “about the way you felt when I touched you. I've been thinking about how long it might take before you need it again."

You gasp at the sensation, and god, god, you've been wondering too, haven't you?

You’re pulling him impossibly closer and something hard is pressing into your hip and you clutch tighter onto his shirt as you moan into his mouth. You need it off, you think, and — has your dress been clinging to you like this all night? You need that off too. You need skin on skin. You careen him backwards without aim, your mind a muddled mess of all the many things your body is screaming it needs, like this is fucking imperative; to give it up would be catastrophic.

You suppose, based on what you’ve read, that that’s how the Room of Requirement works, but it’s still funny to think it would apply to this.

It hurts to remove yourself from him to watch in dumb awe as the door forms in the stone (to see the dark, languid shape of his eyes bearing down on you, the wet, stained pink of his lips), and Tom seems to recover from the revelation much faster than you.

His mouth is on yours once more, a hungry kiss; his free hand at your waist, guiding you through the door and shutting it carelessly behind him.

He’s like fire against you, radiating as he presses down on you, his hand tangled in your hair and his hips flush against yours. You shiver as his mouth starts to move down (a cheap trick — he hasn’t forgotten how much you liked it the last time) from your jaw to your throat, as his lips trail down your chest and you're shivering into the warmth of him.

You’ve heard it said before, in some romantic sense, that it’s sometimes hard to tell where you end and someone else begins.

This is not like that.

You've never been more aware of anything than the point where you and him meet.

You’re tugging at him blindly again, trusting in the nature of the Room like this isn't the first time you've been in it, and then you're stumbling down onto a bed you're quite sure wasn't there a moment ago (people say magic is a neutral force but evidently this is not the fucking case), fingers carding through Tom's hair as his body pins you into the mattress.

His mouth is molten hot as you squirm and pant beneath him, your breath coming faster than it ever has. Everything feels sharper and deeper and more intense under his touch, every sensation heightened until it's almost impossible to tell pleasure from pain, his tongue from his teeth.

How did it take you this long to do this again? To need him like this?

And his — you should really have the mind to see the mistake in all of this but perhaps that's for later — his fingers are pulling your sleeves down, propping your back to arch as he reaches under you to unzip your dress, apparently too impatient to sit you up and take it off properly so he just bunches it around your waist instead. There’s a moment where he stops to look at you, your chest exposed to him in the dim sconce-light, and then his mouth returns to circle your breast and you're biting down on a pillow to hold back the whimpering gasp that seeks to escape you. He hums around your flesh, and then he’s at your sternum, kissing a stripe to your belly button before pushing past the dress he's left ringed around your abdomen.

You shimmy under the weight of him to prop your head up — to see past the mass of silk that obscures his face from you as moves lower and lower, hands spanning your hips to keep you still.

His face hovers above your thighs, and he doesn’t move.

“Did you enjoy my fingers?" he asks.

At that you freeze, thighs pressing together to bury the hand that's rising between them.

Tom smiles. “Hm, you did."

And then he spreads your legs apart, one hand pushing your underwear aside and regarding you with delicate, shameless appetite — something that might even be adoration: like this is all he ever wanted you to want.

“Do you think you'd enjoy my mouth, too?"

Words are gone. There's nothing left in you.

His head moves happily between your knees, holding them apart, pressing kisses to the base of your thighs. Your hands flail from the sheets, desperate to grip something else and you hold back a sound that feels like irritation and need at the same time. You need him closer, higher than this. He knows. You can feel his smile biting into your skin.

And then you manage a nod though you're not even sure he's looking at your face anymore (and what a picture to imagine he is) and you worry momentarily it won’t be enough for him — that he’ll ask you to be nice and say it out loud for him — but he hums with something merciful, and — his chin dips. You catch the smallest glimpse of his tongue before it’s on you, wet and slow and unrelenting and you say his name, but it’s a mewl; you choke on it. It sounds like a cry.

Pitiful, needy, undone. Just how he wants you.

You think all efforts to remain even remotely composed are thrown to the wind as soon as his tongue is lapping at you, fast and then slow, everything you want and not even remotely close. He sinks all his weight down as if he can predict the moment you'll writhe before you do — and you do. And with his grip he tells you to endure it. You only need him to say it with his hands and his mouth but he breathes back, licking his lips and he actually says it. “Be good.”

That makes your breath hitch and your cheeks swell impossibly hotter, and reality is a small glint in your peripheral where everything else is burning red. “Y-you’re—”

His mouth returns to you, tongue catching your clit in a drawn-out, agonising motion, and you gasp and lurch forward to inch through the sensation, craving more, more, more. Reason is lost on you, a throbbing familiarity forcing you to grind your teeth down on the pillow to stop yourself from telling him to — you don’t even know. Finish you. Abandon all reluctance. Just let you come as hard as you know he wants you to.

But he pauses, observant as he starts to work his fingers against you. Watching how your slick coats them like it’s the most enthralling sight he’s ever witnessed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to push one inside of you, hearing your breath catch above him and the moan that comes tumbling out of your throat, pillow be damned.

You do your best to breathe through it, and you know he knows how to make you unfold like this, so the meticulous lightness of his ministrations tells you he’s trying to keep it from you now. You’re almost embarrassed about the fact that you’re dripping onto his hand regardless; his lips puffy, his gaze unnervingly, dizzyingly carving you in two.

“Just,” you rasp, clutching desperately at his wrist. “Tom, please.”

Your begging must be music to his ears. (It’s a rare, unplanned fifth observation: that you think he’ll never get tired of hearing you say his name like that.)

He adds a finger. It’s encircling you, first, and no amount of restraint can stop the harsh gasp that leaves you, but then it’s his tongue and two fingers and he’s pushing into you how you wanted, and he makes a pleased sound against you, gripping you tighter with his free hand, still not allowing you movement and fuck, are you trying. What you're feeling now — the need, the want, everything — is more than rational thought. Your mind goes blank, and all that matters is this, him, right here and now; nothing else exists, not even for a second. You moan, a low, throaty noise that's a little too loud, a little too intense; you can't recall if anything has ever come from you quite like it and Tom devours you at the sound.

More, you agree; it's almost an obsession in you now; more, more, please, anything and everything.

It’s the precision of his touch — not some bored, hurried transgression — that brings your hands helplessly to his hair.

“Tom,” you whine, holding him tight, and the purr of his mouth finding you again is something destructive.

As soon as you feel another swell of something deep down, your mouth is dropping open.

His tongue is sliding through you, fingers curling, and then your clit is in his mouth, and he’s watching you between your thighs as your eyes clench shut, and you’re coming.

Your voice breaks somewhere in the catastrophe of it. Your body spasms, electric down to every atom, and he pins you down through it. He doesn’t grant you the reprieve of escaping the frenzied, glorious torture of it. His mouth still lingers. His tongue moves thankful and unrelenting.

He takes all of you, and you think this is destruction — creation — both. How terrifyingly similar they suddenly feel.

His lips are swollen and slick when he finally detaches them from you and you want to kiss him, but he’s leaning back to admire his work. You swallow, unable to blame him for it because you look down at yourself and — this is something else. You’re dripping down his chin. You're shaking. Your legs are still clenching around his torso. They’re holding him so tight you can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt.

But he just rolls off of you. Adjusts his trousers and your abdomen flutters and you think, don’t.

You don’t even realise you’re reaching for him until your hand is around his wrist and you’re still fucking sighing through the come-down, panting into the hot air.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers damp on your chin as he holds you. You make a note that that’s the second time he’s done that. That you thought it was strangely intimate the first time and nothing’s changed other than how much more you like it.

And it doesn’t really feel like you can help it but crawl with gooey, trembling legs onto his lap. Doesn’t feel like you can help it when you lean in and capture his lips with yours, moan unabashedly into his mouth at the stiffness that presses against your core when you do, steal his tongue and the taste of you on it.

When he pulls away he’s looking at you like he doesn’t think you can actually do this. Like you’d just crumble the moment you tried.

A low, determined protest rises in your throat and you’re kissing him again. You’re unbuttoning his dress shirt, you’re trembling to reach for his trousers.

When you can finally shrug his shirt off, press yourself against him, feel that skin on skin you wanted so badly, you find it somehow even more suffocating than its absence. You’re left wanting a more you aren’t able to even conceptualise, but you’re grinding involuntarily against him and his teeth are scraping your neck and he's hissing at the sensation, and — yes, there’s more.

Your breath is staggered when your hips stutter into a roll and you — fuck. You’re tugging desperately to remove his belt and he smiles against your throat as he takes your hands and guides them to him. You can feel his bulge against your thigh and you’re spreading your legs to usher him where you want, clawing at his chest without even meaning to.

