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#skz smut
milkteabinniechan · 2 days
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you're my baby, say it to me
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MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY | ☕
warnings: mentions of menstruation, panty grinding, aftercare <33
a/n: I just needed a soft chan for when I am going through it during that time of the month. This is purely self indulgent :((
Soft Channie who sings your favorite songs while you rest. The strumming of the guitar like soft kisses. Soft Channie who makes your favorite drink, perfect amount of cream and sugar, to ease your cramps.
Soft Channie who massages your feet while you talk about your latest TV show, all the drama happening between your favorite characters. Soft Channie who listens intently, pressing his palms into the palm of your feet, telling you how cute you look when you talk about your interests.
Soft Channie who cautiously grinds on top of your panties, knowing even the slightest stimulation will help your menstrual pain. Holding his shirt between his teeth, he slowly thrusts his hips into your soft, clothes cunt.
Soft Channie who lets small, pathetic whimpers leave his lips, careful not to push you too far or thrust too quickly. Soft Channie who is desperate to cum, his tip swollen and red against your fabric. Your clit poking through ever so slightly, to brush against it.
Soft Channie with impatient beads of cum forming at the tip. The shaft of his cock pulsating faster. You grab his face and force him to make eye contact, knowing it will be the end of him
Soft Channie who pours himself on top of you. Covering and coating you entirely. Soft Channie who apologizes again and again for making such a mess, kissing and cleaning you profusely.
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changbinlov3r · 3 days
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We can't be friends | H.H.
Pairing: Hyunjin x reader
Genre: ANGST, smut
Summary: you have been in love with your best friend for a long time. On a night where you were supposed to comfort him after a break up, things heat up and he finally looks at you the way you wanted.
Words count: 2,957
THIS WORK IS FOR +18 AUDIENCES ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Warnings: biting, protected piv, hickeys, blowjob, hair pulling, cursing(I think that's all)
A/N: I wanted to write something to "we can't be friends" by ariana grande, I was thinking so hard about what to write and this idea came to me so suddenly and I knew I had to write it.
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Hwang Hyunjin was everything you ever dreamt about. You didn’t realize that right when you met him in your first year of college, to you he was just a friend until he wasn’t anymore. You started noticing every little thing about him, how his eyes turn into crescents when he smiles, the face he makes when he eats something good, what are his favorite drinks and snacks. Suddenly everything about Hyunjin sounded so interesting that you didn’t even realize you were in love. You didn’t realize how happy you got every time he sent you a message, how touched you felt when he went to pick you up at work because it was raining and you forgot your umbrella, how calm you felt when you were with him, watching a movie and chilling.
The moment you realized you were in love, you knew you couldn’t be best friends anymore but you liked to pretend. Hyunjin never even looked at you twice so your mind never went to dark places, wondering what it would be like to tell him how you feel but even though that was the case, he didn't make it easy for you to stop liking him.
He would bring you snacks and medicine when you were on your period, when you felt down about anything he would be there to cheer you up and you could tell him just about anything, you knew he wouldn’t judge you — well, almost anything. Could he ever understand you about this, though? How could you fall in love with your best friend?
When he got his first girlfriend it was a shock to you, the pain in your chest felt like it would burn you whole, but you kept fighting with your heart, telling yourself that it wouldn’t do you any good for him to know about your feelings. His relationship didn’t last long but it also wasn’t the last you heard about a relationship of his and you thought you were okay with it. That is, until he met his last girlfriend. Hyunjin was head over heels for her and that killed you time and time again. Your heart broke more and more every time he talked about her, every time you slept over and heard him calling her late at night, telling her how much he loved her. A month went by, then three months, then a year.
Of course you didn’t want them to break up because you knew he would suffer and that was the last thing you wanted, even if in that case you would be the one hurting. You tried to date other people, but you always felt it was wrong because deep inside you didn’t want to get over him, not when you were still hopeful that one day he would look at you.
It was late at night when Hyunjin called you, it was clear in his voice that something was not right.
“Can you come over?” He asks, voice hoarse and tired.
“Give me ten minutes”, you tell him, jumping out of bed. You were already in your pjs, ready to sleep and no one other than Hyunjin could make you go out this time of the night.
You don't even change your shirt, putting on sweatpants and brushing your hair quickly before grabbing your keys and your coat, walking to the door. The chill air of the night blows your hair, messing everything up and making your face grow cold. Winter has been killing you for a while now, you have been avoiding coming to the cold outside since you started to work from home.
You get into your car, turning on the heater, putting on some light music so you can stay calm and not freak out about what happened to your best friend.
You don’t even knock when you get to his apartment, pressing the password to the door lock and entering the house. A strong smell of liquor comes straight to your nose, stopping you in your tracks. There are so many soju bottles on the floor that you can’t even count and you hear the sound of the shower, so you can only conclude that Hyunjin is taking a bath.
Sighing and taking your coat, you throw it on the table, going to the kitchen to find a plastic bag and starting to collect the trash around the living room. What the hell happened? Hyunjin is usually pretty neat, it’s rare to see his house this messy.
You hear the sound coming from the bathroom disappear while you wash the dishes, drying your hands on a towel and leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for Hyunjin to show up.
He looks awful, clean but horrible. He has eye bags under his eyes and seems tired like he hasn't slept in days.
“What happened?” You ask him, walking to him to take a closer look.
Hyunjin pouts, looking at you. You swear he’s almost crying.
“Jisoo broke up with me”, he says, running his hand through his hair.
“She did what?” You scowl, eyes widening and he sighs. “What happened? This came out of nowhere”
“I don’t know, she’s been acting weird lately and she didn’t want me to pick her up at work anymore so I asked about it and she felt offended that I was being suspicious of her, but I was not”, he whines, “I was just asking if there was something wrong”
“When did it happen? Are you drunk right now?” You recall the amount of empty bottles of alcohol you found when you arrived.
“She ended it yesterday, I thought she was gonna come around”, he cries out, “but she even blocked me on social media”
Hyunjin turns around, walking to the sofa and sitting, supporting his elbows on his thighs while he covers his face.
“I'm not drunk, I ran out of booze a few hours ago and just couldn't get myself to go buy more”, he sighs, “I have no energy”
You feel that pain in your chest, you never wanted to see him suffering like this.
“Look, you have today to cry and tomorrow you're gonna forget about her, okay?”, you groan, the last thing you want is to comfort the guy you like because someone else broke his heart. “You have me, you’re gonna be fine” You walk to him, sitting by his side and patting his back. Hyunjin sighs, nodding begrudgingly.
“Thank you for coming”, he says, leaning down and putting his head on your shoulder. “I know it's late”
“Don’t worry about it”, you assure him, “I'm always here for you”
Hyunjin nods, looking up at you before you glance down at him, his dark eyes watching you like he can see right through you, all your emotions. Suddenly the atmosphere becomes strange, you both fall into silence and you feel something deep inside you, something you don't think you have ever felt before as he glances to your mouth and then your lips are on his.
For a few seconds you can't fully understand what's happening, are you two really kissing? And is he reciprocating? Hyunjin’s lips are just like you thought it would be, soft and sweet. Are you a horrible person for doing this when he just broke up with his girlfriend? His hands move to cup your face, deepening the kiss but yours go straight to his chest, pushing him away.
“We shouldn't do this”, you shake your head, trying to get back to your senses. “This isn't right”
Hyunjin scowls.
“It's fine, I want it”, he tries kissing you again but you stop him again.
“You were drinking earlier, you are not thinking straight”, you try keeping your cool.
“I'm sober now”, he insists, “please, y/n”, he pleads, making your heart melt.
It's not like you don't want to have him, you really do.
“You won't regret it later?” You ask, biting on your bottom lip and when he shakes his head, you turn off the side of your brain that makes good decisions, kissing him again.
You grab his face, deepening the kiss, delighting yourself on his plump lips. His long hair falls around your fingers, tickling your skin and the brush of his tongue on yours makes you sigh. Hyunjin bites on your bottom lip, pulling it lightly while his hands slide down to your hips, pressing his fingers with such force you think it might cause a bruise.
He kisses you again, hungrily, leaning over and making you fall back on the sofa as he hovers over your body. You feel tiny beneath him, like he holds all the power in the world and you’re just there ready to make all his wishes come true.
As he trails kisses down your neck, you sigh and slide your hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off of him and throwing it somewhere in the room. You kiss him again, eagerly, not capable of staying away for too long as his hands slide down your shirt grabbing at your breasts, making you let out a moan. Your hands go down his abs, sliding inside his pants, pressing your fingers around his hard cock. You start massaging it up and down and Hyunjin bites on your bottom lip, pulling it slightly just enough for you to feel a slight pain.
He slips his hand down your bra, kneading at your breasts and pinching on your nipples.
“Fuck”, you murmur, not able to hold up anymore as you pull your on shirt off to give him the view of your chest that's bare in a few seconds since you work fast to undo your bra.
He watches you for a moment, mesmerized by your beauty. You feel your cheeks grow hot, trying to cover yourself but he blocks your movements, holding your arms above your head. Hyunjin kisses your neck, leaving a trail of bites that are going to cause you to use turtlenecks for a while but you are not complaining, he trails down your collarbone till your breasts so he can suck on your nipples, rubbing his hard cock against your tight while he enjoys his time at your chest.
You can't hold yourself back anymore, so you put your hands on his chest, pushing him away enough for him to sit down. You throw one leg over him, sitting on his lap, brushing your core against his hard cock, moaning to the delicious pressure. You kiss him again, rubbing yourself against him a few times, his hands go straight to your hip forcing you down.
You pull away when you can't breathe anymore, trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, giving him a bite right on top of his collarbone, not stopping until he hisses.
“You're going to leave a mark”, he groans, opening his eyes that were shut in pleasure, just to look at you, seeing the smirk you have on your lips.
“That's the point”, you say, finally detaching your lips from his skin, enjoying the view of it turning purple.
You get down from his lap, getting on your knees in between his legs, pulling his pants and underwear down to find his painfully hard cock, glistening with precum. You grab the base of his cock, pumping it a few times before you get close enough to lick the head, circling it with your tongue, listening to him moan while he grabs the sofa, knuckles turning with the strength he's using.
You hold one of his hands with yours bringing it to your head and letting it rest on your hair, as you look at him sharply, sucking up and down on his cock even more eagerly.
“Fuck”, he grabs a handful of your hair, pressing your head further down his cock, the head reaching the back of your throat, making tears escape your eyes. “You look so pretty gagging around me”, he murmurs, throwing his head back, groaning to the intense feeling of the orgasm approaching.
You feel his grip tighten on your hair and he cums a few seconds later, letting go of your hair and breathing heavily, trying to recompose himself. You stare at him from the floor, not sure if he's going to want to keep going, but he soon looks back at you stretching himself to the side of the sofa till he reaches the drawer in the rack, pulling a condom out of there.
“Do you want to-”, he begins to say.
“Yes”, you nod frantically not even letting him finish.
“Good”, he smiles, tearing the package and putting on the condom, his cock hardening again. “It's pretty difficult not to get hard again seeing you fucked out like that for me”, he teases. Your hair is disheveled, your lips are swollen and there are tears marks down your cheeks.
You smile sheepishly watching as Hyunjin offers you his hand, pulling you down to sit back on his lap. You grab his cock, teasing your entrance lightly, closing your eyes to the feeling. When you sink down you swear you can see stars, his cock is just perfect, the stretch feels so good you can't even begin to describe it. He's reaching places you didn't even know you wanted to be reached, the way he grabs your hips, pushing you down on him while he makes you grind makes the sensation a thousand times better. You can already barely breath when he kisses you again, bringing a hand to your hair and pulling it while he bites on your lips, you can feel him thrusting into you, faltering movements showing that he's almost reaching his second orgasm. He trails kisses down your neck, kissing the hill between your breasts and licking on your right nipple while he curses under his breath.
“I'm gonna cum”, he announces, detaching his mouth from your chest, glancing at you just to see you nod, murmuring ‘me too, I'm almost there’ over and over until a loud moan escapes your lips. Your legs tremble and you hug Hyunjin looking for some kind of support, he wraps his arms around you, fucking into you while he cums too.
You don't have any strength left to get up when you come down from your high, resting your head on his shoulder. Hyunjin gently picks you up, holding your legs around his hips while he carries you to his room, laying you down on his bed. He murmurs something but you're too groggy to understand him, falling into a deep slumber as soon as you feel his lips meeting your forehead.
It's already afternoon when you wake up, there's no one by your side though and you feel the pain of regret beginning to find its way to your chest. You could ignore it, you really could, if it wasn't for Hyunjin’s voice coming from outside the room. You dress up fast, walking to the door to hear what he's talking about and then you realize he's not alone.
“Do you have any idea of how much you hurt me?” You hear his voice.
“I'm sorry”, you hear Jisoo’s voice, “I know I went overboard this time but I wasn't thinking clearly”
You feel your stomach sinking in, your heart starts beating on your ears but you make a huge effort to keep listening to them.
“What do you want me to do about it now?” He asks, sighing.
“Let's get back together”, she suggests, “we can pretend we never even broke up in the first place”
You want to believe with all you have in you that he's gonna deny her, that he's going to think about you and tell her he's not interested anymore.
“Fine”, he says, “but I'll need some time to think”
You wish you could say you're surprised with his answer but you're not, it's not even sad, it's just pathetic. You really thought that he would really look at you this time, didn't you? That he would fall in love with you after one night together? That's embarrassing to say the least.
You scoff to yourself, walking around the room and collecting your things, you want to get the hell out of there and disappear from this world.
You hear the front door being closed and you know Hyunjin is gonna show up at any time now.
You're already ready to go when he opens the door, stopping on his tracks to look at you.
“I didn't know you were awake”, he says, sheepishly.
“I am”, you say walking past him in the direction of the front door.
“Y/N, about yesterday-”, he starts saying but is interrupted by you spinning around to look at him, trying to contain the tears that are threatening to escape your eyes.
“You're a fucking asshole”, you tell him, making him scowl.
“I- look, you don't understand”, he tries but you laugh, scoffing at him.
“What don't I understand? That you fucked me one night and went back to your girlfriend the next morning?”
“I wasn't on my right mind yesterday”
“Fuck you”, you feel your face hot with anger, “you said you wouldn't regret it”, you cry out as you run your hands through your hair, “I guess that's on me for really believing you”
“Let's not let this ruin our friendship okay? We can take some time apart to clear our heads but we are still best friends, y/n”
“We can't be friends”, you inform him, “I have known that for a long time now but I liked to pretend”, you sigh, waiting for him to say something, anything that could make you stay, but Hyunjin just stares at you in shock and watches as you leave him.
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chvnmax · 1 day
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skz + sharing
you know what i'm talkin' about.
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MDNI (18+) - Sexual Content, Pure Smut, literally no fluff. Just sex.
i am. nothing but a whore. i am no better than a man - when it comes to the idea of the boys sharing you with one of the others. (or multiple of the others *cough* chan *cough*) so i'm writing a blab about it and if you wanna skip it feel free but i'm writing it regardless.
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chris will share you with any of the boys - after a certain point in your relationship. it starts because of the younger aussie ogling you when you come to visit them during dance practice - and later that night chris found him outside his bedroom mid-fuck, pulling open the door to drag the other man inside and gesture to your bare body on his bed. you're panting, chest heaving and eyes lidded as you stare over at felix. he's choked up with pink cheeks, but only ten minutes later he's throat deep eating your pussy until you're gasping and choking on your tears. chris, ultimately after that, is more than happy to watch and help the others please you the same way he does. felix is more often than not the one popping around when he hears you two fucking, though. (and minho. minho comes along a lot, too.)
minho will share you with hyunjin. the two share the same lookdown on you sexually. you're smaller than them in every way, so they're both more than happy to pin you against the sheets and fuck into you until you're braindead and your eyes are rolling back into your skull. though minho isn't one to just sit back - he needs to be involved, either fucking your face while hyune takes your pussy or sucking marks over your tits while hyune eats you out with your thighs squeezing around his head. and they're absolutely going to take turns flipping you around and holding you down by your throat as they use you like you're nothing but a free use slut.
changbin will share you with jeongin. it's something about watching the youngest of the group fuck a woman who's older - and hearing him call you noona is just too cute. he's more the type to watch while it happens, absolutely in awe at the way you take charge with jeongin but not with him. you'll ride the maknae until he's damn near in tears, the mattress caving each time and bouncing and squeaking under your movements - or you'll sit on jeongin's face and rock your hips back and forth until he's sputtering and drooling and clawing at your thighs for air, which you absolutely won't give him until his ears are pink.
hyunjin will share you with changbin. hyune takes pride in his arms, in his strength and being able to hold you up while he fucks into you - but watching changbin do it is something else. it makes a rouse of jealousy stir in his chest the first time he invites the older man to fuck with you two, but the jealousy just fuels his lust and he ends up being more rough than ever. changbin is happy to kiss over your body and up your throat while hyunjin holds you by the wrists, pounding into you from behind and keeping you sat up on your knees as you whine. only when you're really putty in their hands is when he'll hand you over, knowing he did that to you - put you in that state - before letting changbin pick you up and press your back to the wall to fuck up into you.
jisung will share you with felix. the sunshine twins take pride in being able to take care of you together, and felix loves it so much when jisung hints at letting him in the bedroom with you. he'll sit back at first and let felix worship over your body until you're squirming and begging for one of their cocks - or both - before moving to your side to whisper sweet nothings and join in on the worshipping. jisung'll get more mushy than ever, fucking into you so sweetly and letting felix use your mouth or your hands or whatever he wants, before letting him have his own turn. one at a time, just to be gentle with you. and they'll both cover you in cum and grin when you're giggling, claiming you're not done and want to keep going. (though they're soft now, that doesn't mean there isn't times they'll invite you to the studio during late hours and fuck you on the couch or up against the desk.)
felix will share you with minho. he's more than happy to start things off and get your clothes on the floor before getting to the good stuff - and minho is too impatient to sit back and just watch the entire thing. he'll let you know he wants you by pressing his cock straining in his jeans right up against your hip, caging you between himself and felix while sucking marks all over your skin. he's the type to leave his presence on you - and felix doesn't seem to mind it at all. they'll fuck into you at the same time, either spitroasting or dp if you're down for it - and though felix would be alright with being done whenever, minho is the type to force multiple orgasms from you until he's satisfied. it leads to long, long nights.
seungmin will share you with jisung. it's a different dynamic, the two. seungmin is happy to shove you around and onto the bed, watching you trip over yourself and let him pull your shorts right off you to land a few hard smacks against your ass. he likes to watch you squirm - and so does jisung, of course. but he'll knead at the handprints seungmin left on you and caress over them to soothe the sting. the dynamic is also different in the sense that jisung is a needy lover. he'll rut into you like a rabbit wanting to breed, barely even pulling out before hitting your cervix with the tip of his cock. he refuses to be so far from you, too impatient and wanting to pull out all the way and leaving you moaning loud; choking and gasping and bouncing back and forth against the mattress beneath you. and when seungmin finally gets his turn it'll be the complete opposite - smooth and long strokes that make you whining for him to go just a little faster - which he of course won't listen to.
jeongin will share you with seungmin. mean, mean, mean. rough dominant men that press the side of your face into the wall, holding you by the back of your neck and slapping your ass so hard that your cheeks are pink and burning by the time they're done. the types to chuckle about it all and barely say anything to you the entire time they fuck you, using your throat until it's raw and you're drooling, tears streaking down your cheeks and jaw sore from being slack. jeongin will let seungmin do whatever he wants - use you however he wants, whatever hole, however fast. and he's the type to keep you busy and occupied even when seungmin is fucking into you, one leg thrown over his shoulder while jeongin keeps his index and middle fingers pushing down on your tongue as you stare up at him with tears in your eyes. he'll coo and watch spit pool, sliding down your cheeks while you gag and whine.
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bandgie · 3 days
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Free Use - Hyung Line
warnings: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, !!free-use is legal and public!!, public sex (duhhh), dry humping, gangbangs (implied), pussy easting, sex photography, reader is called slut
notes: longer version of this ask! to be clear, this is a free-use society so if you're not comfortable with that, don't read it pls! thanks :)
BANGCHAN! - even if it's completely legal to fuck you in public, chan can't bring himself to. your moans, whimpers, cries... those are for his ears (and maybe a few close friends) but that doesn't mean he won't do a few things - main one is arguably dry humping. standing behind you while waiting in a line for some boba and his hands settle on your hips. it's cute at first, but his grip tightens. you'll arch your back further into him because you know what he wants, you can feel it. - he grinds his hips softly on your ass. guiding his cock over your body before sliding it out to put it between your thighs. He breathlessly moans in your ear, one hand moving to grope your chest over your shirt. if he gets really into it, chan will push your head down once you make it to the counter and rut into you like he's actually fucking you and still order. - another that's more intense is when he's working in the studio. he's got you pretty and nice on his lap. Changbin and Han are so used to you riding his thigh that they hardly notice your moans anymore. - no shorts, no underwear. just your bare pussy on his leg while you hump him desperately. in a way, this is more degrading since people will come in and out of the studio, asking for adjustments and adding things to the schedule acting like they can't see you rocking your hips on his flexed thigh. but it still doesn't stop you from quietly pleading for his friends to have a turn too.
"I dunno, babe. I've got a lot of work. Why don't you keep doing this and if you're a good girl, I'll think about it."
MINHO! - total opposite of chan, he is 100% fucking you in public. everyone needs to see how much a slut you are, how much you love being fucked no matter the time of day. just cuz he's a little shit, minho will purposely fuck you in places you're supposed to be quiet. on a bus, a train, the library, the possibilities are endless - the bus though? his favorite. there's so many eyes silently watching him bounce you on his lap. all his has to do is tap his thigh and you know to lift your skirt up and sink onto his cock. no underwear on because why would you? - he wants you to be loud, he wants the people around you to join in. to twist your nipples and shove fingers in your mouth. some people will look at you with disgust wondering why mandated free use is even legal. most will be jealous though, asking minho if you're up for grabs or if you're personal use - and when it's finally your stop, he'll slide out of you and feel the way your pussy clings onto him. a few people might follow you guys until he stops at an alleyway (he has some decency) and bends you over the air.
"You can use any hole you want, but her pussy's mine."
CHANGBIN! - you're public free-use when he first meets you. there's just something about your moans, the way you move your hips, the aroused look in your eye. changbin doesn't usually engage with mandated free-use sluts but you catch his eye right at the start - he'll frequent at the place you do service at and watch most of the time. jerking himself off at the same pace you're bouncing on a cock. but he'll work up the courage and finally take you like he's been wanting to, flipping you around to get a up close view of your face - gosh, you're perfect. fucked out expression, swollen lips, cum dripping down your pretty body. how has no one made you a personal slut yet? changbin taps his fat tip on your clit, watching your body vibrate in overstimulated pleasure - he takes a long time, the people behind him growing impatient, but he doesn't care. you deserve to be praised, to be cherished. your walls are so soft and warm when he slides in, most likely from the previous people fucking you endlessly, but changbin hardly minds the fact. he presses his cock deep in you, feeling your pussy spasm and clench. and when he slides out? he gets to see all of your cream coating his length.
