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retrievablememories · 7 months

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cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: after your town goes into lockdown because of the cherry bomb massacre, you find out that the murderer's interest is on you. eventually, you’re left with no choice but to face him.

genre: horror/slasher, angst, smut, college!au

word count: 13.7k

warnings: major character deaths, gaslighting, hallucinations, anxiety/paranoia, grief, trauma, violence (including knife and gun use), torture, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, a funeral scene, fuckboy!JK, oral (fem receiving), fingering, finger-sucking, handjob, cumplay(?), hair-pulling

a/n: this part is quite rougher than the first, so heed the warnings. same notes as the last part—not meant to be entirely realistic since this *is* a slasher. block/filter as needed. i didn’t mention this in part 1 but this fic is not set in present day; more like somewhere in the 2000s? i don’t think this fic would work as well with all this advanced technology/the prevalence of social media now

...also, i had this story all written out and then decided to completely change the plot at the last minute because i figured out a way to write the original plot i had wanted to do from the beginning. 💀 yeah…just leave your thoughts below

taglist is at the very bottom of the fic—for some reason i wasn't able to tag everyone who requested, so please reblog this fic so folks can see it

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 1

you’re standing in front of some stranger’s house in the early hours of the morning, your body heavy from exhaustion as your adrenaline has run out. this is not at all how you expected your night to end when you left your dorm hours ago. it must’ve taken at least 40 minutes to get to this house, and you’re less familiar with this part of town, which you try not to feel uneasy about. you suppose the farther away from the scene of the carnage, the better.

jungkook bangs on the door, calling out the name yoongi-hyung until the porch light comes on. though it’s illogical, you’re tense with apprehension that the murderer could somehow appear at any moment, and you hope whoever yoongi is lets the both of you in soon. so much for no longer looking over your shoulder.

a man with hair just as long as jungkook’s answers the door, looking disheveled and annoyed. “why the fuck are you banging down my door at nearly 2 am—"

yoongi stops speaking as he eyes the both of you up and down, his gaze going from the bite mark bruises you left on jungkook’s neck to the dried blood on your face to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. his expression is between surprise and curiosity. “what the fuck is going on here?”

“can we talk inside?” jungkook says, though he doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing his way past the other man and stepping inside.

“uh…hi. sorry.” you step inside too, glad to not be out in the open anymore.

yoongi takes another look outside the door at the state of jungkook’s car before closing and locking it. “mind explaining this shit? i thought you were going to that party you told me about?

“i did,” jungkook says, his voice full of frustration. “the fucking killer showed up at the party.”

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“you know what i’m talking about. that werewolf-masked freak? he came and just started stabbing people to death. we watched him shoot a fraternity member in front of us, dude. that’s why my car looks the way it does.”

“the campus is probably dangerous,” you add. “that’s why we came here. we just need somewhere safe to stay for the night.”

yoongi goes to the window and draws back the curtain. he peeks out the small holes in the side of the blinds rather than pushing the blinds down to look outside. “and you’re certain he didn’t follow you here? i thought he only killed virgins anyway. why the hell was he shooting at you?” then yoongi turns away from the window and looks at you. “oh. is this why?”

feeling put on the spot, you blurt out: “look, i don’t think that matters much anymore. he seemed to be killing anybody who was in his way.”

“and he was on foot the whole time, so there’s no way he could’ve followed us,” jungkook adds.

yoongi shakes his head and walks away from the window. “whole town is fucked, then. come on.”

you’re relieved to be able to scrub the blood off your face and change into fresh clothes. you initially thought it was peculiar that yoongi had spare clothes ready for you to wear until he alluded to keeping them on hand for any of jungkook’s hookups that he brings over.

“sure—of course.” you’d just nodded and tried not to look embarrassed as you accepted the clothes.

even after showering you don’t feel entirely clean, though. you think it might be impossible to return to feeling anything like your former self after tonight.

the couch has a pull-out bed, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it would be just sleeping on a regular sofa, which you are grateful for. you’re still arranging the pillow and blankets when jungkook walks into the room holding his own bedding.

“i think i should sleep here,” he says.

“there’s no room on the couch for the both of us,” you protest, thinking he means to take your spot.

“i mean on the floor. earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be left alone in here.”

“oh.” you try to take the edge out of your voice; it’s hard to be polite when you’re still so overwhelmed with stress. “that’ll be uncomfortable though.”

jungkook just waves his hand and dumps his pillow and blanket on the floor before going to push the coffee table out of the way. “doesn’t really matter, i think we’ve been through worse tonight than sleeping on a hard floor…”

“thanks,” you say quietly, watching him spread his blanket out on the ground. you want to say something else, but you can’t think of anything.

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

after a few more moments of staring at jungkook as he arranges his sleeping area, you finally ask, “i was wondering how’d you meet yoongi? he doesn’t seem like he’s a college student. i’ve never seen him around our campus, at least.”

“he isn’t. he works as a music producer, so he’s out of town a lot, but this is his homebase. as for how we met—it’s a long story. he and my brother actually used to know each other, so…” you think he’ll explain further, but he just shakes his head. “but he’s a good friend.”

“i see. a music producer…nice. how cool for a little town like this.”

after everything is to his liking, jungkook gets under the blanket. “tonight was a lot, so try to get some sleep.”

you nod and turn the lamp off, though you’re doubting you’ll get any peace tonight. “yeah…you too.”

SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4

you wake up around 11 a.m. on a strange couch wearing strange clothes in a strange room. with your brain’s half-conscious state, your terror reawakens; you think maybe you’ve been kidnapped by the murderer and the car ride with jungkook last night was a dream—until yoongi pops into your mind.

you try to regulate your breathing and settle back beneath the blanket, though you know you won’t be going back to sleep.

you haven’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in total, broken up into 20-minute intervals across the hours. every time you’ve tried to close your eyes and drift off, you see the frat member’s skull bursting apart again, shocking your entire nervous system. you can think of nothing but the piles of bodies and the deaths you witnessed. perhaps it’s better that you don’t sleep; you figure your dreams wouldn’t be any more tolerable than your thoughts.

as you shift around on the couch, your whole body screams with soreness. your arms, your ribs, your sides, your legs, and—to a lesser extent—even between your thighs where jungkook was last night.

you glance over and see that he’s still sprawled on the floor, blanket halfway kicked off. he’s actually awake, his face turned away from you as he blinks slowly and stares at nothing, but he doesn’t say anything and so neither do you. with you spending most of your night awake, you saw that he was able to get more rest than you did. lucky him.

it hurts to move, but you reach for your phone and check for any signs of lorelai. none. there is one text from camille, sent 40 minutes ago.

➤ camille: I talked to Lorelai’s sister. She went to go see about a missing persons report. The police took her information but didn’t seem very concerned about it and said she might have just stayed the night with other friends after the party. Apparently a lot of others had the same idea as you. Campus is a ghost town. They’re still identifying all the bodies, so no word yet.

➤ y/n: so we just have to sit here and wait to see if she’ll turn up alive or dead? that’s useless.

➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.

➤ camille: She also told me there’s supposed to be a lockdown or something. It’s on the news.

➤ y/n: a lockdown???

looking around the room, you spot the TV remote sitting on yoongi’s coffee table a few feet away. you try to sit up, but it takes you a couple minutes longer than you anticipate because of the pain. jungkook notices the movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. “what are you doing?”

“tryna get the remote.”

jungkook grabs it and hands it to you, and you turn the TV to one of the local news channels.

➤ camille: They’re telling people not to leave their homes for anything non-essential while they search for him. Not sure how long that’s supposed to last. I guess now they wanna get serious about this fucking killer? Too late for that.

you and jungkook watch as the newscaster gives a rundown of last night’s events; to your small relief, it looks like the killer didn’t try to go to the campus after the murders at the party house. the newscaster goes on to announce that the police are instating a citywide curfew, which they’ll discuss further at a press conference in the afternoon. in the meantime, they advise everyone to only travel in groups, shelter in place if possible, and keep all windows and doors locked.

you laugh humorlessly, and jungkook glances at you again. “in groups? we were all packed into one damn house at the party, and how much did that help?”

➤ y/n: are you sure you’re okay at the uni?

➤ camille: I’m fine. My roommate brought some of her friends into our room so no one’s left alone. Either way, my dad is coming to help me move some of my things out and come back home.

➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.

➤ camille: You too.

“what now?” jungkook says once the newscast goes off. “everybody just stays holed up for like a month while they hunt for that guy?”

you roll your eyes. “people won’t stay in their homes for that long. i don’t know how any of this is gonna work. we wouldn’t be in this mess now if they’d cared when this first started happening.”

“you think so? students would still be getting killed. the only difference is that a good chunk of people would just be sitting at home freaking the fuck out and too scared to go anywhere while the killer would still be on the loose.”

“…damn. it’s truly bleak to assume we’d still be in the same situation. you’re an optimistic one.”

“better than deluding yourself about it.”

“whatever. where’s your family to freak out over you? somebody should be concerned about your whereabouts by now. didn’t you say you have a brother? speaking of, i’m gonna have to call my sister soon…”

jungkook turns back to the TV, and you can tell he’s become more tense than he was seconds ago. “yeah, but i’m estranged from them. yoongi’s my family.”

wrong thing to ask. you wonder about the reason for it but decide it’s probably better not to pry. “ah…that sucks.”

jungkook looks back at you like he’s irked by that response, but he makes a noise resembling a chuckle. “tell me about it.”

later that afternoon, after you’ve reassured your sister veronica on her work break that you are fine and at a “friend’s” house (because you have no clue how to refer to either of these men), you and yoongi sit at the kitchen table with brunch while jungkook goes outside to examine the damage to his car more closely.

it’s difficult to eat, but you do so anyway; you don’t want to be rude by wasting the food yoongi made. the news station still plays loudly from the living room as you wait for the press conference to come on.

“so, about you and jungkook...” yoongi starts, looking at you from over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“what about me and jungkook?”

“we both know he didn’t get those bites on his neck from a wild animal attack.”

you sit up straighter in your seat, a sudden spike of irritation hitting you. “aren’t we all grown here? who cares?” you try to sound unbothered despite feeling very green about all of this. after all, you’d only had sex for the first time last night.

“look, i don’t care. fuck him all you want. i’m just trying to advise you not to get emotionally involved, because that’s not how jungkook operates. the amount of girls i’ve had somehow coming after my neck when their situationship with him doesn’t work out is starting to get really old. it’d be best if you didn’t do the same.”

you’re simultaneously annoyed at his assumption of you and flustered because you want to prove him wrong about acting the same as the other girls. you hate both feelings. “i don’t want anything like that with him. i just needed something done and i got it. it doesn’t matter anymore.”

yoongi shrugs, and you get the sense he’s heard that before and isn’t convinced, but you can’t be bothered going back and forth with him about this.

the press conference comes on TV a few minutes later. they announce that classes at your university are cancelled indefinitely; parents and relatives will need to come move their students out, and the school will be operating with a skeleton staff and increased security presence for any students who can’t leave the campus. the citywide curfew will be at 8 p.m. every night, by which time almost everyone will need to be in their homes, and it will end at 6 a.m each morning.

“fun,” you say sarcastically. “at least i won’t have to worry about finals and trying not to get murdered at the same time.”

when jungkook comes back inside, you let him know about what he missed from the press conference.

“we should just stay here for now.” when you raise your eyebrows, jungkook says, “i basically live here when i’m not on campus for classes. plus yoongi-hyung lets me bring girls here all the time, this is nothing new.”

“if both of you are gonna be hiding out in my place, we’ll need to go to the store,” yoongi says. “more mouths to feed.”

“…or i could just go home?” you propose, your mind reeling at them already making plans. you feel awkward about staying in a stranger’s house for who knows how long. “i think we only really needed to stay here for the night. it’s fine.”

“will you have people there with you?” jungkook asks. “it’s not safe to be alone.”

you’re surprised he seems to be this concerned, but you answer: “well, i mean…my sister works 12-hour shifts as a nurse and she’s the only one living there, so…” you’d chosen your university because your older sister lived in the area, and because it was a tradition for women in your family to attend that school, but there were no other relatives you could turn to. your parents lived a couple of towns away.

yoongi comes to the conclusion so you don’t have to. “in other words, you’ll be alone most of the day.”

“…i guess. but i’m really not tryna impose on you by staying here.”

yoongi tilts his head, a small smirk on his lips. you automatically dislike the look on his face. “why don’t you take jungkook with you, then?”

you and jungkook glance at each other. “but, hyung…”

yoongi shakes his head. “you already know i can take care of myself. seriously, don’t worry about it.” and then yoongi winks at you. you don’t know for sure, but you take that to mean he’s probably packing heat like camille’s dad.

“if you’re sure.” turning to you, jungkook says, “so, how about it?”

“it’s my sister’s house, so i’ll have to ask her,” you say tentatively. “yeah…uh. let me do that now, i guess.” you pull out your phone to text her about it, though you know it’ll be a while before she gets another work break and can answer. “in the meantime…i think we’ll need to go to the store either way. and then to campus to pick our things up.”

“you’re right. let’s go then,” jungkook says.

the store is full of people panic-buying food and necessities in preparation for the curfew and effective lockdown, which you expected. you and jungkook end up going your separate ways to find the things you need because it’s quicker that way, and because you want to get in and out of the store as soon as possible. the crowdedness is too much like the party, and despite yourself, anxiety begins rising in you due to the claustrophobic atmosphere. you try to maintain even breaths as you keep searching for items. just what you need—a shiny new trauma to make your life harder.

you pass by a man in one of the less-crowded aisles before realizing he’s standing in front of what you need to get, examining one of the food packages. you wait a few moments to see if he’ll finish up soon, and when your eyes begin to wander, you see that there’s a long gray hair clinging to the back of his leather jacket, standing out clearly against the black. you probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all on any other day, except your mind has been on high alert for hours now; you find it strange that this strand clearly doesn’t match the shade or length of the hair on his head, which is short and plain brown. the shade of the hair also weirdly reminds you of something, though you can’t quite recall what; it remains just out of your mind’s reach.

you shake your head. he could’ve come to the store with somebody who has long gray hair, or hugged them before he left home, and a strand stuck to his jacket. it’s the least of your issues right now.

the man must feel your presence behind him because he turns around to look at you. you’re a little taken aback by his gaze; his expression isn’t mean per se, but very intense, as if his entire focus is trained on you.

there’s a second’s pause, like he’s thinking about something before he speaks. “am i in your way?” he asks, never breaking eye contact. his voice doesn’t portray any particular emotion.

“i just have to get something really quick.” he steps aside and gestures to the rows of food without a word. you slip in beside him and grab what you need before moving away again. “thanks.” you think about telling him about the hair on his jacket but decide against it; your decision is solidified when you spot a wolf figurine keychain on his keys, faded from time but still distinguishable. it makes your breath catch.

there’s no way it could be him. it was kind of dark in the party house with nothing but string lights and lamps illuminating it, and everything happened so quickly…but you do remember the colors of that mask. red, yellow, black—and that dark gray for the fur.

but maybe it’s really all just a coincidence; how much sense would it make to turn every person with wolf paraphernalia and random stray hairs into a suspect?

you walk down the rest of the aisle and away from the man with growing unease. maybe it’s time to find jungkook so you can get out of here; you can hardly keep yourself together, and despite your best attempts at logic, you can’t stop yourself from getting more frantic about those two things.

speeding up your walk and weaving through people, you look down every aisle in search for jungkook before you find him, rushing over to him as you breathe heavily.

“whoa, what the hell is wrong? did somebody do something?”

“no, i…”

“what happened?”

“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”

“y/n.”

“i saw—the mask. the fur from the mask. do you remember it?”

“…you mean that stupid ass werewolf mask?” you gesture for jungkook to lower his voice. “wait, you’re saying you saw it in here?”

“no, i saw a man who had a strand of hair on his jacket…” it starts sounding ridiculous to your own ears the more you speak, but you continue. “the strand—it was the same color as that fur. the same length! and he—he had some weird wolf keychain…”

jungkook stares at you for a long moment before sighing. “you’re not serious? a random strand of hair that could be from anybody or anything? that could be from someone’s fucking grandma for all we know. plus a keychain…maybe he just likes wolves, y/n.”

you already know that saying i just feel like something is off won’t be enough to convince him. you sigh with a deep sense of defeat, considering that he’s probably right. maybe your initial assumption was the more sensible answer. “…right. i think i’m just really fucked up right now after everything that happened. can we finish up here?”

“yeah, we will. because you definitely need to lay down soon or something. you haven’t had any sleep all night, right?” the way jungkook eyes you with concern as if you’ve lost your mind annoys you. you’re about to give a smart remark when you notice something in the carrying-basket he has.

“…a baseball bat?”

“if the killer comes after us again, duh. we’ll be prepared this time. or at least i will.”

“good luck with that if he happens to have another gun.” rolling your eyes, you brush past jungkook to go to one of the checkout counters.

in the parking lot, you see that the man from earlier has also come out and is putting the last of his grocery bags into his car trunk. there’s really nothing spectacular about his appearance that would make him stand out in a crowd, with his average height and average looks, let alone incriminate him as a serial killer. yet that familiar unease won’t leave.

he sees you and jungkook walking towards the car together, and his eyes dart to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. then he makes eye contact with you. you give a half-hearted wave, unsure what else to do with his eyes stuck on you. for a moment, his lips turn up into the faintest smile before he shakes his head and gets into his own car.