Tom’s taking off his belt, and he’s pulling down his trousers just enough to bare himself to you, and maybe he’s right that you can’t manage it yourself but he stops his assistance like the intrigue of finding out is too good to resist. There's something both intimate and imperious, in a way, about the way he's looking at you now; it's a kind of focus and intensity and withheld hunger just for you; and you're more than happy to give yourself over to it, to let his hands and his eyes and his mouth claim you for his own. To claim him for yours, at last.

You do. You struggle for it. He’s very patient.

But then it’s there — more — as you finally sink down on him and bite his shoulder and he shudders a low, pained exhale, his hands clutching your waist.

There’s a silent, suspended moment where neither of you move. The room feels entirely still.

Your lips quiver over his pulse, and your stomach flips at the intensity of it, the undeniable rate of his desire beneath you. You smile against him now, like he always does to you, conscious enough to mumble into his neck, “Mine.”

Tom stutters inside you, fingers gripping you impossible tighter as you dare to think he even gasps. You dare to think he likes it.

And then one of his hands grabs your jaw and his kiss is searing. He thrusts upward and you cry into his mouth, searching to match his pace in a way that you appreciate, for once, he seems unlearned in.

It’s all a bit messy, a bit new, palms in fists, in skin, in hair, digging for every part they haven’t already taken from. The sound in the back of Tom’s throat is divine, the feeling of him inside you as he slips his hand back between your legs — like he needs everything, like he knows you do too — it’s ineffable. It coils somewhere deep, touches something you didn’t know existed. Your hips are rotating, thighs still soft and slack from coming apart on his tongue, but you’re determined. It feels like finding even ground. It feels like something you deserve: to make him feel how you did.

Your head rolls back, eyes pinching shut in bliss, but Tom is there at your jaw again, forcing your blurry gaze back to him.

His hips are inching even further, the intensity of his pace as he adjusts to you making you dizzy. You think, realistically, there’s sound coming out of you, but you aren’t entirely sure when it’s so close to him, when your mouth is between his fingers and your ears are ringing and he’s looking at you like you’re made for him.

“Mine.” And it isn’t a dismissal of your own claim but a confirmation that one will not be without the other. His voice is raw and breathy and something about the way he says it makes you contract inadvertently around him, hands swatting his chest like they don’t know what else to do. There’s just too much.

You recognize you’re trying to say something. Some plea, a moan, his name (is there anything else left?), but you’re just babbling into his mouth and he holds you there. He doesn’t kiss you. It’s your failing words against his lips. He swallows whatever syllables try to shape them.

It’s there again when you need it most; the heavy, swirling feeling inside you as he snaps his hips, his fingers returning to your waist with punishing firmness. His breathing accelerates, low in his throat, and you push harder against him. Your vision is gone again, head held in his hands to keep from rolling back so that, you suspect, he can watch defeat split you down the middle again — not over your shoulder, not with his head between your legs — with his eyes on yours, with every broken moan you let out so close to his face he can feel the breath of each one.

You’re grappling desperately at skin that doesn’t feel like enough, even though he’s rocking inside you, and you see the insanity of it, you see that it isn’t logical. Too much and not enough at once — you’re smart enough to know that doesn’t work, but it just is.

“Please,” you manage in a voice you don’t recognize. “Please, Tom, pleasepleaseplease —”

Had you said before it was foolish to call him forgiving? You take it back. He’s very eager to oblige you.

He finds some place inside of you and you don’t know quite what it is that he changes but it's new, uncharted, and you break there. You dissolve. You’re liquid in his hands as you sob, stuttering around him, trembling like you didn’t know was possible, and you swear — you swear you’re going to take him there with you. It isn’t that you could stop yourself if you tried but your body is gripping around him, fingers carving halved spheres into his skin, and you’re pushing down on him through the ecstasy — you’re forcing your eyes open so he can see you break, watch them flutter back all soft and pretty.

And you're sated by your ruin when it ruins him too.

The sound he makes is ragged. Undone. He can only bury it halfway with a kiss you think is actually more of a bite, twitching inside you as he fucks you through it.

You’re both lost in each other for a moment that feels detached from time, feeling his hips stutter to a halt, feeling your body soften. And he’s pulling out of you like it hurts, mouth falling open as he does. You wince at the loss, the sweet soreness between your legs, and you’re held only by the weight of him. You think — and you actually sway like the mere idea is too strong — that if it weren’t for his hands, you’d fall flat off the bed.

But he sort of lifts you off him, lays you down and watches you for a long time as if to decide something important before he's laying down beside you. You watch him too. His fingers brush your hair out of your face, and when there’s not a single curl left clinging to the sweat on your skin, he continues anyway. You let him trace your lips, your jaw, your nose, and somehow, a bit terrifyingly, your final observation: nothing about it feels unusual at all.

You did say he was yours.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x y/n #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #NO LONGER!#but it is only a two-parter sorry. this is it #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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98percentofthewnbaisgay · 2 years

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stewies outfit from Phoenix game!

#womens basketball #breanna stewart #wnba #seattle storm #wnba blog #wnba preseason #phoenix mercury #i keep forgetting to post all the content #it’s all there I just forget about this acc sometimes

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kyojurismo · 1 year

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Hi, I don’t know if I am doing it right. This is an emergency request. I have had the worst week ever at university and, since I live alone, I have no one really waiting for me when I come back. I have stumbled on your acc yesterday and I was wondering if you can write some headcanons about “comfort sex” with Douma, Muzan and Akaza when the reader comes home from a bad day at work/university. Female reader, if it’s not too much to ask for!💕

Thank you so much!

▸ ANSWERING. k now i feel both bad and stupid bc apparently i just imagined to write some reqs, idk man. anyway, here we are. hope you’ll enjoy it <3

▸ FANDOM. kimetsu no yaiba

▸ CHARACTERS. muzan kibutsuji, douma (upper rank two) & akaza (upper rank three) x fem!reader

▸ RATING. nsfw

▸ WARNINGS. smut, vanilla sex, oral sex (f receiving), fluff, praising, um they’re human i guess? it’s up to you yeah, not proofread

MUZAN KIBUTSUJI

muzan sensed something was wrong

you were clearly stressed and the fact that you had a bad day was written all over your face

“come here, darling,” he patted his laps and you approached him, sitting down

he would kiss you so lovingly while caressing your tensed up body

he would lay you down on the couch, start undressing you and kiss all over your skin

he praised you, filling you with compliments while he reminded you to ignore whoever made you feel bad

“you’re smart, everything will work out the way you desire.”

his thrusts were gentle and slow

the pleasure overshadowed everything, making you forget about your bad day

muzan was here to make love to you, keep it in mind

his big hands caressed your shoulders and your hips

he teasingly pinched your nipples, because he knew that it makes you laugh sometimes

when you two are finished he would keep you close to his body, secured into his warm embrace

“i love you, darling.”

DOUMA

douma saw you were upset and simply decided that all you needed was a good fuck and some food

okay no, let’s slow thing down

he would take you to your bedroom

undress you

kiss all over your pretty face

then would let you lie down on the bed

and boom, he’s between your legs

douma was born to satisfy you (he thinks so)

he probably ate you out for a couple of hours

your thighs always ended up squeezing his head

his nose bumped into your clit while he used his tongue on you

his thick fingers thrusting and curling into your warm channel, wet sounds filling the room

his reward? your moans and whines

when he finally decided to leave your poor pussy alone, who’s now all puffy and wet, most of his face is wet with your juices

there was a smirk on his face while he looked down at your trembling body

then he ordered your favourite food and ate it in bed with you, cuddling and chatting about random stuff (:

AKAZA

this man is straight up from heaven

because as soon as you enter your house he’s there to welcome you, kiss you passionately and show you what he prepared for you

when it still wasn’t enough to cheer you up, he decided to take you to bed

he took his time with you

his lips probably kissed every inch of your skin

he payed special attention to your breasts, sucking and licking your hardening nipples, then your stomach and just after all that, his lips connected with your throbbing clit

his lips and fingers worked to make you cum

twice

then he freed his cock, pumped it a few times and sank into you

“you’re doing so good, sweetheart.”