"So pretty. Pretty, pretty girl. You're not personal yet, right? Binnie will take care of you. Binnie can make you feel like this everyday."
HYUNJIN! - even though you're the one who's free-use, hyunjin acts like he is. he always worships you, in or out of the bedroom. he'll bring you to his photoshoots and surprises you with being photographed! the makeup artists and hair dresses doll you up so nice and pretty. you look beautiful, how can Hyunjin stay away? - with the cameras shuttering, he'll get on his knees and hook one of your legs over his shoulder. peeling the dress up to expose your sweet cunt. the makeup artists will scowl since the'll have to redo it and the hairdressers groan when you thread your fingers through his carefully styled hair, but he doesn't care - the photographers will make the best of what they can. there's no use in trying to pry Hyunjin away from you. your pussy tastes too sweet, too inviting on his tongue. so you'll be able to hear the rapid clicks of cameras and see the flashes of light while orgasming in his mouth - it's definitely a little strange to see yourself on the front cover of a magazine with hyunjin between your legs, but it's even stranger that it looks good!
"You look like an angel. You're shy? Don't be shy! You're beautiful, everyone needs to see that."
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minniesmutt · 3 days
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☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝
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☾ ━━━ PAIRING: I.N X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: CNC, ROLEPLAY (INTRUDER & VICTIM), MANHANDELING, FINGERING, DEGRADING, CHOKING, (1) PUSSY & CLIT SLAP, SPIT, GROPING, MIRROR SEX, COCKWARMING, CLIT PLAY, SQUIRTING, OVERSTIM, (1) SPANK, DYCRYPHILIA, BREEDING KINK, AFTERCARE, CREAMPIE ☾ ━━━ WC: 2K ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog
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     “You home baby?” Jeongin called into the apartment.
     “Bedroom.” he heard her call back
     The idol made his way up to the bedroom, finding her folding their laundry. He came up behind her and held her hips as he kissed her temple, “Hi.”
     “Hi,” Y/n greeted as she turned her head to him, pecking his lips
     “Bought the mask before I left work,” He told her as he sat on the bed and took over the folding so she could start putting the clothes away
     “You did?!” Y/n asked
     “Yeah,” Jeongin said as she walked back over to the bed and he pulled her down onto his lap, “Tell me what you want me to do to you in it.”
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     It was eerily silent in the apartment. Y/n was used to the silence of the apartment. Something was just off about today but she tried not to think about it. Setting her stuff down, slipped off her shoes and walked to her room. Ready to shower and crawl into her bed. 
     Y/n made her way into the en-suite bathroom and turned on the water, letting it heat up as she stripped out of her work clothing. Tossing the clothes in the hamper and getting in the shower. Washing away the day of work and stress. The weird feeling lingered in the back of her head for the entire duration of her shower. 
     Y/n grabbed a towel from the rack next to her shower. Wrapping her body before stepping out of the shower. She walked back into her room to put on some pajamas and go to sleep. That was her plan but nothing wanted to go as planned for her today.
     As soon as she reached her closet to pull something out, her mouth was covered and pulled back against someone. She screamed into whatever was covering her mouth while trying to keep her towel up at the same time and fight back     
     “Keep fighting and see where that gets you.” A deep voice said in her ear.
     Fight or flight had already kicked in her and it wasn’t stopping as she tried getting him off her but he had strength over her. He pushed her forward onto the bed before turning her onto her back and standing between her legs. All the movement loosened the towel on her.
     “Let me—” Before she could finish her sentence, a hand was gripping her throat tight. Killing any words in her throat.
     “Just don’t know how to listen do you, dumb slut.”
     Y/n tried pulling his hand away from her neck and trying to use her legs to kick him off. The only thing her actions did was unravel the towel from her body. Which the intruder noticed before she did.
     His free hand moved and groped one of her tits and Y/n froze. Finally seeing the elongated white and black mask hiding his face. But she could tell he was smiling as he squeezed the mound.
     Not even a second later, he pulled the towel out from under her and turned her back on her stomach. Pushing her knees under her as he got behind her and pulled her head back. “Walking around with nothing but a towel on, begging for anyone to bend over and use.” He groaned in her ear.
     “No,” Y/n whined as his other hand went between her legs, fingers finding her clit.
     “Hm?” He asked while she was squirming against him from the stimulation on the bud.
     Y/n grabbed onto his wrists to try and pull him away from her but he was quicker to push her back down on the bed. Holding her head down into the mattress as his other hand moved back behind her before coming down on her cunt. 
     Y/n screamed into the mattress as two fingers prodded her hole. “All wet. Could slip a cock inside this tight fucking hole with no problem.”
     All her protests were muffled as she tried pushing up against him. His fingers moved deeper into her and curled up into her walls as she tried to bite back a moan.
     “Trying to watch yourself get fucked?” He teased before pulling her back up and moving their position. Sitting on the edge of the bed and putting her in his lap, her legs hanging over his.
     He grabbed her chin and made her look forward. Y/n realized he had them right in front of her full-length mirror. Y/n tried covering herself with her hands but he didn’t let that last long. Managed to pull his belt from his wrists and bind her wrists together behind her back before his fingers were plugging her up again.
     “There we go. Now you’re just a complacent little fuck doll,” He said behind her.
     Y/n whined as his fingers picked up a quick pace fucking her open. His hand that held her jaw came up and pried her mouth open. Sticking his fingers in her mouth so she couldn’t hide any of her noises from him. 
     Y/n clenched around his fingers just for him to slow down the pace or change it altogether. Whining as he would switch from fucking the digits into her to curling them up against her walls. Taking them out a couple of times and spreading her slick around her folds and her clit.
     Y/n tried closing her eyes. Hoping it was a dream but the harsh slap on her clit told her it was reality. Her eyes snapped open as he shoved his fingers further into her mouth. Droll dripping down her chin.
     “Can’t handle having just a couple fingers in you?” He asked, slipping three fingers into her
     Y/n moaned as the fingers fucked into her and he took his other hand out of her mouth. His hand smeared her saliva over her chest before groping her chest again. Fingers rolling each nipple between his fingers. Y/n clenched around the fingers inside her and arched her back as he pinched her nipple.
     “Gonna cum on my fingers,” He teased behind her
     “No,” Y/n moaned
     “Hm? You know you want to. I’ll fuck you nice and full if you cum.”
     Y/n whined as his fingertips prodded at the soft spot inside her. Very quickly unraveling the knot that formed in her stomach. Cumming on the man’s fingers as she squirmed in his lap.
     “Good girl,” he groaned, fingers continuing to fuck her through the high. Not stopping while she came down either
     “‘S too much,” Y/n whined
     “Yeah? Seem’s like you can take it,” he whined as struggled in his lap.
     Somehow his pace picked up more. Y/n bit her bottom lip as he worked her quickly to another orgasm. Blinding her with how fast it was building. Trying to pull her arms out of their restraints as he kept going and toying with her breasts. 
     “No more. Please!” Y/n begged 
     “Hm?” he asked and Y/n could hear him grinning behind the mask. “Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying this. Getting fucked open like a whore and watching.”
     Y/n whined in response before she was throwing her head back and cumming again. He pulled his fingers out this time and watched as her lower half shook. 
     He pushed her back against him and managed to slip his hard cock out of her. Y/n whined as the shaft stood straight against her. Trying to get away
     “Let’s see how many times you can squirt,” he said as he maneuvered her to sink onto his dick. 
     Y/n had barely processed what happened to her last orgasm till he looked down to see her floor wet. Her whole body heated up as his fingers traveled to her clit. Rubbing the neglected bud and making her clench around the cock sitting in her
     “Fuck!” Y/n groaned
     His pace on her clit was relentless. His other hand had moved up and grabbed her neck again. Y/n gasped and squeezed around him as he squeezed her neck. 
     “Just a little cock whore aren’t you,” He groaned in her ear. 
     Y/n shook her head ‘no’ as she bucked her hips forward a bit.
     “No? You’re the one riding my dick now.”
     Y/n closed her eyes again as the knot tightened more and bucked her hips forward again. Legs feeling shaky over his as he rubbed her clit more and more till the knot snapped again. 
     “What a good whore,” he smiled as he gently slapped her clit a few times as rode out high on him. 
     “plea…” Y/n cried as he loosened his grip on her neck. He let her catch some air. 
     He said nothing as he pushed her legs to the floor. Making her stand on slightly wobbly legs as he held her bound wrists to keep her up. Cock easily slid back into her.
     “Eyes forward,” he commanded as slapped her ass
     Y/n whined and lifted her head. Locking eyes with the mask in the mirror as he chuckled. “Look at those tears.”
     Y/n tried blinking away the tears from her eyes as he stuffed two fingers back in her mouth. Degrading praises fell past the mask to her ears as he hammered into her. Her walls pulsed around him the sensitivity of her first two fingers’ orgasms. 
     Pleas fell on deaf ears— not like she could do much talking with how he was fucking her and his fingers in her mouth. 
     “Gonna fill this hole up. Leave you nice and full for the next person to use.”
     Y/n whined as she tried moving away from him with no luck, again. “Yeah? Like the thought of being used by whoever walks in? Maybe I’ll leave you nice and pregnant. Make sure everyone knows you belong to someone already.”
     Y/n squeezed the cock inside of her as more tears flowed freely from her eyes. The dick inside her twitched with each thrusting before white was painting her walls. His hard thrusts slowed while he pulled her back against him. Pulling his wet fingers out of her mouth and circling her swollen clit again. 
     Y/n let out a moan and leaned forward. Begging as best she could to stop. That it was too much but he was relentless. Playing with her poor clit till he had finished dumping inside her. His slow deep thrusts never stopped even when the knot in her stomach snapped again. Squirting on him again before the mask was ripped off her boyfriend’s face. 
     Jeongin threw the mask behind him on the bed and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend while she came down from her high. “You did so good baby,” Jeongin said as he kissed her shoulder 
     He sat down with her in his lap and untied her wrist, “Innie…”
     “I’m right here. Innies got you.”
     Y/n whined as he gently pulled her off his dick and laid her back on the bed. “More…”
     “No more right now pretty,” Jeongin gently kissed her lips, “Your legs were shaking. How about we clean up and cuddle?”
     “But I feel empty now.”
     “We’ll clean up then you can have me back inside you and we’ll watch that new drama. Okay?”
     Y/n nodded and let her boyfriend help her clean up. Getting her in the bath while he cleaned up the room from their scene. He joined her after and helped her wash up a bit before they were getting out. He wrapped them both in towels and led her to the bed.
     “No clothes,” Y/n whined as he grabbed some pajamas from their closet. 
     “I don’t want you getting cold baby,” Jeongin told her, yet complied with her request anyway. Making sure they were both dry before getting under the clean sheets. 
     The idol turned on the show before pulling her against him and slowly pushing his cock back into her as he promised. 
     “Your breeding kink was showing by the way,” Y/n told him after some time 
     “I’m not sorry. Need everyone to know who you belong to,” Jeongin teased and kissed her cheek.
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596 notes · View notes
bahablastplz · 1 day
Text
CW: Smut
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Thinking about feral Channie who absolutely cannot get enough of you. He’s so riled up that all he can think about is fucking you fast and hard. His strong dancer hips and thighs are perfect for snapping into yours, long and hard. He’s able to reach deep inside you with each thrust, eliciting the most filthy sounds from you both. You think that maybe he’s fucking you to the beat of a song in his head that only he can hear, maybe the latest track he’s working on, because there’s no way he’s this consistent with his pace. Fucking you from behind he needs his hands full of you, grabbing bruising fistfuls of your hips or tits. When he gives you a particularly harsh thrust you can’t help the sound that leaves your mouth and you stick your face into the mattress to muffle it; a hand now intertwined in your hair grabs and pulls hard, causing your mouth to fall open in surprise. “Let. Me. Fuckin. Hear. You.” He enunciates each word with a thrust and follows it with a sharp smack to your ass, becoming faster and sloppier with the louder you are. He loves when you’re vocal about how good he’s making you feel and when you can’t stop the noises coming out of your body, matching them with his own loud grunts and heavy breathing. When you finally cum around his cock he’s a goner, spewing the filthiest praises, relentless and brutal as he fucks your through your orgasm. When you whine from the sensitivity of overstimulation he finally comes undone, spilling his release onto your ass with a loud sigh.
232 notes · View notes
cbini · 15 hours
Text
spring has sprung
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pairing: bang chan x afab!reader
warnings: 🔞!!!, public sex, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, begging, creampie
a/n: to the lovely anon who sent me the ask abt chan fucking you while you’re on a picnic and you’re wearing a pretty lil sundress……. hi <3 u probably just wanted a little blurb but well here’s This instead lmao. nothing much but i hope u enjoy!!
“you’re spoiling me today!” he grins. 
chan’s dimples pop when he looks at you. he tongues his cheek as he leans back onto the quilted blanket and props himself up on his elbows. 
it’s true. he is being spoiled, but that’s your favorite way for him to be. chan loves intimate dates like this, tucked away from prying eyes and busy streets. he’s talked about how much he loves picnics before. the wistfulness in his eyes was so all-encompassing when he told you they reminded him of warm weather and home that you knew you had to do this for him. 
chan looks handsome and proud as he lazes on the blanket you’ve laid out. a heart-shaped, brown wicker basket sits to the side filled with finger foods and other snacks, alongside a homemade pitcher of pineapple lemonade. you’ve pulled out all the stops. 
how he can look so smug while his ears burn bright pink is amazing to you. he’s cute. he’s sexy. he’s so chan. you’re going to keep him. 
“show me again, will you?” 
you’re propped up on your palms across from him, and you can’t help but roll your eyes playfully at his question. chan giggles quietly at you and reaches out to run a strong hand up your naked calf. 
it’s easy to do as you’re asked. you’d tease him a little more if your heart weren’t pounding so hard in your chest and butterflies weren’t fluttering in your belly, but you never can seem to help yourself when it comes to chan. 
your legs part on their own accord, falling open all namby-pamby while you shake your head to move your hair out of your face. the thin, yellow dress you're wearing bunches around your waist to give chan the perfect view of your bare cunt, glistening wet and sweet in the warm sunlight. 
chan sucks a heavy breath through his teeth that makes your stomach swoop, and his knobby fingers walk their way to where you’re petal pink and wanting. 
the first touch of his thumb to your clit has your back bowing. as soon as the touch is there though, it’s gone. chan sucks his thumb into his mouth and hums at your taste, but he’s quick to bring his now slick digit back to your pussy. this time it’s smoother, wetter, and your fingers clench themselves into the blanket below you. 
“look at that,” he breathes. you do, bringing a hand up to pull your dress taut to your skin so that you can see chan rubbing slowly at your puffy clit without interruption. 
“d’you like it?” 
it’s a bit of a silly question, but you want to hear him talk more. 
he was just happy to get out of the studio for a little while and relax with his favorite person, so you know he wasn’t expecting this lovely little surprise. 
“i really, really like it. look at your little clit, oh my gosh. you’re perfect, baby.” 
his voice is quiet, focused solely on touching you so good that your legs threaten to close. he bites his bottom lip to try and contain his smile, but he can’t when he notices how shaky your legs are already. keeping his thumb where it is, chan rolls to the side so he’s closer to your cunt. 
you’re not expecting him to lean in and take a long whiff of where you’re leaking for him, and you try to keep the embarrassed squeal that threatens to leave your lips at bay. 
“christopher!” you cry, and all he does is giggle when you pull the cap off his head and hit him with it. “you’re a freak!” 
“heh. yeah, maybe. ceebs though.” 
the breath gets knocked from your lungs when he leans in again, this time only to lave his tongue around his thumb that’s still rubbing slow circles on your clit. you’re so lucky you chose somewhere private to have your little lunch date, otherwise everyone within walking distance would hear the way you keen for him. 
you lean your weight back on your palm and use your other hand to spread the lips of your pussy for him. he pats your thigh in thanks, shaking his head to bury his mouth deeper in your warmth. 
“that’s- oh, that’s it. suck on it like that, channie, please!” 
not one to tease when he’s just as turned on as you are, chan sucks your clit into his mouth. he sucks rhythmically, batting his tongue against it every now and then so perfectly that it makes your hole clench in desperation. chan turns his head to the side, nose pressed flush against the crease of your thigh, and flicks his tongue against you quickly. 
“mhm?” his question is muffled. your fingers have tangled themselves in his hair; he knows. chan’s breath is hot against your pussy, and you can feel yourself dripping sweat due to the combination of the warm sunlight and the pleasure your man is giving you. 
“mhm,” you whine back. your ass clenches as you raise your hips to try and get closer to his face. his mouth is so good, his lips are so plump and his tongue is so deft that no matter how much he gives you, you can’t get enough. “baby. baby, channie. need- need your cock in me so bad.” 
you sound almost winded, but chan’s just as worked up as you are. his eyes were closed, and he had to blink several times to focus his gaze on your face. 
“right here?” he asks, still pressed flush against your cunt. 
it’s secluded enough. honestly though at this point, it wouldn’t really matter to you. you need him so bad you’d let him have you almost anywhere. 
you answer him by tugging the top of your sundress down so that your tits spill over the thin cotton of the cups. chan looks to your face in awe, grin ever growing. as if in sync, you both reach for your newly exposed nipples at the same time. chan sits up and pinches one of the perky little buds between his fingers while you tweak the other one. 
“you’ve got a little something…” your sentence trails off, but you move your hand away to point at the lower half of his face and draw your finger in a half-assed, messy circle. 
his lips and chin are soaked, wet with you and his own spit. chan just smiles, and his precious dimples appear again. 
“oh really? i wonder what from.” 
he lays you fully on the blanket and smooths down your hair so it doesn’t touch the grass. you swear your heart skips a beat when he gently combs at your hair with his knobby fingers. chan is so thoughtful, so kind all the time that you never fail to remember how blessed you are. 
the taste of you is still strong on his tongue when he leans down to kiss you. chan brackets your body with his, strong arms framing your shoulders while he kisses you deeply and wholly. chan has a profound way of making you feel small and taken care of by how he carries himself, and this is no exception. 
you’re wetting the fabric of his shorts. you can tell by the way you rock against each other while you kiss. thank god his wardrobe still consists of so much black, otherwise you’d have to make him carry the picnic basket in front of him when you leave later. 
“please give me your cock,” you breathe against his lips. 
chan licks teasingly at the swell of your bottom lip but doesn’t wait for further instructions before he tugs his shorts down far enough to free his aching cock and balls. his cock is flushed a deep pink, the head a ruddy purple. 
“yeah? inside? right out here in the open?” 
you tilt your hips up, and chan’s eyes lock onto yours as he sheaths himself slowly inside until he’s settled balls deep. 
“ffffuck, shit,” he hisses. “this fucking pussy.” 
“mmm, your cock,” you echo, and he noses at your hairline.
it doesn’t take long before the echoes of your little wilderness tryst become frantic and loud. chan coaxes wet sounds from your cunt like it’s all he’s good for, bullying his cock inside so deep you swear you feel it in your throat. 
“y’look really pretty in this dress, did’ya know that?” his breathless question has you nodding your head. yes, you know. you wanted to look pretty for him. “good. ‘s good, you’re so pretty. hold- hold it, hold it up, yeah?” 
he wants to see. the skirt of your dress has already been flipped up, but you gather it and hold it closer to your body so chan can watch himself fuck you. you take it a step farther and slip the tiny straps of the top down your arms so you can pull it further down your body. the dress is bunched in the middle of your stomach now, your bouncing tits and sopping cunt free for chan’s eyes to roam. 
his thrusts turn sharp, hard. you know he’s close.
“you’ll cum inside me? you should. i need it inside, okay?” 
chan grunts like he’s in pain, and you moan in response when his top lip curls in a snarl. your hands map his broad back underneath the cotton of his t-shirt, reveling in how slick and warm his skin is from the sun and exertion. 
“how much?”
“all of it! i need- need it all inside! ‘til i’m dripping, please!” you wail. chan presses sloppy kisses to your heaving chest as his hand snakes down to roughly rub at your clit. it’s like an electric shock, and you wrap your arms and legs around his sturdy body to keep yourself tethered to earth. tethered to him. 
chan’s cock throbs. his balls ache. you want him to stuff you full of his cum right here, and he wants to give it to you. 
“alright, alright- don’t- fuck! fuck, keep clenching. gonna cum for you then. you gonna take it? just like you wanted, yeah?” 
chan rocks forward sharply and stills flush against the heat of your cunt. his balls are so heavy, and they ache to empty themselves inside your warmth. chan cums in ropes inside just as you asked, groaning against the clammy skin of your chest.
“baby come on, come on. do it, i can feel you clenching. you want it so bad, baby. there. there, oh that’s it, huh? come for me, sweetheart.” 
you shudder underneath him as you cum on his cock and his fingers, and chan settles more of his body weight on you just like he knows you crave after an intense orgasm. he smooths his fingers over your throbbing clit until you kick your foot lightly at his ass to let him know you’re done. 
chan slowly lifts himself up and sits back on his heels. the trees around you block most of the sunlight now, but you have to shade your eyes so you can see what your boyfriend is up to. his softened cock slips from your cunt. 
“push it out, sweetheart.” 
you hum a little, giggling with glee as you contract your cunt and feel his sticky cum begin to ooze from your used hole. 
377 notes · View notes
hanjisick · 12 hours
Text
chemical infatuation
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genre. yandere au. patient!jisung x researcher!reader
desc. jisung takes part in a high-paying yet sketchy study with seemingly no risks, but the injection causes him to quickly grow obsessed with the daytime staff member assigned to his study.
warnings. needles. vomit. murder.
wc. 3.5k
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“is it a bad time to tell you that i’m a little claustrophobic?” your patient, han jisung, nervously shifted in his seat, fiddling with the hem of his sweater.
“we have to keep you in this containment during our research.“
the containment room, with its dim lighting and cushioned walls, seemed to close in on him. the dimensions felt constricting, heightening the anxiety surging through his veins.
every inch of the space was under surveillance, every move to be meticulously scrutinized by the watchful eyes of researchers.
what a sketchy situation. but it was better than he had expected from a craigslist ad that he had chanced upon.
the snap of your rubber gloves pulled him away from his thoughts, “it isn’t too late to back out, we have a few more candidates willing to take your place.”
500 million won. that was enough for him to do anything.