MONDAY, NOV 6

you’ve spent half of saturday and all of sunday trying to get used to living in your sister’s house with jungkook. veronica had been surprisingly okay with having him stay over, though most of it was her being relieved you finally found “a potential boyfriend who’s actually cute.” you didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

you’ve also been constantly checking on camille (to her eventual annoyance) and seeing if there are any more updates on lorelai. still nothing. your dread grows the further away you get from that bloody friday, but you try to keep your thoughts from straying too darkly.

right now, you, veronica, and jungkook all sit on the couch together in a neat little row, a bowl of popcorn in front of you on the coffee table and some science-fiction B-movie playing on the TV. your sister proposed the idea to distract yourselves from everything going on, but so far, you feel like it isn’t very effective. at least not for you. your mind keeps wandering to other things every 5 minutes.

eventually, veronica yawns widely, stretching her arms and legs before rising off the couch. “okay, i’m getting tired as fuck. i need to go to sleep for work tomorrow anyway. you guys enjoy the rest of the movie, okay?” she pats your shoulder as she passes by you on her way out of the room.

jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”

“night, sis.”

when jungkook’s attention goes back to the movie, your sister makes eye contact with you and points her finger at you menacingly. you give her a shocked look while she mouths you know what i mean and swirls her finger in jungkook’s direction. embarrassed at the implication, you roll your eyes and turn your head back to the TV screen. having sex with jungkook on your sister’s couch is not high on your list of priorities tonight.

after your sister is gone, jungkook spreads out on the couch like it’s his own living room, placing his legs right over your lap. you sigh, looking over at him—and hoping that your eyes don’t linger too obviously on the expanse of thigh muscle that’s now on display from his shorts riding up higher.

“…really? i don’t want your big ole legs in my lap.”

jungkook just grins. “you should lay down too, it’s more comfortable this way.” you stare at him, and he tries to egg you on by pulling the sleeve of your shirt. “come on.”

“i’m not laying down on top of you, if that’s what you’re after.”

you do end up lying down, but on the opposite side of the couch so that your legs are tangled together, which really just increases the amount of contact between you either way—but whatever.

this makes jungkook laugh more. “ha, it’s like we’re scissoring.”

“so damn corny.”

you two continue watching the rest of the movie, but by the end of it you don’t remember half of what happened. taking the remote, you flip through the channels and try to find something else to look at. there isn’t much interesting to watch on a random monday night—which would be a school night anyway, if not for the current context.

as you search for a channel, jungkook asks: “what would you do if you found out who the killer was?”

you squint your eyes at his odd question. maybe the obvious answer would be to alert the police. but after days of having your anger stoked like a fire, that’s not exactly the answer you’d choose. “maybe i’d kill him.” the words leave your lips easily, and you hardly think twice about them once they’re out.

neither of you speak for a few long moments.

“does that scare you?” you ask, after the silence starts annoying you. you want to laugh, but there’s nothing really funny about the situation.

“…not really. angry women are kinda sexy. so are dangerous ones.”

you scoff. “i’m not tryna be sexy, you fool. and how many dangerous women have you dealt with? seems to me you only have a thing for the innocents.”

“it’s not like i only fuck virgins. you don’t even know me like that.” he nudges your leg with his foot like he’s also annoyed, but his expression doesn’t show any actual irritation.

“…if you want to go back and forth about it, go outside and argue with the wall or something. i’m in no mood, jungkook.” you shove his foot off of you. “just, holy shit. i wish i could have just one hour where i don’t have to think about any of this shit. my mind can’t even breathe.”

he’s actually quiet for a couple minutes after. you think he’s moved on from the conversation until he finally says, “i can give you an hour.”

your body becomes alert at that. the insinuation in his tone is obvious. you glance backwards as if your sister could hear you from upstairs, though you know that’s illogical. “i got what i wanted from you already,” you whisper.

“so? what if i wanted to give you more? you know you’re allowed to have sex with a person more than once, yeah?” he chuckles.

here he is making you this offer, and once again you feel like you’ve been reduced to the state of a confused lamb in front of a hungry wolf. you realize that the idea of letting yourself get more physically entangled with jungkook scares you. he is not someone you can turn into a boyfriend, who wants to be a boyfriend, and you are only looking to save yourself from any potential hurt. “it would just be sex—right? you have to know i’m not looking for anything deeper from you.”

jungkook smirks. like with yoongi, you don’t know if he believes you. “i know.”

you want to undo almost everything from the past few days. you can’t forget, but for a while, you want to just exist outside of the timeline where there’s a killer on the loose and one of your friends is missing. it’s too much to handle; your body is approaching its limits for the amount of stress it can take. you need a balm to numb the pain and the fear, and you dislike that you are giving into your base instincts to do so. you feel guilty, somehow. but pleasure is easy. at least it has been whenever you sought it on your own—and now you have someone else to give it to you. someone who is in front of you now, proposing it with all the willingness in the world. maybe there’s really nothing wrong with saying yes.

“jungkook…”

“hm?”

“please just shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about the outside world right now. i don’t want to think about anything but your…” you falter, still trying to get used to expressing what you want sexually.

jungkook sits up, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. “but my what?”

“um, your…” your thoughts end when he leans down and pulls the hem of your sweater up, planting a kiss on your waist where your skin meets the waistband of your sweatpants. one kiss turns into a second, and a third. the fourth becomes an open-mouthed embrace of his lips on your skin, and you make a small noise of pleasure when his tongue gets involved.

“careful. don’t want veronica to come down here, remember?”

you huff. “that isn’t happening any time soon, believe me.”

his kisses continue as he begins to slide your sweatpants down, revealing the waistband of your panties. once they’re fully on display, he leans forward to nuzzle his face between your thighs, his mouth and nose pressing into the seat of your underwear. his actions take you off guard. you actually give a brief chuckle from surprise, though you are also somewhat embarrassed. “now what the hell are you doing?”

“let me savor my meal before i eat it.” his warm breaths tickle your inner thighs as he speaks.

“ugh, don’t turn me off.”

“that’s funny, because i seem to have an easy time getting you wet.” to prove it, his fingers press into the seat of your underwear to feel the wetness that’s seeped into them; you sigh from the brief pleasure his fingers’ movements afford you before he pulls them away.

jungkook drags your panties down next, his lips trailing down your lower abdomen and across the curls of hair covering your pubic mound. your body fills with anticipation at the gradual pace of his actions and the purposeful, wet caresses of his mouth.

when he uses his thumbs to press your lower lips apart and expose you more fully to him, you have half a mind to be self-conscious about it until he places his mouth on you in earnest.

jungkook eats like someone who hasn’t done so in a while and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. his mouth sucks at your clit like he’s desperate for you to come, tongue rolling over the swollen nub in an unrelenting pattern that has your stomach tensing, and you quickly realize you do have to try to silence yourself even if you know it won’t wake veronica up. you twist your hands into the sleeves of your sweater and lean your head back on the couch’s armrest as you arch your hips up closer to jungkook’s face, uncaring about how vulnerable you feel completely offering yourself up to him like this; right now, all you want is to feel good.

“gonna come quick again? maybe we can set a new record?” jungkook pins your knee against the couch with his elbow to keep your legs open as he slides two fingers inside, diving straight in instead of working you up this time. your body breaks out in a sweat and you know you really won’t last long once he does this, the tips of his fingers aiming for that dreadful, wonderful, and overpowering place inside you. you don’t know how people do this—you feel like you’re going to die when he stimulates that spot, and all you want to do is scream even though you can’t.

“a r-record? fuck off…” you choke out, though you begin to rock your hips into the rhythm of his fingers, needing so badly for him to take you over the edge again.

he chuckles. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off right now.”

you have no words for a good comeback when he buries his head between your legs and slurps at your pussy again and crooks his fingers repeatedly to where your orgasm is unexpectedly rushing down upon you, causing your body to tense as you gasp and stifle any sounds that escape with your sweater sleeve.

jungkook doesn’t stop there and you don’t really expect him to, because you’re beginning to learn he isn’t a one-and-done type of man. he keeps sucking and stroking you right into another releasewhile you push the beanie off his head, fist your fingers into his strands, and tremble over the sight of his pitch-black mess of hair between your thighs. something about the visual is so appealing to you.

after he has made you come for the third time, you watch him sit up on his knees to reach into his shorts and pull his dick out, his darkened tip slick with precum. his long hair falls into his face as he glances downward, using the hand he’d been fingering you with to lube himself up with your cum.

“come here,” you tell him, your voice coming out sharper than you intended; but he doesn’t care, because he follows your request without a word and presses himself into your side. the couch is just big enough to accommodate both of you in this position, but it’s still a tight fit, and your bodies are once again tangled together.

“let me touch you,” you say, your palm pressed to his stomach, feeling the firmness of the muscle.

he raises his eyebrows, like you didn’t even need to ask. “of course.”

“no, i mean…” he realizes what you actually mean as you brush his hand away from his shaft and wrap your fingers around it instead.

“should i teach you how?” jungkook brings his hand to overlap yours, though his breath becomes a bit strained when you slide your hand to the base of his cock and back to the tip again, the pads of your fingers rubbing over the sensitive head. seeing your fingers around him turns him on more than he thought it could, and it’s just a simple fucking handjob.

you roll your eyes. “stroking a dickshouldn’t be that hard.”

“everyone likes it differently, though. fast, slow, soft, or rough…just the tip, or the whole shaft.” you can’t deny that—or the way you find yourself throbbing at his words, his voice husky from the pleasure. which is why you let jungkook close his hand more fully around yours and guide your movements.

it’s captivating to observe his reactions from your hand on his skin—the heavy breaths he lets out and the soft moans and even softer whimpers that come in between the exhales. whenever you squeeze his shaft more firmly or rub your thumb against his leaking tip, you find yourself grinning at the rise and fall of his chest and the tongue that darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips. but mostly, your eyes are drawn back to the sight of your hand working him over, his thighs and stomach tensing sporadically.

eventually, you both look away from your joined hands and at each other’s faces. your eyes dart to his lips and back to his gaze again, and you shift your face forward to signal your desire for a kiss. he meets you there by pressing his lips to yours, and it isn’t hard for him to get lost in the meeting of your mouths and the heat from your palm on his shaft.

your free hand returns to his soft hair to tug on it as your tongues slide against each other. he grunts at the burn of his roots being pulled but doesn’t stop you; on the contrary, his body responds favorably as more precum swells from his tip and his nipples poke against the material of his shirt.

“do you like that, jungkook?” you mumble against his mouth.

“you know i do.” at some point, his hand falls away and he lets you stroke him on your own.

jungkook gives a shuddering moan into your mouth when he climaxes minutes later, thick streams of his cum shooting onto his shirt and dripping down your hand. he tries to keep quiet and doesn’t entirely succeed, but it doesn’t much matter.

you squeeze the few remaining drops of cum from his cockhead, trying to make sure you don’t grip hard enough to actually hurt him. you pull your sticky hand away from jungkook when you think he’s finally emptied, but he grabs your wrist and you look at him questioningly. you watch with shocked eyes as jungkook brings your hand up and takes your messy fingers into his mouth, sucking his cum from them. you know instinctively it isn’t the first time he’s done this—not with the look of pure satisfaction on his features as he licks his own seed off your fingers.

his enthusiastic pleasure is part of the reason why you accept when jungkook gives you a crushing kiss, passing his cum from his tongue to yours. you don’t know what you expected it to taste like, but it isn’t gross like you’ve heard others complain about when sharing their sex tales; despite being salty, the overall taste is neutral. still, it takes some getting used to.

when you pull away from each other, noses brushing and lips wet from each other’s spit, you look into his dark brown eyes and get the sudden desire to say something that’s been buried in the back of your mind for days now.

“why did you come straight to me that night?” you whisper. “like you already knew who you were there for.”

jungkook stares back, his lips curving up slightly. “i just wanted to. or i wanted you, more specifically.”

“that’s not an answer.”

“well, it’s my answer.”

“was i another one to knock off your list?”

“you think i have a list?”

“i’m not stupid. it’s not unusual for guys to have a list. plus, plenty of rumors go around.”

jungkook taps his fingers underneath your chin and kisses you on the lips again, though it is brief. “stop believing everything you hear.”

you clearly won’t be getting a straight answer from him tonight. with the moment broken, you sigh and begin pulling your bottoms back on. “…whatever you say, dude.” once you’re dressed, you climb over his body to get off the couch. you poke him in the chest as your eyes roam over him in his disheveled state, his shorts pulled down and his cum staining his black shirt. “might wanna clean yourself up, huh? i’m going to sleep. and, yeah…thanks for the distraction.”

TUESDAY, NOV 7

with the weather being as cold as it is and heading toward winter in another month or so, lorelai is surprised by how quickly the bodies began to smell.

she doesn’t know much of anything about bodily decomposition—because, to her parents’ disappointment, she wasn’t about to be a biology major and have to be around cadavers in a dissection lab—but if this were a movie or something, she would’ve thought it would take longer than just one day. the smell started to hit her the saturday after the party.

but ultimately, this isn’t a movie, and the fact that she’s trapped in a decrepit house in some remote part of town is her present reality.

she doesn’t remember anything about how she got to this house; she thinks she must have been concussed before she was brought here. her head has been hurting badly for days, and not even the simple relief of a painkiller is available.

what she does know is that she’s being kept in a dirty living room on an equally dirty mattress, her hands and legs tied by rope and zip-ties. if there were any miniscule chance of her escaping, it would be impossible to go anywhere considering both her ankles are broken, only adding to the amount of physical pain she’s been in for days.

the living room is mostly empty except for the bodies of some other students from the party, which have been scattered around the room. lorelai tries not to look at them—especially not at the ones she knows—but it’s difficult. they become even more terrifying to her when night falls, turning into dark, rotting shadows in the corners of the room. there has been nothing but the company of these corpses for days, and a couple of visits from the killer.

he's never once taken off his wolf mask or his gloves, and every other part of his body stays covered in all black. she doesn’t have the first idea of what he looks like underneath it all. he has spoken to her a few times, but the voice isn’t one she recognizes. his words when she first awoke inside this house still knock around in her mind, filling her with dread.

he’d crouched in front of her, watching her move around on the mattress and try to orient herself. he had the casual air of someone observing a flipped-up bug struggle on the sidewalk before crushing it underfoot. “you aren’t y/n, but you’ll do for now. we’ll have some real fun later on. you’ll help me give her a good scare.”

“how the fuck do you know y/n?” lorelai had struggled against her restraints, but this only made her newly broken ankles hurt worse. tears began to fall from her eyes from the pain and fear.

the killer had said nothing to that—only tilted his head curiously and stared at her, which was unnerving even if she couldn’t see his eyes.

“you have no fucking reason to go after her, she’s not even a virgin anymore you dumb fuck—” with those words, the killer had backhanded her, sending her already injured head into a fresh wave of agony.

“things would’ve been different if not for that fucking party. you students think you’re so fucking clever, yeah? and look how you paid for it.” it was impossible to see any facial expression, but his body language spoke of anger. “no matter, though. virgin or not, i’ll see this through to the end.”

now it’s yet another morning, and he has returned. he has a lot of debris in his hands—stuff like sticks and dry moss and foliage. he’s also carrying a small bag, the contents of it a mystery. everything he does causes alarm for lorelai, but now confusion joins in.

“ready to have some fun?” he asks. with duct tape over her mouth, she can’t answer back. she watches as he arranges the debris on the ground in front of her, her anxiety mounting as he takes a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the foliage.

leaning forward, he rips part of the duct tape away from her mouth with his gloved hand, causing her face to sting. “got anything to say?”

“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”

“i’m gonna stoke a nice fire here…get this knife hot enough to hurt.” he brings out his knife then, and lorelai shrinks away from the blade as he drags the flat of it across her throat—but there’s nowhere else to go, as she’s sitting up against the wall. “then i’ll just cut this pretty little body up a bit. the finishing touch…i think i’ll slice your throat open. how does that sound?” he takes the knife away from her neck to hold the blade over the flames.

lorelai’s breath hitches, and her stomach begins to physically hurt from the outpouring of anxiety flowing through her. she starts to sob, trying to speak through the tears and snot and drool. the only question she can muster up is, “wh-why?”

“this is for y/n—remember? i hope that concussion hasn’t fucked with your memory.” the killer watches the reflection of the flames on the blade as it grows hotter. “and…i’m doing someone a favor.” he doesn’t wait for her to speak again before putting the duct tape back in place over her mouth, leaving her to cry to herself and face her rising distress as he heats the knife until it’s burning hot. internally, she wishes there was any way in the world to get out of this situation.

it isn’t much longer before he’s finished. lorelai screams as he approaches her with the knife, and then at the feeling of the red-hot blade scorching her skin, though the sounds are stifled by the duct tape.

“now, be still while i fix you up.”