“oh, fuck. you really needed that, huh?”

he’s so lovely and gentle 😭

his thrusts are slow but hard, akaza knows how to make you see stars

and your moans and your grip on his shoulders are the confirmation

you arched your back before cumming a third time

akaza came soon after, you could feel the spurts of white coating your walls while his cock twitched

cuddles because you deserved to be treated like a princess <3

▸ BEFORE LEAVING. reblog and comments are super appreciated. i strangely don’t hate it??? lol, thank you for reading by the way !! <3

#📂 — writing !!#muzan kibutsuji x reader #douma x reader #akaza x reader #muzan kibutsuji smut #douma smut #akaza smut #kny muzan #kny douma #kny akaza #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic

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oreharuuu · 9 months

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A Glimpse of Mercy

Summary: The boy you once knew from your small town has changed. But has he really change from his past? Or did he hide everything from you since the beginning?

Pairing: yandere!san x reader

Warnings: yandere behaviour obvi, obsessive behavior, graphic description, dark themes, cursing

Word count: 10.8k

A/N: umm hi? pls forgive me for not updating in a WHILE. i didn't forget about this acc i promise, just had a lot of stuff going on and ofc i still love our boys <3 hope y'all like this long ass oneshot, pray for the hongjoong one to finish quickly as well :' thx u for everyone for the support and comments while im away

Tags: @starillusion13 @cqndiedcherries @wooyoungjpg @miriamxsworld (comment below if u want to be in the permanent tags!)

The cold gush of wind hits you like a ton of bricks as you exited your school, shivering as you tried to keep yourself warm by hugging yourself. You eyed the numerous students chattering away with their friends, making you look around to search for your friend in the midst of the unknown faces.

When you spotted your friend, Iseul, near the entrance gate, you slowly walked towards her before stopping yourself. You smirked when you noticed the tall boy she's been talking for the past few months, quickly snapping a photo before walking away, wanting to not disturb their moment.

You sighed when you walked quietly to where you parked your bike, buying bungeoppang near the market before eating it as you observe the quiet atmosphere. Your small town just outside of the city was nothing special nor exciting, that's why almost everyone moved out when they can. A few stayed as to live with their family, but only a few instances such as yourself, living with your mother and aunt.

Iseul wants to get out of this 'shit hole' as she deems when she graduates high school, already applying for a scholarship. You on the other hand, can't even imagine yourself in the future on what you could possibly do. Your mother never went to the city, only working as a farmer. Your aunt did go, going to university to get a degree yet she can't even get any work after graduating, getting paid as a bartender before she quits to help your mother.

Deep down, you're scared of failure. Your whole life you're only a mediocre student, good yet not astounding grades and not having a big social circle like Iseul. You can't imagine going to the city to actually live there for a few years just to be met with failure when you can't even get a job, thus making you move back to your old town.

That sounds like a nightmare.

Forcing yourself out of the bad thoughts, you jogged to where your bike is, before stopping yourself when you notice the broken chain. You groan loudly, looking around to find the culprit only to find no one standing near you.

You placed the half eaten bungeoppang inside your bag, assessing the broken chain as you tried to think on what to do. This bike was your only transportation. Sure, you could use the bus but you're already so low on money that you'd rather risk walking by foot to school everyday.

You sighed, perking up at the sound of the bus stopping near you, the temptation of going home and leaving the old bike here is already growing. But you squashed that feeling when you remembered that it's your mother's bike.

The sound of quiet footsteps reached your ears, you glancing back before making eye contact with a boy. He seems startled, quickly moving around before walking back the opposite of you. He's around your age, maybe he knows one or two things about how to fix the bike.

"Hey, school boy! Can you help me?"

The boy stopped in his tracks while you wait for him to do anything. Thankfully, he walks back to where you're crouching, eyes downcast as he moved the plastic bag containing...oranges? To his other hand.

The boy seems familiar, his uniform shows that he's another student from a school nearby yours. The red scarf hides almost half of his face, only his sharp cat like eyes showing to you.

"Can you help me?" You asked, noting how the boy's ears turned slightly red before shaking his head. You sighed, standing up as you looked at the bike with frustrated eyes. You glanced at boy once more, finding him staring the broken chain a bit too hard. You look away, hiding the amused smile growing on your face.

"—fix it."

"Eh?" You asked, not hearing what he said clearly. "What did you say?"

"I think I can fix it."

"Thank you for your help," You say as the both of you walked side by side, your bike now temporarily fixed. "I can't imagine leaving the bike there on its own. I mean, it's my mom's bike after all but still! It's really old and I think we should buy another one...maybe."

You secretly glanced at the boy, not sensing any noise of acknowledgement or any head nod towards what you've just said. You pursed your lips, softly nudging his shoulder with yours. "You don't want to talk to me, huh?"

The boy's eyes only widens slightly, before looking down. You huff playfully before you remembered you haven't even asked his name. "Hey, what's your name? My name is (name)!"

You waited for any response from him, sighing in disappointment when he didn't say anything back. You stopped when you've reached your house, the boy stopping as well as he nervously looks back and forth between you and the house.

You're yelling internally deep down, wanting the awkward moment to end. Maybe the boy's too shy, and you feel bad for forcing him to talk when you just met him a few hours ago.

"Soo, thanks again. I'll just...go home now," You say as you slowly walk with your bike in tow, closing your eyes in embarrassment at the interaction. Hurried footsteps stopped you in your tracks, eyes widening when the boy placed one of the oranges inside your hand.

"San," He utters gently. "My name is San."

You smile softly at him, but before you could say anything, San walks away with hurried steps. "Nice to meet you, San! Thank you for helping me!" You scream loudly, giggling when you see San glancing back and forth at you.

When San disappeared from your sight, you continued your walk towards your house, the slight dirt from the orange makes you question as to why San even had dirty oranges in the first place.

Entering your house, you notice how quiet it is, your mother's slippers nowhere in sight nor your aunt's running shoes. You shrug to yourself before entering the kitchen, placing the singular orange near the fruit basket your mother received from her friend. Noticing the small note on top of an old takeout your aunt probably ordered two days ago, you assume that's going to be your dinner.

A normal occurrence in your household is your mother staying with her friends if she's not working, probably to talk and gossip. Your aunt is a different story though, you never know what exactly she's doing on her free time, and she never really told you either. So you kept quiet and let her be. She's an adult after all.

Heating up the food and eating it alone in the living room whilst watching TV was also a normal occurrence for you. You're used to it because ever since you're young, your mother rarely ate dinner. She doesn't really like eating anyways, especially inside a house that holds a reminder of her past.

Your aunt sometimes joined in, asking you here and there about school or maybe reminiscing about her old life in the city. Either way, it usually ends up with her drinking away her regrets.

You shivered, clicking your tongue when the kitchen window was slightly open. It's already getting dark, the only lights you see are the ones from the nearby house or you could say mansion, by how big it is compared to the other houses in town.

You remembered San walking towards the mansion's direction. Maybe he lives there? You never really see anyone besides two men, but you did overheard your mother one day about a woman supposedly living there.

Placing down your food on the small foldable table, you turned on the prehistoric TV that's probably already there before you're born. You didn't find anything interesting though, so you picked a random news channel before eating your food.

A few hours into eating, a small knock came from your front door, making you pause from peeling the orange San gave. You glanced at the clock, too early for your mother and aunt to come home. Plus they never knock anyway.

"Coming!" You yelled, slowly walking towards the entrance before opening the door slowly. Surprise is probably written all over your face when you see San standing there, his gaze flickers down when he notices you staring at him.

"San?" You questions. "A bit of a surprise visit, don't you think?"

"Sorry, I—Uh, if you don't like me here—"

"Nonsense! What's up?"

His posture became tense, so you glanced down at the plastic bag he's holding tightly. A bit too tight in your opinion.

"I-I need a place to eat, my house..."

"Your house?"

"It's, um, not a good place to eat right now," San finishes, looking up towards where the big mansion is located.

Turns out you're right all along.

"Oh, you live there?"

"Yeah, but I can't stay there right now."

"Can I ask why? You don't have to answer me if you're not comfortable, of course," You gently added, not wanting San to feel pressured. He shrugs, shifting from one foot to another. "Just some stupid argument between my father and...my uncles."

You hum, glancing back at your house before finally deciding. "Yeah, sure, you could eat at my house." You hold back a smile when you notice San's slumped posture turned straight right away, as if he's not expecting you to say that. "R-Really? I can eat here?"

"Sure, but my house is a bit cramped because of junk. If you want, we could eat at the veranda. Not to brag or anything but the view is beautiful."

San lets out a small smile, tilting his head which made your heart squeeze at how cute he is. "Really? I never really notice."

"Meh, it's something," You shrug, opening the door wider, inviting San to follow you inside. "Come on, my food's getting cold."

San nods hesitantly, murmuring a small 'excuse me' before slipping out of his shoes before he just stands there, waiting for you to walk first. You giggle at him, showing him where the veranda is before excusing yourself to grab your food.