“i’m fine. i’m ready.”
“alright then, pull your arm out of your sweater for me.”
“i have a tank top underneath.” the boy shuffled out of the sweater and placed it onto his lap.
“and as the paperwork says, you have no allergies, anaphylaxis, or any history of mental illness?”
“nope.”
he flinched as the cool alcohol pad met his bicep.
“the medication we are testing for you should not hurt you much as far as we are concerned,” you began prepping the needle and syringe, “the only side effects that we predict could be a minor headache for a couple of days. it is not dangerous.”
jisung closed his eyes as you squeezed his arm slightly, pushing the needle through his skin.
you gently placed the gauze onto his arm, “finished. how do you feel immediately?”
“normal. a little shaken up from nerves, but no problems. what do i do now?”
“you’ll be watched for a month. the only restrictions are that you aren’t allowed to leave this room or use any devices.”
the idea of isolation and confinement weighed a bit heavily on him, but he was determined to see it through.
you motion towards the mattress in the corner, “we will change your bedding twice throughout the month. let us know if you are uncomfortable with the temperature of the room, need extra bedding, or anything else.”
jisung nodded.
“let us know if you need to use the bathroom and we will temporarily disable the cameras for your privacy. but we will take urine samples if we deem it necessary.”
“and what about food?”
“you’ll be fed three meals per day, with two snacks.”
“thank you. that’s all i need to know,” he paused for a moment, “other than your name. what’s your name?”
“y/n l/n,” you gather your paperwork, “your personal belongings will be returned once we go through to make sure there is nothing that could alter our research.”
the door had closed and locked, leaving jisung alone in the room with just his thoughts to keep him company until his stuff was given back to him.
Beginning Notes
Han Jisung (Male)
23 years old, no known medical problems
Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.
Intramuscular, Upper Arm
Notes: Jisung feels nervous about receiving the injection. Administered at 16:38 with no noted side effects.
you watched the boy through the array of cameras placed strategically throughout the room as he lay on the mattress. his sweater was haphazardly discarded across the room, a seemingly small attempt to make himself more comfortable in the sterile, plain environment.
despite the initial nerves of a new medication, nothing had seemed to happen. at the fifteen-minute mark, you stepped away from the cameras for a moment— if there were to be a severe sudden reaction, it would have manifested by now, you reasoned.
throughout your shift, your attention continued to drift back to the screens displaying jisung’s every move. with each glance, you found him engaged in various activities—doodling, writing in a journal, or simply staring off into space, lost in thought.
nothing seemed to go wrong. perhaps this medication would be approved.
Overnight Notes
Han Jisung (Male)
23 years old, no known medical problems
Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.
Intramuscular, Upper Arm
Notes: Jisung ate all of dinner and requested night snacks. He had slept well. No side effects were recorded.
you press the bright red button, lowering your mouth to the microphone.
“how is everything down there? any side effects?”
“y/n? is that you speaking?”
“yes,” you were surprised that the boy had remembered your name, “what are your symptoms?”
“you should come into the room to speak with me. i’m lonely here.”
“i have to record your symptoms. i can’t come down there unless i know that you’re stable.”
the microphone had only barely picked up his sigh. “i’m normal.”
“any headaches? dizziness? dry throat?”
“nope. nothing. everything’s fine. just lonely.”
you sigh. he seemed normal. he was lying in bed, staring up at one of the cameras.
so it was fine, right?
you push open the door, greeted by the grinning patient on his mattress.
“you smell nice. what products do you use?”
what an odd conversation starter. “nothing special. just a lavender-scented body wash.”
he nods. “the overnight staff were fine, but i think that i prefer you. i can’t put my finger on it quite yet.”
was jisung naturally this blunt with his words? or was he flirting with you?
“what do you plan to do during your stay here?”
he leans back against the cushioned wall, “i compose songs for artists. i figured that it would be easy to get a lot of work done in here.”
“i see. is that your songwriting journal then?” you eye the small black book and pen next to him.
he takes the pen into his hand, “yup. it’s one of the few things that i brought here.”
“you’ll have to show me some of your work sometime throughout the month.”
“you can look at my work now,” he grins, clicking the pen, “my name is HAN. look me up.”
the name stays in your mind as you exit the room and lock the door. you find your way back to your seat at the cameras to supervise the man, pulling your lunch out of your back.
one hand holds a sandwich as the other browses through safari, looking at the songs that your patient had composed.
you hadn’t heard any of them, but perhaps it would be a good idea to look into the lyrics. it would give you things to talk about with him for the following month.
the rest of the shift was boring. you watched as he wrote in his notebook, ate his food, hummed to himself— nothing interesting.
the most intriguing thing that you experienced was the occasional ‘help!’ button being pressed, only for the man to announce that he needed to take a piss.
your misery was ended once your coworker entered the room, placing his keys and bag down on the table.
a sigh of relief left you, “thank god. it’s so boring.”
“thanks for the warning.”
Overnight Notes
Han Jisung (Male)
23 years old, no known medical problems
Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.
Intramuscular, Upper Arm
Notes: Jisung ate all of dinner and requested no night snack. Awoke at 01:00 and 03:00. Specified no reason for waking. Special request for morning staff: Deliver lavender-scented body wash.
your eyes stared down at the note with slightly widened eyes.
perhaps he had good intentions, perhaps your defenses were just too high. after all, he might just like the scent of lavender like you did.
“good morning. any headaches? dizziness? dry throat?”
“my arm is a little sore, and i’m a bit restless, but that is all.”
you record his answers— finally something to write down.
“i saw your request from last night. i’ll get a staff member to deliver your body wash. did you run out? i’m sure we gave you enough.”
“i still have some. i just wanted to try yours out.”
how strange.
“you’re coming down to see me today, right?”
“not today. i want to see if your symptoms worsen throughout the day. it’s best to be careful.”
you watch through the camera as he slumps back, visibly disappointed.
today, the boy had begun to act a little bit differently. every couple of minutes, he would stop his writing to look up at the camera.
you would hold eye contact with him for a few moments, even though he couldn’t see you before he would look back down again with a large grin that wasn’t on his face before.
soon, the bottle of body wash was delivered to his room.
“y/n! is that you?” he jumped out of bed as the lock clicked, only to be disappointed to see a man in a mask and gloves leave it outside of his door.
another face of disappointment.
he still crept towards the bottle, snapping the lid off, holding it up to his nose, then inhaling deeply.
“it smells like you.”
you clenched your teeth, writing down the reactions.
walking over towards the center of the room, he peeled his t-shirt off his frame, then pulled down his sweatpants and boxers in one go.
you shrieked, slamming the buttons to disable the camera.
he was supposed to tell you when he needed privacy.
with shaky hands, you began to jot down his behaviors.
once ten minutes had passed, you turned the camera back on in hopes that he was decent again. this time, you had enabled the camera with caution, only to see that he was showering.
you disable it once again and decide that this would be a good time to have lunch.
the image of the naked man was etched into your mind as you tried to force the salad down your throat.
it was a good thirty minutes until you got the courage to turn the camera back on, signing in relief as you saw him on his bed with sweatpants on once again.
jisung stared up at the ceiling with hooded eyes, chest rising and falling— you weren’t sure what was going through his mind.
you press the button. “everything alright in there?”
he perked up, “y/n, everything is just fine. i wish you were in here, though, instead of behind that stupid camera.”
you bite your lip uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond.
changing the subject would be best.
“lunch will be delivered soon.”
“good. i’m a bit hungry.”
you take your finger off of the button, sitting back in your seat, waiting for your shift to be over.
Overnight Notes
Han Jisung (Male)
23 years old, no known medical problems
Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.
Intramuscular, Upper Arm
Notes: Jisung ate most of dinner and requested no night snack. Had difficulty falling and staying asleep. Awoke many times to journal. Refused conversation about his symptoms.
“y/n? you’re here, right? right?”
you had only just opened the door to the surveillance room, met with his muffled voice through the speakers.
“y/n? y/n? baby? my beautiful doll?”
the nickname caught you off guard, breath caught in your throat.
before answering, you grabbed the pen off the desk to jot down the behavior. this was not normal.
he stared directly into the camera. “i know you’re here. i journaled the minutes until he would leave and you would replace him.”
your legs shook as you took a seat.
why were you so nervous? it wasn’t like you were in danger. the door was locked. his body language did not seem hostile.
but his eyes told a different story. they were dark, crazed, restless.
“doll? can you hear me? can you hear me?”
your voice stuttered, “what are your symptoms?”
“i missed your voice, y/n.”
“any headaches? dizziness? dry throat?”
“none,” jisung answered quickly, “so you can come down and see me, right?”
you lied through your teeth. “not today. we are still a bit worried about yesterday’s symptoms.”
“fuck!” his forehead hit against the wall.
you took your finger away from the button.
he balled his hand into a fist before hurling it towards the same wall.
jisung crumbles to the floor. “i can’t take it anymore.”
“are you alright? are you in pain? do you need help?” you grasp your pen with an unsteady hand, “tell me what’s going on. talk to me.”
“i need to see you again, i waited all night just for you to tell me no.”
“it’s for the safety of you and myself.”
his voice was barely above a raspy whisper, “i promise i won’t hurt you, i’d never hurt you. i couldn’t hurt you.”
“jisung,” you started sternly, “i’m unable to see you. please abide by the rules of the study.”
“can’t i quit?”
“you signed a form stating that unless there is a medical emergency, you aren’t to leave this room. i’m quite not sure that you’re in your right state of mind right now.”
“i would be fine if you’d let me see you again.”
it was pointless to argue with the man, so you let go of the button, jotting down the conversation.
jisung did not eat, speak, or move from his spot that day.
Overnight Notes
Han Jisung (Male)
23 years old, no known medical problems
Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.
Intramuscular, Upper Arm
Notes: Jisung ate no dinner and requested no night snack. Did not sleep through the night. Refused conversation.
“doll, you’re back.” his raspy voice announced your presence just as you opened the door as if he was in the room with you.
on the camera, he was spread out in the middle of the floor like a starfish. his blonde hair covered his face, but you could still see the eye bags forming under his sunken eyes.
“i have a bit of a headache. i’m dizzy. my throat is dry,” he answered your questions for you, “will i get to see you today, doll?”
you were a bit afraid to answer, hesitating as you pressed the button, “i’m sorry. no.”
“but i will be able to see you after the study, right? after the study you’ll marry me, right?”
your heart dropped into your stomach at the words.
“i have a partner, jisung.”
“i know,” he smiled lightly, “it’s me. but soon i’ll be your husband, right?”
this was too much. you felt sick. you needed to alert the rest of the team and let someone else take over this case. hell, you might even quit your job.
“imagine you as han y/n. it sounds beautiful, doesn’t it?”
his crazed voice rang through your ears as you stood up from your seat.
“nobody else has ever made me feel this way, do you know that? all i want is you. and i’ve only seen you twice. isn’t that absurd? love is just so beautiful.”
his words caused you to still. you felt like a deer in headlights.
“do you think the shot is what made me crazy? because ever since we met eyes after you gave it to me, i couldn’t stop thinking about you. about your touch, even through the gloves. all of my songs have been about you. i even drew you.”
waves of nausea came crashing down on you.
“i can’t wait until i’m finally out of here. i can finally have you all to myself. i’ll kill that night staff for taking you away from me.”
jisung scoffed at the thought of him, “and he’s the one who gets the pleasure of passing by you every day? do you like him? i’ll gouge his eyes out and wear his skin if you like him more than me, hm?”
you raced towards the trash can in the corner of the room, stomach churning as your breakfast came right out of your mouth.
the smell was putrid, acidic, disgusting. but not as disgusting as the words of the sick man behind the camera.
“did you watch me shower, my love? i don’t mind if you did. your lavender body wash felt so good on my body, i imagined it was you in there with me, washing my body yourself—“
you ran out of the room, slamming the door behind you.
“he’s crazy! he’s gone mad!” you point towards the surveillance room, tears streaming down your face as you try to explain the situation to the nearest person that you can find.
“calm down. go to the break room. i’ll alert the rest and we’ll handle it.”
“you’ll be okay,” a staff member reassures, handing you a much-needed drink from the vending machine, “he won’t be able to escape. we will detain him and try to get him any help that we can.”
“even aside from how creepy he was, i just feel terrible, you know? i gave him that shot.”
“it isn’t your fault. he knew what he was getting into. we tried our best to determine the effects. there was no way of knowing.”
although he was right, guilt and horror still ate you up as you rested your head in your hands.
“this is why our job is important, so that only one person gets hurt instead of an entire population of people.”
“what a shitty job.”
he laughed as he got up, “tell me about it. i’m gonna go see what i can do to help. let us know if you need anything.”
the door closes and you lay your head down on the table, closing your eyes.
all you could think about was the man and his words.
‘i can’t wait until i’m finally out of here. i can finally have you all to myself. i’ll kill that night staff for taking you away from me.’
would he be able to leave? would he be able to get over this love sickness? is it reversible? nobody knew anything about it. the only thing that could be done is watching him.
it only seemed to get worse over the days, and you didn’t want to know what he would be like at the end of the month.
Overnight Notes
Han Jisung (Male)
23 years old, psychosis
Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.
Intramuscular, Upper Arm
Notes: Jisung ate no dinner and requested no night snack. Did not sleep through the night. Refused conversation aside from asking for previous staff, Y/N L/N.
you no longer worked with jisung. instead, you had been assigned to a new case.
“it isn’t too late to back out, we have a few more candidates willing to take your place.”
“i’m not nervous. go ahead and inject me, doctor,” the patient joked, pulling her sleeve up.
“and as the paperwork says, your only allergy is mild reaction to shellfish, but no anaphylaxis or any history of mental illness?”
“all correct.”
you were wiping her bicep with alcohol when the door had opened, screams piercing your ears from outside of the soundproof room.
“y/n?”
blood dripped onto the floor from his heaving form, eyes bloodshot and locked right on your form. in his hand, he held a loaded handgun, the smell of gun powder seeping into the room.
the patient in front of you screeched, immediately making a run for it before her brains were splattered across the room.
your ears rung from the shot, standing stalk still as jisung approached you.
everything was moving too quickly. you couldn’t process a single thing. your head was spinning. you needed to survive.
“please, i’ll do anything, don’t hurt me.”
“i told you. i won’t hurt you, i’d never hurt you. i couldn’t hurt you.” a bloody hand ran through your hair, taking advantage of your frozen figure.
“i can’t believe i’m so close to you right now.” his nose buried into your neck and you could feel the cold metal of the gun pressing against your back.
“they’re all dead. and you’re back.”
he dropped the gun to the floor, fishing through his pocket.
before you could register what was happening, jisung had already lodged a needle into your arm.
“sleep tight, my doll, i’ll get us out of here.”
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183 notes · View notes
dwaekkilinos · 2 days
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savior complex (pt. 1) | bang chan
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summary: Your father had wielded you to become a machine; a weapon. And a machine you would become. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat. He taught you how to protect; specifically how to protect your family. But he never taught you how to survive with other groups, especially when their leader seems to have it out for you.
pairing: bang chan x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | strangers/enemies to lovers + zombie apocalypse au, angst, fluff, smut word count: 19.9K chapter summary: you'd always known the end, and it had always known you. you just didn't know the beginning would be waiting for you when your time finally came. warnings/notes: zombie apocalypse au so . . . blood, guts, gore, sad, sad, sad. beware. lots of inspo from every zombie thing i've literally ever seen (twd, tlou, train to busan, etc.), typos probably, parental death, actions of violence and murder, religious TRAUMA, religious undertones, reader does not believe in god but she's deeply influence by it bc of her childhood and it haunts her, reader comes from a small toen and it's not explicitly stated where she's from but hollows are mentioned, hunting, reader wishes for death multiple times, chan goes by chris, no smut in this chapter but there will be in every chapter after, i think that's it but let me know if i missed anything, and enjoy! <3
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chapter one: i know the end (and it knows me) ( series masterlist | next → )
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Sometimes you felt like a ghost. It happened when the world was so silent that you could almost hear the beat of your unsteady heart pounding in your chest; when everyone else was asleep and you stayed up, eyes watchful and searching for threats. That was when you felt like the lost faces that haunted you.
It hadn't always been this way, at least not until the world ended. Most of the time you tried not to think about it. You tried not to think about much except survival these days.
Because that was smart. Surviving was smart. Anything else was stupid; anything else would get you killed.
Ironic, how you used to fear that very thing. Death. Now it was all you knew.
The apocalypse had come.
You knew how it sounded. Honestly, you didn't believe it when it first happened. You had been too afraid to admit it; too scared that if you did, you could never go back. There was no going back anyway. That was something you wished you had known back then. And as you sat on a log in the middle of those dark woods, overlooking your group who all slept silently while you stayed up, bloody knife in hand, and eyes watching for threats, it was hard to ignore the fact that this was your cruel reality.
Because the reality of it all was: you were living on borrowed time, trying your best to do right by your father and keep your family alive. You'd faltered that night, dotting the line between protection and predation.
And now . . . now you couldn't help but think about the beginning. How you would've never ended up like this if things had been different. But things hadn't been different. Things had happened exactly the way they had, and it'd left you with rot in your bloodstream and hate in your heart.
That was what made you clutch the knife closer, nearly cutting your own flesh. Because things hadn’t been different, but they also hadn’t always been this way. You hadn’t always been like . . . this.
You supposed it was because it was easy to kneel when you were just a girl. It was easy to ignore the ever-present scabs on your knees when you didn’t know any better. It was easy to tear yourself down the middle, pulling stitches from the back of your legs when you knew it’d all be re-sewn by morning. It was easy back then when the world hadn’t died.
From the moment you were brought into the world, barely kicking and silently screaming like it was a sin to voice your pain, you had been taught to be that girl; that easy, complacent girl with not so much as a rotten thought. From the moment you were born, you had been taught the foundation of the Church and its vocation, and it had carved its way into your rotten flesh even when the world was no more.
At age four, you were in the pews, listening to the words of God while creating imaginary friends in the statues. At age seven, communion. Then at age eight, you had begun to become an altar girl, fetching and carrying, ringing the altar bell, bringing up the gifts and the book, among other things—essentially being a servant to God. At age fourteen, confirmation. At fifteen, your mother doused you in holy water before your first date with a boy from school. Sixteen, heartbreak, praying to God and begging for him to help ease it all, only to be left with no response . . . even after all you had done for him.
Seventeen and the stitches down your legs remained undone, the scriptures now more of a question than a statement. Then . . . eighteen, the timer clicked into place, and you felt yourself begin to rot along with the world, forcing you to realize your entire life was just a cycle of kneeling before God, praying, and asking for forgiveness for your sins.
It had been easy to kneel when you were just a girl; when you didn’t know any better. And then it happened.
It.
Armageddon.
The Rapture.
The fucking apocalypse.
It didn’t matter what you called it. Doomsday was still doomsday even dressed up with fancy scriptures and sacred wine.
The apocalypse had come. Humans were deemed horrible creatures by some almighty who you didn't give a fuck to acknowledge. It didn't matter. Someone or something had deemed the human race unworthy.
The apocalypse had come, and you were deemed worthless. You were made to die. It was inevitable.
The apocalypse had come. There was talk that it had begun in the North. But much wasn’t known in your town. Now you realized they tried to keep it a secret. It was a way of controlling everyone, you supposed, but not like it mattered much now.
That was just how things were. Your mother refused to let you and your younger sister watch the news, refused to let you search anything about what was going on in the world, adamant that everything was lies and those lies would cloud your mind. A religious town bordering on a commune that resembled a cult perhaps just a tad too much. You realized all this now, of course, but back then your knees were still covered in scabs from kneeling before a God who would never come. Back then your mother kept you kneeling until the final bell tolled, her hand firmly clutching your shoulder to keep you in place.
You were only eighteen then. And while the outside world was torn apart month by month, its people haunted by death piled upon death, your town continued on as it always had. The whispers of a war that would end the world were just whispers, covered up by scriptures that the local preacher would sight every Sunday morning just after you’d collected the eggs from the chicken coop and put on your best dress like your mother had always taught you.
But it was different for you, even back then. Because while it had been easy to kneel when you were a girl, you had begun to grow. Eighteen then, but you had begun to see the flaws within the Church when you were sixteen. And by eighteen, you knew better.
By eighteen, you could see the sweat beading along the preacher’s forehead. By eighteen, you could hear wavering in your mother’s voice when she proclaimed that this was just a test. That this was meant to happen. That the Bible had always predicted this, and if you remained faithful, then you would be saved . . . spared.
But by eighteen, you knew better.
It took one quiet night and a hammering heart for you to sneak into your father’s study and head straight for this desktop. It took even less time to discover what had become of the world. One. Two. Three clicks and then . . .
You remembered the choking feeling bubbling up your chest as your eyes scanned the news articles. A virus. One so horrible and unforgiving that it could take a healthy vessel, and within twenty-four hours, the body would succumb to death. But, you’d seen stuff like this before, right? You knew there had been plenty of diseases and viruses and they all had cures. They all had to have cures. They had to.
That was just the thing: no matter how hard you looked, you couldn’t find any article that explained how this virus came about. It was unknown, deadly, spreading rapidly, and there was no way of telling when it’d reach your town. It was just . . . just . . . (It was the first time you truly felt helpless.)
You remembered staying up with the sun, looking for answers, only to come out empty-handed. And when your father discovered you in his study that morning, you nearly confessed right away, sobbing into his arms. But no shame was brought upon you that day.
Your father had been a good man. He had loved you so. He had loved his family, no matter the consequences or conditions.
This town, your town, was small. It consisted of around only three thousand people give or take, all of which were either Christian, secluded, or . . . your father. In all the years you had been alive, not once had your father stepped into the Church. You never asked. You never worried. Your mother just always told you your father was busy every single time, and you believed her because back then, you’d trusted her with all of you.
As you grew, your suspicions of him did, too, but you remained silent as you always had in life. And it was only until that morning when he wrapped you in his arms and let you cry into his shoulder, did you realize why he never entered the Church, why he never spoke the prayers your mother praised, why neighbors would talk of his name only in hushed conversations.
He didn’t believe.
No, he believed in something just not . . . this sacred word your town so desperately worshipped. And that morning, he told you the truth. From his childhood to how he ended up in a town like this. He told you it all, and then he told you the truth. He told you how your mother was scared (how she always had been) and how one day he hoped with enough trying, she’d see the world for what it was ( . . . she never did). And then he told you about the virus, and everything was so much clearer.
The town had everyone convinced this was some kind of test. There was no virus to them. This was the reaping. The scriptures were true to them. And so every Sunday, you were forced to acknowledge that Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death—the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse had come to earth with the power to destroy humanity.