WEDNESDAY, NOV 8

you go outside that afternoon to check the mail and have an excuse to get out of the house; it doesn’t matter if it’s only for a few moments. you’re not used to staying cooped up in one place for so long with absolutely nothing to do, and you feel like you’re not too far off from going mad with cabin fever. it hasn’t even been a week since everything happened.

you open the mailbox, and there are the usual bills along with something strange: a blank envelope with no return address. even your sister’s address isn’t written on it. flipping it over, you see that the envelope was never sealed. someone must’ve just come up and put it inside the mailbox. but who the hell would do that, and for what reason? whenever any of your neighbors have something to give you or your sister, they come straight up to the house to do it.

inside the envelope is a set of polaroids. their content makes you drop the rest of the mail. your legs grow weak, and you end up sitting down hard on the end of the driveway, some of the polaroids slipping from your hands. the pictures show the bodies of some of the students from your university, their corpses posed in odd positions and some bare of clothing—all dead.

you struggle to breathe as you frantically flip through the rest of the pictures. in the center of all the group photos is lorelai, her neck torn open and her wrists and ankles tied. she’s still dressed the way she was the night of the party, though her dress is stained with dark brown blood. there are open cuts all over her bare skin, their appearance rough-looking and uneven as if they’ve been cauterized.

there are several group polaroids, several of lorelai alone, and several angles of the outside of a house, which must be the same one the bodies are being kept in. one photo of lorelai slips out of your shaking hands, and you see there’s barely legible handwriting on the back of it, which reads, “this is just the teaser, y/n.”

you scream and don’t stop screaming until jungkook comes running out of the house holding the baseball bat, as if the killer might’ve gotten bold enough to attack in daylight. a couple of your neighbors peek out of their houses and make their way over with concern on their faces once they see you sitting on the ground, your exclamations ringing through the street.

there’s a disarrayed group of people around you grabbing at your shoulders and asking what’s wrong, what happened, and then gasps and exclamations of shock when they see the polaroids. you feel yourself being pulled to your feet and then lifted up—maybe it’s jungkook, because it smells like him—but you’re too disoriented to make proper sense of anything right now. you can only think of how much time has been wasted, and how little time lorelai actually had left.

SUNDAY, NOV 12

in the main lobby of the funeral home, you sit in a chair next to camille, staring into empty space while the other girl tries to cry as quietly as she can. she cries as if she’s ashamed of it, and you wish you could comfort her, but you don’t know what to say or do. for the past few days, you’ve mostly just felt numb.

you’re waiting for veronica to come back out so you can leave, as she’d stayed behind after the service to talk to lorelai’s family for a little longer.

lorelai’s family had opted to have her cremated after seeing the state of her body. a lot of other families did the same after the events of cherry bomb, not even wanting to entertain the idea of a closed-casket funeral. you can understand their feelings about it if you push through the haze in your mind to consider it for long enough. though the morticians have done the best they can over the past week, sometimes knowing that your loved one has multiple stab wounds and eviscerated organs beneath all the makeup and fancy clothing is too much to handle.

when veronica finally comes out, the three of you walk outside to join the rest of the people who’ve started getting in their cars. some still linger in small huddles, shaking their heads and wiping their faces.

jungkook, who’d driven you and veronica to the memorial, waits outside for you all, leaning on the side of the building. you both thought it was probably better for him not to attend the service considering lorelai was never fond of him and he didn’t know her that well.

“is it finished?” he asks.

“it is.” veronica sighs. “god, funerals are so damn…bleak.”

you notice a man waving at your group from the other side of the parking lot and realize it’s camille’s dad. her posture straightens when she catches sight of him, and she hurriedly tries to wipe the rest of her tears before shoving her tissue into her pocket. “i-i think my dad is waiting for me. i…i’ll see you guys later, alright?”

“okay, camille.” the strange absence of emotion that you’ve been trapped in for the past few days suddenly cracks open when you notice camille’s anxious demeanor as she speed-walks away from the rest of you. intense sorrow overtakes you; you don’t want her to leave, but she has to go.

you are crying before you fully understand what’s happening. veronica puts her arms around you and squeezes you against the side of her body. jungkook reaches a thumb up to wipe away your tears, though you don’t let him get very far before turning your head away and into veronica’s shoulder.

“y/n…”

“how am i supposed to go on?” you exclaim, catching the attention of a few people nearby. “the police said maybe she’s just staying with friends. and now look. plus, the killer knows where me and my sister live now…maybe he always knew.”

“we don’t even have a clue who the killer is…” jungkook mumbles. “there’s no one you know of who might have a grudge against you?”

“no, jungkook. the police already gave me all that questioning. and it doesn’t help me feel any better to think maybe all these deaths are somehow my fault.” you scoff.

“y/n, nothing’s your fault because some freak decided to go around killing people; that was his decision.” jungkook argues.

you nod slightly to his words but say nothing else, not wanting to go further into that topic. you don’t know if you can believe him about that.

the parking lot is emptying out now, so you try to pull yourself together so the three of you can leave. “well…you don’t need to keep staying with us if you don’t want to. we have those assigned bodyguards now, so…” you glance in the direction of one other car sitting beside jungkook’s—inside it are two men the police force appointed after the polaroids of the bodies were planted in your sister’s mailbox.

jungkook looks at you as if he’s trying to gauge your expression; he himself looks surprised, though he attempts to play it off. veronica glances between you both, recognizing the awkward shift in the air.

“you don’t want me there anymore? i mean it is your house—” he glances at veronica “—so that’s fine with me if—"

“what? i didn’t say i don’t want you there, neither did veronica, it’s just if you don’t want to be there—"

“i never said i didn’t want to be there, though?”

you both become quiet, jungkook looking at you and you returning his gaze for a few seconds before looking off to the side. veronica is still standing between you both like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

“i just figured that maybe…” why are you being so concerned about me? isn’t this the part where we go our separate ways? is what you really want to ask. you have seen and learned enough from your friends’ and even your acquaintances’ experiences to realize that any other one night stand would not have cared so much. that’s how these things go, right? but he isn’t really a one night stand anymore, either.

you don’t even know if you’re considered friends with benefits, but what would that change? you’d still seen others tossed aside without much thought by their FWBs while in times of need. considering his history, you don’t understand why jungkook isn’t following the same template now, and you don’t think you should ask why for fear of breaking the illusion.

fed up with your own confusion, you decide now isn’t the time to lament on your lack of knowledge about these things. “nevermind. that’s fine. so you’ll stay?”

the corner of his mouth lifts in a brief smile. “i’ll stay as long as you won’t try to kick me out.”

you aren’t in the mood to attempt to smile back, but he seems to understand that. “right, well...good.”

“…now that you two have figured that shit out, can we leave?”

FRIDAY, NOV 17

jungkook thought that getting outside a bit more would help you feel better and prevent you from developing a complete fear of leaving the house, which is why you’re sitting in this claustrophobic little diner now with him, yoongi, and camille—and of course, your ever-present bodyguards in the booth behind you all. but this outing isn’t doing anything to mitigate your fears.

nearly 10 minutes in, you have to ask jungkook to switch seats with you so you’re not on the outside of the booth, as you’re afraid that it’s too easy-access if anyone—say, the killer, though you’ve been trying not to think so obsessively about him—were to come in and start stabbing you to death right where you sit. being on the inside calms you for a little while until you become anxious about the window beside you; what if he has a gun again and simply shoots through the glass? all he’d have to do is stand on the sidewalk and aim, his werewolf mask laughing at you with its eternally frozen growling expression, and your brains would be all over the table just like that frat guy’s.

your meal sits half-eaten as you get increasingly lost in your anxieties. the others are talking about something, but you can’t hear what. it’s like some of your senses have shut down or begun working incorrectly. the strawberry sauce in camille’s sundae looks too much like blood and even smells like it from the occasional whiffs you get, and you find yourself staring at the sundae dish and wanting to throw it across the restaurant.

jungkook’s hand touches you on the back, and the tension in your body increases. he feels it and draws away, though he keeps trying to meet your eyes. “are you okay?” he whispers.

“why ask that? she obviously isn’t,” yoongi says, like he’s annoyed with the obviousness of jungkook’s question.

“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”

“it was your great idea to come out here when she didn’t want to, though.”

“y/n—” camille starts.

“can’t you throw that out? it smells like blood.” your mouth feels useless and hard to maneuver, but you manage to say those words.

“what?”

“the…that. that thing.” everyone looks at camille’s melting sundae. yoongi raises his eyebrows.

“blood?”

“do you mean it—looks like blood?” jungkook suggests.

you raise your voice in irritation, not understanding how everyone else is unable to perceive the same scent that you do. “no, i-it does, but it smells like blood too! just get rid of it!”

one of the waitresses comes over to the table. “is everything okay over here?”

“um, we’re fine! i’m finished with this though.” camille hurriedly hands the sundae off to her, trying to keep the situation calm.

“oh, well—the rest of you too? that’ll be it, then?” she gathers everyone’s plates and leaves with a smile that attempts to be cordial but is still colored with unease.

her departure leaves a stiff silence in which you all spare glances at each other but try to avoid directly meeting eyes. camille is the first to break it.

“i’ll ask my dad if i can stay over with you,” she suggests. she suddenly sounds much more tired. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly at her words; yoongi silently glances at the younger man. “just, you know…maybe the extra company would help? he’s been treating me like a kid again, but we should be safe with the bodyguards there, so…”

“you don’t have to do that,” you say, though you’re too exhausted to truly argue.

“you’re in shambles, y/n. and it’s not just for your benefit. i’m feeling pretty fucking alone right now, and it’s hard for my dad to understand the emotional side of it, so…” camille plays with her fingers and doesn’t look at anyone as she speaks; you know talking about her father can be a sore spot for her sometimes. “uh, anyway. not to trauma-dump or anything. just let me do this.”

you sigh. “fine…okay. do whatever you have to. can we just leave?”

as you’re all walking outside, jungkook pulls you aside.

“i still worry about you after that incident at the store, you know?” he admits.

you shrug his hand off your arm and glare at him. “you think i’m crazy.”

“i don’t. i just want you to be able to relax and not feel like you’re being hunted 24/7. i don’t think the killer is constantly waiting around the nearest corner for you, y/n.”

“you don’t know how close the killer could be. he knows where i go to sleep at night. so stop the bullshit, jungkook.”

“you’ll be okay. you have me, remember? i protected you that night…i can do it again.”

you examine his face for a long moment and find that you are too overwhelmed with stress and fear to be moved by his words. “i’d like to trust you…but the killer might just murder you too. then who’ll save me?” you don’t wait for his response before walking away to catch up with the other two.

LYING IN WAIT...

it’s strange to see the police bodyguards in veronica’s driveway and backyard everyday. it’s not the same two all day—they switch off so that there are two doing a day shift and two doing a night shift.

the security team at the hospital where your sister works is aware of the situation, so you try not to get too worried about her safety when she’s away from the house—but it’s difficult.

there have been no more kills connected to your university since lorelai. it seems like half the town has forgotten their fears and tried to go back to some sense of normalcy while the other half still hides away and lives in perpetual panic, including you. the former group of people has started muddying the waters for the police, with some teenagers getting brave enough to sneak around in wolf masks and vandalize buildings with red-lettered virgin graffiti just to fuck with the cops. there have even been a few people who turned themselves in claiming to be the killer—only their supposed confessions never matched the details of the case.

reporters have tried to hound lorelai’s family and your family several times for any speculations or answers on the killer’s identity, but none of you are willing to spread misinformation just to give them something to write about. however, that hasn’t stopped other residents of your town from sharing their speculations and even implicating their own relatives or neighbors—whether as a fucked-up joke or as genuine revenge just depends on whoever’s speaking. with all of these false leads, the police are still no closer to finding the killer than they’d initially been.

everyday feels like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the chances of any more kills are starting to seem improbable; the university is practically empty. but it doesn’t matter to you if the school is nearly deserted, because the killer has his aims set on you now, and you only wish you knew why.

up in your room, you and camille sit on your bed gazing out the window—the window that must always remain locked now, for fear of unwanted ingress. you’ve never been uncomfortable in your sister’s house, but lately you’ve been feeling like you’re boxed in with every wall pressing towards you.

sitting up from your lying-down position, you have to find the appropriate words for a moment before speaking. “camille—i can’t stop feeling like maybe we aren’t entirely safe,” you murmur.

camille raises her eyebrows. “why not? those guys stay outside all day, and we keep everything locked up day and night. literally, the only time the front door opens is for veronica to leave and come back from work everyday.”

“i don’t know. there’s no particular reason for it…it just seems like we’re waiting for something.”

“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”

“but he’s made no moves recently. you remember the policeman’s daughter, right? i even texted her and she hasn’t heard anything new that we don’t already know. seems like things have slowed down at the police station. it’s not like that abandoned house was in the killer’s name or anything, so what leads would they have?”

camille frowns and rubs her eyes like something’s in them, but when she looks at you directly, you see her eyes are red from unshed tears. “…i want things to be okay, though. i’m tired of living like this. you know how i had to beg just to get my dad to let me leave the house. he’s constantly on edge.” you feel even more unsettled to see camille so distressed lately, as she’s always been the only one able to pull something funny out of a terrible situation—something enough to distract you from the horrors. “all i know is they’ll have to dig his ass out of some hole in the ground at some point. he can’t hide in this town forever.”

“yeah…i guess you’re right.” you still don’t feel reassured, but you don’t voice your doubts.

WEDNESDAY, NOV 22

“i think i might go mad,” camille says from her position on the armchair, her limbs splayed haphazardly across it and one hand stuck in a bag of chips.

you sigh. “you’re the one who wanted to watch this thanksgiving movie marathon.”

“the most mid holiday of the season,” jungkook adds.

“no one cares what either of you think, thanks.” it isn’t long before the program is over and the ending credits are rolling. with an exaggerated exhale, camille gets up from the chair and crunches the bag of chips in her hand. “i’m going to your room, y/n. you two just do whatever it is you do down here, since you hate my movie choices so much!”

“means we can finally turn the channel.” jungkook snatches the remote off the coffee table and does just that.

camille goes into the kitchen to throw out the chip bag and wash her hands. your focus returns to the TV. a few seconds later, you hear the upstairs flooring creak above the noise of the water pouring from the tap.

“what’s up, sis? i thought you were sleeping.” veronica is known to be a deep sleeper, so it’s not common for her to be getting up in the middle of the night. there’s no answer to your question. you glance upstairs, but your sister isn’t standing there; she isn’t standing at all, instead being carried by someone wearing an all-too familiar mask.

you scream as the killer tosses your sister over the stair railing. her torso has been sliced open from collarbone to navel, her body leaving a large splatter of blood on the floor where she lands. jungkook jumps to his feet but is momentarily immobilized as he gazes at your sister’s body crumpled on the floor. you slide off the couch and crawl over to her, still crying out, but there’s no life left to try and salvage.

the screaming brings camille rushing to the kitchen doorway. she can barely vocalize what’s wrong? before spotting veronica’s body and stopping in her tracks. in a moment that feels like it takes forever to pass, the killer pulls a gun from his waistband—you recognize it as one of the guns the policemen carry and realize he must’ve killed the bodyguard posted in the backyard—and shoots her in the chest twice.

“camille!” when you go over to where she’s lying on the ground, she is still alive but bleeding intensely and struggling to breathe. your knees slip in the blood that begins pooling around her. “shit, camille…p-please don’t die…” you press your hand against the wounds, but they’re bleeding so much that your efforts don’t help, and the pressure of your hand causes her more pain.

there’s the sound of a gunshot at the front door as the lock is blown off, and the door is banged open a few seconds later by the remaining bodyguard. he has virtually no time to fire off another shot before the killer is shooting him in the head first.

the killer throws the gun aside, taking his knife in his other hand and making his way down the stairs. “your sister left her window cracked open. i waited for days for a slip-up like that. see how much harm can come from a simple mistake? well, she was collateral damage anyway.”

even in your panic, it’s as if all your bodily functions freeze when you recognize the familiarity of the killer’s voice. camille reacts with a rattling gasp, but her body is becoming too weak for her to utter anything; all she can do is watch as the man stops at the bottom of the stairs and pulls his mask off.

“yoongi…” your voice breaks as you try to speak again, but nothing coherent comes out.

he drops the mask on the floor and brushes a hand through his hair. “i guess you weren’t expecting that. good. we kept it up ‘til the end.”

your lips form around the word we, but your vocal cords won’t cooperate. you twist around to look at jungkook, who is still standing by the couch.

the man who you’d gotten too close to for your own good and done so many firsts with, who’d promised you that he’d protect you and was even there for you on the day of lorelai’s memorial, looks at you now with eyes glowing from the thrill as his mouth twitches into a smile—small at first but growing into a full grin. “i almost can’t believe we staged all that shit and it actually worked. you really believed it all, y/n.

not all of those kills were hyung’s, of course...there’s no way i’d miss out on the best parts. you don’t know what it’s like until you kill a person for the first time. crashing cherry bomb was his idea, though. and lorelai was mine. that bitch would’ve kept you away from me, and i needed her gone for this kill to work.”

through tears, you finally muster up the strength to ask, “wh-why have you done this? that night…y-you mean to tell me none of that was real? being shot at—why would you—” your voice rises until you’re shouting. “you-you’ve killed so many people. what was the purpose?!”

jungkook’s smile fades somewhat as he pretends to think about it, acting like he’s reminiscing on wistful memories. “i realized that killing and fucking aren’t that different, y/n. the real ecstasy of it is in taking someone pure…and doing something to them that has never been done before, and can never be done again. there’s a certain eroticism in killing someone, stabbing them, entering them…it’s like sex in the most profane sense.”