"Pretty, right?" You ask as you sat down besides him, looking out towards the view of the city. Your house is located a bit further than the city, your house shows the perfect view of the small number of lights the city shows. It's somewhat calming to you, mix that with the sounds of cicadas and you have the perfect night to just clear your mind.

"Yeah, it's calming."

You hum, glancing as San takes out a small container, pulling out a sandwich before eating it in silence. You followed suit, offering small bites of food to him when you notice he only brought his sandwich. "Did you make it yourself?"

"No, my...eomma made it."

Noticing the tense tone in his voice, you only hum in acknowledgement before continuing to eat. It's nice to have someone eating with you, the silence isn't uncomfortable, both of you appreciating each other's presence in silence. It's kinda funny to you that you're comfortable enough to invite a boy you just met a few hours ago. Then again, it's partially because your mother nor aunt is here to bother you.

"Thank you for letting me eat here," San quietly says, playing with his fingers nervously as he waits for your response.

"It's fine. I quiet like having someone here to eat with," You smile. "Plus, you're a good company. Well, better than my mother and aunt anyway."

"Really?" San sounds excited, before he coughs as he looks away, his cheeks red with embarrassment. "Sorry! That sounds rude of me—"

You laugh, patting his back in a friendly manner. "No, no, it's fine. I'm thinking the same thing as you."

You didn't notice how red his face is after you patted his back, but he did let out a small laugh, joining you before you both fell silent once again.

"Do you, uh, do you mind if I could eat here? Not always! Just when...home gets a bit too tiring," He asks, looking at you with hopeful eyes that it almost made you want to ask what exactly is going on in his house.

"Sure, but it's better if no one's here except me. My mother will deny any visitors this late at night while my aunt will just ask us about anything to annoy us."

San lets out a small laugh, which made you smile as you notice the dimple on his face. He really has a nice smile. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind."

"How 'bout this," You say. "We exchange phone numbers, you'll text me if you have a situation, and we'll agree on where to meet up to eat together. Maybe we could eat somewhere else if my mother and aunt are here."

San nods enthusiastically, shyly grabbing his phone before you enter your phone number. "So, we got a deal?" You offer your hand to shake hands with him.

"Deal," He smiles, grabbing your hand gently before shaking it. Inside your mind, you hope whatever relationship you have with San will last longer than whatever you had in the past. Deep down, you want to have someone else besides Iseul to hangout with. But you've never had the chance, until now.

Fast forward a few months, you and San are still going with the promise. It's nice to have someone to talk too, even though San usually just sits there and listens to you. You felt bad to be the only one talking, since you mostly tell stories about your family and Iseul. San tells you that it's fine, he didn't mind one bit that you're the only one talking.

You did ask him once about his family. Yet the tense posture and tone made you realize just how uncomfortable San is on about his family. So you never asked about it to him again.

Turns out, you and San are in the same year, but he's in another school that's considered by your school the 'enemy'. Probably because of the football feud both of the school has. But you didn't mind, the feud is mostly contained to the football team.

Iseul asked you about San one day, claiming that there's a boy from another school that's been hanging out around the school recently. And she's shocked to see you know about the boy.

"Choi San? He's in our year? He looks younger though!"

"Yeah, that's what I first thought as well. But he claims he's in our year," You shrugged, playing with one of the dolls Iseul has on her bed.

"Mystery solved! I was wondering why he's wandering around our school anyways."

"What do you mean?" You curiously asked Iseul. So far you've never encountered San around your school, only bumped into him once when you're buying groceries after school.

"Well, Jihwan told me that he's been seeing a boy from the other school a few times. He thought the boy was in the football team but he's never seen him before."

You hum, thinking back from the conversations you had with San. "No, I don't think he plays football. He likes drawing, so I guess it's not his style."

"Ooo, an artist," Iseul cooed.

"Oh, shut up!" You whine, playfully shoving Iseul before each of you grabbed a pillow before proceeding to hit each other with it. It felt nice hanging out with Iseul again. Although you did feel a bit weird after coming here, like there's someone staring at you.

You dodged the pillow Iseul throws when you catch a glimpse of black moving outside of her window. You frown before walking closely to the window, opening it slightly to see nothing outside.

"Why? What's wrong?"

You turned back to her, already sensing her panic rising when her tone wavered from your hard stare. You quickly masked it with a smirk, not wanting Iseul to hyperventilate just from a shadow. "Ha! Did I get you? You're so easy to scare."

"Asshole!" She screeched before pouncing on you, tickling your sides as you tried move away from her grasp. The squealing laughter from Iseul made you not realize the snapping of a branch outside, nor the figure running away into the darkness.

"San? Is that you, boy?"

San flinched, slowly looking towards the source of the voice, finding a man sitting in the darkness. San noticed the red stains covering his shirt right away, the man slowly wiping a bloody knife clean.

"Yeah. It's me, appa."

"Where were you, huh? You made Seokjin all worried," The man pointed towards a closed room. But from the screams emanating inside the room, it's obvious his other father is inside with his...mother.

"Sorry. I was out helping a friend."

"A friend?" The man, Taecyeon, whistled with a smirk. "Don't tell me you've found a girl to fuck?"

San felt annoyance rising inside his body at how his appa talked about you, but he composed himself as he shakes his head. "No, a friend wanted me to help them with their homework." He lied through his teeth.

Another man, Byungho, typing away in the darkness, chuckles lowly as he blew a puff of his cigarette. "Yeah, whatever you say, kid. Go wash up, you don't have school tomorrow. We need to train for your first mission! How exciting is that?"

San nods as the two men laughs, Taecyeon ushering San away so they could start training. San ignores as the screaming intensifies, throwing his school bag carelessly as he huffs. He glances at the lone picture hanging on his wall.

Five men. One woman. One boy.

His appa is Taecyeon, the so called leader of the assassin group. The others? San only calls them as his uncles, even though he knows they're all not really related. Seems like almost all of them owes something to his appa, but they stick together throughout the years for some reason.

His eomma is a mystery. San notices very early how different they are. He has no similarities to his eomma nor appa. But that really didn't matter, he loves his eomma nonetheless. Yet the abuse she suffers everyday makes him wonder why she hasn't run away when she's usually all alone in the house when they're all busy.

His eomma only smiles tight when he ask her about this, changing the topic swiftly that it made San feel guilty. So he tries to be the good son that his eomma always dreams off.

"Sannie?"

San whips his head towards the now open door, his eomma hiding half of her face with it. But he always notice the blood and bruises anyway.

Always.

"Appa's already waiting for you. Why don't you go wash up so he doesn't get mad at you? Hm?"

"Okay, eomma."

San watches as the door slowly closes, making him sigh as he cracked his neck to ease the tension. He needs to be careful after almost getting caught by you. He's training as an assasin like his appa for God's sake! He can't even walk quietly without you noticing.

What a loser.

Maybe he does need the extra training his appa suggested. Sure, it could be useful for missions in the future. But what's most important is so that he could always be with you without you noticing.

"Hey, did you hear the news?"

You hum, doodling away on your notebook as your teacher excused himself to the toilet. "What news exactly?"

"You know Mr. Huang? The one who lost his child a few years ago?"

"Yeah, I know him."

"He's dead," Iseul whispers. "Like...murdered. Not because of some natural death, literal murder!"

You frown, looking at Iseul with concerned eyes. "Iseul, how do you even know that?"

She shrugs. "I heard from the lady next door. Said that police from even outside of the city came here because of how gruesome it is."

"Wow, that bad?"

"Real bad," She mumbles. "My dad told me to stay away from the area since apparently the government is handling it."

"Wait, what about his wife? Is she—you know, dead?"

Iseul thinks silently for a few seconds, before shaking her head. "Not that I know of. The lady did told my mom that Mrs. Huang survived the whole ordeal, but she hasn't woken up yet."

"Poor woman. Already losing a son and now her own husband," You grimaced at the thought.

Rumor has it, both Mr. And Mrs. Huang's son was kidnapped in an apparent ransom act. But when they paid the money, their son never came back to them. Some say he's dead, even Mr. Huang. But a few still holds hope that the boy is still alive to this day, and Mrs. Huang apparently still believes that.

People gossip about how her son's room stayed untouched for the past few years. How Mrs. Huang once went mad at her own friend when they entered the room without permission. Soon after, her mental health started declining, making her stay at home most of the time.

"—from your lover boy?"

"Huh?" You snapped out of your head. "What did you say?"

"I said—have you heard from lover boy?"

"Shut up, Iseul. And no, I haven't heard from him for the past few days."

"You really should just visit his house," Iseul remarks softly as Mr. Kim entered the classroom again. "Didn't you say his house's near you?"