That was how it had been explained to your town, and all its people believed. A sickness had struck the world, yes, they told that much truth, but they chalked it all up to being some kind of plot point in God’s plan. To top it off, it was said that if the townspeople all repented and did right by his name, then salvation would be given.
That was what was told, and that was what was believed.
You remembered the preacher’s voice even now.
Then I saw when the Lamb broke one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures saying as with a voice of thunder, "Come." I looked, and behold, a white horse, and he who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer.
— Revelation 6:1–2
That scripture haunted you just as your father’s face did, but back then you hadn’t realized the detriment it would have on you. Back then, you played your part. Back then, you dressed as your mother advised, went to church, and listened, and then, when all was said and done and your mother had gone to her room, you snuck off to accompany your father on his hunts. And during those times, you’d learn the truth.
While the two of you hunkered down, waiting for deer to pass through your side of the woods, he told you about what was going on with the rest of the world. He explained how the CDC had claimed this thing; Pestilence (as your town believed) was some kind of virus, yes, only they wouldn't release the survival rate except for a few things that stated it was deadly, spread rapidly, and anyone could have it, but by the time symptoms had started to kick in, it would be too late.
As the weeks went by, as the more hunting extravaganzas you went on with your father piled up, his news became more worrisome. At first, the virus was contained in the North of the world, but as it took more lives and less information about it was being provided to the public . . . people began to panic. Hysteria spread throughout the world. Cases of this unknown virus peaked, and the government released statement after statement informing the public that face masks would be required to prevent the virus from spreading and travel restrictions would soon be put into place.
Only by that time, it was too late.
Carriers of this unknown virus had already traveled far and near, spreading the disease throughout the world. This so-called Pestilence might have only been given reign to a quarter of the world, but his disease had spread farther than his radius.
And while you had been young, you realized that this virus had only one purpose: to kill. There was no survival rate. No hope.
The world shut down soon after more and more people started dropping like flies, succumbing to the miserable disease that left them with boils and blisters covering their skin. Hospitals became overrun. Schools were wiped out with kids coming home with this deadly virus. Workplaces were abandoned, the people wishing to stay at home with their families, too afraid to step outside without any real knowledge of how this virus worked.
Your town remained oblivious, too, as the region shut down, gates being made so no one could enter or leave. It was safer that way they claimed. All of those who could be saved would be saved and helping those seeking a refuge was against the rules. It all felt like some kind of sick plan if you had anything to say about it.
By the time your father had taught you how to shoot your first deer without you sniffling in fear, Vaccines were finally attempted, but nothing worked; the disease only spread, and more people died.
Then . . . it all just stopped.
But your town continued to spread its lies.
The story remained the same even all these years later. You remembered how while you had learned the virus was supposedly coming to an end, your town still painted the picture of the Horsemen. Tales of Pestilence’s reign still remained.
They went on and on about how he rose from the depths of Hell. Pestilence had come. He, who sat on his white steed, had a bow, a crown that had been gifted to him by his gods had come, and when he had, he went out conquering. And so he did.
Until he was put to rest; until his conquering had come to an end. You listened with half a heart as the preacher went on and on about how his time had ended, yes, but this was not the end. All you had to do was keep praying, keep repenting, keep . . . kneeling, and you’d be saved.
But you knew better.
While others would attend midnight mass in addition to morning, you claimed you had to pray on your own, and when your mother had left with your sister on her hip, you snuck off with your father to learn of the world. You snuck off to better your shooting arm, to seek comfort in the only person who seemed to have their head screwed on right, to shoot ducks and geese and deer and everything in order to keep your town fed while everyone else prayed to a God that wasn’t doing half your work. And yet, every time, every kill, your father knelt beside the animal and prayed, until you had begun to do the same.
You weren’t sure why he did it. You had never asked. You never thought you needed to. (Now you would’ve done anything to know the answer.)
And so . . . life went on like that. Completely cut off from the world without the help of the internet your father provided for the two of you, life went on.
The virus no longer spread further, and many believed it was all just some hoax. News stations came to life again, but not much else was restored. That was how everyone found out the virus had concluded. Hell, even you remember being twenty-one years old, having your first legal shot with your father in the middle of the woods while the two of you watched news reporter after news reporter claim the virus had mutated and mutated so much to the point our bodies had accumulated a natural resistance to it.
But you couldn't believe it.
Three whole years of this deadly disease taking out population upon population, and then it all ceased. It felt almost too good to be true.
Of course, the town believed this too. Pestilence had conquered, and that was just the problem.
Every day, day in and day out, words spread throughout the hollow, the word in the Church mutated each week, even your mother who had spent the last three years praying to Jesus, Joseph, and Mary; your mother who had gone through rosary after rosary begging for God to have mercy on your family; your mother who had always forced you to attend those days at church on Sunday went around the house, boarding up the windows and hiding the special silverware in the basement, claiming that he would come next.
He has conquered, she had hissed over your shoulder when you and your father came back from one of your hunts.
Pestilence's reign had ended (according to your mother, who you were almost certain had a few screws loose). You didn’t believe it for a second, ignoring your mother's desperate ramblings.
War will come, she warned.
War will come.
But . . . you knew if something did come, it wouldn’t be this War.
And then . . . then he did.
The first sighting of the dead coming back was spotted just months after the virus that had plagued millions had ceased. And this time . . . the town allowed its folk to see the reports. Even your mother had brought the television from the basement to witness the dead rise . . . or rather . . . War. The news stations had captured a recording of these . . . people; people who had suffered from the virus coming back, and then with only their teeth, tearing any live thing apart. The recording was aired all across the world, fear, and hysteria spreading like wildfire.
The government was still up and running at this point with only one mission: to shoot down these seemingly reanimated corpses before they could cause more harm. People believed this to be a fluke, but your mother's words had stuck with you.
War will come.
It was all a little hazy now, but you remembered bits and pieces of the world back then. War had been quick, ruthless, and determined.
This was no man. This was War.
And it all became clear soon after.
While Pestilence had been silent, War had wanted an audience.
The things he could do; the people he could hurt . . . it was all so gutting. Those lost to the virus kept coming back, all with one purpose: destruction. With one bite, their victims would soon fall ill to that same virus, and then once it had taken their body, they’d come back, reanimated with the same gruesome purpose.
The government finally fell when the dead could no longer be stopped. Quarantines dropped, people ran, and everything just . . . stopped. These creatures tore through cities, sinking their teeth into civilians. And you watched it all on the television, until that, too fell, leaving the rest of the world in the dark.
That was when you realized just how real all of this was. That was when you realized the past three years of hunting with your father was not just something the two of you would look back on and laugh about one day when this virus was over. No . . . it seemed . . . it seemed you couldn’t quite see the end or maybe . . . maybe you could and that was the problem all along.
Your father, the man he was, tried to remind you that this was not War; that this was not the supposed God’s plan everyone was convinced of in your godforsaken hollow. And you tried to hear him, but for a while, you wished to be like everyone else in the town. You wished you could believe this was some greater plan. You wished you could believe that this was all because of some Horseman . . . but you knew better, and your father seemed to know this as well.
(And yet, when you thought back on it now, the stages in which the world ended still presented themselves as the Horsemen in your troubled mind.)
Because, well, you supposed that was truly when the world had ended—the day War came.
War will come, your mother had warned, and you knew that to be true the day the electricity stopped working. War had come, and he'd taken civilization with him. And while he reigned over the quarter of the world he'd been gifted, the rest of the world lay in the dark, trying to navigate throughout this new world.
From time to time you had heard talk of distant wars. You, however, had never seen one.
But War's ruthless hand still reached your town.
There was no news or contact with the outside world other than the people you could see with your own eyes. No transportation, no government, no nothing. It was said that cars had even been abandoned on highways as people tried to leave town to find their families. But they never got far; not with this newfound order bestowed upon the earth.
Because truly . . . War did not need to come to earth to corrupt it.
The government had fallen, the world had ended, the apocalypse had begun and that was all it took for chaos to ensue. People became their worst selves at the end of the world, you'd been told all your life through media upon media. But you had to disagree. You thought, perhaps, the end of the world brought out who people truly were deep inside. It allowed people to let go of civility.
And you discovered people really were perhaps even worse than this supposed War himself. Or rather a product of War and his righteous hand.
(Although, how righteous could he truly be?)
While War reigned, the rest of the world scavenged. Your family stood stagnant in your childhood home, holding up there for as long as you could. It was still warm when the second wave hit. You knew you'd need to find a different shelter when the time came.
The cold wasn't your only problem either. People were at their worst. When the news broke out in your town, the scriptures they held so dear began to fall apart. A lot left, some stayed, and others turned on each other, leaving houses with bloodstained splatters and a fear of thy neighbor. Your family stayed, however. Your mother read scriptures every day. Your father recited the truth. And they argued, while you sat by the window, terrified out of your mind as you watched the empty streets.
That was when you realized another truth about yourself. You were just about to turn twenty-two, the world had gone to shit, and you had never been so scared. Pestilence. War. Famine. Death. Their names raged on inside your head and it was as if you were still just a young girl, kneeling in church despite the scabs. Except now, you were a girl who could no longer kneel in church, and yet you were still so scared.
It felt cruel. Perhaps even unreal.
The scriptures had predicted this—the four harbingers coming down to scorn the earth. But you hadn't believed it. You were forced to now.
It was War’s reign back then. But Death would come one day. He had come to kill you all; to finish off everything his brothers hadn't touched, and one day he would.
It had been predicted. The words stuck in your head even now.
When the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, "Come." I looked, and behold, a pale horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth.
— Revelation 6:7–8
Your mother told you long ago of these scriptures. When you were a child, you'd cover your head with your blankets, hiding from the mysteries of the night. Somewhere in your innocent mind, you'd convinced yourself the devil himself would find his way into your room, wrap his bony hand around your ankle, and drag you to the pits of Hell.
Back then you'd feared death. You'd done everything to steer far from its clutches.
She’s afraid of the world, your peers would hiss under their breath, not knowing you'd heard every word. And you knew they were right. You knew you had always been a scared kid, trying your hardest to keep the monsters at bay.
You wished you'd realized there had been no real monsters . . . yet. You would've lived more. Now you knew the consequences.
Now there was no more living, just surviving.
Still, sometimes you found yourself missing it; missing life. It was a bitter thought—what could've been had the world not ended all those years ago.
Back then—before the end—you'd feared death.
How far will this go? you remembered thinking back then when it was still War’s reign. How long until things are normal?
You didn't have the stomach back then to come to terms with the truth. You barely remembered it now.
But you did remember the day everything truly changed for you.
Up until that day, you'd been following your father's orders, huddling up in your home with your mother and little sister as the four of you survived day by day. Then . . . your house had been broken into, the intruder coming in through your window.
Back then you had feared death. You had thought you were going to die.
You'd thought this up until the very last scream ripped through your throat just as your father emerged from the shadows, a look on his face you’d never seen, moments before everything went red. You remembered that to this day. While everything else was blurry, that moment was clear. You could still feel the blood splatter on your face as you watched your father—the man who used to tie your shoes for you before you hopped on the school bus—kill a man before your very eyes, ripping out his jugular with his bare teeth.
Once a girl who could no longer kneel in church, became one painted with the blood from another. And you remembered a small part of you—the part that had once knelt so much her knees had turned to scabs—that this was all War’s fault.
You thought it until you watched the man pale, falling to your childhood bedroom floor with a thud. You remembered how his eyes stayed wide open, locked on you as he gurgled and choked on his blood, bleeding out onto your pink carpet. He didn't blink. Not once. Not even at all. They stayed cold and empty as your father breathed heavily above him.
And then you looked at him.
Your father was a good man. He was kind and just, despite the town. He believed in science and facts. He wanted the truth. But none of that mattered if his family was at stake.
Your father was a good man. He loved you, and he would’ve done anything for you.
Your father was a good man.
Your father had ripped out another man’s jugular in front of you.
Your father was a good man.
Your father had killed someone.
This was the end. You knew it, and it knew you, too.
(It wasn’t talked about, and you never brought it up again. He simply embraced you in a tight hug and kissed your forehead, leaving a smudge of blood from the man in doing so, and whispered apologies that would never sink deeper than your skin.
(Now you wished you would’ve told him you understood. Now you would’ve looked at him and seen an image of yourself staring right back. Now you would’ve hugged him back.))
That was all it took before your father took it upon himself to gather your mother and little sister, put all necessities in the car, and collect enough portable gasoline as he could before the four of you set off down the road. Where you were going was undetermined. There was no knowing . . . because there was nowhere to go.
The world had ended. There was nothing left. You just had to go.
You have to grow up. No more kid stuff, your father said to you that night on the road while your mother and little sister were fast asleep in the back of the car. One day I might not be here to protect you. You have to learn to protect yourself.
And you'd promised him you would. Because you had to. You had been old enough then, after all. You had been twenty-one . . . technically an adult.
(Now, however, you realized you had still been too young. Twenty-one wasn't old enough to face the end of the world.)
But . . . what happens when a scared young girl is forced to grow up too soon? She turns into a machine.
Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat.
Your father had borne that burden back then, when you first set off on the road. The car hadn't lasted long. Not that it mattered. The world was a wasteland anyway. Walking from town to town on the vacant streets and highways was nothing new now.
You just have to survive, he kept telling you. Survive long enough to keep them alive.
And you always knew what he meant. He was training you for the day when he would be no more. Because when that day came, you would be the one left in charge. He'd turned you into a machine because that was the world you lived in. You were the oldest. Your sister was barely five years old back then. And your mother . . . your mother who once believed this was all some greater plan, was now convinced that if she prayed hard enough it'd stop Famine from following after his ruthless brother.
It was your job to remember what your father had taught you when Pestilence first came to reign—how to hunt, how to shoot a shotgun, and now . . . how to survive.
And when Famine came; when you caught sight of the words Famine has risen spray painted on a billboard on the side of a highway, reminding you of your sick home. It was then you finally learned how to survive. You didn't realize how hard it would be until a year after Famine's birth, your father had passed because of you (because of a stupid decision that you had made which you still couldn't bring yourself to acknowledge).
Survival became all that you knew after that.
Your father was gone. It was just like he had warned. You were in charge now, and you had one purpose: keep your family alive.
The burden became yours to bear.
This was your purgatory and you'd do well to repent for what you'd done; for the man you'd sent out to die; for the father you'd lost.
Survive, survive, survive. It was all you knew.
And when the final Horseman rose, you knew what you had to do. It didn’t matter if it killed you, you couldn’t let your family die at the hands of one of those . . . creatures.
Death had risen. The entire world was a wasteland filled with undead and wars made by man.
If you crossed paths with one of those creatures and let them lay a finger on your family, your oath to your father would be broken. Death would kill you all.
So you kept going, trying to outrun the inevitable.
Because you had to. For him. For your father. For the ghosts that haunted you.
Your father had wielded you to become a machine. And a machine you would become.
Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat.
The routine was ingrained in your brain, going on and on like a mantra. You couldn't escape that. Not that it mattered. Survival mattered. Keeping your group, your sister, your mother, and your family alive mattered. They were all that mattered. You would skip as many meals as your body would let you if it meant they'd stay fed.
Sometimes you found yourself laughing at how naive you had been in the past. At twenty-five now, you were equal parts machine and woman, still oozing blood when wounded despite your protests. You didn't tremble at the sight of blood now. You didn't fear death.
When you were a kid, death was your greatest fear. Now, you envied it. Envied the fact you had to walk the earth; the same earth the dead destroyed. Because you couldn't die. That was the harsh truth: you couldn't die.
You'd feared death for so long and now as you sat awake, keeping watch while your group slept, you yearned for the clutches of death to drag you into nothingness. It was almost laughable.
In a world where people now fought for their lives, trying to outrun the dead, you wished to succumb to death. You knew it was wrong, and you'd never speak it aloud, but you yearned for it. This world was shit. Complete and utter shit, and you wanted to give up. Everything in you wanted to just wait like some brainless sitting duck and let Death or disease or even those wretched beasts you heard groaning in the dead of night have their way with your hollow body.
But you couldn't . . . not when you promised your father you'd protect them. He'd died for you, and it was your duty to keep your family safe. Your duty.
You couldn't die, not when you had to keep them alive.
So you let yourself turn into a machine.
And a ruthless machine you had watched yourself become.
That night had been enough evidence of this. Because that night as you sat on a log, slowly dragging yourself out of the past and into the present, you realized one thing. A bloody knife sat in your hand while you watched over your sleeping group, eyes searching for any sign of the dead, and that was when it dawned on you that you had been right all those years ago—the end of the world brought out who people truly were.
You were a machine. You didn't feel. You couldn't.
Glancing down at the bloody knife in your hand, you realized you hadn't felt anything that night.
That night you'd done something you never thought you would. That night your group was attacked by a man with a gun; a man who wanted to harm; a man who had put his hands on your little sister. She was only eight going on nine, and she was your responsibility, and as soon as his hand clamped down over her shoulder while he held a gun to her head, threatening to pull the trigger unless you gave up all your food, you lost it.
Everything went black. You couldn't see. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't even think. You just felt this pure blinding rage.
When you finally regained your sight, you realized what you'd done—you'd killed the man.
No, killed was too vague.
Like the true machine you had become, you had slaughtered him; the bloody knife in your hand was evidence enough of that.
The man was dead, a chunk of his jugular ripped out while he clutched the many stab wounds piercing his stomach. And you . . . you stood above him, eyes wide, bloody knife in hand, and the bitter taste of blood on your tongue.
You'd never killed anyone before. You'd put people out of their misery, but you'd never taken another life like this. You'd never had to.
But you had that night.
And now you paid the consequences.
It had been hours since then. No one had spoken a word since. And your sister . . . your little sister had only looked at you once since then, and you could see the utter terror her round eyes held. Normally she would sleep by your side, but she'd curled up next to your mother that night.
She was afraid of you, and you couldn't blame her. You had once given your father the same look.
So you sat alone on that damned log, bloody knife in hand as you thought back on how you managed to end up in this Hell. Sometimes you felt like a ghost, and now you knew why.
Your brows pinched together. You couldn't help but think: is this what your father had intended?
How much of a machine had he meant for you to become? Were you supposed to clutch onto the part of yourself that was still human? Or had becoming a monster been part of the deal when you'd signed off your soul for machine parts?
You weren't sure. You weren't really sure of anything anymore.
Your sister had looked at you like you were one of the monsters that plagued your earth, slowly destroying it region by region.
Were you no better than the dead to her?
You swallowed hard.
Had you become a monster?
“You did what you had to do,” you heard a deep voice from behind you, perhaps answering your thoughts.
But you didn't jump as you turned to see Felix sit down on the log beside you, exhaustion weaving through his delicate features. You didn't speak a word, just stared at the side of his face for a second before you glanced back down at the bloody knife in your hand.
You did what you had to do.
You nearly laughed. It was just like him to say such things.
You see: Lee Felix had joined your group around the same time Famine took his reign, and ever since then he'd been following you around like your own personal shadow. That was three years ago now. Your father had saved him, offering him to join your family on the road. Perhaps your father had seen something in him. Or maybe he had just saved him simply because that was just who your father was: a hero.
Not that it mattered. You'd taken a liking to Felix, too. He was kind.
Kind had been rare back then. It still was.
And Felix stayed kind.
When your father passed, Felix stuck by you. Your mother had begun to look at you as if you were a stranger, and your little sister still had been too young to understand much. Felix had made life easier.
You'd taught him everything you knew partly because you needed to and partly because you liked being around him as if he were the younger brother you’d never had. Little bird, you called him . . . because you'd taught him everything. You'd taught him how to survive. And sometimes you thought maybe you would've been friends outside of this. If things were different, if you'd met in a world where the apocalypse hadn't happened . . . then you'd like to think you could have met; that your paths would've crossed.
But things weren't different. You weren't even sure if you could let him in entirely. Your friendship would surely put him in some sort of jeopardy. Because, really, it all came down to survival, and you needed him to live. You didn't care what happened to yourself. You just needed to stay alive long enough to make sure they'd all make it.
That still didn't stop the feeling of relief that washed over you as soon as you felt him lean into you, arm touching yours. He was trying to comfort you in the way that he knew, and you couldn't help but lean against him further.
He was still just as kind as the day you'd crossed paths.
But you?
Well . . .
“I ripped his throat out . . . " you heard yourself roughly mutter before you felt the words tumble from your tongue. You lifted a hand to your blood-stained lips and swallowed. “I ripped . . . throat . . . his . . . with my teeth.” You swallowed once again, harder this time as your eyes drifted to your little sister's sleeping figure. She had been so scared. You had done that. You had scared her. “She looks at me like I’m a monster.”
”You’re not."
“Lix."
“You’re not,” he reiterated, his voice as harsh as he could manage (which was not harsh at all) while he clutched your blood-stained hand and took it into his. “You did what you had to do.”
Your eyes flicked down to your hands. But you didn't look at him. You couldn't. You just kept thinking and thinking and seeing that look on your sister's face. And then . . . then you felt yourself say. ”She says all life is precious. She cries when we have to put down a squirrel for Christ’s sake. I should’ve known. I should’ve—”
”She’s just a kid."
“I didn’t have to kill him,” you continued. “There was a point where I could’ve knocked him out. I thought about it. And I still killed him.” Your eyes finally snapped to his then. “I wanted to kill him, Lix.”
A muscle in Felix’s jaw twitched. ”It’s people like him that make me wonder if this world got it all right,” he admitted after a second. “I’m glad he’s dead. I just wish I could’ve been the one to do it.”
Your breath hitched at his words, not because they'd shocked you . . . but rather because you found yourself agreeing. But that wasn't . . . right. Felix was kind. You were not. He was good, and you . . .
”You don’t mean that,” you mumbled, squeezing his hand. “You’re not . . . “
”Not what?” Felix countered, eyes searching yours. “Hmm? Not what?”
You blinked, your throat constricting. ”Too far gone,” you choked out.
His brows twitched, his expression softening. ”Neither are you."
His hand touched your face a second later, his thumb wiping the dried blood from your chin. You weren't a monster in his eyes. You were just his friend. He didn't fear you, but you knew he should've.
But for a second, you let yourself forget this. Instead, you closed your eyes, allowing him to clean your face of the man's spilled blood. And when he was done, your eyes fluttered open just in time to see him try to reach for the knife in your hand, probably to release it from your tight hold.
However, you shifted it out of his grasp. His eyes snapped to yours then, questioning.
You offered a weak smile—something you didn't do often, but would for him. ”Sleep,” you hummed, patting his shoulder. “We need your brute strength in the morning.”
”We need your brain more,” he countered, tapping a finger to your forehead.
”Sleep, little bird."
He rolled those round brown eyes. "I wish you'd stop calling me that."
Nevertheless, Felix listened to you. He shifted down onto the ground, resting his head on the log, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes closed. And you watched him until you were sure he was resting soundly. Then, your eyes went back to watching, making sure to keep your promise to your father.