“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, glaring at him through your tears. you can’t help but feel shame to think of the times you’d had sex with him. had he simply been imagining murdering you during those moments? it makes you want to throw up.

yoongi steps closer until he’s right in front of you and camille. “and as for me…i just enjoy it. practice really does make perfect. you wouldn’t believe how entertaining it can be to see someone beg for their life.” his lips turn upwards in a dark smile resembling jungkook’s. “but instead of raging at us, i think you have bigger matters to be concerned with.” yoongi gestures his knife hand to camille, and when you look down at her body, you realize she’s no longer moving.

you lift camille’s head up with your hands as if that could make her return your gaze, though you can find no sign of breathing or pulse. “god, no…” you scream in frustration, your hands slipping in her blood. you check once more and again for any signs of life, because there is just no possible way this could’ve happened, but there are none present. “please—i’m sorry…”

“time’s up.” yoongi grabs your arm and yanks you away from camille, jostling you to try to get you on your feet. you flail around in his grip, fruitlessly scratching at his arms that are covered by his thick jacket, before managing to elbow him in the groin with your frantic movements. “shit!” this causes him to loosen his grip, which is enough for you to scramble away from him, slipping in the blood as you go.

you make it to the other side of the room where the officer lies facedown—though there isn’t much left of his face from yoongi’s shot. you snatch the gun from the dead officer’s hand and point it in the direction of both men. the safety is already off; all you’d have to do is pull the trigger and kill either one of them right now. before you can act, yoongi uses his free hand to pull another gun from his waistband—his own.

“as i said before, i know how to take care of myself,” he says, flicking the safety off and aiming for you, though his stance shows he’s still in pain. “please don’t assume it’ll be that easy. do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

you and yoongi are at an impasse as you both point your guns at each other, jungkook looking on with casual amusement coloring his face. “fuck you,” you spit out. you remain hesitant to fire on him, knowing that even if you succeed, he could fatally shoot you at the same time.

“let’s not do it this way,” yoongi says, his voice low and soft in an attempt to be persuasive, though you just find it disturbing. “you were supposed to be a clean kill. a few stabs and it’d all be over. i’ll even let jungkook do it, since you seem to like each other so much. do you really want to be shot down like a dog like camille over there?”

“you and him can both fry in hell!” you shout.

yoongi glances over at jungkook. they both nod before yoongi hands the knife to him, and the younger man takes a few steps in your direction. you don’t know whether to point the gun at him or keep it trained on yoongi; your head is pounding with a headache that you’ve only just realized you have. “don’t come over here. stay away from me!”

you press your back to the wall as jungkook comes closer, inching towards your right side with his knife at the ready. you slide away from him as you keep your back against the wall. “hand it over, y/n. it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“hand it over and let you kill me? are you insane? you lied to me this whole time, you fucking piece of shit.”

jungkook scoffs and looks at yoongi as if to say can you believe this? “why wouldn’t i lie to you? you were always meant to die.”

he won’t stop coming towards you, and you’re running out of room to slide away from him. you grasp for anything to try to reason with him, though you know it’s futile. “you realize that if you kill me now and you conveniently survive, everyone will know it’s you? you’ve been living here for weeks, you jackass!”

“hyung and i have that covered. it’s not for you to worry about, considering you won’t be worrying about anything soon.”

jungkook lunges for you with the knife, thinking he can catch you off guard and overpower you. you scream and pull the trigger in your frenzied state of mind, shooting yoongi. the next few things seem to happen almost simultaneously:

you hear the crash of yoongi’s body hitting the TV stand and the TV falling to the floor.

you feel jungkook’s knife piercing your shoulder, causing you to fire a stray round into the wall from the unexpected burst of pain.

you hear another gunshot that’s not from you; you see and feel jungkook stumble into you, the knife sliding from his fingers and to the floor.

you realize that he’s been shot when his hand flies to the bullet wound on his lower back; he’d been standing in front of you, and yoongi meant to hit you, not him.

“jungkook!” yoongi’s shout is furious and regretful as he steadies himself on the TV stand.

trying to push the pain into the back of your mind, you clumsily grasp jungkook’s fallen knife and run for the stairs. more shots follow you and most of them miss but one, which strikes you in the thigh. while you cling to the stair railing and try to regain your footing, you are suddenly staring mortality in the face and understanding with a freezing-cold clarity that you will die right now if you don’t do something.

your nervous system vibrates with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip on the police officer’s gun and shoot yoongi with it twice—in the same area he’d shot camille.

these last two bullets finish him off immediately. you don’t think it’s fair, with how camille suffered and bled and died in your arms. for a moment, you’re so outraged that you wish he’d come back to life so that you could kill him again. you’re torn from these thoughts by jungkook.

“you bitch…he was my only family after everyone else threw me away. do you understand? i’ll fucking kill you!” jungkook is nearly writhing in the ground from his upset and from the hurt of his injury; it frightens you that this same man is someone you once thought you could grow fond of.

you aim the gun for jungkook next, but the chamber is empty. either way, he currently has no weapon, which leaves you with a small chance to get away before he re-arms himself. throwing the gun away, you stagger up the rest of the steps while his screams continue echoing up to you.

you give no thought to the blood trail you’re leaving behind as you rush to veronica’s room and to the window yoongi had entered through. you begin squeezing yourself through, keeping your grip on your knife all the while, but your injuries make it difficult to move. a few more tears slip out as you try to balance your injured leg on the tree branch beneath the window, and the desperation of wanting to give up clings to you.

you hear jungkook’s heavy and limping footsteps coming up the stairs, and you attempt to hurry, but you’re only halfway out of the window. when he crashes into the room, it’s unnervingly easy for him to grab your arm and yank your body back through the window, uncaring of how you get scraped up in the process.

he jams you up against the nightstand with one of the kitchen knives to your neck to stop your movements; his harsh maneuver causes the objects on the nightstand to rattle. the nightstand’s edge digs into the backs of your thighs, the pressure causing your wounded thigh to hurt more.

“you want to know why i picked you?” jungkook hisses, the knife’s blade stinging your throat as it begins to break skin. “you were just another choice out of many, but i decided you’d be the first one that i’d fuck and kill.”

it’s painful to hear, but it angers you at the same time. “fuck you!” in your rage, you spit in his eyes. jungkook jerks back and the knife shifts from its previous position at your neck; you take those few seconds to grasp the alarm clock off the nightstand and crash it against his head.

“shit—!” he cries out, stumbling and grasping the side of his head. he tries to grab for you again, but you jump onto the bed and crawl away from him, your stomach lurching at all of veronica’s blood soaked into the sheets. you spot a small decorative glass bowl on the dresser—the one filled with little candies that you’d always teased veronica for, saying she was so much like a grandma handing out treats to her grandchildren. when your feet touch the ground again, you clasp your hand around it like it’s a lifeline and fling it at jungkook’s head as hard as you can, just as he makes it around the bed to your side. the shards cut his face when it breaks, slowing him down further as he grabs his slashed and bleeding face. one of his eyes is blinded from the blood and glass.

this will probably be your only chance while he’s struggling to gather himself. you rush towards him with the knife handle tight in both of your hands and drive the blade into the middle of his chest, putting all your strength into that movement—just as his own knife impales your abdomen.

you are both simultaneously struck from the shock of being stabbed, and it takes you a few long moments to piece your mind back together as the pain radiates throughout your body. jungkook groans when you shift the knife around in his wound as you pull it out, letting his blood flow out freely. his breaths become wet and rattling as he chokes on his own blood, the red fluid staining his mouth and dripping down to his neck. he jams his knife further into your wound in retaliation so that the handle is flush against your body, causing your head to spin.

“i-if i die, i’m taking you w-with me.” jungkook gasps with his remaining effort. his body starts to sag from its standing position as he weakens, his hand slipping from the knife handle. he loosely grasps the comforter with one hand as he collapses to his knees, his torso becoming soaked with blood and his head bleeding from your earlier hits.

you drop your knife and lean against the bed too, shifting your body to find a position that could lessen the pain, but it’s impossible with a knife lodged in your abdomen. you know enough to understand that you’ll bleed out faster if you remove it, though, so you resist the urge. “you can rot in hell alone, jungkook.” you watch him struggle for what feels like minutes before his breaths stop altogether and his body slumps to the floor. he is just a blur of clothes and blood through your tears. you’ve never felt so lonely in your life.

you have a thought to call 911, but you’re becoming more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, and you can already hear sirens approaching on your street. you figure one of your neighbors must’ve called after hearing the gunshots; perhaps the bodyguard sent for backup before he was shot. your rescue has come much later than you would’ve preferred—or maybe everything just happened much faster than it seemed. you can’t tell anymore.

you can’t tell anymore, and you no longer want to look at the carnage around you, and nothing makes any sense. so, you close your eyes to it all; and when you feel someone lifting you in their arms—this sensation is so familiar—and maneuvering you onto a stretcher, you allow yourself to relent to it and empty your mind of everything.

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#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

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shinynewboots · 9 days

Text

The Alchemy: Adam x AFAB Morningstar!reader Part 1

Prompt/Summary: She’s Charlie’s older sister and when Charlie first has a meeting with Adam and Lute he couldn’t stop staring at her! To him she was like a goddess her beauty, her voice! Almost everything to him was beautiful. But she gets pissed off when he doesn’t take them serious not in his meeting room in hell or in heaven.

But he bribes the older Morningstar that he will stop the extermination and would talk to the higher ups and try to convince them about Charlie’s idea if only she agrees to be his (as in marriage).

She was considering it, ( Lucifer and Alastor were definitely against it), everyone in the hotel were also asking her to reconsider this plan. (But at the end she says yes).

Also if u can… like add a part where he betrays her at the end and does the extermination but before Nifty stabs him she’s there to save him.

For @jennieyeager Your request darling that I accidentally took forever to write! I have loved writing this prompt so far and I hope you enjoy it at as well! I intend on it being a 4 part series so please stay tuned!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Warnings: 18+ eventually, somewhat dubious consent, language

“Are you coming, Y/N?” Charlie asked, practically radiating excitement. You looked up at your little sister (who had been the sibling to inherit your mother’s height) and sighed. You were not particularly optimistic about Charlie’s meeting with heaven (hell, you weren’t optimistic about anything, you left that mostly to Charlie), but you didn’t want to rain on her parade.

Besides, Dad had asked you both to represent him at the meeting with Heaven. And there was no way you were going to let Charlie face the wolves alone.

“I’m coming,” You replied. “But I think we need to tone down the singing in your presentation. You remember how well that went over with Katie Killjoy.”

Charlie smiled awkwardly, her permanently flushed cheeks growing even redder at the reminder. She reminded you a lot of Dad at this moment. Full of dreams and hopes for a better future. You wanted to believe in a better future. You did. But all your hopes had been smashed when Mom had gone off the grid without even a single phone call and Dad holed himself up in the castle.

However, you did believe in Charlie. She had always been the best of your family. And if Charlie wanted to use this meeting with Heaven to try and convince them to cease the yearly Exterminations, you would be right there at her side.

You and Charlie stood outside of the Embassy, both hesitant to open the door. Neither of you had ever gone inside before as your parents had you avoid the building like the plague growing up. And now the building seemed daunting and out of place with its glow of angelic light. You and Charlie looked at each other and pushed on the door together.

The foyer of the Embassy was empty and dark. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting but this certainly wasn’t it. Rows of sofas made a path to a desk and set of elevators that stood at the other end of the room.

“Hello!” Charlie called, her voice echoing through the room. No response.

“Creepy,” Charlie said. You nodded in agreement, taking in the embassy. It smelled old and unused. Almost like moth balls. You both walked slowly to the desk where Charlie rang the bell. A flash of blinding light revealed a golden document with the words “sign here”. You both shared a glance before signing the document. The document disappeared as soon as it was signed and a glowing light appeared from one of the elevators.

You both walked towards the elevator and ascended to the top floor. Rock music played in the background as it made its slow journey. You looked over at Charlie. “You’re going to do great. And I’ll be right here by your side through the whole thing.”

Charlie beamed at you, her face bright. She pulled you into a fierce hug “I really appreciate you, Y/N.”

The elevator stopped abruptly and you broke the hug. “Now or never.”

You and Charlie walked out of the elevator and were met with a pair of open double doors, beckoning you to step inside.

“Anyone here?”

Charlie walked through the doors first.

“Hello!” She called out, you following behind her. Light began to emit from the room through the doors and you hurried to catch up with her.

“Sup.” You hear a voice call out. Your eyebrows furrow. Why was Charlie so fast? How dare you inherit your father’s height.

“Holy shit!” Charlie calls out. You finally make it to her to see to angels at the other end of the table. The one sitting wore a black exorcist mask with gold trimmings along with purple and white robes. The angel standing wore an traditional exorcist mask complete with the gray armor.

You stand behind Charlie, nervous but letting her do her thing. She was so much more jovial and charismatic than you were. You knew she would win heaven over.

“Um, hi! I’m Charlie! My dad asked me if could meet you.” Charlie said, a grin on her features. She reached out her hand for the angel to shake.

“Yeah I know.” The angel responded. He looked uninterested in the conversation. In anything. Fucking angels. He looked down at his nails and seemed bored.

“And this is my sister, Y/N!” Charlie said, moving aside so the angels could see you clearly. The lead angel glanced up and suddenly you could see the eyes of his mask fill with interest.

“Hi.” You said sheepishly, throwing the two angels a wave. The exorcist scowled back. The lead angel looked at her with curious eyes (could a mask be curious?).

There was an awkward silence as no one spoke. You and Charlie glanced back and forth until Charlie decided there was no time to waste. She fumbled in her pockets for her schematics of her plan (maybe crayon wasn't the best option but there had been no arguing with Charlie).

“Well um I guess we can go ahead and get this meeting started. So we all know Hell’s biggest problem right?” Charlie asked, holding up the crayon drawing of exorcists raining from the sky on extermination day. She glanced over at you nervously. You tried to give her an encouraging smile.

At this, the lead angel stood and walked towards you and Charlie.

He doesn't look at Charlie and instead his attention is solely on you. He looks you up and down and you suddenly feel very exposed under his gaze.

“Hey, my sister’s trying to speak to you.” You said, meeting the angel’s gaze.

The angel looked back and forth between the two of you before sighing. “Fine, let’s getting on with it.”

“Uh thank you,” Charlie stammered, trying to collect herself. “So again as well all know Hell’s biggest problem is it's overpopulation and subsequent exterminations. I have a plan to redeem sinners through a program at the hotel I recently opened!”

Charlie was actively shoving the crayon drawings into the angel’s face. He rolled his eyes. He barely gave Charlie a glance however, and kept most of his attention on you.

“Listen, let me stop you right there sweetie. You’re wasting everyone’s time.”

You saw red. Who did this motherfucker think he was? Charlie looked visibly defeated but tried to collect her presentation.

“But they're human souls.”

“Human souls that made a choice,” The exorcist angel said, walking up behind the lead angel.

“But-” Charlie started but was cut off by the lead angel.

“And there's no fucking way in heaven or hell that anyone would choose to stop the exterminations. Not only does it control the disgusting sinner population but it's so fucking fun to come down here and kill demon ass.”

You could feel your demon form starting to bubble to the surface. Horns began to sprout from your head and you knew your eyes had taken on a reddish hue. You glanced at Charlie who was in full demon form, her face red and full of anger.

“This isn’t fair. What makes you or anyone else in heaven any better than these souls?” Charlie exclaimed, her voice taking on a deeper, more sinister tone than you were used to hearing.

“Woah, settle down sweetheart. Chill out. They’re just sinners.”

“They're our people,” You replied, glaring at the fucking arrogant lead angel. Fuck, you wanted to punch him in his stupid face.

“And that must fucking suck for you guys,” The angel answered, laughing. He had grown in height, his golden wings unfurling around them. You hated to admit it but they were magnificent to look at. Smug asshole.

“Anyways, the real reason we’re here is because the angelic council has made the executive decision to move up the next extermination.”

“What?” Charlie exclaimed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, sweetheart, that we will be back in six months.”

“You can’t do that!” You argued. The lead angel looked at you with a grin on his masked features. He pulled out a guitar (where in the fuck did he get a guitar) and strummed a cord.

“I think this meeting is over,” He said, the sound wave of the guitar creating a force strong enough to push you and Charlie out of the meeting room and out the double doors. The doors slammed close and you both landed on the floor with a thump.

“No, no, no!” Charlie cried out, her eyes brimming with tears. You had to do something. Anything! This was Charlie’s dream and you weren't about to let some asshole angel with a god complex stop her. You jumped to your feet and pushed against the doors with all your might.

The doors opened (shockingly easy considering how loud they had slammed closed just seconds earlier) and you rushed into the room.

“Who in the actual fuck do you think you are to just ignore my sister like that? And to move up the extermination? Who in the actual fuck do you think you are?” You yelled as you entered the room. The double doors behind you closed with a bang, leaving Charlie out in the hallway alone. The lead angel gave you a long look and stood from the table. His hands moved to his mask and he pulled it off of his head.