You never really say this to Iseul, not even San. But you did once visit his house to ask for his whereabouts. The result? Only a blank stare from the woman who answered the door. Her makeup barely covers the bruises marking her face, making you realize why San didn't want you to find out what's happening inside his house.

"Yeah, maybe I'll go after school," You replied back, knowing deep down you're hesitant to even step onto his family's land ever again.

Biting into the juicy meat, you hum happily as you munch on the braised beef your mother cooked a few hours ago. Your aunt is watching TV, laughing away on some random game show you haven't heard off. Your mother ate silently across you, her eyes empty as usual before she softly coughs to get your attention.

"(Name)? Have you ever stepped foot to the Choi's residence?"

You stopped chewing, looking towards your mother where she holds a grimace. "Um, no. I've never—"

"Answer me truthfully, girl."

Sheesh, she's really mad. Your mother rarely says that to you, only when she meant serious business only.

"I have. But only once! After that, I've never went there again."

Your mother hums, her grimace gone, changed into a more somber expression. "From now on I forbid you to go there, okay?"

"But—"

"No buts," She glares at you. "I don't care what's happening inside of that house, but what I do care is about your well-being."

You huff. "Why are you like this anyway?"

"Something happened. A few police came to the house this afternoon asking about the certain people living there. Turns out it's about the case of Mr. Huang, they suspect the killer—or killers— are living inside of that house right now."

Your eyes turned wide, mouth hanging open as your mother clicked her tongue before closing your mouth with her hand. "Don't do that. It's disgusting."

"Wait, hold on—what do you mean suspects? Are they suspecting everyone there?" You ask. Is this why San hadn't replied back to you?

She only shrugs. "As far as I know, the police are still investigating it. But...they have a strong evidence against the people living there."

"Strong evidence?"

"No clue. They didn't tell me anything again. What they did tell me though," Your mother paused her chewing as she thinks of her next words. "Is that whoever killed Mr. Huang was not only one person."

"A group then?"

Your mother shrugs. "Maybe. They're trying to find some of the stolen goods from his house, like jewelry and expensive items. And police started to search here when they got a tip from someone that one of Mr. Huang's expensive vases were found outside of the house."

God, this only made you more panicked as you tend to overthink about every little thing. San not replying to your texts, him disappearing for a few days. And apparently he's living with murderers? Then again, this should not surprise you ever since your first and last visit to the house.

"Go to sleep," Your mother tells you as she cleans the table. "You still have school tomorrow."

You can't even talk back to your mother, saying that tomorrow's Saturday, but you follow her order nonetheless. Too busy thinking about San in your head.

Entering your room, you softly closed the door only to be surprised by a hand covering your mouth. You scream loudly yet the person behind you shushed you gently. "Please, (name), be quiet."

San?

"San? What the fuck?" You whisper aggressively as he slowly drops the hand from your mouth. You gasp when you're met with the sight of him being bruised and bloody, his eyes tired as his posture turned from tense to weak.

"Oh my—what happened?!"

"Um, can I sit first? I don't think I can't stand much longer."

You quickly usher him to sit on a pillow you throw haphazardly on the floor, pointing at him with hard eyes as you open the door. "Wait here. Don't move. You need to answer questions first before you're off the hook."

He sheepishly smiles, giving you a thumbs up. "Sure, I'll wait here."

You exited your room quietly, walking slowly towards where your mother kept a small first aid kit near the bathroom. Placing it under your arm, you notice your mother and aunt are too busy doing their own thing. You took this advantage to walk quickly to your room, closing the door and locking it before you turn to San.

"First question, how did you get into my room?"

"Um, the window was opened and your mother's here. So I just—" San motions towards the open window, making you huff as you closed the window shut before covering it with the curtains.

"Second question, what the fuck happened to you?"

"It's...a long story."

"We've got time." You glare at him. "Tomorrow's Saturday, so talk."

San lets out a small laugh before he quiets down, nervously playing with his bruised hands as you sat down in front of him. "I'm very private on family matters. I don't want anyone to find out about it, but let's just say I reached a breaking point when I discovered some...new informations."

You pause, before dabbing one of his cuts with curious eyes. "New informations?"

He eyes you silently, the silence didn't really made you uncomfortable, but his gaze did things to you. You've never been this close to him, usually him keeping a distance whilst you respect the boundaries he put.

"I don't want to tell you any of it."

"Can I ask why?"

He hissed when you clean the cut near his eyebrow, apologizing quietly as you continue to work on his wounds. "Do you know what happened to Mr. Huang?"

You frown and eyed San with suspicion, dropping your hand towards your lap as you nodded. "Yeah, I'm sorry what happened to him and his wife. I heard she's still alive."

San sighs, quickly rubbing his eyes as you notice the lone tear escaping. "Yeah, I'm sorry for him too."

"Why are you crying for a man you don't even know?"

He stayed quiet, looking away before he glances at you with hurt in his eyes.

"Why? What's wrong?" You whisper, hesitating to hold his hands.

"(Name), I'm a killer."

Your heart dropped, eyes wide as you tried to comprehend what he just said to you. "W-What? You're joking, right?"

San shakes his head silently, still eyeing you with his hard gaze. You laugh nervously, inching yourself away from him as he stayed in place.

"Choi San, this better be a joke. And if it is, it's not funny!"

He sighs, grabbing something out of his pocket before slowly sliding it towards you. "What do you see?"

It's a ring, and it looks pretty expensive from its appearance. "A ring?"

"Look closer."

You silently move closer towards it, eyeing it suspiciously as San snorts. "Why aren't you touching it?"

"Because I don't want to, San! Ever think of that?"

You huff, eyeing the ring on the floor before you noticed a hint of dark red on the ring. You bit your lip, glancing at him as you pointed towards it. "Is that—is that what I think it is?"

"You mean blood? Yeah, it is. But that's not what I want you to see. Look closer, inside of the ring."

His nonchalant response should've made you bolt the fuck out of your room, but you cast away the fear, moving closer again towards the ring.

And that's when you notice it.

A small carving inside of the ring. Initials.

'H.J'

It quickly clicks to you as to who owned the ring.

Huang Jeongcheol. The man who just got killed.

You stand upright quickly, already moving towards the door when San grabs you by the waist. Holding his hand towards your mouth, he shushed you gently as you scream and bite at his hand.

He placed you on your bed, pinning your hands with only one of his hands. You wonder to yourself, has San ever been this strong? From his appearance, you don't want to sound mean, but he looks like a normal school boy who doesn't like to workout nor doing sports.

"(Name), please listen to me. I know you're scared of me right now, but please listen to me. I'm begging you right now to please believe me because after this...I don't think we'll meet again for a long time."

You stare at San with distrust, but you can't help but feel a tad bit of sadness when he looks so dejected at you.

"The family that I know all my life—lied to me," He started. "They used me, trained me to be their apprentice, to kill people."

San looks away, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back at you. "They're not my real family. They never have. Especially after what they've pushed me through, to kill my own father."

You frantically move your head, allowing his hand to move away. "W-What? What do you mean?"

"I've always wondered why Mr. Huang cried at me when I stepped forwards to kill him. I just...did what the others did—kill them to get rid of the evidence," San whispers.

"But then, I started to get uneasy at seeing the house. How it all felt...familiar. And when I saw myself with them in pictures, when I was young—" San laughs wetly, tears running freely down his face. "—I knew, I instantly knew that I just killed my father. My own biological father! I thought I was hallucinating all of it but then I saw how the little boy is wearing my favorite jacket. The one that I own! I can't, I just—"

"Woah, San, calm down," You whisper as his breath became more erratic. You slowly raised his hand towards his chest, allowing the other one placed against your own. "Follow my breathing, good, that's it. Breathe in and out slowly."

"I can't stay here anymore," He whispers after his breathing became normal again, making you frown in confusion. "I killed one of them," He interrupts you. "I told him to tell me the truth, yet he persist that I'm better living with them. And that my father, my biological one, deserved to die."

You're lost for words, you don't even know what to say to him. You only hold his hand tighter as a sign of comfort. But you don't know if you're actually comforting him or yourself.

"I need to go, (name)," He slowly stands up, moving closer to your window to peek between the curtains. "It's not safe for me to be here after what I did. Especially for you."

"F-For me?"

"Yes," He stares at you with hard eyes, yet you can see how his eyes glisten with tears. "I can't let them hurt you. You—I care for you. I appreciate all of the nights we hung out, talk about stupid things and our dreams away from this small town. I want you to achieve your lifelong dream, but that can't happen when you're always the target of a group of killers."