But just as you were sure it was just you and the silence of the night again, you heard Felix’s voice filter through your ears, ”You’re not too far gone."
You swallowed hard but said nothing.
You're not too far gone.
Oh, how wrong he had been.
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As if like some sort of phantom, your knees had begun to itch like they used to after mass all those years ago. For the first few days, you tried to ignore it, writing it off as poison ivy or not bathing for a few weeks, but even when you’d scratch, the itch would remain. You came to realize that this wasn’t something you could write off; this wasn’t something that hadn’t been caused by anything other than . . . you.
A few nights ago, you’d killed a man. You’d ripped out his throat with his teeth, and for a second too long, you’d enjoyed it. Now . . . now you wondered just how deep your guilt ran. Now you wondered if given the chance, would you do it again?
But you already knew the answer.
Your knees had begun to itch once again . . .
And you tried to ignore it. Honest, you did, but his screams; how easy it was to bite into his flesh; the bitter taste of metallic blood on your tongue which oddly tasted too similar to honey; the life in his eyes quickly dissipating as you towered over him like a predator to its prey; all of it kept playing in your head over and over again. You couldn’t escape it, not even when night came and you were forced to close your eyes.
His face was always there.
Sometimes you wondered if any of it had actually happened. Sometimes you wondered if none of this was real or if you even were. Sometimes you wondered if this man had been Death; if the tales your town preached had been real and this was your test.
Sometimes you wondered if you had failed.
And you knew you had.
At night, you could hear your mother whispering prayers under her breath, pleading to the heavens that she and her daughter would be spared. And every time, you knew which daughter she meant. Every time you knew she was praying to be spared from you. Every time you knew it was you who she feared the most in this world. And every time you wondered if one day he’d finally answer her prayers.
You couldn’t even blame her, because a few nights ago you’d done the one thing you’d never thought you’d have to do—kill a man. You knew you were some kind of fucked for that alone.
Then, last night, you began to wonder if this was how your father had felt. You began to wonder if this was why he was dead and not you. You wondered if he’d done it to save you, and to put himself out of his own misery.
And then you began to pray, too. You’d stopped believing in God years ago, but it was an old habit that you sometimes indulged in for some sick kind of comfort. And this time, in the dead of night, you’d shut your eyes and beg for your father’s ghost to return to you. You begged for just one more minute. One more minute and he could tell you how to deal with this; how to survive this, too, just as he had taught you how to endure everything else.
But no ghost ever came, only the perpetual darkness galloped in, consuming you whole.
Your father was gone, and it was all your fault. Guilt was your ghost, not him.
He would still be here if you hadn't—
"Mom thinks you've been possessed by the devil," your little sister's voice brought you out of your mind.
You blinked once. Then, you glanced down at her, taking note of her skeptical eyes and furrowed brows. It was almost as if she were inspecting your face, trying to decipher if you, her older sister, really were possessed as your mother had claimed.
It had been the first time your sister had spoken to you in the past week. The four of you had been walking through the woods, steering clear of the main roads ever since you’d come into contact with that man—the man whose blood you could still taste on your tongue.
She’d taken to walking hand-in-hand with your mother, just a few feet behind you and Felix as the two of you led the way into the unknown. You didn’t know where you were going. You never did. That was the thing about the end of the world—the only thing that mattered was surviving day by day. There was no end-point.
But today while you led the group through the woods, eyes searching for any rodents or small animals to capture for food, your head stuck in the past, your sister had taken the chance to walk into step with you. And those . . . those had been her choice of words.
Mom thinks you’ve been possessed by the devil.
And now with the world a ghost of itself, you thought perhaps maybe your mother could be right. You’d changed. The world had changed you. The old taste of blood on your tongue was evidence enough of that.
You’d killed a man. You’d ripped out a chunk of his jugular with your teeth and plunged the very knife in your belt into his flesh over and over again until you were sure he couldn’t do more harm.
Kill or be killed, sure, but . . .
. . . You’d still killed a man.
You’d actually taken a life.
(You weren’t expecting it to haunt you this much. But it had. You could still see his face, hear his voice, smell him, feel him. He was still very much alive in your mind, haunting you like a ghost.
It didn’t matter if he was more monster than man . . . you had still killed him. You had still taken a life without a second thought. His evils didn’t matter . . . guilt still seeped in.)
Mom thinks you’ve been possessed by the devil.
And maybe you had been.
That would’ve been easier to fathom.
But instead of voicing these thoughts aloud, you adjusted your backpack on your shoulders, touched a finger to the knife tucked into your belt to make sure it was still there and tightened your grip on your father’s shotgun in your hand before you finally spoke.
"Mom's off her meds," was all you offered. It was all you could say. And it hadn’t been what your sister was searching for.
Your sister stepped back, allowing you to walk alone. You knew you were losing her. You knew she barely trusted you now just as your mother stopped considering you a daughter.
And you couldn’t blame them.
The end of the world brought out who people truly were, and you were someone not worth saving.
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The sun had begun to set when you finally declared you’d be stopping for the night. It wasn’t a solid resting place, which meant another night of no sleep on your part, but that didn’t bother you much anymore. All that mattered was there were no signs of the dead, no low groans in the distance, no immediate danger, and the small creek running just a few meters from your camp would provide just enough for you to wet your face and clean any dried blood from your skin. That was what mattered—a temporary sanctuary.
Felix had taken to accompanying your little sister to the creek, while your mother gathered small twigs and broken branches to add to the fire you had just started. But your eyes never stopped watching your little sister, keeping an eye on her to ensure no danger would reach her or Felix while you were occupied.
That was your only concern. Your second was food. There had to be some crawfish lingering in the creek that you could fry up. That was your second concern right after the fire was steady enough to last until nightfall.
With a soft sigh, you forced yourself to tear your eyes from your sister’s smiling face. You tried to ignore how she smiled at Felix while he splashed water at her. You tried to ignore the soft laughter you could still hear as you stabbed at the fire with a branch. You tried to ignore the thought that she’d never look at you like that; never laugh like that with you; never trust you like that again.
You tried to ignore how you had become more of a loose end your family needed to tie off, than a daughter or an older sister.
But you couldn’t. The thought was always there. There it would remain, you were sure of it.
Clenching your jaw, you added the branch in your hand to the fire, watching it crackle under the embers. And for a moment, you wondered what it would feel like if you were to reach forward and let the flames lick your fingertips.
Had he felt like this, too?
Had your father had these thoughts before he died for you?
Did he ever wonder if—
“You’re just like him, you know?” your mother nearly whispered, tearing you from your mind as she set down the pile of branches she had collected.
You glanced at her once, then glared into the fire. “Is that supposed to hurt me?”
She shook her head only once. “It should scare you,” she clarified, standing to her feet so she could tower over you once again. “God’s plan—”
“God’s plan?” you immediately spat out with a humorous scoff, now standing to your feet as well. You were taller than her now, unlike when you were a kid; unlike when you used to do everything she told you; unlike when she still considered you her daughter. “What does God’s plan have to do with my father?”
A muscle in her jaw twitched. “He has protected us this far. He couldn’t save your father. I’m worried if you continue down this path, he won’t be able to save you either,” she muttered back as she clutched the cross around her neck as if she thought it would ward you off like you had become one of the evils she’d warn you about when you were just a girl.
But you were no longer small; you were no longer moldable by her hand, and now, you were only made of anger. “You think God’s the reason we’re alive?” you questioned her, eyes narrowing into slits.
Your mother remained silent but clutched her cross harder. And you knew what that meant.
Your eyes flicked from her hand to her face. Then, you took a step forward, chin jutted out. “Is it God who kills so we can eat? Is it God who got us here, to this point? Is it God who holds dad’s gun?” you bit out as you touched a hand to your chest. “God doesn’t have a fucking plan.” You drilled a finger into your chest, your angry eyes never leaving hers. “I do. And God couldn’t save dad because it was supposed to be—”
But your words halted in your throat. You couldn’t admit it to her. You couldn’t tell her you were the reason behind your father’s death. It didn’t matter if she already knew. You just . . . you just couldn’t admit it to her face.
“God doesn't fucking exist,” you muttered out instead, turning away from her. “And if he did, he’s sure as hell dead now.”
“Your father filled your head with lies.”
You turned back to her, eyes glaring into hers. “Bullshit,” you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “He was the only one who ever told me the truth.”
Ignoring your words, she took a step away from you, her hand remaining on the cross around her neck. "Your father . . . I knew he was deeply flawed when I married him, but I just figured he’d change. I figured he’d see the way, instead he only got worse, but he knew when to control it. He knew right from wrong,” she went on, her voice steady, but her eyes had begun to water. And you knew tears would come, and when they did, you’d leave to kill the crawfish. "But, you, honey . . . I don't know where we went wrong with you. It's like you came out of the womb defective. You got all the bad traits of your father and nothing else. I look at you and I see this angry little girl. And, you know, sometimes I ask myself how in the world we managed to raise a daughter who is even more deeply flawed than her bastard father, but I never seem to know the answer."
There were the tears now.
But along with it came a knife in your chest that kept twisting and twisting the more she spoke.
Twist the knife, and she did.
"There's something wrong with you,” she whispered again after a moment’s silence, the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. “You frighten me.”
Twist the knife, and you refused to pull it out.
This was what you deserved.
Still, you didn’t cry, not for yourself. Never for yourself. Instead, you continued to stare at her with no emotion in your eyes as you muttered, “Talking ill of the dead is a sin, remember?” And then you began to turn.
But your mother’s hand landed firmly around your arm. “Don’t you turn your back on me, girl,” she warned, her words sharper than the knife she’d twisted into your chest.
Swallowing hard, you sucked on your teeth. “What else do you want me to say?” you questioned, but didn’t bother to turn and face her. “I have nothing else to give you, mom.”
She released your arm as if you’d burned her and hissed, “Don’t call me that.”
Your brows furrowed in confusion for a mere second before you realized what she meant; before you realized what you’d said; what you’d done. It was an honest mistake, as well. You hadn’t called her that in so long, and yet it still came out. You hadn’t meant to say it, but it still came out as if you were still small and thought the whole world was in her arms.
“Then what do you want me to call you?” you asked, your voice quieter now as you took a step back. “If not mom, then what should your daughter call you? Hmm? Or is the answer nothing? Is that what we are to each other now? Will that make God come down from the heavens and give us salvation? . . . If you abandon me?”
Your mother remained silent.
And you knew her answer.
Sucking on your teeth, you nodded in acceptance. “What?” you spoke in a whisper as you took another step back. “Am I not being loud enough for him?” You outstretched your hands at your sides, gesturing to the heavens. “Should I scream it? Will he finally fucking answer then?”
“Stupid girl—” your mother quickly scolded, grabbing you firmly by the arm— “don’t you dare put this family in danger,”
But you only tilted your head in question. “Does that include me?”
Her eyes fluttered, taken back. “What?”
“This family,” you reiterated. “Am I a part of this family?”
Once again, she remained silent.
But you knew the truth.
“God’s plan as long as I’m out of the picture, right?” you muttered under your breath, swallowing hard once again. “At least we finally agree.”
Then, you were tearing your arm out of her grasp, but you didn’t move, you didn’t even look away from her. Instead, you kept still. You kept your eyes locked with hers as if breaking that eye contact would sever the final string holding the two of you together. She didn’t speak either, and she refused to move. She wouldn’t move first. You knew that. She’d always been that way. So had you . . .
And when you were sure the world had begun to rot around you, you could have sworn her bottom lip quivered as if she were on the verge of saying something . . . anything. Only, when her lips parted a mere sliver, a shrill scream sounded from behind, and the perpetual darkness of your world crept back in through your peripheral vision.
Beat. Your heart shot to your throat.
It happened too quickly for you to think.
Beat. Beat.
You heard the scream and you knew your sister was in trouble.
Beat.
Without a second thought, you dropped everything and ran toward the scream; toward the creek; toward your sister. It wasn’t far, but it was far enough for you to catch sight of two of the dead. One Felix fought off, while trying to grab his knife from his belt. The other had found its way to your sister, pinning her to the forest floor as she thrashed and screamed, her weak limbs desperately trying to keep the thing from sinking its teeth into her flesh.
And you knew what to do.
For a brief second longer, there was screaming. Then the squelch of a knife being plunged through a skull. Then nothing.
The world faded away. No noise. No people. No nothing.
One. Two. Three seconds, then the world started to return.
Breathing heavily, you watched carefully as your mother rushed past you, tearing the dead corpse off your sister and holding her closer . . . closer than she’d ever held you. Your nose twitched for a mere second as your gaze shifted from your mother and sister staring at you in shock ((?) no, maybe it was horror) to the stilled corpse, and finally to the bloodied knife gripped tightly in your hand.
You’d killed that thing, yes. But you hadn’t even thought about it. You hadn’t stopped to think that this thing was once a person. You hadn’t even seen it as such, unlike your mother; unlike what the town had tried to drill into your head during Pestilence’s reign. And . . . you could see that realization in your mother’s eyes.
. . . You were getting worse.
Your legs had begun to weaken at the thought, but you quickly stabled yourself, afraid they’d see it as another sign to put you down like the violent dog you knew they saw you to be. Instead, you tore your gaze from the knife in your hand and met your mother’s eyes once again (but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet your sister’s tearful stare). “Tell me, mo—” you quickly stopped the word from tumbling from your tongue, then went on— “is this still what God’s plan looks like to you?”
But your mother didn’t reply, and you didn’t wait for her to. You could barely stand to hold her gaze for a second longer. Instead, you wiped the blood from your knife on your pants, shoved it back into your belt, and turned, walking back to the fire you had begun to make minutes before.
And as you walked, you took note of the silence which followed you. You took note of how even Felix hesitated slightly before he followed after you. You took note of how your mother and sister sat near that creek for a few minutes longer and didn’t bother to wander after you as if you were no longer their blood.
The final string tying your family together had begun to wear thinner. You wondered when it would finally snap. You wondered how long it would take for a violent dog to succumb to its instincts; how long it would take you to become the lost cause you knew you were destined to be.
Would they make the decision to put you down then?
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Four days. Two sleepless nights. And one squirrel shared between the four of you. You felt a fever coming on a couple days ago. You saw the infected cuts from the fight with that man. You knew your body was weakening day by day.
If you didn’t stop soon, you’d sure become one of the dead.
But you tried your best to ignore it. You had to.
Your mother; however, remained hopeful (of course). You could hear her chattering on to your sister throughout the day while you watched the world.
According to her, no one really knew why the Horsemen came to earth. She claimed the world needed saving from certain people (what you were sure she was leaving out was the fact that she was convinced you were one of these people). So, she went on and on and on, and you quietly listened, too, because you were still a girl who used to kneel in church, after all; because you could still feel the bruises on your knees; because you could still see the scars left behind from the scabs.
So, you listened, but you did not believe.
The world was fucked and needed cleansing. People were inherently bad and God saw no other way for salvation (apparently) than to send his four loyal Horsemen to destroy Earth and its people. . . . Well . . . supposedly. You knew the truth; however. There were no Horsemen. There was just death. Something had gone wrong and no one really knew what, so they blamed it on some higher power.
Whatever.
(Supposedly) Pestilence had been a shadow. War had wanted an audience. The world fell before you could get a proper grasp on Famine. And now Death was here. He’d been walking the earth for two years now, and still no one knew why.
Just like the town, your mother had her theories. And while she believed this God was still on your side, still searching for the good in humanity, you thought him fucked up. The human race was just his playthings.
He’d made sure there was nothing left.
Hell, you knew there wasn’t even a god. The world was just fucked. The end.
Point blank: it didn’t matter. Nothing did anymore.
Survival was all that mattered.
Everything else was fucked.
And as you continued to lead the way into nothingness, listening to your mother’s ramblings about the Bible, all you could do was ignore how your knees had begun to itch once again, while you focused on one thought: survive, survive, survive. But . . . not for yourself . . . for them.
Survive long enough for them.
For your father.
For your sister.
For your mother.
For Felix.
For them.
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By sundown, Felix managed to find an abandoned warehouse for the night. It wasn’t much, but it was better than sleeping out in the wild. Perhaps all of you could get some shuteye that night. Sure, luckily it was around Fall or maybe just before where it was still warm, but sleeping on logs wasn’t ideal. (Not that you could be picky. Not that you were.)
But, just your luck, sleep never found you.
Beside you, Felix softly snored, laying on his back with his arms crossed over his chest and his head resting in your lap. Your hand found its way to his dark waves, gently scratching his scalp as he slept. It brought you peace where you normally had none.
Sometimes you wondered when Felix would finally realize the monster you’d become. You wondered what it would take. How many more people would you kill for them in order for him to look at you as if you were a stranger?
You didn’t want to see that day come.
It’d already come for your mother the day your father died. Then for your sister when you’d butchered that man. You couldn’t bear living through Felix’s realization.
With a sigh, you glanced over your shoulder, eyes landing on your mother’s sleeping figure as your little sister curled up into her side, miles away in her dreams. You hoped it was better there; that her dreams were still pure and innocent despite the world.
You tore your eyes from them a second later, instead opting to glance out the large opening in the warehouse where a window used to be. The world was so bleak now. Even the sight of the empty lands before your eyes stirred nothing within you. It was just so . . . distant.
Nothing was left.
Truly.
Reluctantly, you shut your eyes, trying your hardest to drift off into sleep, but the pounding in your head and the scratch in your throat kept you up. You were getting worse. You squeezed your eyes tighter, hoping this fever would subside soon. The world was darker now, the nothingness intensifying. You weren’t even sure if you could sleep anymore. Had you been? You couldn’t remember.
But just when you were sure sleep wouldn’t greet you that night, forcing you to keep watch, you could’ve sworn you heard an inhuman howl echo throughout the darkness beyond.
Your eyes snapped open, heart hammering.
No.
It couldn’t be.
Another howl echoed throughout the air. But this was no howl from a wolf or even a beast.
You’d heard stories from survivors in the towns you’d passed through in the two years Death had taken his reign over your lands. You’d heard the stories of Death and his steed. His steed, pale in color similar to a corpse, was rumored to have this cry.
The cry was no ordinary cry. Death’s steed cried similar to a wolf or rather a beast, hungry for blood. It was a war cry—a warning sign.
Of course, Death was not real and there was no horse with their cry. No, you knew what this was. You’d heard these cries in smaller amounts. You’d heard these cries as you plunged your knife into each undead’s brain, killing the parasite living within. And a howl like this only meant one thing—a hoard.
You swallowed hard.
Death was near.
You’d thought the undead didn’t hoard unless . . .
The man.
Your eyes widened.
The night the man had attacked your group, you had managed to hotwire a car. That had been your plan. You were going to use that car to get your group farther and safer. But because of that man . . . because of what you’d done to him, you’d accidentally popped one of the tires in the process, forcing your group to stay the night in those woods when you should’ve been on the road.
And his screams . . .
You’d slowed down and made yourself known, and now they were following the noise.
And . . . it was all your fault.
You exhaled a shaky breath.
Death was coming.
Immediately, you swung into action, quietly waking Felix up. His eyes questioned yours before he, too, heard the war cry.
Death was coming. Felix knew this now, too.
The two of you silently awoke your mother and sister, Felix informing them of the matter they had on your hands, while you gathered your father’s shotgun, crouching near the window for a better look. If they were near . . . how near?
You swallowed hard.
Maybe you could still run. You could still get everyone out if you ran. It could work—
But then you saw it.
In the distance, you caught sight of the undead as they cried, following each other.
You checked the gun’s chamber, removing and reloading the cartridges just to make sure they were in place in case you were forced to fire. Your grip tightened and loosened, and you could hear Felix whispering your name, but your eyes were transfixed on the hoard up ahead.
Death was here. So close. Too close.
They couldn’t see you now, couldn’t hear you, but . . . if you ran, they’d catch sight of you. They’d kill your family. They’d kill Felix. They’d kill you all.
There was no way you could outrun the hoard. Not when they were this close; not when they could smell you; hear your every breath.
Fuck.
You wanted to scream.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Your father had trusted you. They all had. And now you were going to let another person down all because you’d been stupid one night. You’d fucked all of you.
“Snap out of it,” Felix whispered, his hand on your shoulder. “Ideas?”
You could only shake your head.
Felix swore, running his hands through his hair. "There's no way," he nearly gasped at his words. "Fuck."
You swore you felt your heart drop as you slumped against the wall. They were going to die. Because of you.
There was no way out; no way any of you would make it past the hoard without them noticing. The moment they saw any of you, they’d follow you until they could get their teeth into your flesh. And while you had no care for your own life, you still had care for theirs—the people you'd sworn to protect.
Your father had died for all of you. He knew it wasn't safe, and he still went out. He'd traded his life for yours. He'd made you swear to protect your mother and your little sister, and along the way, you'd sworn to not only keep them safe but to keep Felix from harm. You'd sworn that, and you were not one to fall back on your word.
There was no way out together. But . . . there was one way out.
You knew what that meant.
This was what your father would've wanted. This was what he would've done; what he had done.
It was always going to turn out this way. You'd known that.
And in that moment, you accepted that. After all, you'd always been told you were your father's daughter.
This was how you made things right.
You nodded at your thoughts.
Then, you felt your eyes burn, your brows scrunching in confusion. Wetness slipped down your cheek and you briefly touched a finger to the tear, finding you were crying. You hadn’t cried in so long.
Angrily, you wiped the tears away. You didn’t get to cry.
This had been your fault in the first place. This was how you made it right. You didn’t get to cry. You didn’t.
So you sent one last glare at the hoard up ahead, then turned to Felix. Fuck. He would be the one in charge now. You trusted him, yes, but you knew how heavy that burden was. That was what you would regret the most—putting Felix through this agony, too.
Still: "Little bird," you whispered.
Fearful tears were already in his eyes. "I wish you'd stop calling me that."
"Can't help it. I taught you how to fly," you hummed, voice soft and unlike you.
You both knew what you meant. You'd taught Felix how to fire a gun, taught him how to gut a fish, you taught him how to survive—you taught him how to fly. But he didn't need any more teachings. Like a baby bird, he'd flown from the nest ages ago. He could fly without you. The thought brought a melancholic smile to your chapped lips as you fought back the burning in your eyes when they met his worried gaze once again.
"Makes me feel important." You touched a hand to his cheek. He felt soft under your calloused skin. "But . . . you don't need me anymore."
Felix exhaled with a strained choke, his eyes widening in realization. "No," he rushed out, shaking his head as his soft brown eyes searched yours. "No." His hand enclosed around the one you'd touched to his cheek. "Don't. Don't."
You knew what he meant. Don't be the hero.
But that wasn't his decision to make. You had debts to pay; people to protect.