You hated to admit it, but he was very handsome. His hair was light brown and messy in a boyish way. He had dark circles under his eyes, as though it had been a few millennia since had a slept. But what really got you were his eyes. They were a gold color that you had never before seen on another person.

“I’m Adam.” He said, a smirk crossing his features.

“Like, like the first man?” You asked weakly.

“The fucking same,” He grinned and began to walk towards you.

“That explains so much.” You whispered to yourself.

“Pretty awesome, right?”

You scowled. “No it's not ‘pretty awesome’, it's fucking rude of you to not even give my sister a chance and to be just a total fucking dickwad.”

“Because I don’t think your sister's idea is a good one. I mean, redemption for sinners? There’s a reason they ended up in this godforsaken place in the first place. And dickwad? Real original, sweetheart.”

Emboldened and full of anger you marched up to Adam and pointed a finger at his chest. You did not, however, anticipate that he was a hologram and so you fell right through.

“Falling for me already, sweetheart?” Adam’s hologram laughed, turning to the exorcist angel and giving a fist bump. You felt a blush rush to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

Adam shrugged. “I might have an idea that benefits both of us. It would require a little effort on your part though.”

“You mean stopping the exterminations?” You ask warily. “And redeeming sinners?”

“You know that's a very heavy ask sweetheart, but yeah. I can talk to the higher-ups about it and see what I can do. Just in exchange for one thing.”

One thing standing between you and helping Charlie achieve her dream. Someone could have pinched you, this was like a dream come true. Charlie had always been the ray of sunshine and full of hope and optimism and dreams. You would give anything for that to come true!

“What is it?”

“You.”

“Uh, what?” You asked, not sure you heard him clearly.

“You. I want you. Come to Heaven with me and be my wife.”

Your mind automatically went the worst (oh my satan did he want you as a sex slave?). Your mouth had run dry and you felt your palms grow sweaty. Why would Adam, the first man, want you as a wife. Oh my satan, wouldn't that be weird because he technically was married to your mom. This was so wrong on so many levels. And he was such an asshole.

“You want me as some weird sex slave?” You questioned, looking warily at Adam.

“Ew fucking no, that's disgusting. No, nothing sexual unless you ask,” Adam said. “Which, you know, you probably will.”

Adam winked at you. Fucking pig.

“Why me?” You were never picked first for, well, anything. No one had ever gone out of their way to make you their first choice. It had always been Charlie due to her charismatic nature and people pleasing tendencies.

Adam blinked and looked you up and down. “You’re beautiful. Hot as hell, no pun intended. And you're loyal. Doing anything to help your sister accomplish her pathetic dream? That takes guts and I respect it.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Could you do this? Marry this strange man who played a villain in your bedtime stories as a child. He was a pig but if he made it to heaven, maybe he wasn't all bad.

“Can I take some time to think about it?” You asked weakly.

“You’ve got 24 hours,” Adam said, snapping his finger to make a digital countdown watch appear on your wrist. 23:59, 23:58, 23:57…

“You can meet me back here when you've made a decision.” He said, smirking at you. Suddenly, his form appeared more real and you realized he had somehow materialized in front of and was no longer a hologram. His large hands grabbed your face and forced you to stare into his golden eyes.

You suddenly felt his lips crash into your own. His lips were soft and tasted like a cherry hard candy. One of his hands fiddled with the ends of your hair and you couldn't help but moan as his tongue lightly flicked at your lips, leaving shivers down your spine. Your tongue wrestled with his own and you felt so lightheaded.

You had been kissed before but never like this. Suddenly his many millennia of living seemed to be paying off in his favor.

You heard someone clear their throat behind you and you pulled away, a blush coming to your cheeks as you realized the exorcist angel had been present.

“Yeah, yeah Lute I know. I’m leaving.” Adam pulled his hands from your face and smirked at you.

“24 hours, sweetheart. I hope to see you here.”

And with that, Adam and Lute disappeared in a cloud of light and smoke leaving you alone in the board room. The double doors opened and Charlie rushed in, pulling you into a big hug and was frantically asking what happened. You couldn't make anything out that she was saying, however. All you could focus on was the way your lips tingled and began to swell from the ghost of his touch.

You were totally fucked.

#hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel morningstar #morningstar reader #adam x morningstar!reader #fanfiction #the alchemy #adam #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin adam

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jymwahuwu · 22 days

Note

Last one was great!

Poor arrogant reader soon will be fired from her position as head of the Family for some fabricated case, she is now basically jobless with all her belongings and money arrested and guards are not letting her leave Penacony.

She is such a mess now, so stresssed out with her career ruined she isnt even noticing that she hadnt got her period for several months.

But who will she come for help, who will accept a mess like her at such low point of her life?🤔

Of course our angelic prick will take her in. Reader doesnt have a choice to be honest. She doesnt have money to pay for shelter, food and medical care for her condition anymore?

I also hc Penacony being really expensive place especially in terms of healthcare. And abortions are strictly prohibited.

Well, clean house, homemade meals and some other nightly services could cover those expences. Our arrogant girlie will have to humble herself a bit.

And kid being born out of wedlock? Not on Sunday's watch!

Imagine some time later her former coworkers, heads of other Families or her former subordinates witnessing reader going out for groceries or just going out for a walk with Sunday holding her hand firmly?

She does not seems like arrogant bitch anymore, her belly is swollen, clothes are modest, matching rings at couple's fingers.

so sorry for the long delay in replying!!

I've been meaning to find the time to write this... and thank you for writing it in such detail. super love the content about arrogant reader get humiliated. this is awesome 😽💗💖 sunday brings it all to you but you started it first, right?

part 1

cw: yandere, dub-con, brainwashing, mind control, housewife kink, pregnancy, inappropriate traditional concepts (language about serving husband and family)

Sunday used to always forgive your arrogance and intrigue, but that's the past.

Since you like this trick so much, Sunday brings these back to you. In this dreamy and fallen city, your reputation is completely destroyed in half an hour. (He was at the party, shaking his glass and socializing with the guests.) Some Bloodhound family guards burst into your office and led you away , in full view of everyone and a lot of chatter. They grabbed your hands and dragged you forward. (He stretched his hands into fists, put them to his lips and chuckled.) It was almost a crime of betrayal to Xipe and The Family. Listen to harsh words and sign documents. (The money ejected from the machine flies into the sky. The scale of the clock is turning.)

These days of interrogation have left you exhausted. One day, you open the door to your home with the usual verification, but there is a notice on the door that it has been sealed and frozen. That was locked and confiscated. A cold stab of fear stabbed your back. There is no way to book a hotel room or rent a new house. Your bank account is also blocked.

The final straw is the realization that you haven't had your period in months. Used the last of your credit points to take a pregnancy test. The result is a baby growing inside you. There was no doubt that it was that wing bastard's baby. A baby destined to have a halo and wings.

Your eyes were sore, and tears welled up in your eyes and flowed down your cheeks.

The eyes of birds these days are staring at you from every height, corner, and alley. Your pregnancy test results are sent to Sunday's phone. His glove patted your back gently. He whispers to you, the aura continuing to send out gentle waves, shushing you. You whimpered, pushing him away in annoyance. "Get away, you bastard!"

"I just did to you what you've always wanted to do to me. Don't make a fuss." The rising corners of the oak leader's mouth only added fuel to his raging anger at you. What happened to him? He's really terrible! You point at him and take a few steps back. "Don't fucking touch me! You hypocrite."

He frowned.

"No swearing."

"What the fuck-" Just like last time, a cheerful and harmonious arrangement of notes penetrated your mind. That ethereal and strange light appears before your eyes and captures your thoughts. You obediently followed Sunday to his mansion.

What Sunday offers you comes at a price. He provided for you, after all, didn't he? You can no longer be so arbitrary, arrogant and rude. You need to pray at the dinner table, kiss him on the cheek, and be grateful to Xipe and the nutritious food he provides you. Or have him pinch your cheeks and feed you. Now that you have no job and no money, you should have time to sweep the floor, right? Keeping the house tidy is important. He checked the dust on the vase and scanned the floor. Of course don’t forget to suck his cock and spread your legs at night. He will be very, very careful. (Sex during pregnancy is always slow. You whimper when milk is secreted from your buds.)

And witnessing that humiliation! Yes, in the past, you and he competed in the workplace, and the atmosphere was tense. Everyone knows you hate Sunday. And now other family members can see the changes in you. You held his hand tightly, intertwining your fingers with your belly swollen. Those luxurious clothes of the past have disappeared, replaced by your simple, loose skirts.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #sunday x reader #yandere honkai star rail #honkai star rail x you #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #honkai x reader

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cairavende · 4 months

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My wonderful girlfriend got me Gideon the Ninth for Christmas and I realized why should I just give Worm recaps? Let's read some Locked Tomb! (We'll see how this format works, maybe I'll adjust it. Specifically might break stuff down into smaller segments instead of full acts, but I didn't think of doing this until after I had read all of act 1.)

Gideon the Ninth Act 1 (chapter 1 through 8) thoughts:

This book is so gay oh my god

Like, it's gay in ways I can't even explain. I love it.

Harrow beats the shit out of Gideon in chapter 2 and I don't know if I've ever seen someone get beat up in a more gay way.

"Oh Griddle! But I don't even remember about you most of the time." ROLL A FUCKING DECEPTION CHECK HARROW! You are saying this standing in the middle of the field you spent all night burying bones in just to foil her escape in the most dramatic way. You can't stop remembering her.

Gideon is the most herbo of herbos. I fucking love her. I love reading her PoV. She just knows punch and stab with sword and if those don't work than she'll just do them harder.

Also Gideon is SO fucking gay. Dear god. Dulcinea faints and Gideon turns off all though. HELP PRETTY GIRL. Nothing else.

Ok I could just make this whole thing "EVERYTHING IS GAY" but there is technically more than that.

I love how weird everything is and how little explanation is given. I don't want pages of exposition, I want to learn the world as it comes at me! This is perfect.

And just the very nature of things that seem weird not being given more than a passing thought in the book is information. Something may seem wild to the reader but it's so normalized to the characters that they wouldn't even think about the idea of it being different.

Lack of explanation also helps really show how much of a meathead Gideon is. Do the readers get to learn details about this thing? Only if it is a weapon, has tits, or Gideon is forced to listen while Harrow explains it. Otherwise no, why the fuck would Gideon spend her precious few brain cells on thinking?

And even if Gideon is forced to listen as Harrow explains it, the readers might not learn much cause Gideon might stop listening. I love her.

Aiglamene is wonderful. Crux is fine but I like her more.

Poor Gideon just wants a big sword that she can swing hard. It's not like she can't use a rapier. But why when she can go big sword?

SO MUCH CATHOLICISM

As someone who once was Catholic and then realized I was actually not a straight man, but instead a lesbian, I am in deep.

And the fucking slang used! Or whatever would be the right term. The shit they say! I love it. Just the weird sci-fi far future space necromancer universe and then suddenly "Are you asking me to . . . throw her a bone?", "Gideon had always known that this would be how she went: gangbanged to death by skeletons.", "Don’t hypothetically shove stuff up my butt again, it never does any good.", "Lo! A destructed ass.", "Well we were developing common sense, she studied the blade.", "Double Bones with Doctor Skelebone."

House of the First appears to be Earth. I kinda assume the House of the Ninth is Pluto, even though things obviously aren't in order given that the Seventh and Sixth are closer to the sun. Of course, I'm kinda expecting this to not technically be this solar system at all.

Undying Emperor, King of Resurrection, I Have Ten-Thousand Titles, Boss First, etc etc hasn't been on "Earth" in over nine thousand years. I wanna know MORE.

And the fucking Ninth House has their own prayer! Everyone else has one that the Ninth didn't know and then the Ninth had one that no one else knows! GIMME MORE!!!!

Also again, so many Catholicism metaphors or comparisons or whatever!

I could go on forever but gonna end this one with OH MY GOD SHE FOUND SUNGLASSES I LOVE HER. Fucking "I came prepared, my sweet." and "But then you couldn't have admired . . . these!" as she whips on the sunglasses. God. I nearly died.

#The Locked Tomb #tlt #Gideon the Ninth #Cairavende reads The Locked Tomb #Gideon Nav #Harrowhark Nonagesimus #Dulcinea Septimus #This might be the most lesbian thing I've ever read and I've read some pretty fucking lesbian things #Dulcinea might be my favorite so far

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hijinxinprogress · 6 months

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The JL finds out Captain Marvels identity and regrets it immensely

JL find out Captain Marvels a child and they start trying to parent him and just being awkward so it’s decided that Captain Marvel will join YJ (Clark started referring to Billy only as ‘son’ and ‘young man’ one time Billy saw an airplane and Clark leaned down and went “That there, son, is called an airplane and it-” “I’ll fucking stab you istg”)

To the public Captain Marvel is just extra supervision for YJ but the hero community knows it’s a way to discretely move Captain Marvel onto a team with people his age and be ‘safer’

But it doesn’t work out the way they want bc Billy’s a chaos gremlin much like YJ so they’re just doing dumb shit in the public eye bc they technically have ‘adult supervision’ (it takes Billy fifteen minutes to convince yj to go against being supervised by green lanterns)

“We’re literally your coworkers??” “I’ve literally never seen you before besides isn’t it illegal for cops to question a minor without their guardian present? 🤨” “Technically, he’s not their coworker bc he’s not in the jl anymore” “Kon” “What? I’m just saying!” “Stfu wait does Marvel even have a guardian??” “He doesn’t”

Anita and Billy are trading magic tips and teaching each other spells they should NOT have access to esp bc they’ve blown up thirteen city blocks and 1/4 of almost every planet they’ve visited with YJ

Cassie and Billy play high stakes games of catch above the earths atmosphere with missiles and shit in their free time and also during missions

Kon and Billy do just plain dumb shit they have no business doing and then playing up the ‘I’m just a baby…and I’m not even really human/I didn’t have a childhood so how would I know that I shouldn’t do that?’ excuse after bankrupting Luthor for the third time this month along with demolishing all of his newly renovated buildings (Which he and Greta repurposed to create low income housing and food pantries)

Cissie invites Marvel to all her Olympic events and he shows up to every single one with an obnoxiously large magical banner

Bart and Billy plan quips, one liners, and trash talk together and everyone hates it bc they only use the good ones on them but villains (along with everyone in their immediate vicinity) are subjected exclusively to shit like “nuh uh” and “make me”

Greta and Billy are taking down shady government operations with zero fucks to give (they had houses built for the people affected but they did also send a very long list of people to the hospital/morgue)

Billy makes Tim a magic skateboard that flies at like Mach 1 with so many magic cameras it’s concerning bc he thinks Tim being unhinged is funny especially it inconveniences or at least stresses out batman

But they’re mostly talking about what lies they’ve told the jl recently so they can plan their lies around each other “I lied to batman yesterday so you gotta back me up” and Tim’s fabricating evidence despite having no other information bc Billy will 100% “Aren’t you a so called ‘ethical’ billionaire? Nonono it’s whatever, I just thought you’d want to look out for the people but-”

And JL tries to lecture Billy about it ‘you should be more mature. I expected better’ and he’s just like ‘why?? I’m baby 🥺 I don’t know any better’

And Green Arrow’s so goddamn confused bc ‘Bro?? I’ve watched you do negotiations when Superman’s not available…’ ‘I’m just a little guy’ ‘I’VE WATCHED YOU STOP A WHOLE ASS INVASION IN TEN MINUTES’ ‘little baby man’ ‘But you’re one of the strongest members of the league???’ ‘You do know I couldn’t tie my own shoes like six years ago, right?’ ‘HOW OLD ARE YOU’ ‘Wouldn’t you like to know’

YJ and Billy just do a bunch of petty shit until JL has had enough and they’re like fine whatever it wasn’t a problem before

#billy batson #billy batson says acab #dc captain marvel #justice league #young just us #young justice #bart allen #kon el #tim drake #anita fite #cassie sandsmark #cissie king jones #Greta Hayes #shazam #dc comics #superman #clark kent

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prejacfetish · 6 months

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Train Yourself (or a partner) to Cum Faster - Coach Sarah' Method for PE

TL;DR

* Find what tier you're in below

* work towards the next tier

**Introduction**

After posting my first adventure here, I've gotten many, many people asking me to train or coach them one-on-one. Of course, having someone hot, clever, and a little sadistic to train you is the best, but, tragically, the reality is that I am way too busy to coach every person who wants to be coached.

But, these conversations have helped me start to formulate a generic write-up for some of the stuff I would suggest for guys or girls who want to be coached, either to cum faster, to cum helplessly to some specific stimulus, or both. This is my first stab at the former -- coaching to cum faster.

I've never had a "method" before. Every guy or girl I've ever played these sorts of games with I've approached individually, depending on their desires, their past, and what I personally was finding hot when I thought about it.

But I do think there are patterns or defaults that can help, so I've decided to start writing them down and sharing them.

If any of you follow my advice and keep notes, I'd love to hear how it goes! I particularly enjoy public comments, even if they're made with a burner account, because then everyone can benefit from your experience.