"Why am I a target?" You ask with a quivering tone, fright creeping up on you as San looks on to you with pity. "Please, San. Tell me. Why am I the target?"

"Because they know I'm always here every night."

You can't stop the whimper coming out of your mouth, yet you remember your mother and aunt are still outside. You cry silently with your hand covering your mouth, kneeling to the ground as your breath became erratic.

"Am I going to die? I don't want to die, I can't die, San. I'm scared," You sob silently, crying even harder when he puts your face to his shoulder, his hands holding you tightly as you weep more and more.

"I know," He whispers, tucking your hair back as he hugs you tighter. "That's why I need to lure them away from this town. I don't need any of them in town."

"What? What about your mother?"

San pursed his lips, looking away as he sighs. "I was too late. I can't...protect her."

"Isn't she in the hospital?"

San shakes his head slowly, grasping your hand in his as he exhales a shaky breath. "I was too late, they reached her first."

You bit your lip as you imagined the only blood related family San has now is already dead. You flinched slightly at his hand brushing the tears away from your face, the hand slowly moving your face towards him as he pecks your mouth. A light one, but you've never kissed a boy—or really anyone—before.

You gasp in surprise, finding San smiling softly at you as he placed his forehead to yours. "I love you, (name). I don't know when or where, but I hope we'll meet again soon. Promise you'll wait for me?"

You closed your eyes, holding his hand tighter as a sign of promise. "I will. I'll wait for you."

The cold wind hits your body roughly, making you hug your thin coat tighter as you weave your way between people to get to your apartment. Readjusting the mask you open the building door as you nod towards the owner of the building, an old man who likes to smoke at late hours.

He nodded back before you walked slowly towards your designated floor. You avoid making eye contact with your neighbor, ignoring his staring as he waters his plants.

Such a weird habit. Who waters their plants at night?

Closing and locking the door, you sigh loudly as you pulled the mask from your face, brushing your hair away from your face as you lazily throw your shoes near the door.

So much has happened in the past five years.

Well, not that interesting to be honest in your life. Ever since he left.

San quickly left after the promise you've made to him, you staring at his back as he walks towards the darkness. Never to be seen again.

You've held on to the hope of him returning maybe for a year. Going about your day, ignoring the whispers from people around you about the murders and a missing boy. Paranoia started to slowly grow because of what he said to you, about being possibly killed.

Before you realized that it's all an empty promise and lies.

Then again, you were both young so you can't really blame younger you.

As for older you, or yourself currently, you're now living in the big city! Sure, you may be having a bit of a trouble handling money for university, having to work two part time jobs while studying, living in a small shitty apartment; but you're alive at least. And that's what matters.

Kicking what seems to be paper, you picked up two envelopes, one familiar and one you didn't recognize. You decided to shower first, grimacing at your sweaty skin as you quickly entered the bathroom.

Grabbing the convenient store bento on your way home, you smile as you open the first letter from your mother. Your relationship kinda got better when you left, feeling that deep down your mother missed you. She's just awkward on showing it to you.

Now, the other letter.

It's more high quality, more smaller than the one your mother sent. You looked for any names or address, but nothing. You chewed as you opened the letter, finding a small written letter.

Hello. You might not recognize me now, but I'm finally at a place where I feel I've accomplished enough to ensure your safety. I'll see you soon.

You frowned, looking at the back of the letter to see if there's anymore writing. When you see none, you folded the paper back to its envelope before chucking it towards the mess that is your desk.

A lone paper slips past you, probably from the envelope. You grabbed it only to get more confused and creeped out because it's a drawing.

Of you.

Tossing the drawing alongside the rest of the letter, you contemplated on what to do.

You don't know who it is, probably the letter was sent to a wrong address or it's someone messing with you. Then again, you don't really know whoever would waste their precious time on you anyways.

Cracking your neck with a sigh, you continued to eat before deciding to sleep in for the night. You're not that busy tomorrow, only a few classes and one part time schedule at the convenience store. You laid down, charged your phone, and closed your eyes as you waited for sleep to come by, waiting for tomorrow for you to repeat the same cycle.

"Hey, (name)," Your coworker, Chaemin, greeted with a tired smile as you nodded back in greeting. "I'll go change, wait here."

You hum, standing behind the cashier as you waited for him to finish. Nothing much happened today. Classes went by as normal, a few friends invited you to a party but you sadly declined as you're now working, and that's it.

Entering the staff's room as Chaemin exited, he bid you goodbye as you changed into your uniform. Grabbing your phone before exiting, you held back a yawn as you sat down behind the cash register, looking around the dead and empty convenience store. You don't expect much customers this late at night so you proceeded to play a new game on your phone.

Not long after, a ding was heard indicating a new customer, making you glance up, eyebrows raised in confusion as to who just entered.

A man, wearing a dark grey three piece suit, holding a briefcase as he slowly walks towards the drink isle. Who wears black gloves anyways?

Not something you would see this late at night, but it's better than some drunkards yelling profanities all around. You realized you're staring too hard on the man, flicking your gaze towards your phone once more as slow steps rang throughout the store.

"Excuse me?"

"Y-Yes?" You replied back with surprise, not expecting the man to talk. You noticed the man smiling as he holds the drink in his hand, smiling slightly making you notice the small dimple on his cheek.

He's pretty handsome, you'll give him that.

"Is this the 'buy one get one' drink promo?"

"Yes, but you can only buy the same flavour to get the promo, sir."

"Sir? Do I really look that old to you?" He chuckles softly, grabbing the drinks and continue to look around to grab snacks.

You scratched your head in embarrassment. "O-Oh, sorry. Just formalities and all for me, you know?"

The man hums, walking towards the you as he placed the small basket on the counter before smiling at you. "No worries, don't be scared. Just jokin' with you."

You smile politely, scanning the items before stating the price, accepting the cash as you tried to ignore his hard stare at you. Sure, he's handsome and all but he's just a passing customer that you'll soon forget in a few days. Besides, nothing exciting ever happens to you anyway.

You waited for the man to go away, surprise in your eyes as he slides one of the drinks to you. You looked up to him, pointing at the drink. "Um, what's this?"

"A treat."

"For?"

He shrugs with a smile, "Just something to make your day better."

"Alright...thank you?"

"You're welcome," He replies softly, grabbing the plastic bag that seemed so out of place with the rest of his outfit. As he exited the store, you squinted your eyes when you saw a flash of red splatter behind his suit.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes in frustration and tiredness. You really do need to fix up your schedule or you'll pass out anytime soon.

Blood?

You thought that one encounter was going to be the last time you'll ever see the man. That's what you had in mind as you've worked through your other part-time jobs, just going with the flow.

It's a surprise when the man entered once more, greeting you with a smile. His suit is immaculate as ever, black with unopened buttons at the top, sleeves rolled as he walks around the store.

"Rough night?" He asks, sliding the drink to you as he finished paying.

You shrug, thanking him halfheartedly as you open the drink given to you. "Just tired."

"Well," He starts. "I hope tomorrow will be a better day for you. You never know what's going to happen, huh?"

You know those words were supposed to make you feel better, but somehow, it only does the opposite for you. You nod with an awkward smile. "Yeah, sure."

"Goodnight then—" He squints behind his glasses, reading your name tag. "—(name)."

"Goodnight."

You stare at his retreating back, noting no sights of red splatter on his back. That is, until you're eyes reached his shoes that you notice the red small imprint it left behind.

Yeah, you're definitely not going crazy from sleep.

"What?! You've never dated anyone in that big of a city?" Iseul hissed through the phone, making you scoff at her. "Uh, yeah? Too busy making money so I could live the next day is pretty important to me, you know?"

"Oh, I know. I didn't mean it that way."

"No," You held back a yawn behind your hand. "I kinda agree with you here. I just—I don't know, I don't have time? Sure, dating sounds like a dream for me. But I'm afraid I'm to busy to manage a relationship and I'll get dumped."

"That's why communication is important!" Iseul replied back with vigor. "Look, I'm not going to force you but my boyfriend has a friend there, coincidentally, that's also single."

"Is that why you called me?"

"No! Well...maybe," She laughs nervously. You smirk in amusement but told her to go on.

"Right! His name is Donghyun, goes to the same university if I'm not wrong. He's older around three years than you. Sounds good?"

"Uh, any other information that you know besides that?"

"Sorry, I don't really know the guy. But, my boyfriend says that he's really nice. If you're down, I'm gonna give your number to him."

You sigh, thinking about the dangers of meeting a stranger for a date. Then again, you really need something other than working your ass off in your spare time. You contemplated for a minute, before cutting off Iseul's rambling on the phone. "Hey, I'll go."

Iseul started to scream loudly, making you pull away from the phone in an instant. "My ears!"