Living had never been something you wanted in a world like this. Sometimes you felt like a ghost; when the world was quiet and your heart beat a little slower—you felt like one of the many corpses you'd passed by on the daily.
Years ago, you promised your father you'd take over his job and protect. You'd never wanted to live, but you had forced yourself. Back then, you made a promise to yourself—you had to stay alive, not for yourself, but for them; you had to stay alive for the one you had lost. And you'd upheld that promise, but now . . . in order to save them, you had to break it.
You knew this.
Felix did, too.
He rested his forehead against yours. "Please. Don't. It's supposed to be you and me."
Your eyes squeezed shut. "I'm the reason he's dead."
The two of you knew what you meant. This was how you repaid him; how you repaid your father.
"Then let me do it," Felix muttered, hand dropping from yours to grasp the shotgun in your other hand.
You were quick to rip it from his hold. "It was always going to turn out this way," was all you said, and he knew what you meant.
The sound of the cries coming closer made you spring back from him. Your head swiveled, taking in your surroundings as your hands found their rightful place on the shotgun. Your eyes briefly found your little sister's—her round eyes wide with fright, only furthering your decision. You knew doing this for them, for her.
"Fine," you heard Felix hiss in a quiet whisper. "But I'm coming with you."
Your head snapped to him. "Like hell you are."
"You don't get to die."
"Neither do you."
"Then I guess we have a predicament."
Your eyes softened. "Lix."
His brows pinched together. "You don't get to die."
And you almost felt yourself smile. "Little birds are meant to fly," you hummed. Little birds are meant to fly; they aren't meant to die.
He shook his head.
You swallowed hard.
The cries grew closer, and your heart raced. You were out of time. This was your last goodbye.
You gripped his hand. "Protect them."
He latched onto your shoulders. “No. No. I’m not ready. Don’t make me say goodbye to you.”
Against your will, your bottom lip trembled. “It’s not.”
But it was. You both knew that.
Felix could only shake his head. “Please.”
“See you later, little bird,” you hummed, weakly, kissing his forehead before you tore yourself from him. And he reached for you, begging you to stay.
But . . . no amount of pleas could change your mind. You were already moving before Felix could stop you. You didn’t have the heart to glance back at your sister or your mother. You never wanted to live in a world like this, but if you looked back, you feared you might’ve found salvation in their eyes. You couldn’t put them through that. You’d put them through enough.
You worked quickly. You had to. For them.
The quiet cries of the hoard approached, moving slowly. You kept your eyes on their figures, stealthily stepping down the creaky stairs to the bottom floor. From there, you moved to the woods surrounding the area. You quickly crouched down in the dark forest, clutching the shotgun even tighter. This was your father’s, now it was yours, and you were going to use it to save your family.
You weren’t naive enough to think that you could actually kill all of them. But that didn’t matter. You were solely supposed to be a distraction. You would fire that damned shotgun at those things over and over again, not caring if it even did any damage. You just needed to keep their attention long enough to get them to follow you in the opposite direction. That would allow your family to escape. That was all you intended to do.
You knew there was no surviving this. And you were fine with that.
Death didn’t scare you. Not yours, anyway.
So you hunkered down, hands clutched on the shotgun as you waited for the hoard to get near enough to strike.
You heard them before you saw them. The cries echoed throughout the dark night, making your heart pound faster. It became louder and louder, so loud you felt yourself start to tense, and then the first came into view.
It came to a gentle halt, almost as if it had been expecting you. But that couldn’t be. It hadn’t seen you. You were still in the clear.
Still, you watched, remembering the lessons on hunting that your father had taught you. This was how you hunted—quiet, hidden, and alert.
The creature tilted its head back, eyes closed as the moonlight cascaded across its pale face. Your brows scrunched in confusion as you watched it, tilting your head to the side. It was almost as if it were basking in the moonlight, soaking up the feeling of the satellite shining down on it. And then you realized what it was doing: sniffing you out.
Behind it, the world was bleak as the rest of those damned creatures sauntered forward. The trees seemed to sag, the grass stale, and it was quiet, so very quiet. Every step they took, decay followed.
And then they began to move . . . toward the warehouse where your family still resided.
Your jaw ticked as you raised the shotgun. Your father’s instructions rang through your ears and you lined up the barrel, aiming at one of the creature’s chests as it was perhaps the only part of it you had direct access to. You were certain the impact wouldn’t kill it, you were almost certain it wouldn’t even hurt it, but . . . it would distract it, and that was all you needed.
Last week, you killed a man. You ripped out his jugular with your teeth. You’d slaughtered him. So this, killing this entity shouldn’t have made your stomach churn, but it did.
Your world was gone. Death remained. And it was all his doing.
Still . . . still, your finger hesitated on the trigger.
You would die tonight . . . by its hand, no doubt. And perhaps that scared you. Perhaps a part of you truly didn’t want to die. But you dumbed down this hesitation to just pure fear.
Fear that those things would find your family after disposing of your body; fear they’d kill them; fear all of this would be for nothing.
You swallowed hard and adjusted your grip on the gun. You had to try. Your life for theirs. It was that or you all died tonight, and you wouldn’t have that, not after all you had done; all you had put them through.
All you had to do was pull the trigger. And yet . . . you still hesitated.
Fuck. You closed your eyes, clenching your jaw as your heart hammered in your chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
And as your eyes remained closed, you heard their voices then.
You're not too far gone.
Mom thinks you’ve been possessed by the devil.
There’s something wrong with you. You frighten me.
You have to grow up. No more kid stuff.
Your breath hitched. You have to grow up. And you had. Too quickly you now realized. It was always going to end up this way.
This was the only way to save them. The only way.
Your eyes snapped open, catching sight of the creatures still sniffing the air like they could just smell your terror. You sucked in a breath, then pulled the trigger. Exhale.
The ringing in your ears was almost immediate and the explosive sound echoed throughout the silent night. You barely even noticed the shotgun’s kickback, too focused on the creatures before you, watching with wide eyes as the pellets hit one of the things, knocking it entirely to the ground.
The others cried out, their noses no longer needing to be depended on as their eyes searched for the origin of the noise. And then you caught the eye of one, and you knew it was the end.
You faltered at the sight, stumbling backward as you tripped on a root, causing your body to hit the ground. A low groan escaped you before you could stop yourself.
Fuck.
Had that been too loud?
Heart pounding in your chest, you slowly glanced up, eyes landing on the creatures. More eyes stared back at you, hungry with . . . something as a few had begun to make their way toward you.
You swallowed hard.
Death itself had seen you.
Acting fast, you hastily grabbed the shotgun. You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up, but you needed to buy your family more time. You needed to end this.
And end it you would.
You clutched the shotgun tightly in your hand and sat up, groaning slightly when you felt a sharp pain in your ankle. But still, you went on.
Remembering your father’s teachings, you knew what a machine was good for at the end of its reign: making a lot of fucking noise.
And so with a heavy heart and angry tears pricking your eyes . . . you belted out a loud yell.
There was no hiding now. They had all heard you. And that was all that mattered to them.
“Come on, you fuckers!” you took it a step further as you yelled at them, clanking the butt of your gun on a tree to make as much noise as you could. And then, when you heard their cries echo with yours; when you saw one turn to two turn to ten following you into the woods, you knew it was time.
With a fleeting look at the warehouse where your family still resided, you fought back the urge to crawl into yourself and let that anger you’d been holding inside yourself for years now finally just . . . snap. You didn’t know if you fired the shotgun at one of the creature’s heads first or ran off further into the woods, still screaming. You didn’t know the present from the past, but you did know you couldn’t look back.
And so, you let yourself be loud, screaming for yourself, for the people you’d lost, for the people you’d never see again, for your father. You yelled and yelled, racing through the woods as they all quickly followed after you, releasing cries of their own.
The world fell behind you in those moments, time moving in slow motion as you weaved through the dark woods, your feet bounding off the ground as if you were in zero gravity. Sound evaded your senses, only the muffled noises of your rapid breathing could be heard echoing in your ears.
But you just kept running, letting the world escape you. Even when you’d trip over hidden roots, your knees buckling as you fell to the ground, surely bruising and cutting up your skin, you persisted each time. Like your father’s daughter, you pulled yourself to your feet each time, sparing a glance over your shoulder only to be met with the sight of the hoard getting nearer and nearer. And every time, you’d force yourself to swallow the bile crawling up your throat before you cocked your shotgun and fired into the hoard, taking off screaming for them to follow after you.
This was the end, and you planned to gather as much of them away from the warehouse and closer to you. You knew it would hurt, but you didn’t care. Their teeth ripping into your flesh would never be a match for the sins you’d committed in this lifetime. That was why you met every dead that got in your path with a lethal hit from the butt of your shotgun and a silent prayer that your damned soul could be traded for the safety of your family.
You were sure you would have continued running had your foot not slammed into a divot in the ground, twisting your ankle with such force that you hit the ground instantly, crying out in pain. And this time when you tried to stand to your feet, you realized the pain was too much to stand.
It hit you then.
Beat.
This really was the end.
You couldn’t run.
Beat.
The hoard was gaining on you.
This was the end.
Beat.
Swallowing hard, you clenched your jaw, shutting your eyes as you realized what you needed to do. Clutching your father’s shotgun close to your chest, so close it nearly touched your heart, your lips parted, and a scream bubbled up your throat, ripping through your vocal cords as it echoed throughout the dead of night.
But before you could inhale and breathe out another war cry of your own to match theirs, a hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your screams. Another hand was gripping your arm the next second, pulling you off the ground and shoving your back against the nearest tree.
Your eyes shot open, dropping your shotgun as your hands instinctively clasped around the wrist of the hand covering your mouth. Deep dark eyes stared back at you, a sense of urgency in them as you realized what was going on.
It happened so fast, too fast for you to process. But you quickly realized the eyes belonged to a man not much older than you. Dark eyes. Full lips. Sculpted nose. It was your first time seeing a man other than Felix . . . other than the one you’d gutted . . . in a long time.
What was he doing?
But you couldn’t ponder long as his eyes twisted to the scene behind you, and you could’ve sworn you felt his heart beat faster against your lips where his hand still lay. And at that sight, he kicked into action.
“You listen to me. We have a few seconds before those fuckers are at our throats,” he spoke in a hushed tone, his voice deep and controlled, but you could sense the fear on him. It was different from yours. “When I tell you, you run as fast as you fucking can in that direction and you don’t stop. You follow me and you don’t get lost or you’re dead.” His hand fell from your mouth as he began hastily digging through the pack over his shoulder. “Got it?”
You skipped a beat, not answering.
His eyes were on you instantly, expectantly.
But you only blinked.
You didn’t want to be saved.
No, he couldn’t do this. It was your time. This was your punishment. He couldn’t—
Your thoughts were cut short as he pulled something out of his pack, and you quickly realized a grenade now sat in his hand. Your eyes widened. He was going to—
“Run,” he bit out, an order.
And it all happened so fast.
You stayed put.
He turned from you, quickly pulling the pin and chucking the grenade as fast and hard as he could from your location. You watched the weapon soar, your heartbeat stilling in your throat as the seconds of anticipation crept upon you.
Beat.
Beat.
Be—
A loud explosion sounded in the distance, the ground shaking beneath your feet as ringing in your ears commenced. Only then did you realize your feet had been moving on their own, carrying you farther and farther away from the scene as you caught a glimpse of the hoard following after the explosion. But you wouldn’t do this. You had accepted your death. You wouldn’t—
Your feet weren’t moving of your own volition. The world had fallen away from you, you realized, but as you turned your head away from the hoard you realized it was the man who was dragging you away from the scene. You realized in your daze, that he must have locked his grip onto your arm and took off running, dragging you along with him despite your injured ankle and dormant mind.
And for some reason, despite the urge to fall to the ground and let yourself fade away, you allowed him to drag you further and further into the woods. You didn’t realize just how much land you had covered until the sound of the hoard was so far, that he’d begun to slow down ever so slightly. You didn’t realize until the woods turned into sparse grassland, until the sight of what appeared to be a latched roof to an underground bunker of some sort. You’d heard of shelters like these, but you’d never seen one. You always just assumed the military had covered it all up, leaving people to die while they sat safely under the barren earth.
Your mind raced with a million thoughts, but you could barely see straight let alone think right as you allowed this man to drag you to the entrance. Hell, you allowed him to shove you inside, as you crawled down the ladder in the tunnel. It was a subconscious action, honest. Otherwise, you would’ve begged him to leave you outside to die. But there was no breath for begging as he followed in after you, shutting the hatch and twisting it closed to ensure it was tightly locked.
And when your feet finally met the metal flooring of the inside, you stepped back in shock.
As you had predicted, this was a government bunker. A rather large one at that. You swallowed hard. Fuck.
And when you turned around, your eyes searching the area, you were met with the scene of a group of survivors staring back at you in confusion. People. And they were alive. You hadn’t seen so many people since before Famine.
What the fuck?
But before you could react, something hard cracked over the back of your head, throbbing pain followed. The darkness seeped in instantly, your mind losing control of your body as you smacked the ground, eyes fluttering as you faded in and out of consciousness.
There it was, you realized.
Your punishment.
You were going to die.
And you couldn’t help but allow yourself one last selfish look because maybe there was still a small part of you that wanted to be alive. But that part could only live if things were normal again, if things were the way they had been before the world died. Still, that part of you took over and you watched silently, your vision fading in and out as you caught a glimpse of those dark eyes that had saved you, just moments before the world faded into darkness.
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The next time your eyes fluttered open, a metal ceiling stared back at you.
There was a throbbing in your head, searing through your thoughts, and your shotgun was nowhere to be found. You released a soft groan, trying to shift in your spot, but you were met with resistance. You tugged and tugged, but your body didn’t budge.
In confusion, you glanced around, finding yourself on a medical bed, your hands tied together with rope, attaching you to the bed. This didn’t make sense. You hadn’t seen a bed in months maybe a year now. This didn’t make sense. Where were you? How did you—
And then . . . then the memories all faded in.
The warehouse. The man. The shots. The hoard.
This was Death’s doing.
The town had warned you of this and you’d denied it. You still didn’t believe. You couldn’t. God was dead and the Horsemen were just a figment of fearmongering. But for a second, you wanted to believe. For that second you were strapped to that bed, you wanted to believe that this was your purgatory and Death was punishing you. That would be easier: if you believed.
Death was an entity; one you had no idea about. There was no knowing what exactly he could and couldn’t do. And this . . . being bound to a medical bed with not even a soul to be heard felt utterly ordinary if he did exist, considering what you did know about this dark being.
But . . . why were you still alive?
Slowly, you lifted your head, groaning at the pain that followed as you assessed the rest of your body. You were alive. Cuts and bruises everywhere, but you could still inhale, exhale, breathe. You could still hear the beat of your heart if you closed your eyes and focused. You were alive.
You were alive.
Your jaw twitched. “I’m alive,” you whispered to yourself, a bitter taste left on your tongue. “I”m . . . alive.”
And for a second, you truly allowed yourself to believe Death existed. You allowed yourself that he had done this to you; that the two years he’d reigned all led up to this very moment. You allowed yourself to believe that he had kept you alive because suffering was for the living.
Was this his way of being kind? Sparing you?
Swallowing hard, you glared up at the unfamiliar ceiling. If you prayed, would he give in? Would he end this suffering? Would he finally give you your punishment?
Your mind wasn’t allowed much longer to ponder as the sound of a door opening brought you out of your repenting. Wearily, you watched with stern eyes as a man stepped in, carrying a bowl in one hand and a washcloth in the other. You watched as he let himself in, still not looking up while he closed the door behind him with a heavy sigh and finally . . . glanced up, meeting your gaze.
Him.
The man.
Slowly, your face softened as confusion consumed you. Him. He had done this to you. He had been the one to lead you here. (He’d also been the one to save you . . . ) He had knocked you out cold. And now . . . now here he was.
You clenched your jaw hard.
The man just stared a minute longer at you, his gaze stern, cold, calculating. Then, he was walking toward you, resting the bowl on the bedside table beside your head before he reached forward and tapped a finger to your chin, tilting your head so he could analyze the wounds on your face.
And you let him, analyzing his actions, preparing for his next.
“You’re awake,” was all he simply said as he dropped your chin and diverted his attention to the bowl on the bedside table. “Sorry about the blow and the rope . . . it’s . . . protocol.”
But you remained silent, watching.
"Your stunt back there . . . could’ve cost us this entire place," he muttered, his voice calm and controlled but you knew he was seething inside. He remained quiet as he dipped the washcloth into the bowl of what seemed to be warm water before he turned to you once again, his eyes lethal. "Screaming only attracts more of them, don’t you know? If you wanted to die, you should’ve just stayed put.”
You swallowed thickly.
There was something terrifying about a quiet rage.
"There's always someone like you," he continued, his eyes racking up and down your body in a menacing glare before the warm touch of a washcloth to your cheek startled a quiet gasp out of your lips. "Someone who ends up surviving longer than they should have." A scoff left him. "Someone who doesn’t care who dies for them as long as they get out unscathed. Did you even think there might be other survivors around before you took off attracting all of those things? If there were children? Families? People who survive together and want to stay alive without running into someone like you?”
And you hadn’t.
You never thought yourself to be stupid or any of the sort. You hadn’t been thinking. There hadn’t been enough time. You just needed to do something so your family could make it out alive. You hadn’t thought that there could be others. You hadn’t thought that saving your family could damn another.
Had your mother been right about you?
Were you really just a stupid girl? A stupid girl playing hero?
The man pulled a chair from the corner of the room, and placed it beside your bed, sitting on it as he dragged the washcloth down your arms now. His touch was somehow gentle despite his glare. Perhaps it was because no one had touched you so gently in so long. Perhaps it was because you had given up, but you let him clean the wounds on your body as you rested your head back onto the pillow, your muscles relaxing ever-so-slightly.
"No?" he questioned, reiterating his accusation. “In my experience, people like you don’t find themselves in trouble like that unless they’re planning something.”
You remained expressionless as you watched him, taking in his words. He thought you’d lured the dead here, and for what? Looting? Or just plain insanity?
Had you really become that corrupt even a stranger could sense it on you?
Slowly, you blinked, wondering if your father had ever felt this way before his death. And as you wondered, the man beside you continued cleaning your wounds, but this time, remained silent. Maybe he realized you wouldn’t answer. Or maybe he already knew the truth about you and your damned soul.
And as the minutes of silence ticked on, you did your own inspection.
Now, under the light, the man sat beside you, his eyes fixed on meticulously cleaning each wound with care despite his lethal words. It had been so long since you’d seen another man like this; a man that had to be around your age; a man so young yet so riddled with age. His dark hair was slightly curly, more tangled and messy than anything as if he hadn’t slept in days. The dark circles under his equally dark eyes were enough to show his evident sleep deprivation. And yet, he seemed almost too alert: his full lips were hidden as his teeth worried his bottom lip while he continued to clean the blood from your skin.
(You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t beautiful; so beautiful it almost made you believe in God once more.)
And for a second, you let yourself wonder what else your mother had been right about. You let yourself believe once again. You let yourself be a girl who could finally kneel in church without bruises being left behind. For a moment, you let yourself believe that she and the town had been right; that this whole thing was God’s plan; that the Horsemen had come; that they could be saved, but you would be condemned.
Then . . . you began to wonder if you had already been. Maybe it was the blow to the head you’d taken or the fever raging through your body or maybe it was the truth, but you began to believe that perhaps this was your purgatory; perhaps you had died in that hoard and you’d been sent here; perhaps the beautiful man beside you was Death himself.
Was this it then? Were you always meant to see him at the end?
Oddly enough, he reminded you of this small dog your sister had found near one of the abandoned houses your family had stayed in over the years. This was during Famine’s rule—when food became sparse, when lands became stale and yellowed; when the dead had only just begun to migrate south. This tiny dog found your younger sister then, and she’d brought it home, leaving you no choice but to care for the little thing.
Your sister had named her Berry. (A few months later you had to put her down; it was what we had to do to survive, you’d told your sister back then. You were sure it was then she first started to hate you.)
And as you stared at Death, taking note of how his eyes were a particular shade of brown, you realized they were the same shade that the silly dog had.
You tilted your head. Death somehow had eyes that were kind; eyes that were warm; eyes that reminded you of Felix. Was that how they planned to transfix you? Was Death meant to be this beautiful; this familiar so you’d go willingly? Had God forgotten you’d already condemned yourself? Had he forgotten you didn’t need to be tricked? Had he forgotten where your prayers resided?
Only a moment later, when you felt his hands running over your torso, did you snap out of your exhaust-ridden daze. You realized quickly he was cleaning the last of your wounds which resided on your ribs. And when he was done, he tossed the washcloth into the bowl without another care before he slowly leaned back, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watched you with scrutinizing eyes.
Death narrowed his gaze, but it wasn’t menacing this time. Rather, he seemed almost perplexed. "Why aren’t you fighting?" he questioned. "You didn’t stop to run before. Why calm your fire now?"
Why aren’t you fighting?
The thing was: it was over. Your fight was over.
Sure, you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Death was painfully beautiful . . . but it went beyond that.
It was surely daylight by now.
Daylight had come, hours had passed, and Death had you in his hold.
By now, Felix had probably taken your mother and sister onto the road again. They’d escaped, and they were miles and miles away from you and Death. They were safe.
So . . . where was your fight?
You didn’t have one anymore. This was the end. Death would either kill you or make you suffer again and again and again, and your family would live. You’d once told yourself that you never wanted to live in a world like this, but you’d kept yourself alive to protect your family. Only now . . . you didn’t need to fight because there wasn’t anyone left for you to protect.
Your fight was over. Maybe you could rest now. Maybe he’d let you.
Death seemed to catch onto the shift in your demeanor as he narrowed his eyes. "Do you not speak?"
For a moment, you considered not replying. Until: "There's no point," you heard yourself say, voice dry and hoarse.
The look on Death’s face was unreadable as his eyes shifted across your face, his mouth slightly parted. "You smell of death," he muttered, gaze still searching your being.
And you almost laughed.
Because this was your end, and Death himself just told you that you smelled like shit or well . . . like him, you supposed . . . apparently.
It all felt a little unreal.
Death must not have liked your silence as he shot you one last glance before he pulled away and walked toward a table on the other side of the room. As he walked, you caught sight of the blood painting his body, his skin, him.
You swallowed hard. You’d brought that hoard to him. He’d fought his way out. You’d caused those wounds, and now he was more than likely going to do worse to you. He’d probably take that scythe you were told he carried and cut your head clean off.
But unlike what you thought, Death sifted through the miscellaneous items on the table before pausing and grabbing a small knife. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you watched him approach you, knife in hand.
There it was.
This was the end you were promised.