**What this guide is and isn't**

This will be an initial attempt at a guide specifically for people (any gender, any genitals) who want to cum faster. This is actually NOT what I do most of the time in my personal life -- most of the time, especially if I'm even occasionally sleeping with the person, I'd much prefer to train them to cum when I want, which might be 30 seconds into making out with them, or not at all. But, since PE Fetish is where I shared my first post, that's what most of your questions have been about, so I figured I'd start there.

So, what are the main goals of making someone cum faster? And what are the things I am not particularly interested in?

Let's get some of the "not interested" things out of the way first.

First, I'm not interested in fantasy, and that's not what this guide is about. I think fantasy captioned images where a guy is cumming in his pants after just seeing a girl in tight pants are great, if that's your thing. More power to ya! But MY thing is doing it in real life, and in real life that sort of thing is both borderline impossible, and also, if it really COULD be achieved, would completely screw up a person's life. Hot in fantasy, but not workable in reality.

Second, for this guide, I'm only interested in "conditioned triggers" in as much as they facilitate cumming faster. The idea of cumming whenever you see pussy or breasts or ass or a fire truck or hear a specific phrase is GREAT, and I LOVE it -- but here it is, at best, of secondary importance.

If you condition yourself to only cum to bare breasts, for example, you're working towards a different goal than strictly "lowering your time" PE. Imagine training to only cum to bare breasts, and it worked perfectly. Does that mean if we were hooking up, and I left my shirt on, you could you go for hours?

Obviously the answer to this is probably "who knows," but the point is that if your goal is just to get faster, a trigger CAN be helpful, but it should be a side dish more than the main course.

(Side note, a variation on this that I applied with Alan in a previous post, and that I have used several times since, is conditioning friends to cum when they see my bare pussy. This is a fun variation on a PE fetish, because it lets you keep a guy hard for as long as you want, but they know they will never be able to fuck you! That's not what I'm covering here, though. Maybe another day!)

So if that's what I DON'T want, what DO I want to achieve with this kind of coaching?

**Goals / What this guide will help you do**

The following three goals, IN ORDER OF IMPORTANCE:

1. the person gets better at the learned skill of cumming quickly. week over week, the number of minutes and seconds it takes for them to cum goes down consistently (if not strictly linearly)

2. the person gets better at cumming from less intense VISUAL & mental stimulation. if in week 1 they are cumming to niche hardcore porn, in week 52 (say) I'd like them to be cumming just as easily to pics of people wearing clothes, or just their imagination.

3. the person gets better at cumming from less intense PHYSICAL stimulation. if in week 1 they are cumming to jerking off with a death-grip at high speed, or by holding a hitachi directly against their clit, by week 52 (say), I'd like them to be cumming from one finger rubbing their frenulum, or a soft paintbrush or make-up brush on their clit.

This is a key concept, so I'll repeat it: for me, and this guide, I am more interested in lowering times FIRST, decreasing intensity of visual stimulation SECOND, and decreasing physical stimulation THIRD. There can be some wiggle room, and not everything is linear, as I'll explain; but in general I think going from 20 minute jerk-offs (or 4+ hour goon sessions) with a tight grip and nonstop hardcore/niche porn on monday, to trying to "OFM" to girls in baggy clothes in 90 seconds on tuesday, is a recipe for not getting anywhere.

**Three Elements**

That said, progress is always non-linear. So, you'll be working through tiers. For each tier, you will:

1. Get your time down, and keep lowering it consistently

2. Then, start to experiment with less intense visual / mental stimulation

3. Then, start to experiment with less intense physical stimulation

When you are hitting all three benchmarks in a given tier, you'll move on to the next.

Ok those are the goals. Now onto the method.

**Method In Broad Strokes**

1. Take stock of where you currently are.

2. Find the highest tier you're in based on the benchmarks

3. Use that tier to set specific, concrete goals

4. Work towards those goals in the following order:A. TimeB. Visual stimulationC. Physical stimulation

5. When you reach a new benchmark, start the steps over

6. When (not if) you hit a plateau, follow the "plateau procedure"

Again, I've never written this down before, but this is basically what I'm typically, generically doing and thinking about when I'm training a friend (or enemy). I'm not always literally following the exact steps in the exact order, but it's pretty close to what I would do in the broadest of strokes.

(Also, for what it's worth, if anyone works on this constantly I'd love your feedback. I'm inventing these tiers right now based on experience, in order to help people broadly; but in my normal life I'd be setting individual goals for each individual. These might end up being a little "off" and if you find yourself stalling or hitting certain benchmarks more easily than others, I'd love to hear that.

**Tiers**

>**Tier 1 Benchmarks:**

>Frequency: Masturbates 3 or more times per day

>Time: n/a (doesn't matter)

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>**Tier 2 Benchmarks:**

>Frequency: Masturbates once or twice a day, most days

>Time: n/a (doesn't matter)

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>**Tier 3 Benchmarks:**

>Frequency: Masturbates either every other day, or 3 days a week.

>Time: records time consistently (time itself doesn't matter)

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>**Tier 4 Benchmarks:**

>Frequency: Masturbates either every other day, or 3 days a week.

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 5 minutes

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>*Note: from this point and below, the requirement for every tier is "Frequency: Masturbates either every other day, or 3 days a week, not more."*

>**Tier 5 Benchmarks:**

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 90 seconds

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>**Tier 6 Benchmarks:**

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 60 seconds

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm looking at images of a single person w/o penetration

>Physical stimulation: n/a (*Can be anything, though this is a good place to casually practice a "loose" grip (penis) or less intense or indirect vibrations (if you have a pussy and use a vibrator).*)

>*Note: from this point and below, the phrase "a single person" refers to "a single person per video or image." You are keeping to softcore, not fixating on a single individual.*

>**Tier 7 Benchmarks:**

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 45 seconds

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm looking at images of a single person wearing SOME clothing on top and bottom (can be underwear or swimsuit)

>Physical stimulation: masturbates with thumb, index finger and middle finger only (penis) or fingers only (vagina)

>**Tier 8 Benchmarks:**

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 30 seconds

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm looking at images of a single person wearing street clothes

>Physical stimulation: masturbates with two fingers only (index finger and thumb or index finger and middle finger) (penis) or 1 finger only (vagina)

>*Note: from this point and below, the phrase "street clothes" is subjective. My metric is "an outfit that wouldn't get you kicked out of a typical restaurant where families are present"*

>**Tier 9 Benchmarks:**

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 20 seconds

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm looking at images of a single person wearing street clothes

>Physical stimulation: masturbates with two fingers only (index finger and thumb or index finger and middle finger) (penis) or 1 finger only (vagina)

>**Tier 10 Benchmarks:**

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 10 seconds

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm without visual stimulation

>Physical stimulation: masturbates with one finger only (penis) or with a make up brush only (vagina)

**Using the Tiers**

Again, the method / pattern is as follows:

1. Take stock of where you currently are.

2. Find the highest tier you're in based on the benchmarks

3. Use that tier to set specific, concrete goals

4. Work towards those goals in the following order:A. TimeB. Visual stimulationC. Physical stimulation

5. When you reach a new benchmark, start the steps over

6. When (not if) you hit a plateau, follow the "plateau procedure"

For the purposes of this guide, you want to look at the HIGHEST number tier for which you hit ALL the metrics. That is the tier you are "on." One tier below that is the tier you are "working towards."

Note that I say you need to hit ALL the metrics to be ON a given tier. What happens if you hit some metrics for one tier, but not all the metrics? As you'll see, this will often be the case, and that's a good thing. In every case, you are considered to be on the HIGHEST number tier for which you hit ALL the metrics; hitting some metrics for lower tiers is great, but doesn't mean anything in terms of your programing.

For example, lets look at tiers 5 and 6

>**Tier 5 Benchmarks:**

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 90 seconds

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>**Tier 6 Benchmarks:**

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 60 seconds

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm looking at images of a single person w/o penetration

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

Lets say you time yourself and are able to cum in 54 seconds while looking at hardcore BDSM porn. You are in Tier 5, working towards tier 6, because while you meet the time metric for tier 6 (good job!), you don't yet meet ALL the metrics.

Let's look at a more extreme example.

>**Tier 3 Benchmarks:**

>Frequency: Masturbates either every other day, or 3 days a week.

>Time: records time consistently (time itself doesn't matter)

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>**Tier 4 Benchmarks:**

>Frequency: Masturbates either every other day, or 3 days a week.

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 5 minutes

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>**Tier 7 Benchmarks:**

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 45 seconds

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm looking at images of a single person wearing SOME clothing on top and bottom (can be underwear or swimsuit)

>Physical stimulation: masturbates with thumb, index finger and middle finger only (penis) or fingers only (vagina)

Let's say you consistently masturbate to images of a single person wearing some clothing on top and bottom, like underwear or a swimsuit. Great! You have only recently started timing yourself, and you average about 8 1/2 minutes to climax, with a best-ever time of 5:24.

You are doing awesome, but for the purposes of programing, you should consider yourself at Tier 3, working towards Tier 4. This isn't to diminish your work cumming to less intense visual stimulation! But this guide is about learning to cum faster. Following the tier system, you can stop worrying about less intense visual stimulation for a while, and focus on getting your time down for a while.

Again, as a reminder, this guide isn't one-size fits all. If you think this concept is shit, do whatever you want! I'm not your mom (unless I've explicitly told you to call me Mommy) and you can do whatever you want to do. But this is the GENERAL advice and programing I'd give to a person who wants to achieve the specific goals I outlined above. If you want something else, do something else, I won't be offended.

**Moving Up In Tiers**

**Tiers 1 - 3**

Your goal here is to work from masturbating many times a day to once every other day, or 3 days a week on scheduled days each week. (Either is fine in my opinion -- every other day is probably sightly better in general, but every 3 days can make overcoming plateaus easier so it's mostly a wash.)

* for one week, keep track of how many times you masturbate. (Generally this means orgasm, but if you do a lot of edging, count each 30 minute block as one time)

* At the end of the week make a total for the week.

* Multiply the total by .9. That is your new weekly maximum.

* Divide by 7 to get a daily maximum, if you want to

* for each following week, multiply THE WEEKLY MAXIMUM by .9 to get a new weekly maximum

* Do not multiply the number of times you masturbated by .9, I don't care about that number at all. Reduce the amount you masturbate by as much as you like. Drop down to 3x a week on week 2 if you want. But your weekly maximum goes down by 10% each week regardless.

* You are done with this sequence when you consistently masturbate every other day / on 3 scheduled days a week for 3 consecutive weeks.

*Walking, exercise, and hobbies Side-note*

For people that I coach who masturbate A LOT, their masturbation is often a way of numbing difficult emotions. Simply dropping down in frequency without doing anything else tends, in my experience, to fail spectacularly.

If you masturbate more than 7x a week, you should follow the following sequence as you follow the above sequence:

* when you determine the number of times a week you masturbate, also keep track (precisely or loosely, guesstimates are fine) of the number of MINUTES you masturbate

* As you reduce the number of times you masturbate, you are REQUIRED to replace at least 50% of that time (100% is optimal) with specific other activities.

* Walking is the default activity, and might be the best. This generally means going outside and walking, maybe listening to music or a podcast. If you can't decide, just do this.

* Other activities include any form of exercise, or any hobby where you look at your hands (drawing, journaling, sculpting, ship-in-a-bottle are ok; video games and surfing the internet do not count for this requirement)

**Tiers 4 and beyond**

Again, the method / pattern is as follows:

1. Take stock of where you currently are.

2. Find the highest tier you're in based on the benchmarks

3. Use that tier to set specific, concrete goals

4. Work towards those goals in the following order:A. TimeB. Visual stimulationC. Physical stimulation

5. When you reach a new benchmark, start the steps over

6. When (not if) you hit a plateau, follow the "plateau procedure"

We've now covered 1, 2, and 3. Now we'll work on 4, 5 and 6.

**4A. How to lower your time**

This alone is a helpful and simple method, and I bet some of you who think this guide is WAY too complicated can still benefit from this approach. Here's what you do.

Note: should be self-explanatory, but the following is intended for people who are in tier 4 or higher. If you are masturbating 3x a day, godspeed, but this will probably not be super effective.

Solo Method:

Week 1

* each time you masturbate, time yourself with a STOPWATCH

* \- the timer begins when you touch your genitals, even through clothes (this is to prevent cheating by doing a lot of stimulation through your jeans or whatever, which is counterproductive)

* \- You can look at stimulating stuff at other times, but this may cause you to go crazy or fall off the wagon (hard to advise if you don't have a partner)

* at the end of the week, average the times (add them up and divide by 3 or 4 depending)

* Multiply this number by .9 -- This is your new MAXIMUM TIME

For each following week:

* each time you masturbate, set a TIMER (not a stopwatch) for your MAXIMUM TIME.

* If you orgasm within the maximum time, great! (it's not required, but I think it's good to write down how long you took, eg {max time - time remaining on timer = session time\]

* if you do not orgasm within the maximum time, no problem! stop masturbating and wait until your next session.

* Generally, if you are following the structure, you will always cum either in the first session or the second session. This is considered "good progress"

* At the end of each week, multiply the week's MAXIMUM TIME by .9 to get next weeks new Maximum Time

* Generally there's no need to add up your times and find an average anymore, unless you find yourself consistently beating your maximum times by a huge margin (over 25%) FOR MULTIPLE WEEKS RUNNING.

* When your week's maximum time gets = to or lower than the maximum time for the Tier you are WORKING TOWARDS, set your max time at that time and keep it there.

*Partner Method:*

*As above, but with a partner you can generally go faster, especially if the partner is keeping you in a chastity device. Sometimes I will multiply the max time by other numbers, like .85 or .8, or arbitrarily drop down even lower -- and then in following weeks raise the time similarly arbitrarily. I find a more chaotic approach that trends downward is often more effective and makes my partner feel much more controlled and helpless.*

Within 2 weeks, you will either be cumming within the max time for the tier you are working towards, most of the time or all of the time, OR, you will be plateaued, only cumming every other time (and likely really frustrated).

If you are pretty consistently cumming within the max time for the tier you are working towards, keep your max time where it is and move on to decreasing visual stimulation.

If you are plateaued, do the following:

* time yourself with a stopwatch (not a timer)

* masturbate once, with the goal of cumming as fast as you can

* whatever time you get is your temporary max time, which will be consistent as you move on to decreasing visual stimulation.

**4B -** **Decreasing Visual Stimulation**

(This is identical to (but maybe slightly more detailed than) the much-misunderstood "Trigger Method" popular on this subreddit. I hate to even use that term, because people almost always get the wrong idea about what the word "trigger" means. So if you don't know what I'm talking about, just forget the word trigger.)

* keep your maximum time, as above.

* as above, if you don't cum within your maximum time, stop and wait for your next session

* Look at the requirements for visual stimulation for the tier you are working towards

* Before you start masturbating, pull up something along those lines in another window, browser tab, screen, whatever. We'll call this the LESS STIMULATING stuff.

* masturbate as normal to the stuff you normally masturbate to

* when you are close to orgasm, switch to the LESS STIMULATING stuff while you orgasm

* Over time, experiment with switching to the LESS STIMULATING stuff earlier and earlier in the session

* Eventually experiment with starting with the less stimulating stuff and looking at it the whole time.

* There is another more concrete method for this that involves two timers, but that is probably too much for most people's patience.

* DON'T: look at the less stimulating stuff to start with and switch to some other thing later.

* I don't really recommend making the LESS STIMULATING stuff something specific like belly buttons or feet or eye contact or fire hydrants if your goal is to decrease your time. (That can be fun for other games, but outside the scope of this specifci guide.)

* When you are consistently cumming to the less stimulating stuff, move on to decreasing physical stimulation

* If you go for several weeks making no progress -- consistently not cumming, or frequently only cumming on session #2 and not #1, you can move on to physical stimulation OR add time to your max time and start over.

**4C - Decreasing Physical Stimulation**

Much the same as above, but with physical stimulation.

* keep your maximum time, as above.

* as above, if you don't cum within your maximum time, stop and wait for your next session

* Look at the requirements for physical stimulation for the tier you are working towards

* masturbate as normal to the stuff you normally masturbate to

* while you masturbate, experiment with less intense grip/pressure/lower speed on vibrator

* when you are close to orgasm, switch to the LESS STIMULATING type of touching while you orgasm. Do this until you feel you are cumming normally/strongly with the less intense stimulation

* Over time, experiment with switching to the LESS STIMULATING grip/pressure earlier and earlier in the session

* (For people with vaginas, when you are moving from vibrator to fingers, take your time. This tier might be a huge challenge for you! That's fine, be patient, take it slow.)

* Eventually experiment with starting with the less stimulating grip or pressure the whole time.

* When you are consistently cumming to the less stimulating stuff, but are falling short of the tier you are working towards in terms of time or visual stimulation, return to those steps as above. It's okay for progress to be non-linear!

* If you go for several weeks making no progress -- consistently not cumming, or frequently only cumming on session #2 and not #1, you can move back to visual stimulation OR add time to your max time and start over.

Ok, I typed this all out without too much thinking about it or review. I'll probably return to it in a day or two to make refinements and possibly add examples for the last part. And obviously I'll need

Please sound off with questions, in the meantime.