"Sorry, sorry! I'm just so happy for you!"

You laugh lightly, "I haven't even met the guy, Iseul."

"Well, I hope he's good to you. If not, then I can go to you and find him to beat his ass up if he ever hurts you."

"Alright, I hope you protect me from whatever danger there is," You hum.

The conversation between you and Iseul goes on until the morning. Thankfully, you only had one class and no work since you covered one of your coworkers shifts and in return, now they're covering yours.

It's a surprise when an unknown phone number texted you, introducing himself as the man himself, Donghyun. He texted cutesy enough, adding cat stickers every now and then that made you laugh. He wanted to meet you today, which made you think about how he's really desperate but deep down you're desperate too.

You agreed to meet up after your class this afternoon, meeting at a cafe nearby so you assumed he also has classes today.

Wanting to make a good impression, you decided to dress up a bit more nicer with a dress. You kept your hairstyle simple yet pretty, using some light makeup before deciding to go to class after a big brunch.

You ignored the curious glances you received at class, quickly leaving when it finished. You texted Donghyun that you're walking to the cafe, surprised that he's already there and asked if you wanted any drinks or food.

When you arrived, you looked around before seeing someone waving their hand at you. You held back a noise of surprise at the sight of a familiar face. You've seen him before a few times at university, what a small world.

"Donghyun?"

"Yeah! You must be (name), it's nice meeting you," He smiles widely as he gestures towards the seat across him. "I already ordered the drinks and food here. So, uh, dig in!"

"Thanks," You smiled at him.

Donghyun really is a nice guy. Very attentive to your needs, a true gentleman. But a few times he sounds a bit...ignorant.

"Oh, wow! You work two part-time jobs and go to university? That's really admirable."

You nod along. "Yeah, it sucks and tiring. But I need the money, ya know?"

"Why can't your parents pay for it? It seems like a parents duty to pay for their child's education."

You held back a grimace, hiding it with a shrug of your shoulders. "Yeah, that's true. But they don't have much money to support me plus themselves. So I had to resort to working."

"No wonder you look tired all the time. No offense, but you look like a zombie every time I see you."

You laugh along with him, noticing how he opens his mouth once more probably to ask you the same questions. But you diverted the topic to him, asking what major he's in.

You learned Donghyun was a business major, following along his mother's footsteps to continue their oil tycoon. Everything suddenly clicks as Donghyun tells you his story.

He's old money and super rich. Whilst you're an ordinary country bumpkin.

Basically two different worlds.

But you really don't care about that now. He seems like a sweetheart, and you're tired of the same cycle you're going through every fucking day.

You need a breath of fresh air.

So you agreed to date him. Scheduling seems a bit hard because of your schedule, but Donghyun seems to be fine with it, asking you to message him if you have any spare time.

One date turns to two. Two turns into three more dates. Until you realized you've been dating Donghyun for the past three months.

He really is a sweet guy. But you know it's never going to last long from the expectations his parents had for him about his life, so you took everything lightly and just enjoyed the flow. Besides, he likes to spoil you with gifts. You're not going to decline that, especially if it's necessary needs like foods and clothes.

One thing that never changed though is the man that routinely visits the convenience store once a week. New suits, same old face, and the always changing positions for the blood. Because of this, you kept your distance from him. Always setting boundaries when he asks you personal questions, but never getting mad since you don't want to make him pissed off.

"New bracelet?"

"Huh?"

"Is that a new bracelet you bought? Looks cute," The man smiled, pointing towards the beaded bracelet you had on.

"Yeah, my boyfriend bought it for me," You replied back nonchalantly, scanning the items in front of you. Not noticing how the man posture snapped in an instant from relaxed to tense.

He hums, tracing letters on the counter. "Boyfriend, huh? Who's the lucky guy?"

"No one you know, of course. But it's someone from my university."

The man nodded once more, scoffing before he quickly replaced the frown with a smile. "How long you've been dating?"

"Not your business."

"Aw, I thought we were friends—"

"Uh, no? I don't even know your name. Why would I be friends with you?" You stared at the man with a confused gaze, quickly averting your eyes when he only blankly stared at you with no expression on his face.

"Of course, my apologies. Here, take the drink. You need it."

You hesitantly grabbed it. "Thanks, I guess."

He nods once, grabs his things, before walking out of the store. You let out a relieved sigh, pushing the drink out of your way. "Fucking creep."

You glanced into the empty streets outside, relieved the man was nowhere to be seen. You grabbed your phone just in case when you saw a text from Donghyun.

You: when?

Dodo: coffee date? <3

You contemplated for a while, knowing you have a shift tomorrow. But one of your coworkers could cover you for one day, it wouldn't hurt.

Dodo: hoping tmrw is ok?

You: sounds good :)

You ignored the sinking feeling growing inside you, wanting to have fun once in a while without overthinking it.

But maybe you should've listened to your gut this time.

"Wow, this place is really secluded," You commented at the small indie cafe. Donghyun shrugged, pulling out a chair for you. "I know, but the reviews are really good. And my friends told me it's worth it."

"Alright, did they recommend anything?"

"The croissant looks good, but they recommended we buy the red velvet slice."

You nodded, giving out your usual drink order to Donghyun as he walks up to order. You looked around and noticed how empty it is for a supposedly popular cafe. Yeah, two people are outside right now, drinking and smoking. But other than that, the place looks deserted.

"Here you go," Donghyun placed the drinks and food. "Pretty fast but they don't have any customers besides us right now."

"Yeah, doesn't it feel weird to you? A popular cafe this empty on a Friday?"

He shrugs, already drinking away. "Like you said, it's a secluded place. It's popular, yeah, but only a few people know."

"Really?"

"Not a lot things on social media, but maybe this cafe runs from word of mouth? You know, people talk to their friends who in return come here."

"Maybe," You answered, but there's still doubt lingerie in your head. You brushed it off as Donghyun started to talk, asking about you and telling stories about him and his friends.

The cake was honestly really good, you can't get enough of it. But you stopped eating when you notice Donghyun yawning for the fifth time in a row. "You alright?"

"Yeah, just—" He yawns widely before continuing. "I don't know why I feel really sleepy."

"Did you not sleep well last night?"

"I did! I just—I don't know why I'm suddenly so tired."

You opened your mouth to reply back but only met with your own yawn passing through. "Woah, that's a surprise."

Donghyun laughs. "Are you tired too? Damn, we're meant to be." His head slumps towards the table, no sounds from him other than soft breathing.

Your gaze started to get weird, looking around as your head started to get dizzy. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the barista talking to someone, someone in a suit. You tried to move away from the approaching figure, but felt your body too weak to even move.

In the next few seconds, your eyes started to get droopy before you succumb to the darkness.

You don't know how long you're out, but one thing for sure is you got a massive headache. And you're tied to a chair in a small room.

You groan at the light hitting your eyes as you open your eyes, grimacing at the painful headache growing rapidly.

"—Thank you again, for the help."

"Well, don't got much choices do I?"

"Yes, that's true. But thank you nonetheless."

"Hey," You spoke out loud. "Hey! Where the fuck am I?!"

"Sounds like your lover's awake," A gruff voice replied.

The door besides you opened slowly, making you glare at the familiar man smiling widely at you. "Hello, headache?"

"No shit!" You hissed at the man who only innocently smiles at you. "What did you do? Where's Donghyun?"

"Now, now, you don't have to worry about some other man," He gently replied, grabbing an extra chair out of nowhere. You glared at the man as he fixed his cuff links, clicking his tongue when he noticed a small patch of red staining his white clean button up.

"Who's blood is that?"

"No one you need to worry about," He laughs, fixing his glasses as he smiles at you. "I'm sorry we need to reunite like this, but you gave me no choice."

"What the—wait, reunite? What do you mean reunite?" You whispered in shock.

He laughs softly at you, brushing a piece of hair away from your face as you flinched away from him. "I don't blame you for not recognizing me. I have to...alter my appearance because of my job."

"Just tell me who you are!"

"I've killed my own biological family members, who's been searching for me every since a group of assassins kidnapped me for ransom," He starts, playing with the ring on his finger. "Huang Jeongcheol, the innocent man that I've killed without knowing. And Huang Hyorin, who I've failed because I was too late to save her."

Your head started to ache painfully, your breathing becomes more ragged as you stared at the man you once knew in your past, suddenly here with you.

Kidnapped you. And could possibly hurt you.

"S-San?"

"Hi, (name)," San smiles as he moves closer to you. He coos as he brushed away the tears that escapes your eyes. You didn't even notice you're crying, you didn't know why. Maybe because all this time you've let go of the past with him, finding it to be near impossible when he didn't even tried to contact you.