Was he going to slit your throat and leave you to bleed out? Or cut you open so you could see just how dark your heart had become? You wouldn’t put it past him. Hell, you might have even welcomed it. But as he approached you, your eyes closing in anticipation, he did not bring that knife down upon your body. No, instead, with a few quick motions and the sound of the rope being cut, you slowly opened your eyes just as your hands were released from the rope’s grip.
On instinct, you brought your hands close to your chest, rubbing your raw wrists. You couldn’t even speak, you just watched as he kept the knife in his hand but returned back to his position of leaning back against the chair with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes on you.
"You're human," you found yourself uttering as you watched him watch you.
His brows twitched in confusion. "Of course I am.”
But Death couldn’t bleed. . . . Could he?
"You bleed,” you spoke your thoughts, dumbly.
His eyes met yours, but only briefly. "Am I not meant to?" he bit out before his gaze fell back on your hand rubbing your wrist. "Even the dead bleed."
Your confusion only spiraled. This was your end; your purgatory. This was Death, was he not? Your mother had been right. She had to have been right otherwise you were still alive; otherwise, you had managed to escape death once again without so much as a punishment. That wouldn’t be fair. That wouldn’t be right. That wouldn’t be just.
This had to be Death. You had to be dead or somewhere in between. It didn’t matter, this just had to be your end.
So, why hadn’t he condemned you yet?
Why—
"Why—” Death interrupted your thoughts, once you finally dropped your hand from your wrist— “did you think I couldn’t bleed?"
You glanced his way, finding his eyes already on you.
His stare only unnerved you more.
Why couldn’t he just kill you? You deserved it.
Your brows furrowed. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to play with your food?" you found yourself spitting out, finally finding your voice despite his devasting beauty capturing your words. "I put your lives in danger. I lead them here like you said. I could be with anyone. Having me here could kill you all, so take your revenge. Kill me."
The crease between his brows deepened further. "I'm not letting you die," he simply said, his anger quiet and calm . . . still. “You put my group in harm's way. I won’t pardon you for that . . . but . . . we don’t kill the living.”
That only unnerved you further.
Was this truly Death?
Surely he had killed before.
Although . . . you supposed perhaps he’d only just ever waited. Was that his fault? Waiting for the dead to find him? Is that how he found you in those woods? Is that how he’d taken your arm and helped you crossover to the other side? But . . . if that were true . . . where was your father now? Surely, he would’ve come to see you. Surely, he would’ve been the first one knocking at your door. Surely, he’d be here.
As you briefly wet your lips, your eyes flicked up to meet his. “Where’s my dad?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
A look of deep confusion twisted onto Death’s face, and then he was leaning forward to feel your forehead with the back of his hand. “Fever,” he mumbled more to himself before he pushed himself to his feet, the chair screeching against the floor. “Get some rest. Someone will be in to bandage you up and . . . I’ll be back in a couple hours with medication.” His gaze dropped to the large gash on your arm from just a few nights ago. “When you’re healed, we’ll give you some supplies and then you’ll be on your way, understood?”
But you just stared at him, silently pleading. Pleading for what? You didn’t know. All you knew was if your father wasn’t here, you couldn’t be dead. And if you weren’t, you wanted to be. You’d be able to find him then, because although you were no longer a girl who could kneel in church, you could still feel the scabs on your knees from years ago; you could still remember what it was to believe so blindly; you could still feel that insistent desire for there to be something beyond this world . . . something after this world.
There just had to be. You had to see him again. You had to find him.
You could die now. You could find him now. You would find him.
“Great,” Death muttered under his breath, breaking you out of your own mind. And with one final glance at your exhausted body, he began to turn and head for the door.
Fear struck you then. You had to find your father. “Wait, please—” you hastily grabbed onto his arm, only being able to reach his hand enough to dig your nails into his skin to halt him— “I beg of you.”
His eyes snapped to yours, wide and cautious as if at any moment, one wrong move and he’d grant your wishes. And all you could do was hope.
“Kill me,” you weakly whispered, hopelessly searching his eyes.
His brows twitched, taken back.
“Death,” you begged in a whisper, your bottom lip trembling, “please.”
But Death only stared back at you with a perplexing look written across his face. It was as if he couldn’t believe your request. Had no one ever begged him to die?
A heavy beat of silence pounded in your ears.
Death only continued to stare, a world raging on behind his eyes as he took you in. His demeanor was still calm, still collected, but he seemed . . . perturbed by your request, by your presence, by you. And you watched as his eyes trickled across your face, searching for something until finally . . . his gaze zeroed in on your cheek, his brows furrowing.
Then . . . you felt it.
A tear had slowly begun to slip down your cheek as if your body knew it was a sin to cry. But you were . . . crying that was.
You nearly gasped.
Another tear trickled down your cheek. Guilt followed.
But just as you were about to angrily wipe it away, there was a sharp knock at the door, breaking both you and Death out of your spell. The door opened a second later, a man peaking his head in with a solemn look on his face.
The man didn’t spare you a glance, he only cleared his throat and said, “Chris?” His brows raised, a silent message passing between the two. “A minute.”
Death only nodded, and then the man was gone, the door shutting behind him. Silence followed, but Death stayed unmoving, his arm still in your tight grasp.
“You won’t run,” he slowly spoke, his words a statement, not an order, but he didn’t turn to look at you. He kept his eyes on the door. “I don’t kill the living. I won’t kill you.” He paused, audibly swallowing, and then his eyes were on you. “And I know you won’t kill us.”
And then he was gone before you could blink, quickly tearing his arm out of your grasp before he reached the door and closed it behind him. You were alone with yourself once again, your thoughts running wild as your hand remained outstretched, almost frozen in place.
I know you won’t kill us, he’d told you.
But how could you kill Death? How did he know you wouldn’t if he didn’t give you what you wanted? How could he be so sure that you weren’t a killer, when you so clearly were?
You had killed before, and if he didn’t take you to the other side, you’d surely kill again. That was who you had become. That was who you were. He should’ve known that.
And then as you slowly laid your head back onto the pillow and allowed the minutes to tick by, the throbbing in your head began to subside, and the world became a little clearer. You were no longer a girl who could kneel in church. You did not believe anymore. The world had gone to shit, and it wasn’t because of God’s plan. There were no Horsemen. Your family was gone. And that . . . that man had not been Death.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you swallowed thickly. What was happening to you?
It all hit you then.
These were a group of survivors. That man surely was their leader, and you had just led hundreds of the dead to their doorstep. They should’ve killed you for that alone. You would’ve. You wouldn’t even hesitate if this had been your family. You would’ve done everything to keep them safe, even if it meant killing others, and yet . . .
I won’t kill you.
But why? You deserved it. You could see it in his eyes that he knew.
These were good people. And you were their bad omen.
It wouldn’t be long before your presence brought misery upon them, too, just as it had to your family. And it’d be all your fault.
You’d live, only to see many die. You’d make it out unscathed just as you always had, while they’d suffer, just as he had said.
It was then you realized this was not your purgatory, it was your Hell.
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taglist:
@amaranth-writing @binchanluvrr @dreamingsmile @eternalrajin
(i did post the teaser like a year ago, so if you want to be taken off, send me a lil message <3)
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ipegchangbin · 2 days
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Okay..fic idea..Changbin having a wet dream of an unknown person (Y/n) he wakes up to find them in a shop..and then the memory hits him so hard he loses focus and tries to avoid them but he cant
to say that i love this is an understatement.
🏷️ sub!changbin. dom!gn!reader. wet dreams. oral. slight hand kink.
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he’s gone. whoever’s squeezing his chubby little cock is doing him so good that he could almost pass out in his own dream.
and if he cums, he wakes up.
through blurry eyes, he could still make out your face: beautiful, he thinks, with pretty fingers wrapped around his girth and palms around his tip. the insatiable, mouth-drying head that you’re giving him almost makes him shout your name, but he doesn’t know what it is, and somehow, he doesn’t want to cum. he wants to know you before his consciousness washes over all the pleasure.
“s-slow down,” his voice slurs, “too much…”
your tongue leaves his tip with a slurp and he moans. “too much already?”
changbin nods furiously, not minding how much more lightheaded he gets at that. everything’s slurring together, yet surrealistically, he feels everything as if you’re real. he’s painfully unaware that he’s dreaming, humping his comforter in real life with his shorts down, but in his head he’s getting ruined by a sickeningly sweet mouth.
drool slops down his short length as you continue to bob your head down on him. even with his size, it wasn’t easy to take him all in considering how wide his cock is: it stretches your lips out but you don’t let that hinder your action. you keep going, teeth pleasurably rubbing down his skin when you hit his base. his tip pulses at your throat, bot quite reaching the back, but you could swallow his cum like this.
actually, he almost cums, but you pull out to breathe before he could.
“i thought you wanted me to stop.”
“slow down, not stop,” he says with simple words, clearly too delirious to think.
“then why don’t you want to cum?”
he simply whines in response. his legs close a bit to tremble at the sides of your face. it’s a cute sight for you, seeing a burly man turn into a pillowy mess with only your hands and mouth.
and god did changbin grow obsessed with your hands and mouth. and your face. and everything about you. he can’t keep his bleary eyes off your hands: nails distinctly groomed with a ring on your middle finger, mole on your wrist that compliments the skin of your mouth.
he stares at you. wishes he could say your name. it’s at the tip of his tongue, as if he knows it, as if he could scream it over and over while you continue your silent mission to give him messy and sloppy head. his precum drips along with your saliva and it’s on his curly pubic hair, it gets on your nose, changbin’s thighs are even coated in it: you don’t stop, neither do you slow down.
he doesn’t remember the next things well. he hears something blaring but he doesn’t respond. he simply focuses on you, your hands and how your pretty nails wrap around him so nicely, how the mole and your lips move in fast unison on his cock. changbin can’t even make out what he’s saying but he knows how stupid he’s getting.
you let him know through breathy laughs in between. you call him cute. he’ll never forget your voice. your smile. your hands, your lips.
then you latch your mouth onto his balls. then your tongue licks a stripe up his ass.
the moans and whines and whimpers and cries that leave him drown out as you give him praises. “there you go,” “how adorable.” it’s borderline addictive as your hand pumps around him while your mouth sucks on his balls.
your hands and mouth go until he shoots a load out unexpectedly, cumming all over your face. but you don’t stop, you don’t slow down. you call him out to cum more, to shoot again on your tongue, and then a stripe of cum leaves his tip. he cums a third time, a fourth, a fifth, all in rapid succession as his cock fails to stop pulsing and shooting more.
his orgasm finally finished when he loudly screams your name—
beep. beep. beep. beep.
changbin’s eyes shoot awake, body trembling as it sits up instantly.
it’s 6 AM. he needs to go.
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the morning is rough for him. like every other morning, it’s monotonous and hard — he can’t help his hard cock, walking through his apartment with an erection that wouldn’t go down.
after a breakfast that tastes like everything else, he goes on to brush his teeth. standing before him is himself in the mirror but it’s not what he sees.
all he recalls is you.
a visual of your hands — well-groomed nails, ring on your middle finger, mole on the wrist — creeping across his hips and down to his crotch make him feel hard again. the semi in his pants became a nuisance, so after he spits his toothpaste and mouthwash on the sink, he immediately reaches down.
“it’s not the same but it works,” he thinks aloud, as it fails to work. his own fingers, as stubby as his length, fail to reach the same
how the fuck is someone fictional so good at satisfying me?
changbin’s thoughts turn from frustration back into painful memory as he sees your face in his head. you’re stunning, he thinks again, as your image smiles from behind his reflection. then he blinks, and it’s all gone, and his frustrated cock simply stands.
he isn’t sure how to go about his day like this. he wears his big jeans to hide it at the very least, but the material on his crotch only ever really feels like hell for him. he goes to work like this, unable to take his mind off of you.
on his drive to work, he takes a detour to buy an extra file holder and a few other supplies. it pains him even more to be out for an even more extended period of time. he grumbles as he parks, staring down at his crotch as his car shuts. he could scold it if he wasn’t walking out in public.
so he enters the store with furrowed brows, eyeing his supplies until he bumps into an item. pissed, he reaches down to grab it and put it back, before a hand with well-groomed nails, a ring on the middle finger, and a mole on its wrist grabs it for him.
“there you go,” a smile beams before changbin.
it’s you.
“thank you,” he blurts out with puppy eyes and a pale face. what are the chances?
he’s antsy. he doesn’t want to leave. he doesn’t care if he’s straining ever so painfully against his own pants. you don’t notice, you just look back at him.
“no worries.”
you simply walk back to pick up another thing from the same aisle.
and so changbin’s stuck. there’s something alluring about you, the ideal person that he dreamed up with the exact same hands and gorgeous face that he’s thought of for the third time around. but he cannot mentally stand sparing you a glance or a thought, lest he explodes.
cruicially, he doesn’t want to leave without knowing your name.
lining up at the counter, you’re behind him and he feels your presence fully. your scent, your shadow cast on his, your hands grasping the shopping basket by your side that’s dangerously close to his own. he is scared at this point, so scared of turning your way or having you inch closer to the point he might feel your breath on his neck. it all takes him back to the sloppy blowjob, the feeling of your hands satisfying and overstimulating his pathetic cock.
he wants to make small talk with you. he wants to ask you who you are. that you’ve been in his dreams. that you made him cum. that your lips are heaven and your hands are hell. but he cannot. he shies away from your view but fails, turns bak to see you looking straight at him before turning your eyes away with a smirk.
you check out at two separate counters. you walk out the door, but changbin holds it for you on your way out.
“thank you,” you smile.
“n-no worries,” he stutters back.
how does he ask for your name? he sweats but you could sense it. your smile grows and a laugh, the same breath that he remembers exhaling right onto his skin and leaving goosebumps at his wake.
“how adorable. i’m y/n, what’s your name?”
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baby-yongbok · 16 hours
Text
Ex : Part II
Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader
⇝ Genre: Angst then Smut then angst again. Dirty Drama.
⇝ Summary: There's only one thing on your mind after 'welcoming' Hyunjin back into your life.
⇝ Warnings: Themes of Cheating, Arguing, Oral sex, Hyunjin is toxic - the manipulative type - and he seriously thinks he did nothing wrong. (I think that's all, let me know if I missed anything!)
⇝ Word Count: 3.2k
⇝ A/N: SO MANY of you wanted a part 2 to this so I tried my best + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ I hope that you enjoy the drama! 💕
✧ Part One ✧ Masterlist ✧
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It took you a week. A week of crying and screaming, a week of avoiding your friends, a week of him ignoring your calls for you to realize that Hyunjin has you fucked up if he thinks that you’re going to let him get away with what he put you through. At first you just wanted to talk to him, you thought that maybe you could convince him to cut Yara off. You thought that you could change him - how cliche. You called him for three days and when you got sick of getting his voicemail you called his best friend, Jeongin. He was surprised to hear from you but he was even more surprised when you told him everything that happened. 
“Are you fucking serious?” For the first time since Hyunjin left you crying on your bedroom floor you let it all out. You told Jeongin every dirty detail of the encounter. You cried and he was there for you, he did what Hyunjin hasn’t done for months. “Is there anything that I can do? Anything you need?” 
The line fell silent as you processed his question. Your brain is telling you one thing while your heart is telling you another. You sigh as the two battle for dominance over what comes out of your mouth next. You’ve let your heart make all of the moves for the past three days. You’ve cried and you’ve screamed all in favor of lifting the crushing pain off of your chest for an hour or two. Now it’s your brain's turn to decide and it only wants one thing. 
“Ya know there is something that you can help me with.” Your heart pleads for you to choose something less drastic, less dramatic but your brain yells for it to shut up. Why should we let Hyunjin have all the fun? “Anything, you name it.”
“Revenge.”
Hyunjin came to your place four days after you spoke to Jeongin. He had cherry red roses in his hand and an apology plastered on his face. His eyes were pleading with you before he could even open his mouth but to his surprise you hugged him. You held him tight and smiled, taking the flowers and making a home for them in your favorite vase. He was stunned to say the least but he didn’t comment. He needed you. His ex did exactly what you knew she would, she took all that she wanted from him and the second that she started to get attention from somewhere else she acted like he didn’t exist. 
He tried to be the boyfriend that you’ve been wanting him to be over the next couple of weeks but he couldn’t seem to get a hold of you. Each and every time that he’d plan a date or show up to surprise you, you were already out or you were leaving to meet with your friends. You barely answered his texts and he’s more than positive that you’ve been sending him to voicemail for the past week. It’s been a month of him putting up with you blowing him off and he’s sick of it.
He decided to show up at your place two hours before your plans to talk to you, maybe he can get you to stay home and spend some time with him tonight. He misses you more than you could even imagine and he thought that you’ve been missing him too. Shouldn’t you be dying to spend time with him? 
His face drops when he gets to your front door and his key doesn’t fit into the lock, did you change it? He rings the bell, tapping his foot anxiously as he waits for you to open the door. His eyes meet yours when it swings open and you smile at him, welcoming him in. 
“My key didn’t work.” He comments as he kicks his shoes off.
“Really? That’s odd.” You shrug as you make your way to your bathroom. “I’m gonna shower.” You call to him as the bathroom door closes behind you. The click of the lock draws a sigh from Hyunjin. Not even a kiss or a hug? Just a friendly hello like you’re not even dating. He drags himself to your bedroom and throws himself on your perfectly made bed. His thoughts project onto the ceiling as he stares at it. He feels like he’s going crazy, why are you acting so weird? No affection, barely talking, barely hanging out and you’re always on… Oh no. He sits up quickly, his eyes dart around the room until it finally lands on what he’s looking for on your bedside table.
Your Phone.
He glances over at your bedroom door before grabbing it. The screen lights up and a picture of you and your friends presents itself to him. That’s funny, wasn’t your wallpaper that picture of you two from when you went to the aquarium for your second date. You always said that that was your favorite picture. When did you change it?
He glances towards the door again and swipes your screen, his brain is busy thinking of possible password combinations but there is no password. His brows pinch together in confusion, you always have a pin on your phone. He decides to worry about that later and quickly starts searching all of your apps. He goes from your instagram to your snapchat but there’s nothing. Just a bunch of reels being sent between you and Jeongin, the last person you sent a picture to on snapchat was also Jeongin. How can his best friend have time to talk to you but he doesn’t have time to text him back? He’s called him an unimaginable amount of times over the past month but he hasn’t heard a single thing back. His finger hovers over your text messages for a second too long. What if he doesn’t like what he finds? What if you’re cheating on him? How could he handle a betrayal like that? With one more quick glance towards the door he taps the app and it opens up to a conversation. Hyunjin’s heart drops when he reads the name at the top. 
“What?” An incredulous sigh escapes him as he starts scrolling to the top of the conversation. Pet names are being thrown left and right, plans are being made every single day and there are back to back facetime calls in the dark hours of the night. 
Hyunjin’s heart is pounding in his ears and his fingers are moving so fast that he didn’t even realize that he went into your shared media. He freezes and his heart drops to his ass as he takes it all in. Nudes, videos, everything that he could imagine, all of you and his best friend. All of you and Jeongin. He opens a video and his mouth goes dry at the lewd sounds that fill the room. He’s fucking you from behind with a fist full of your hair to keep your head up. You’re drooling and moaning and Jeongin is smiling, he’s fucking smiling at the camera. His shirt - wait a minute - that’s not his. Hyunjin’s eyes go wide as he studies the fabric, his best friend is wearing his clothes while he fucks his girlfriend? Unbelievable, this can’t be real.
He quickly exits the video and scrolls through your pictures. You and Jeongin in the car, in your bedroom, your living, you on your knees and him on his. Hyunjin doesn’t even bother to look at the door to make sure you aren’t coming. He can’t hear anything but the thoughts racing through his head. His finger slips and another video opens. The sound of skin against skin echoes through his ears as the video plays. Jeongin is shirtless, fucking you in front of your bathroom mirror. Actually, he’s naked, did you two shower together? Hyunjin balls a fist in the blanket under him as he watches the video.
“Say it again, baby, say it to the camera.” A broken moan escapes you as you try to follow Jeongin’s order. “Y-you’re so much better than him, fuck me so good, Innie.” Hyunjin swears that his heart broke at the sound of you. Why would you say that? You don’t mean it do you? What did he do to deserve this?
He pauses the video and drops your phone against the mattress, your texts stare back at him and he can’t help but to scroll. “That’s not yours.” He jumps at the sound of your voice and you laugh. You wander over to lazily flip through your closet with a towel wrapped around your hair and your rob loosely tied around your body.
“What the fuck is all of this?” His voice is small, much smaller than he meant for it to be but you can hear the heartbreak laced in it. You almost feel bad for him. But that’s your heart speaking, she’s not in control right now. “You’re fucking Jeongin?”
You pick out a dress and move to your mirror, you tilt your head as you hold it against your body. “Think this is too much for a dinner date?” Hyunjin scoffs, moving to stand from your bed.
“Answer me, tell me that everything that I just found is fake. Tell me that you didn’t betray me.” He has some nerve talking about betrayal. You face him, staring back at him with faux sympathy. “I was lonely when you left, what was I supposed to do?” 
“Wait for me to get back.” You turn your attention back to your closet but he calls your name before you can pick out another dress. “You haven’t been going out with your friends have you? You’ve been with him. What in your right mind possessed you to fuck my best friend?”
“Do you really care, Hyunjin? Do you really want me to tell you? Cause I’ll tell you everything but that’s not what you want to hear, is it?” He watches as you slowly step towards him, like a vixen with her eyes set on a prize. “You wanna hear me say that I love you. You want me to say that I’ll stop seeing him because I need you.” 
He’s stuck in place as he watches you, heavy breaths passing his parted lips as you read him like a book. That’s exactly what he wants, he wants you, that’s all he’s wanted for the past month. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” His voice is a mere whisper once you reach him, like he’d scare you away if he talks too loudly. “That’s what I want.” He shudders when you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. 
“Are you touch starved, baby?” His soft gaze pours into yours but he doesn’t recognize the look in your eyes. It’s not what he wants but he’ll gladly take it. At least you’re looking at him. “Didn’t your ex touch you while you were away?”
His heart sinks and a smile creeps onto your lips. “She - she did but -” You tsk, cutting him off before he could stumble over his words further. 
“She didn’t make you feel like I do, did she?” He shakes his head, guilty eyes staring back into yours as you reach down to palm him over his sweats. “Is that why you’re back? She didn’t take care of my Hyune?”
“She’s not you.” His breath is heavy and his eyes roll back as he answers with a thick groan. You run your fingers over him with expert precision. You’ve always known what to do to get him going. “I want you, not her. Always you.”
“Untie my robe.” You whisper and he quickly obeys, fumbling with the loose knot until the fuzzy fabric falls open and reveals your naked body to him. “Wanna show me how much you want me?” He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss but you dodge him before he can. A disapproving whimper escapes him and you puff out your lip in a fake pout. 