And, good luck! I can't offer direct coaching, but I'd love to hear your progress in the comments.

\-Coach Sarah

#prejac #premature ejaculation

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aestariiwilderness · 11 days

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Bad Batch Season 3 Episode 15 Spoilers

Finale-Inspired Scenario

I know it was very touching and all with Hunter's "if you need us [Omega], we'll be there". I was Touched™. But all I could think of then was this scenario: Omega: mysterious badass pilot in the Rebellion from any outsider POV. Strange mildly Force-sensitive, very young woman with very extensive, if unorthodox military experience. Animals follow her around. May or may not be a pirate. Has devoted mildly Force-sensitive friends who appear to consider her their leader. Has very odd contacts in very odd places. Weirdly naive about a lot of things (dirt continues to fascinate her) but terrifyingly experienced with others (cloning, mind-wiping, sentient experimentation, etc.). Can fix anything. Has a weird grudge against Saw Gerrera (but who doesn't?). Escape artist who overflows with compassion at the MOST INCONVENIENT times but will also absolutely stab a bitch with no compunction and watch him fall to his death riddled with blaster holes. Never speaks of her origins, history, or family. The famous Captain Rex knows her personally. Senator Chuchi hugs her. Captain Hera Syndulla has apparently known her since childhood. Other pilots and members of the Rebellion are fascinated by this mystery. They place bets on her past -- former Jedi Padawan is currently leading the pool, with "amnesiac formerly brainwashed Imperial child soldier or Emperor's Hand" trailing not far behind. And then. Oh no! Mysterious badass pilot Omega is in a bind. Trapped somewhere behind enemy lines. The Rebellion is collectively in despair, dithering about whether they can spare a "suicide mission" to get her. And then. Multiple (three or four, depending on whether Echo retired to Pabu :D) oddly similar geriatric hippies with scars, facial tattoos, and a tamed lurca hound apparate into their council room. One of them has a toothpick. He has no teeth left, but he is somehow still chewing it disdainfully. Another has one eye and appears to be 1. made of durasteel and 2. has a hard time fitting in the council room. The shortest one has a Ponytail with a capital P, seems to be cosplaying as Moses, and refuses to listen to anyone. They have an incomprehensible system of numbered plans that correspond to no military system anyone has ever seen. They spend 70 percent of the twenty minutes they are on base arguing with each other and ignoring absolutely everyone else. Rex gets a pat on the shoulder. A middle-aged pirate is their getaway driver. The hound will not stop chewing Important Wires. No one has any idea what they want. People only start to get a clue when they yeet themselves at the planet Omega is trapped on and disappear as quickly as they came. There are multiple explosions, screaming, and what sounds suspiciously like a fusion generator overloading catastrophically over an open comm before it is abruptly cut off. The Rebellion gives them up for dead even though Rex, Syndulla, and Chuchi seem oddly unconcerned. Cut to three weeks of radio silence later. There is an unauthorized landing. The code is very old, the signature masked, and it blasts through their security measures like it doesn't exist. A very beat-up ship trailing smoke and parts coasts in to the hangar bay over the protests of the landing crews. Geriatric Hippies Numbers 2 and 3 spill out in a flood of more smoke, completely untouched and looking mildly irritated instead of suffocated. 3 has two stumps and no hands now. He does not appear concerned about this. Somehow, he is still gumming the toothpick. The getaway pilot/pirate is yammering on about where she can (steal?? borrow? liberate?? what?) some upper class robotic hands for him. Geriatric Hippie Moses emerges next. The lurca hound beside him is trailing what looks suspiciously like stormtrooper armor from the corner of her jaws. Badass Pilot Omega, none the worse for wear, is thrown over Hippie Moses' shoulders fireman-carry style, complaining loudly and vociferously that she is NOT A KID and does NOT NEED TO BE CARRIED and YOU KNOW HOW YOUR BACK GETS, HUNTER, PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW --

Omega is summarily deposited in front of Rex with several squinty, semi-threatening looks that he cheerfully ignores. They leave -- without bothering to repair their ship, it is absolutely still on fire -- with a lot of meaningful silences, back-slapping, hair fussing, armor-tightening, you-forgot-this and did-you-take-your-kit and do-you-have-the-grenades-I-made-you and are-you-drinking-enough and don't-forget-to-comm-home.

A brave technician who had nothing to do with any of this dares to inquire about the injuries, the second missing hand, and the, uh, wreck they're driving. They are summarily sneered at, called a "reg" in the most scathing tones possible, threatened with dire death should Omega come to any harm, and left standing on the landing pad.

Rex is pinching the bridge of his nose and doing Lamaze breathing. Syndulla is trying not to laugh. Chuchi just looks fond; Omega just looks sheepish.

The entire Rebellion: ....what was that

Omega, sighing deeply: ...my younger brothers

The ghost of Rampart in the background: I HATE CLONES Bonus points if Jedi Knight "Kanan Jarrus" aka Caleb Dume happens to be strolling past the hangar bay just in time to see Geriatric Hippie #3 ("Toothpicked, Toothless, and Handless") and Geriatric Hippie #1 ("Skullface Moses"), screams piercingly, and Force-levitates himself to the base roof. It takes both Hera and Ahsoka to get him down three hours later

#star wars #bad batch season 3 #the bad batch #funny #tbb season 3 spoilers #bad batch season 3 spoilers #spoilers #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #tbb echo #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #captain rex #the rebellion #tbb phee #phee genoa #mywildernesspost

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spiegelgestalt · 2 months

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I want you to want me (Part 1/3) - Privileged boy learns to consider other people's feelings

So here's the thing. I don't believe Jinshis communication issue is keeping his desires to himself. That boy if he wants something will make his desire known if you want it or not. He will chase you with his gaze, he will try to feed you honey, he will shower you with gifts, he will declare that he will marry you in front of everyone via symbolism anyone who isn't pretending to not get the hint would get the hint.

Jinshis real issue is recognizing boundaries, excepting them and not treat people like things. He actively has to fight the mindset that he just can do everything what he wants. And in the beginning no one his helping with this (sorry not even Gaoshun and Surei). This is an issue people with power/privilege often run into because the more power you have the less people will tell you no directly to your face. You have to intuit it.

Let me show you some of the development Jinshi goes through in LN 1 (consider this your spoiler warning also my hand slipped, this will be long and disorganized and will have a part two)

The hairpin scene

"This hurts Sir!" This time she didn't hide her displeasure. [...] "Does it? I give this to you"

The scene begins with Jinshis getting closer and closer to Mao Mao who for once isn't wearing her freckles. Gaoshun notes that he looks like a boy who's playing with his toys. Banter starts then Mao Mao tells Jinshi that she disguises her face because she doesn't want unwanted attention from men. She doesn't want to be raped, she doesn't want to be kidnapped, she wants to be left alone. Jinshi learns that Mao Mao isn't in the rear palace because her family sold her into it but because she was kidnapped and sold. But it wouldn't make a difference to her either way. This does something to him because he has to consider for the first time that Mao Mao isn't in the Rear Place because of her own choice. She's unfree and that makes him feel bad. So how does he react to that revelation? He doesn't ask what she needs or wants he just stabs (HA! I'm so funny) her with his own desire to protect her and leaves it at that. And thing is, giving Mao Mao the hairpin is a nice thing to do - the hairpin is basically Mao Maos ticket out of the rear palace if she wants to use it. It's protection, it's safety, it's freedom in a certain way. BUT it also means that she belongs to him and Jinshi doesn't consider even for a second that this is something Mao Mao wouldn't want. Even though all she's giving him are dirty looks. He wants her, so she belongs to him. She is his toy. He's absolutely blindsided by Mao Mao not relying on him. That's why he thinks he has a right to question Mao Mao who Lihaku is once she used Lihakus hair pin instead of Jinshis. And to give credit were credit is due he accepts that Mao Mao doesn't want to use his hairpin. He accepts the boundary once he realizes it's there. But this is something he really struggles with.

Please execute me with poison

This is another important scene for Jinshi and it shakes him to his core: after a Courtesan kills herself Mao Mao tells him point blank that she can't refuse him because he has the power to have her executed. And this manufactures non consent even if Jinshi would never ever give the order. This is something Jinshi didn't realize and didn't want to know. Powerful people rarely want to know why people consent to their actions.

But once he knows he wants real enthusiastic consent from Mao Mao. He just has no idea how to get this consent. And he doesn't know yet that Mao Mao feels safer when she's just a tool but he will learn that too, because he values Mao Maos feelings even though he will make a lot and I mean a LOT of mistakes on the way. Some of those mistakes might be dealbreakers for some people. Not me though because i see this through line and I find it important! It's his character arc. One of the reasons Jinshi and Mao Mao get to have the semi equal relationship they have in LN 10 is because Jinshi actively wanted her to be his equal. Mao Mao would have been fine to just follow orders. Gaoshun notes that she is a useful and willing tool. Jinshi makes everything more difficult for himself. But only because he does, there is a chance for a real relationship to bloom.

(SN: This makes him different from Lakan who I really like but let's face it: Lakan doesn't respect Mao Maos wishes at all. Lakan desires Mao Mao as a daughter and wants to take her away. He never even stops to consider that Mao Mao already has a father. He also never considers that she might like the brothel she grew up in. He just wants to be close to her. In one of the later Novels Mao Mao mentions that she can't give him even an inch because he would never let go afterwards. It's this desire she dislikes)

#Jinmao #Jinshi my boy #kusuriya no hitorigoto spoilers #kusuriya no hitorigoto #the apothecary diaries #Mao Mao #Lakan

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mikavlcs · 1 year

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False Meridian

Pairing: Ghostface!Tara Carpenter x reader

Summary: Another Ghostface appears out of the blue and Tara will do whatever it takes to eliminate them before they get the chance to hurt you.

Warnings: graphic violence & gore (!!!), bad decisions, bad writing, the usual shit honestly, this fic also follows scream logic (stab wounds are akin to paper cuts)

Word count: 8.2k

Notes: this was requested by a few people. read the warnings pls. i hate this.

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

It had been two months since your father’s death and things were very slowly but surely improving.

You integrated into life with the Carpenter sisters well. So well that Tara honestly thought you were always meant to have a place here. Even during those first few days when you were drowning in guilt and grief, you walked the halls of her house like you belonged there, and Tara loved it.

Unsurprisingly, through the impending days and weeks, your mother never came to check on you even once and, in turn, you never asked to see her. Tara couldn’t help but think it was for the better.

Now, she and Sam were your family, and everyone involved seemed more than happy with the arrangement.

Tara could do without having Sam there, personally, but she still had her uses and you loved her for some reason. Well, not for some reason, you’d mentioned how you always wanted an older sibling a few times, but why you adored having Sam in that position was still a mystery to her.

Sam had abandoned her when she needed her most, and her being back now, five years later didn’t change that, no matter how apologetic she tried to seem.

But Tara buried those thoughts whenever they came forth. Sam, for all of her many faults, was helping you and she wouldn’t begrudge you a connection with her sister because of her own hang-ups.

Plus, there were more pressing issues at hand to worry about anyway.

Returning to school after the bruises had healed enough to be believably covered by makeup and strategic wardrobe choices was tense for both of you.

Tara knew her friends could be nosy, and the last thing either of you wanted to talk about was what happened that night.

And the questions started immediately when you sat down at the group’s picnic table before first period. The boys were practically talking over one another, but they calmed when they noticed the way you shrunk into yourself.

Mindy specifically, being the only socially conscious one, was determined to give you space about the issue, whacking Chad and Wes when they crudely tried to question you and reminding you that they would be happy to listen whenever you were ready to talk.

For that, Tara was thankful, and she made sure Mindy knew that.

Over the days, weeks, and months, you established a new normal bit by bit. Your usual liveliness began seeping back in as the blood on your hands faded with time. Dinners and family nights were riddled with your laughter, and you started going to more and more group hangouts.

You seemed freer now, without the shackles your parents placed on you, and the sight made Tara overjoyed.

So things settled once more and a peace of sorts came to rest over her.

Sure, there were the daily annoyances like boys at school who stared at you in the halls, Wes’ insistent crush, and Sam’s overprotectiveness, but none of that mattered because you were there to soothe her every time.

And now that you lived with her, she had unlimited access to you—her favorite drug, her unending addiction. It was utter bliss.

But of course, peace, however relative it may be, never lasted for Tara.

It happened on a normal night, which only made it that much worse in Tara's mind.

You all had finished eating dinner together twenty minutes ago. Sam, as usual, left for her night shift just as you and Tara began washing dishes, walking out the door chuckling at Tara’s grumblings about getting out of chores while you waved.

Per the routine that you both had been cultivating, you washed, and she dried. You’d gotten to the point where you were both automatic, not needing to look to know where the other was and what they were doing.

When you blindly handed her a dish, she was already waiting for it with an open palm. You worked in tandem efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.

The only thing that actively broke the set-in-stone routine was the ringing of the landline on the kitchen counter.

It was an odd occurrence. The number connected to it was long forgotten by Tara, so it sat silently on the counter most days, completely invisible save for the few times it got knocked over while cooking.

So the sudden sharp ringing startled you both. Tara flinched, her movement nearly imperceptible, but you literally jumped. The only thing that kept you from dropping the dish you were scrubbing was the steadying hand Tara placed on your forearm.

You shot her a bewildered glance, which she returned, but ultimately you ignored it and went on with your shared task.

But then it rang again, and again, and again.

Both of you tried to continue ignoring the sound, but it persisted for minutes on end, unrelenting.

You dried your hands off roughly with the towel by the sink. “I’m just gonna answer it.”

Tara nodded mutely, her eyes following you as you answered the phone.

She continued to dry off the last few dishes, sending you small glances as she set them on the counter. You were leaning against the island, exchanging tense small talk with what Tara assumed to be a particularly insistent telemarketer and she could tell by your tone of voice that the conversation would be over very soon.

Just as she was about to put the dishes away, you gasped, and the phone clattered loudly onto the island counter. Tara was by your side instantly.

“What happened?” she asked urgently.

You didn’t answer, too busy pressing yourself against the sink to try and put as much distance between yourself and the landline as possible.

She carefully took one of your hands and cradled it between hers, hoping to calm you enough to talk and it worked.

“He—he asked what my favorite scary movie was.”

Oh, she thought, her previous tension abating a bit.

Stupid calls like this had been happening ever since her initial killing spree. Immature teens and twenty-somethings loved pretending to be her so they could scare a stranger and get a cheap laugh. Tara adored the Stab movies, but the hardcore fans could be such disruptive assholes.

She sighed, stroking her thumb softly over your knuckles. “It’s okay, baby. It’s just a prank call. People have been getting them for months now.”

You shook your head vehemently. Only now did Tara feel the slight shaking of your hand in hers.

“No, Tara,” you whispered, fear staining every syllable. “He knew my name.”

Tara froze. Immediately, she picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear.

“Who the hell is this?”

A sardonic laugh chimed from the speaker, and even from that single noise, Tara recognized the use of the voice changer.

“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”

Her heart stuttered but she didn’t miss a beat. Thinking quickly, she decided to try and bait him.

“And just who are you? A loser who needs to hide behind someone else’s identity to mess with some girls? Don’t be a coward, show yourself.”

A clumsy attempt, but the only thing she came up with on the spot. Unfortunately, he didn’t bite.

“Oh, now where would the fun in that be? One of the best parts of the Stab movies is the mystery. Revealing the killer’s identity in the opening scene would be disappointing. As a fellow fan, wouldn’t you agree, Tara?”

The way he said her name, like a taunt rather than a title, made her skin prickle. Her irritation was rising steadily, but she couldn’t lose control. Not in front of you.

Narrowing her eyes, she walked to the other side of the kitchen and dropped her voice to the most menacing whisper she could muster.

“Is that what you think this is? The opening kill scene? Because I think you have it painfully backwards.”

“And what makes you think that? I could kick down your front door and dismember you both right now. Who knows, maybe I’m already inside.”

An empty threat, she knew, but still opened her security system app, silently thanking her intuition when she all but forced Sam to install one after you moved in. As expected, it was green. No doors or windows had been opened.

With that reassurance in mind, she set her phone down and turned her back to you.

“Believe me when I tell you that if you step foot inside of this house, I won’t just kill you, I will brutalize you. I will maim you so badly that your family won’t even be able to identify your body.”

The threat did little to deter the stranger. If anything, it seemed to excite him.

“Oh? And how can you be so sure?”

Tara chuckled. “Call it personal experience.”

“Well, luckily for both of us, we’re diverging from the formula. This isn’t a kill scene; this is a warning. A message, if you would.”

Confusion swelled in her. She asked, “A message for who?”

A laugh from the other end. Then, “You, Tara. And your dear sister. And your… ‘friend,’ of course.”

Her teeth grit harshly at the mention of you, but she needed to uncover a motive of some kind if she wanted to identify this person, so she tried another tactic.

“You’re a Stab fan, but you’re changing the iconic opening sequence?” she asked. “Why? Isn’t changing the franchise formula sacrilegious? I mean, they tried that with Stab 7, and look where that got them.”

“Ah, but this is my movie, Tara. And altering the structure serves a purpose. It destabilizes audience expectations and builds tension for the impending bloodbath in the future.”