"Why are you crying, love?"

"Wha—I thought, I thought you're dead!"

"And why would I be?" He hums, continuing to brush your hair softly, a smile etched on his face as you tried to calm your breathing.

"You said people were after you! Tried to kill you!" You screamed loudly, glaring at him with wild eyes. "And you said they're also after me! How can I not conclude that you're dead when you didn't contacted me whatsoever!"

He sighs, sitting again in front of you whilst he holds your hands to his. "I know. And I've wanted to meet you after I've sent the letter—"

"You've sent that creepy letter?!"

"Yeah, I gotta admit it is creepy," He laughs. "But anyways, back to the story. I didn't contact you because I've been working."

"You got a job? Here?"

"Not necessarily here," He explains. "Let's just say I've become what I've been trained for since my younger years."

Dread grows inside your body, looking at San with weary eyes as you hoped whatever suspicions you had about him was wrong. "You kill people for a living? L-Like them?"

He nods once.

"Oh, San...why? Did anyone force you to work this—"

"No one forced me!" He yells, making you jump as you closed your mouth in an instant. His eyes now wild with fire, glaring incessantly at the wall as his hold on your hands turned tighter. He lets go of your hands as you yelped in pain, mumbling a small 'sorry'.

"No one forced me, (name)," He continues. "Yes, I've been living like hell just so I could live another day! Hiding in slums, stealing, begging to strangers for food, whatever I could do to hide from that bastards!"

"But I've had enough one day, I've just had it with them," He hissed, pacing back and forth in front of you as he crossed his arms. "So I become a hitman, for the people who need it. I need the money and the relations to get back at them, and I've become weak over the years because I didn't train enough. But one job turned into more and more, and suddenly people in the industry know my name. They respected me for my work ethic, cleanliness, and no bullshit attitude."

"A-And did you—"

"Yeah, I did it," He smirks in triumph. "I killed the last one just two years ago. Bastard didn't even put up a fight, fucking beheaded him. It felt so...euphoric to see the light slowly disappearing from his eyes."

You flinched when his gaze turns to you. "And you, (name), I've never forgotten you once in my life. I've prayed to whatever God is there to always be there for you when I'm not there. I've hold on to the promise we've made, and when I first saw you here—" He laughs happily. A lovesick look on his face as he sighs, "I couldn't believe my eyes. You look the same yet you look so angelic and beautiful when I first saw you. I thought about the future we could have together, just us together. Maybe we could get a pet. Besides, I'm respected now! I have money to spoil you and you don't have to even work. But..."

"But?"

"But you broke our promise," San hissed with venom. "You said you'll wait for me! You said you wanted to be with me. And I find you all of a sudden with a boyfriend!"

He looks at you with hurt and betrayal, hands clenched tightly as you tried to look away from his stare. "What was I supposed to do? Wait for you?!"

"Yes! You promised me, (name)!"

"We were young!" You bellowed out to him, chest heaving with anger as he looks at you with hard eyes. "We were young, San. It's stupid for me to just wait in that damn town. I was scared to move away, yes, but I wanted to get out of that small town since forever."

You looked at him desperately, ignoring the warning signs ringing inside your head from the look on San's face. "I have to think for myself and my family. I moved here to get better education, and I worked my ass off to get money so I could buy food and pay for my utilities! I was stressed out thinking people were out to get me, before I realized it's all bullshit!"

"It's not bullshit, (name)!"

"Oh, I know," You mumbled. "But I can't live my life just for some promise I made to them in the past. It's called moving on, San."

He's quiet as you cough lightly, now feeling how dried your throat is as you glanced around the room for any escape. You turned to look at him as he lets out a breathy laugh, hands wiping his face in an obvious attempt to hide his anger.

"So, the promise you made...it doesn't mean anything to you, huh?"

You looked away, closing your eyes before answering. "It used to mean something. But at one point, I just—I just let go of my worries. I got into a good university, I moved away, worked hard for money so I could sustain my life. I've met good friends here—"

"And a boyfriend."

"Yes," You glared at him. "A boyfriend. Whom I've choose to date because I wanted to. I know it's not a serious relationship, but I wanted to get out of the stress for just one moment. And you're mad at me for that?!"

San shakes his head, looking away from your gaze. "I'm not mad, just disappointed. I wanted for us to be together, and now you're protecting this asshole like you love him."

"I do love him," You answered. He scoffs loudly, laughing loudly as he shakes his head. "Like you've said, this relationship wasn't meant to last this long. And I think I should end this now."

You're eyes widen as he stood up, cracking his knuckles as he stretches. "S-San? What—What are you doing?"

He smiles, not in a loving way, but more sinister and mocking. "Don't worry," He pats your head, messing up your hair even more. "I just need to get rid of him. Then, we'll finally be together."

"What?! No, wait!"

You tried to move, tried to get help by screaming, only to stop when you hear a loud scream outside. You whimper when a thud was heard outside, trying to find anything to cut the ropes tying you up as the screams started to get even more desperate.

"No! San, please! Leave him be," You cried out.

Another scream.

"Please, please! Just let him go! He didn't do anything wrong!"

A groan from Donghyun before he pleads for his life.

"San! Please, don't kill him."

A final 'thud' was heard outside.

No sounds.

You cried and cried, tears running down freely from your eyes as you whimper. Donghyun is dead because of you.

You didn't look up when the door opened, too exhausted to even lift up your head as you continued to sob silently.

"Thanks again, Jongin."

You glanced up to see the barista standing near the doorway. "Whatever," He mumbles. "I need to clean up anyways. The usual?"

San hums happily, brushing away the strands of hair that has fallen down his perfectly styled hair. "Yeah. Make sure to cut him up, place him in different areas. I'll tip you even more money."

"You got it."

With one final look from the man, he closed the door.

Leaving you with this psychopath.

"Look at me, (name). I know you're tired, but please look at me," He cooed.

"No," You whispered, not able to see the blood stains on him.

He sighs, walking up to you to grab you by the hair. You yelled in pain, before shutting your mouth as his grip turned tighter.

"Here's a warning for you," He starts. His eyes crazed and face covered in blood. "Do stupid things that'll make me mad, and others will face the consequences."

He points towards the door. "That's warning number one."

"I don't want to hurt you anymore," He whispers, grip turning more loose as he lets go of your hair. He walks around you, eyes cold and emotionless. So different from the one before. "But, if I have to—I will kill others you love."

"No, please."

"And if you do something that steps over the boundaries I'll give you," He stops in front of you, cupping your chin so you'll look at him. "I will kill your mother."

"No!" You scream, desperation in your tone. "Please, not her! Don't kill anyone," You cried out to him.

San smiles, his expression turned more soft in a matter of seconds. He kneels before hugging you, kissing your lips deeply like he's a starved man. He bites your lip enough to make it bleed, making you whimper in pain. He sighs, happily, brushing your tears away with his thumb before smiling.

"Be mine, (name). All of your worries will go away, and no one will ever be hurt because of you."

From the things you only have, he really needs to spoil you more. He thinks about the new clothes he could buy, some nice accessories for you to wear, maybe even some naughty things for the both of you to enjoy—

San hums a happy tune as he moves the boxes from your small apartment. He can't believe you live in this dump when you could've lived with him in a nice apartment. Then again, you lived according to your budget so he can't really blame you.

Plus he had other things to work on, planning the apartment, making sure you're comfortable there. Maybe killing a few people to make sure nobody gets suspicious as to where you are. Families are usually the most bothersome people to handle with, that's why he needed to make your last remaining family member die. He's skilled enough anyways to make it seem like an accident.

Your mother, a heart attack.

Your aunt, car crash.

Your friend, Iseul, killed by her boyfriend.

You don't know of course. He'll make sure of that.

"Hey, who are you?"

San looks around before seeing an old man standing at the end of the hallway, voice gruff probably because of the cigarette he's smoking. He smiles in ease, knowing it's your landlord after the stalking he's done throughout the years.

"Oh! I'm (name)'s boyfriend, sir."

"And what exactly are you doing?"

"Just moving out some of her stuff," He shrugs. "We decided to live together now."

"And why isn't she here?"

His smile turned more tense, already feeling annoyed from questions. Can't this old fart just go away?

"She's sick, sadly. So I'm tasked with moving the rest of her stuff."

The old man only nods. "Good, take care of her. She's too coped up here, she's still young."

San laughs, "That's what I've said to her too!"

He eyes the old man, cocking his head to the side as he smirks in amusement. "Don't worry, I'll take real good care of her."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere kpop #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #yandere ateez #san x reader #san x you

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