“Gotta be patient, my baby. Can you do that?” He nods, whimpering out a pathetic ‘yes’. His eyes follow your frame as you sit on the edge of your bed. Your eyes wander from his down to the floor in front of you and back up again. He quickly follows your unspoken instruction, falling to his knees in front of you and drooling when you part your legs before him. “Show me.”
Hyunjin latches onto your core like a desperate puppy. His tongue wastes no time exploring every inch of you that he’s missed. Hums and moans vibrate through him as he tastes you and you match each sound with your head thrown back and your fingers laced in his hair. At least he remembers how to eat your pussy the way that you like it, though you must admit that you’ve gotten used to Jeongin’s mouth on you. 
Your bed creaks as his hips buck against it in a desperate attempt to feel half as good as you do. “Fuck, come on, Hyune. Don’t tell me your best friend eats my pussy better than you.” He groans in protest, hooking his arms around your thighs to keep you open while he works against you. You gasp in pleasure, so he’s competitive? He swirls his tongue in imaginary patterns, sliding it between your folds as he takes turns sucking on your clit and fucking your pulsing hole. His hips grind restlessly against the edge of your mattress and desperate grunts fill the air once they vibrate through your core. 
“You missed me didn’t you?” You pull him back with your fist in his hair, his swollen lips glisten in the low lamp light and his eyes are glazed with fuckout desperation. “Yeah, missed you.”  He’s too deep into the brain fog to hear just how pathetic he sounds but you’re more than happy to take it all in for him. A strangled moan escapes you as Hyunjin's tongue explores deeper. You grip his hair tighter as he laps up your juices, and you arch your back to meet him. 
His thrusts against your mattress become more desperate as laps at you, The mess of your drooling cunt makes a mess all over his chin as he works desperately to get you to the edge but that’s not the part that gets you close. It’s the thought of him hoping and praying that hi tongue is fucking you better than Jeongin ever did and as you get closer to coming undone you find yourself clenching at the thought that his best friend does it better. “Shit, Jeongin, I’m gonna cum.” 
 Your orgasm rips through you with a loud moan and your body shudders in pleasure. You hold Hyunjin's head in place against your core as his tongue continues to work diligently in an attempt to help you ride out your orgasm. Once you’ve come down from your high he pulls back slowly, a single string of spit still connecting him to your cunt.
“What did you call me?” He mumbles, not even bothering to wipe his mouth clean. You stare down at him with not an ounce of care in your eyes. 
“Don’t remember.” You pull your robe closed and slide from in front of him to pull yourself up to your feet. “And I don’t care.” Hyunjin’s heart dissolves as he watches you shrug and wander back over to your closet.
“What are you doing?” He mumbles and you scoff.
“Will you stop with the pitiful tone?” He scrambles up from his knees quickly, a surge of anger running through him. 
“Come on.” He stalks over and wraps his arms around you, leaning in to kiss your neck but you push him away before he can. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“I have a date to get ready for.” You flip through your clothes and it’s only now that he notices the empty space in your closet. “Where are my clothes?” 
“I told you to take all of your shit last month.” You shrug, pulling out a dress and holding it against your body in the mirror. “You didn’t take it so I gave most of it to Jeongin. Thought about burning the rest but I donated it instead.”
He watches you silently, jaw hung slack in a frozen state of disbelief. “Are there fucking cameras in here?” He looks around, half desperate for that to be the case. “Is this a joke?”
“The only joke here is you. Did you think that you could come back here and I’d act like nothing happened?” A venomous laugh erupts from your chest. “Be fucking forreal.”
“But we just fucked, I just ate you out why would you let that happen if you’re still going to see Jeongin?” 
“You got a phone call last time. You owe me, remember?” Hyunjin can’t decide if he should be livid or desperate. He wants to yell and curse you out for being so ridiculous but at the same time he wants to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. He had hoped that you understood what happened a month ago. He thought that he could count on you to see that he only did what he had to do. Yeah he cheated but if you really loved him you could move past that. 
“You’re excused. I need to get ready.” You push past him, bumping your shoulder with his but he grabs you by the waist before you can get too far, pulling you against his chest. “Don’t be like that, angel.”
 His hands run smoothly up your side, taking in every curve of you. “I know I upset you but you can’t act like you don’t want me. What happened to you forgiving me?”
His lips brush over yours slowly as he whispers. “I want you so badly, I wanna be with you tonight. Stay here with me.” You smile against him as the towel containing your hair slips off of your head and your damp curls curtain around the two of you. You run your hands up his chest, taking in each and every toned dip before you whisper back. “Get out.” You peck his lips and push him away from you with a smile.
“You’re making a mistake.” He pleads with wide eyes blown with anguish. “He doesn’t make you feel like I do, you know that.” Your ringtone bounces off of the walls before you get a chance to answer him. You reach across your mattress and smile when you see Jeongin’s name.
“You’re right.” You shrug, swiping to answer the call. “He makes me feel so much better.” Hyunjin’s jaw clenches as you press the phone to your ear with a smile. You greet his best friend with a sweet tone that used to be exclusively for him. Hyunjin is practically invisible to you as you buzz around your room grabbing accessories and planning your outfit. It isn’t until he grabs your wrist on your way to your vanity that you look at him again.
“Please don’t do this.” Jeongin’s voice is heard from the receiver before you can answer the man in front of you.
“Who’s that, baby?” He asks, and you smile as Hyunjin deflates.
 “No one.” You shrug off Hyunjin’s hold and he deflates as you passively wave him away. “That’s no one.”
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Tag List: @dessianna1, @foxytoxxic, @snxfall (If you asked to be tagged and you weren't it's because you did not have your age in your bio. You MUST have your age in your bio to be tagged )
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seungmoonandstars · 3 days
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…𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌
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dom!Kim Seungmin/female reader
wc: 1.8k
rating: explicit/18+ ✴ (contains: teasing, slapping, unprotected sex, face fucking)
─────────────⭒♡
Seungmin is as quiet as a mouse when he comes in late. Usually. There’s always the odd time here and there when his feet find something to trip on, and he wakes you before he gets to the bedroom, but he tries. And it doesn’t matter that he knows you want to see him as soon as he’s home, so he’s allowed to be loud. He just can’t do it. He's not quite the noisy puppy he is any other time.
But tonight you’re startled awake by the louder than usual click of the door; the kick of his shoes against the floor, and the drop of his bag.
You smile to yourself, but then wonder what he’s up to. So you get up, of course, throw a t-shirt over your head, find your slippers. He’s mostly in the dark, but you can see the glow of the refrigerator, and his ass sticking up in the air as he’s bent down to grab something.
Seungmin jumps when you speak up (“If you’re hungry I can—“) and you hear the clink of his beer bottle.
“Oh I woke you, I’m sorry.” He pops off the cap, but his eyes don’t leave yours. His lips turn up into a tiny smile, and his gaze is a little intense.
“It’s alright, I was trying to wait up anyway”
Silence. He takes a long drink.
“How was the recording? Was it a long day?”
He nods, “yeah, it was a long day. Long couple of days, actually.”
You know he’s a little off, and he knows that you know he’s a little off. Seungmin is all smiles and sweet talk when he comes home, every time, regardless of how tired he is.
“I’ll head back to bed. I have clean clothes out for you.”
“No, come here”
He somehow manages to sound quiet and loud at the same time. It sends a wave of goosebumps over your arms and up the back of your neck, and when you turn, he’s still staring into you. Straight through you.
You fold your arms over your chest and take a few steps toward him. His lips turn up a little more, and the dark makes him look as serious as you’ve ever seen him. There are still a few feet between you, and you close the space when he cocks an eyebrow and tilts his head—he doesn’t look like Minnie, though. This is Seungmin.
His hands slide roughly over your shoulders until he can hold either side of your neck. “Did you miss me?” He leans in, but not enough to kiss.
Fingertips knead against your hairline, and his thumb runs across your jaw.
“So much,” you whisper and groan when he kneads a little harder. “I missed you so much.”
“Good.” His smile grows, and his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “…missed you more.”
“You had a bad day, didn’t you Min?” Your hands close over his, “we can…talk about it.” The look you give him isn’t a talking look, though. He knows that. “Work it out.”
Now he leans in a little closer, grazes his lips across yours, smiles. “Work it out…yeah.” The grip on your neck tightens as he kisses, slips his tongue over your teeth, and pushes it hard against yours. You can feel his groan—the shake of his chest and throat, as it fills your mouth. And he doesn’t let you take a fresh gulp of air, even when you squeeze his wrists and dig your nails in.
No, he moans even more. One hand drops and snakes around your waist. The hard tip of his cock presses against you as he pulls you close and paws at the hem of your shirt, and just as you expect him to bring it up and over your head, he stops. Both hands drop, leaving you cold.
He doesn’t say a word as he takes a step back and looks at you—just rubs at his lips with the heel of his hand, and sighs deeply.
“Seung—“
His finger presses against his lips.
You know pushing him a little will just make him go even harder… “mo.”
It takes him a moment to react, but when he does, he knocks the wind right out of you. Hands squeeze firmly…brutally into the back of your thighs. You can feel his nails breaking the skin as he lifts and wraps you around him.
He moves fast across the living room, and kicks the door open, with a grunt, to the dark bedroom
“Minnie”
But he drops you on the bed, still no words, stands there and watches as you squirm to get yourself onto the pillow. You change your mind, though, and slowly lift yourself, “Min…baby.” He lets you reach out and run a hand up his thigh, but his clothes are too much—too in the way.
“Go ahead.” He whispers it. There’s just enough light to see him biting down on his lip. “Take 'em off.”
You pull at the button of his jeans until it pops open, and the zipper follows easily. His dick is begging to be released, but when you go to pull, he grabs your wrist.
“Am I sweet enough for you?”
Soft voice, fingers pushing between yours until they’re laced together.
“Sweet?”
He taps his forefinger under your chin, and then slides it slowly down to your throat. “Sweet, I’m so sweet for you. Right?”
"Yes, Min…you’re always—''
“Get on your knees”
Your heart races, and a shiver runs all the way through you. And you do what he says. Legs fold up to your chest as you turn and crawl away from him, but you don’t look away. And he doesn’t look away. He’s pulling at the sides of his jeans, and you watch, hypnotized, as they slide down his hips and hit the floor. Now he’s crawling to you, and “down” comes out so low in his chest it sounds like a growl.
Elbows down and face in the pillow, you can feel the slow slide of your shirt up your torso, and then his fingertips ghost over your thigh. A squeak escapes when his hand comes down hard on your ass, and your legs shake. You’re blind to him, but you feel the careful movement of his fingers as your underwear is forced to the side. The fabric rips and Seungmin finishes the job.
He doesn’t slap, but he squeezes the pink mark he made until you whimper.
“Seungmiiin…”
You say it quietly, but the room is quieter.
“…my sweet Minnie”
Another slap lands in the same spot, and it stings. He’s holding back, but he doesn’t know how strong he is.
“Sweet…my sweet little pup—"
Two more before you can finish the thought. You’re forced down into the pillow as his cock pushes in, and from this angle it’s easy, but you whine for him, because the stretch is still a relief after so long without him.
“I know,” he purrs. “I know you missed me.” Seungmin takes his time, but it’s still rough. He didn’t give you enough time to prepare for him, and he’s certainly not going to wait, but there’s still something sweet and sensual about his speed, his movements—he can’t keep himself from a slow fuck no matter what kind of mood he’s in.
“What was that?” He leans forward when he hears a mumble come from the corner of your mouth, and one hand wraps around the back of your neck. He needs to make sure it wasn’t another tease. “What did you say, baby?”
“I—"
“Hm?”
You can’t get it out. Between his hands and his slow, hard thrusts, catching a lungful of air is a challenge, but you’ve been here before and you never disappoint him. Seungmin hits harder, once, twice…and then he’s off of you, and you inhale as all of his weight is gone. But his hands grab your hips and pull—push down, spread you open.
“Go ahead,” he says softly, a little mocking. You’re pulled down further and he hangs over you, licks his lips and smiles, “you love me, I know.”
The heat coming off of him is suffocating, but now you can breathe. Sweat blooms on his forehead, his chest, and you can see how hard his lungs are working, and his blood—the vein in his neck is jumping out at you, and you just want to touch him.
He snatches your wrist midair and pushes it against the bed. “No…relax, be quiet.”
You swallow hard and he climbs over your body, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. Before he even grabs his cock and settles over your chest, you lick your lips one last time, take a deep breath, and open up.
Fingers squeeze his hips as your mouth closes around him, but you don’t dare slow him down. You’ve been here enough times to know he’ll push in deeper, and harder.
“Good, that’s good. You like that, don’t you?”
You can’t answer, you can’t even nod for him, but the tears running down the side of your face are enough. He wipes at them, and runs the wet pad of his thumb across your cheek.
“You gonna make me come, hm? Right where it belongs…” he steadies himself on the headboard and rolls his hips.
You take every inch he gives you, work your tongue around him, do what you know he likes as well as you can. He’s not worried about lasting now, and he’s not concerned about the fireworks—Seungmin just wants to empty himself down your throat, so you make it happen.
“Fuck.” You can feel his thighs tremble, but it’s only a moment of weakness. He picks up his pace and groans when you take in more of him. His hips jump, and he slows down, and you’re filled up with him. Heat trickles down your throat as you attempt to swallow fast and breathe at the same time, but your chest is on fire, and he keeps fucking, slow and steady.
He gently slides his fingertips over your forehead and down your temple, “good girl,” he pants, and slowly pulls himself out.
As steadily as you can, you gasp for air and swallow. You’re usually good at keeping your composure for him, but you cough, and he smiles as he carefully moves to his side of the bed. And then he comes down and kisses you hard, and you can feel the smile still tugging at his lips.
“Seungmiiin,” you whine a little, plead for his attention, but he’s not giving in yet. He pulls the blanket up to his waist and relaxes against his pillow.
“Min…Min…baby”
“Hm?”
“I’m glad you’re home”
“Yeah,” he turns himself to face you and runs a hand through his sweat damp hair, “…yeah, I know.”
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changbinlov3r · 2 days
Text
College jock | Y.J.
Pairing: I.N. x afab!reader
Genre: fluff, smut
Words count: 791
THIS AND ALL MY CONTENTS ARE +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!
A/N: okay, why the hell did I stumble upon these pictures and jock Jeongin was the first thing that came to my mind? Like, my boy is looking good asf
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College jock Jeongin who's not interested in anything but football, if he could he would stay training on the field all day.
College jock Jeongin who's forced to go to classes just so he won't bomb on all the subjects and get taken out of the team.
College jock Jeongin who sees you in social studies class, totally concentrated in something he doesn't give a fuck about.
College jock Jeongin who, for the first time, is interested in something other than football, that something being you.
College jock Jeongin who doesn't struggle so much to wake up to go to classes anymore, knowing he'll get to see you.
College jock Jeongin who scoffs at his friends when they say you always reject anyone that tries to hit on you, not believing you can resist him.
College jock Jeongin who's shocked when you tell him you're not interested in going out with anyone, much less someone like him.
College jock Jeongin who makes his new goal to actually woo you and his first win is when he manages to get your number from someone in your class.
College jock Jeongin who texts you first thing in the morning, a picture of himself in the mirror asking you if he should wear those clothes.
College jock Jeongin who gets upset that you don't answer him but at least you don't block him.
College jock Jeongin who reminds you to eat and drink water, who texts you good morning, good night and asks how your day is going.
College jock Jeongin who feels too happy about the smile you give him in the mornings when you see him in class.
College jock Jeongin who feels strangely attracted to you — someone who rejected him, every time you're in the same place as him, his eyes following you like a magnet.
College jock Jeongin who asks you out one more time, expecting a no again but being surprised by a positive answer.
College jock Jeongin who takes you to dinner in a nice restaurant, makes jokes just to hear your sweet laugh and feels so much more enchanted by you as he walks you to your door.
College jock Jeongin who leans closer to kiss you on the cheek but receives a peck on the lips followed by you hiding your face behind your hands while you give him goodnight.
College jock Jeongin who feels his heart beating like a hammer in his chest, even though it was just a peck on the lips, just like that he knows he's whipped.
College jock Jeongin who asks you to be his girlfriend one week after going out with you for the first time, not able to hold back anymore and confessing to you.
College jock Jeongin who proudly walks down the college halls, holding your hand and showing everyone he managed to get the girl.
College jock Jeongin who's so nervous the first time he meets your parents, shakily giving your father a handshake and flowers to your mother.
College jock Jeongin who enchants your family the same way you did to him, making them love him and seizing the opportunity to ask for a picture of you when your family is showing him your childhood photo albums.
College jock Jeongin who convinces your parents to let you two sleep in the same room, smiling brightly at them with his innocent face and making them believe he wouldn't do anything disrespectful in your childhood room.
College jock Jeongin who makes you dry hump on him, feeling your warmth hugging his covered cock while he covers your mouth telling you to keep quiet so your family won't hear you.
College jock Jeongin who doesn't like when other men approach you, coming around and sliding his arm possessively around you.
College jock Jeongin who makes you suck him off in the locker room, at the risk of anyone coming in, just because he needs you to reassure him that he's the only one you want.
College jock Jeongin who took his time before you two had your first time, making it romantic so you'll never forget about that night. He has to hold himself back as he fucks you nice and slowly, listening to your muffled moans like it's music to his ears.
College jock Jeongin who eats you out after he came inside you, tasting himself and drunkenly enjoying the juices that come out of your cunt, even though you're telling him you can't take it anymore.
College jock Jeongin who calls you in the middle of the class just so he can fuck you behind the bleachers while his team is training and suddenly football is not as important to him anymore now that he has you.
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arikazu · 2 days
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♡♡♡ Lee know as your boyfriend (softlaunching)
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ilwonuu · 2 days
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meow meow meow…. What if…. So okay. Reader and Lee knaur are like “sworn enemies” but like one day Lee knaur is studying and reader starts annoying him for the fun of it and takes it too fat calling him a shrimp dick loser. Making him heat up as he’s all like “oh yeah I’ll show you how much of a shrimp dick loser I am then” and as he lifts her skirt up she’s wearing hello kitty panties and he gets so hard to the point where he pounds into reader so hard until she’s a mess of tears and smeared lipstick…
RARSBSBD C C
meow meow 😻 anon omg… i need lee knaur (LMFAO OKOK IN ALL SERIOUSNESS THIS IDEA IS AKSJSHSHSHS) thank you so much for your request lmk what you think<3
ੈ✩‧₊˚ shut you up ੈ✩‧₊˚
↬ lee minho
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❥ pairing- sworn enemies to ???, dom!minho x sub reader
❥ warnings- smut without plot lol, MDNI, they hate each other (no they don’t), unprotected sex(of course), dirty talk, creampie, fingering, kissing, lmk what else???
❥ a/n- i had too much fun writing this???? lmk what you think!!! more drabbles soon<3 (send in any requests)
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of course you would be paired up with lee minho. the annoying attractive boy you go to college with.
you two hated eachother, and he was sitting on your bed in your dorm.
“let’s get this over with.” he doesn’t even look at you once. “you know i don’t want you to be here as much as you don’t want to be here.” he just laughs at you.
“you’re fucking insufferable.” he says with disbelief behind his voice.
“you haven’t met yourself yet.” you scoff at him with a fake smile
“can you shut up so we can study? you’re so annoying.” his eyes are rolling at your voice.
“i’m fucking annoying? you’re voice is making me crazy shrimp dick loser. ” his eyes are on you, you can’t look away from him.
“what did you just call me?” he says with a laugh. “what you can’t handle that i called out you have a shrimp for a dick?” you scoff.
“oh yeah? i’ll show you how much of a shrimp dick loser i am then.” minho is reaching for your skirt lifting it up.
you are beyond shocked at his movements. but you want nothing more but for him to touch you more.
“hello kitty underwear baby?” his dick hardening in his jeans. he smirks rubbing over your thigh gently. the nickname has you losing your mind.
you don’t know what shifted in you. your breath hitching at his touch. “can i fuck you?” his question is in a whisper as he pulls your face closer to his.
“y-yes.” he just pulls your skirt higher onto you waist. “fuck-“ he watches you pull his jeans down as you pull his dick out you stroke it a couple times.
“fuck- what happened to that attitude huh?” he pulls your panties to the side, he asks slowly pushing into you quickly.
“what can’t speak now? i thought i was a shrimp dick loser darling?” he whispers into your ear as he drills into you on you bed.
“mmm- minho!” he shakes his head. “kiss me baby.” he pulls you into a sloppy kiss. him smearing your lipstick across your face.
when he pulled away he had your lipstick on his own lips. his hips speed into yours as he opens your legs wider.
you try to close your legs to run away from the pleasure, minho noticed this quickly.
he pulled you legs back open slowly his thrusts. “minho- i will come too fast.” he puts his forehead to yours.
“make a mess for me. you’re so fucking pretty.” he’s drilling into you again as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss.
you can’t hold your tears anymore your coming on his dick without warning but he doesn’t stop.
“you can take it for a little longer right angel?” his hips are stuttering but he slows his thrusts.
“where do you want me to- fuck come where do you want it?” he asks you sweetly.
“inside-“ as soon as he hears those words leave your lips his hips are speeding up again.
“fuck- you take it so well.” his words instantly going to your cunt.
“shit- im coming.” he groans as his hips stutter again. his cum painting your walls. he groans as he watches his cum start to leak out of your aching hole.
you start to calm to as you feel him pull out of you.
“don’t get too comfortable angel- i’m not done with you yet.” minho looks so sexy as he smirks at you, wiping some of your tears from your face.
he kisses your eyes as you feel his fingers rub your cunt gently. you feel two of his fingers start to fuck into you causing you to gasp. “so messy- come here.”
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lix-ables · 2 days
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"i can take care of it real quick," he starts, his thumb finding the tip of his cock, before your fingers wrap around his wrist to stop him, the look of frustration in his eyes. you give his cock a small tug, making his stomach clench in a way it hadn't before. "no, i want to." you cock your head to the side a bit, giving it a little stroke.
he sighs, like he knows enough not to argue with you, letting his hand around yours and presses a kiss to your hair. at this point he's a bit too frustrated to not do anything, so he moves your hands together, thumbing at the head of his cock, the hitch in his breath when your nail drags along the underside of his length, your other hand reaching to cup his balls.
he was about to open his mouth to mention that it didnt seem like it was a long time for you, but that's when you move his hand away just so you can tease him like he was teasing himself a minute ago. he drops his head to your shoulder, mumbling a warning.
getting you off already got him staining his pants and now he was so close. too close to the edge.
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— chan, lee know, changbin, jisung, jeongin.
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