“And when exactly will this bloodbath be?”

“I’ll be back for the seminal third act soon when both family members are present to witness it. In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

Tara went to respond but the line went dead.

You watched her intently as she turned back around, glancing between her and the phone. Cautiously, you asked, “Did he hang up?”

She nodded, placing the phone back on the receiver roughly. She hadn’t managed to ascertain a solid motive, but there were pieces. Bits of a breadcrumb trail for her to try and follow.

He mentioned that this was his movie, could that be his motive? Was this just the work of a fanatical fan that wanted a movie made from their actions?

But at the same time, this sounded far too personal to just be some random fanboy. Why target her specifically? And what exactly was he talking about when he said he knew her secre—

A sharp knock on the window resounded through the kitchen.

Both you and Tara jumped. There was a moment of stillness, both you and Tara seemingly frozen in time, but she forced her legs to move. Slowly, she crept toward the window, ignoring your frantic whispers, and pulled the curtain aside.

Standing right on the other side was someone in a Ghostface mask and a black robe.

When he knew he had her attention, he tilted his head to the side and raised his hand, proudly showing off the knife within it.

Tara’s eyes widened. Her fingers curled instinctively, muscles tensing in preparation for a fight. But he simply waved, waggling his fingers around the hilt, then turned and walked away.

She wanted to chase him down, tear off that mask, and use that knife of his to tear out his insides. But she couldn’t leave you here alone, vulnerable to an attack from a possible accomplice. After all, there were usually two killers in the Stab movies.

So she stood with her feet planted before the window and watched as he disappeared into the night.

Behind her, she heard you speaking urgently with someone and her answer as to who it was came not even ten minutes later when her sister’s car screeched into the driveway.

There were only seconds between Sam haphazardly parking and her crashing through the door. Before she knew it, Tara was being pulled into a group hug, but her eyes remained on the window.

Distantly, she heard you recounting the events of the past half hour or so, and Sam’s repeated attempts to calm you finally pulled her from her stupor. She reached, put a consoling hand on your back and cherished the way your muscles relaxed under her touch.

A combination of Sam’s ushering and Tara’s reassurances got you to finally go upstairs and as soon as you were out of view, it became apparent that Sam was going to attempt to get Tara to follow suit.

“Hey, I know you’re probably shaken about what happened, but you need to rest,” Sam urged her kindly, but the words went largely unheard.

The only part Tara registered was the error in her statement. Because shaken wasn’t quite how she felt.

Her smoldering anger was present, burning her veins with its intensity, but more than anything she felt…dishonored. Aggrieved, even, that someone would dare don the mask and robe that she adorned months before and attempt to terrorize her in her own home. Not to mention the extended threat to you as well.

So, no, Tara was not shaken in the slightest. If anything, she was rooted more firmly in her ways than she had been in a while.

Sam approached and rubbed her shoulder gently. This time Tara looked over at her, which made the taller girl smile.

“Go get some sleep, Tar. I’ll stay up and keep watch.”

The use of the old nickname made Tara’s hand twitch. She wanted to protest, she didn’t trust her sister to bear that responsibility alone, but you were upstairs waiting for her. You needed her so she forced a nod and trudged up the steps.

As expected, you were in bed waiting for her. She climbed into bed next to you and pulled you into her, cradling your head to her chest. Neither of you spoke a word, just laid with each other in the silent reassurance that the other person was alright.

And even when your breaths eventually evened out, her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling above.

Tara didn’t sleep.

Her eyelids never even drooped. There was too much adrenaline, too much to think about, too many opportunities for someone to sneak in and hurt you for her to even think about sleep.

So instead, she cycled through all of the possibilities of who the imposter Ghostface could be and who their target was.

Her first instinct was to say they were after her, but that couldn’t be true. No one knew that she was behind the murders earlier that year. No one.

There were no witnesses, no clues left at the crime scenes, and no reason for anyone to suspect her.

Next would be you. But she couldn’t think of a single person who would want to hurt you. You had no enemies, at least none that she was aware of. It could theoretically be someone who knew about your father, but no one in their right mind would be seeking retribution for that waste of oxygen, so she wrote that off as well.

Lastly, there was Sam.

Sam was the biggest unknown factor for Tara. She knew next to nothing about her sister’s whereabouts in the past 5 years, besides the vague knowledge about her residing in Modesto for most of that time.

But faux Ghostface’s words kept replaying in her head.

“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”

In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

Tara thought that those comments were directed toward her, that someone had figured out what she had done. But what if they were about someone else? After all, she wasn’t the only one in the family with a dark secret.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

She was hesitant to leave you alone, even when she knew you were safe, but this was a conversation she had to have with Sam alone. So she carefully untangled herself from you and laid you against the pillow before heading downstairs.

Her sister was lying on the couch with her eyes glued to the tv, looking every bit as tired as Tara felt. She sat up as Tara entered. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tara muttered, sitting down where Sam’s legs had previously resided. She gave her sister a serious look. “I need to talk to you.”

Sam’s brows furrowed at her tone, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“I need you to be honest with me, Sam. Please.”

Another nod. “I will.”

Tara took a deep breath. “Is there anyone from your past that you think would want to hurt you?”

“You think Ghostface was here for me?” Sam asked.

“I’m thinking it could be a possibility, yes.”

“Okay, um,” Sam bit her lip, thinking. “I don’t think so. I haven’t been involved in anything…bad for years now. What makes you think he might’ve been targeting me specifically?”

“He mentioned a family secret. Twice,” Tara explained, watching her sister’s reaction closely. “I’m not trying to accuse you, I promise, but is there anyone that you told about your parentage besides me? Anyone?”

After thinking for another moment, Sam paled. She looked away for a minute then, straightening up, she said, “I have to tell you something…”

“What?” Tara asked, trying to decipher her sister’s behavior.

“There’s…this guy that I’ve been talking to online. His name is Richie,” Sam said, voice unsteady.

Tara’s stomach dropped.

“Sam…”

“It was just casual at first, I swear. I wasn’t intending on getting too close, but I was struggling, and he offered to listen,” Sam whispered. Tears were welling in her eyes as the full realization hit her, but Tara didn’t care. She couldn’t, not with what she was hearing.

“Did you tell him?” she asked, heartbeat kicking up.

There was a beat of agonizing silence. Then, “Yes.”

Tara stood abruptly, fists clenched. Sam stood with her, hands hovering around Tara’s shoulders, but the smaller girl took a step back. Her mind raced. She was trying to simultaneously work out what was happening while actively refraining from strangling her sister.

A question rose to the forefront of her mind.

“How did he know where you lived?”

Sam looked away, shame radiating off of her. “…My birthday’s coming up. He said he wanted to send me something—"

Tara spun on her heels and stormed into the kitchen. Her sister was hot on her heels, the stuttered beginnings of an apology on her lips, but Tara couldn’t hear it over the blood roaring in her ears.

“Tara—"

“I can’t believe you,” she growled. “You risked not just your own life, but the lives of everyone in this house, and for what? A man that was just trying to use you? Jesus Christ, Sam. That’s pathetic, even for you.”

That nearly made, a few tears overflowed and spilled down her cheeks, but she kept herself together long enough to get out one more coherent sentence.

“I’m sorry, Tara. I never meant for something like this to happen, I swear.”

Shaking her head violently, Tara looked away.

She didn’t want to accept it. She wanted to go even further, to stick her finger in the wound and dig even deeper. Twist the knife even further and watch Sam squirm under the pressure. But she held herself back.

There was an unpredictable man in a Ghostface costume specifically targeting them. She needed all hands on deck. This wasn’t just about her feelings, even if entirely justified. You were here now, and your safety took precedence over her personal vendettas.

So she forced her tense muscles to go slack, wiped the fury from her features, and turned to pull Sam into her arms.

She disregarded the way her sister’s pathetic cries made set her nerves alight and whispered out meaningless we’ll be okay’s until the emotion passed.

Through it all, Tara tried to ignore how badly her palms itched.

Time passed in an odd, infrequent manner.

It was no longer a steady, unending stream of hours, days, and weeks. It trickled by in short, uneven bursts as if it was leaking from a broken faucet. Some days were long, the eight hours spent in school feeling like an eternity, while others seemed to last for minutes.

But eventually, the days added up until three entire weeks went by in paranoid quiet.

No sign of a lurking killer. No calls on the landline. Not a single glimpse of a white mask.

It was tormenting. Every day that passed without incident made her tenser, feeding her paranoia steadily until it was impossible for Tara to get a single good night of sleep.

Sam appeared to be suffering the same fate as her, but Tara didn’t care. She had offered the illusion of forgiveness in the moment, but they were on far from good terms.

They still saw each other every day since they lived in the same house, but apart from greetings and small pleasantries, Tara was trying her best to avoid interacting with her sister. The lingering anger and bitterness were still simmering beneath the surface, and she didn’t want to risk unleashing that in your presence, so she took to avoidance.

Sam noticed and tried to bridge the gap, mostly at dinner with incentivizing questions and comments, but her attempts were brazenly ignored by Tara, leaving you to awkwardly pull on the conversation threads in her place.

Of course, because of that, you picked up on the tension between the sisters. It was hard to miss, honestly.

Tara thought you would confront her about it, but you must’ve learned that head-on confrontation accomplished little when she was set in her ways about something because, suddenly, there were far more “family movie nights” than there were previously.

She participated half-heartedly, mostly for your sake but also because there was strength in numbers, and being together was safer than staying apart.

Tonight was one such night. It was 10 pm on a Friday, and you were practically buzzing with excitement beside her. For movie night tonight, you weren’t even watching a movie but instead finishing some Netflix show that you and Sam had gotten hooked on.

So you were snuggled into Tara’s side on the couch, pulling the show up on the tv while Sam made the popcorn (Tara’s personal favorite part of these nights, besides you).

“Ah, shit,” came Sam’s voice from the kitchen, and you both looked over to see what was going on. Sam closed the cabinet, a frown pulling the edges of her lips downward. “We’re out of popcorn.”

Your excitement tempered some, a disappointed sigh leaving your lips. You went to say something, but Sam straightened up, her frown disappearing.

“I can run to the store real quick and get some.”

Whether she was trying to dote on you to build rapport with Tara again or she just genuinely wanted to do it for you was unclear, but Tara didn’t like the idea of her going alone.

“Sam, maybe that’s not a good idea,” she reasoned. At her side, you nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” you said, “it could wait till tomorrow.”

“There’s a convenience store a block or two away. It’s barely a trip.”

When neither of you responded, Sam pursed her lips, looking around briefly before grabbing her phone from the kitchen island and opening it. She spent a moment fiddling with it then came to kneel in front of you.

“Here,” she gestured to your phone, “accept the call, and I’ll stay on the line until I’m back.”

You hit answer, still hesitant. Tara said nothing, unease building in her gut steadily. It had been three whole weeks without a peep from Richie. And sure, the possibility of him losing his nerve and giving up was technically feasible, but was that really a risk worth taking?

“Are you sure you don’t want me or Tara to come with you?” you asked, worry tinging your tone.

Before Tara could say no, Sam shook her head. “No, you two stay here. I like knowing that you guys are safe with the security system in place. This should take no more than fifteen minutes and I’ll stay on the phone with you both the entire time, okay?”

Tara narrowed her eyes, flicking them over to you to see your response. For a moment you just sat there, looking worriedly at her sister, but you nodded slowly.

“If you hang up, I’m finishing the show without you,” you threatened with a small smile.

Sam laughed, patted your arm, and stood. Both you and Tara watched as she pulled her shoes and bomber jacket on. Tara was tempted to call her back but by the time the urge hit, Sam was shutting the door.

Throughout her journey to and inside the store, Sam kept her promise and didn’t hang up, keeping a steady flow of conversation with you even as she was being rung up by the clerk.

Tara stayed quietly by your side the whole time, trying to ease the pit in her stomach, but it didn’t go away. The dread persisted still as Sam announced that she was pulling into the driveway.

The muffled sound of a car door closing outside had you rushing over to the door. Tara smiled at your excitement, stepping up behind you as you pulled it open.

Outside, Sam was standing in the driveway, victoriously waving the popcorn in the air. “I got the last box!”

She started walking up to the open door when suddenly, a streak of black flashed across the yard, and before Tara could properly register it, her sister was being tackled to the ground. The sharp crack that accompanied her head hitting the ground barely resonated before Tara was slamming the door shut and twisting all the locks back in place.

You ran toward the door, but Tara grabbed you. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Sam’s out there, Tara. We have to help her.” You started toward the door again, but Tara wasn’t budging.

This is all her fault, she wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, she said, “We can’t. It’s not safe, but we’ll go back for her, okay? I promise.”

“Don’t be so sure about that, Tara.”

Tara inhaled sharply at the sound of the voice, while you dropped your phone with a gasp. But then the implications hit her just a second later and made her stomach drop to her feet.

The call was still connected. Sam’s phone was still unlocked, meaning Richie had full access to the security system app.

Seconds after Tara’s revelation, her phone dinged, and the voice notification automatically played.

Security System Disabled

A horrified gasp from her right told her that you heard it too. She tried to reenable it, but it was immediately disabled again, the green turning back to red while the mechanical voice taunted her.

Security System Disabled

There was no time. He was going to make his way in here, there was no stopping it.

Her greatest concern was making sure that you were as far away from him as possible when that happened. She grabbed your shoulders, caught your eye.

“Listen, take one of the kitchen knives and go lock yourself in my room. Hide in the closet and call 911. Tell them to bring police and paramedics, okay?”

You immediately shook your head and protested, “What? No, I am not leaving you alone with a serial killer, Tara.”

“Yes, you will. You need to.”

“Tara—"

“Please,” she begged, her voice strangled. She tightened her hold on your shoulders, thumbs digging into your soft skin. “Please, I can take care of myself. But I need to know that you’re safe. I can’t focus if you’re in danger. So please, just do as I say right now, ok?”

Reluctant, you nodded and pressed your lips to hers in a quick but firm kiss. After parting you held her gaze for another moment before running up the stairs toward the bedrooms.

Tara watched you go and once she knew you were safe, she ran into the kitchen and scoured through the cabinets until she found the large, cast-iron skillet she used for stir-fries. She tried to peer out the window, but with the curtains tightly drawn, there was no telling what was happening outside.

Tara paused, a strategy forming. She could use the lack of visibility to her advantage.

Quickly, she moved the knife block to the opposite end of the island then began to cut the lights in both the living room and the kitchen one by one.

She saved the kitchen for last, keeping her eyes on the door as she flicked the switch down and crouched behind the island near the knives to wait.

Minutes passed in eerie silence, then finally, she heard the tell-tale jingle of keys in the front door lock. The knob twisted and the door creaked as it was pushed open, soft and slow. The sound only put Tara even more on edge.

Light footsteps could just barely be heard even in the silence, and Tara’s ears perked. The sounds stopped momentarily, then started in her direction. Quiet footfalls neared at a glacial pace, giving Tara ample time to steady her grip and prepare herself.

Once the footsteps were practically next to her, she swung with all her strength to the left. She connected with the nearest leg, and the force of the blow sent shockwaves up her arms.

The pained shout that arose was distorted by the voice changer inside the mask, but the clatter of the knife he was holding falling to the floor was clear as day.

Tara stood and, as soon as she located the knife, kicked it away. She took another swing, but he seemed to hear this one coming because he jerked back, so she struck the hard counter instead. The physical shock of it made her drop the pan in surprise.

He stumbled to his feet, clearly favoring his left leg. Desperate, he swung wildly a few times. Tara backed away but in a stroke of luck, the last one connected with her cheek.

Pain exploded where his fist connected, echoing through her jaw. The familiar, addictively metallic taste of blood coated her tongue and teeth. The pain only served to ground her, focusing the smoldering fire of her rage solely on the man in front of her.

Breath heaving, he went for another blind punch, but she sidestepped and delivered a solid kick to what she hoped was his left knee. And if the groan was anything to go by, then she hit her mark.

He fell again, clutching his knee, and Tara circled him. She stood on his right shin, hooked her arms around his throat, and leaned against the counter behind her, pulling back as hard as she physically could.

Richie coughed violently. Flailing arms tried to pry her off, but she stood firm, eyes drifting to the knife holster on the island. She leaned down by his ear.

“You know, with all that talk about secrets, you really should’ve been more careful with your own.”

She squeezed her arms together tighter and braced her hands firmly on her upper forearms. The urgency in Richie’s movements increased, but he achieved nothing all the same.

“Because I know your secret too, Richie,” Tara growled, lips coiling into a malignant crimson smile.

He froze at the sound of his name and Tara took the opportunity to rip the mask off of his face.

Now that his mask of bravery was off, she was overcome with the need to turn the lights back on. Because she wanted to see it. She wanted to watch his weaselly face contort in pain, she wanted to watch those last bits of life drain from his eyes.

Violent desire coursing through her, her grip loosened, one hand reaching back to flick the light switch on. But that was all he needed.

A moment of hubris was enough to ruin the victory she had very nearly secured.

The instant the lights were on, Richie, with all his body weight behind him, lurched right, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Because of her position, she was unable to get her arms beneath her in time, and her head hit the tile hard. She blinked against the white flash of pain, but by the time she got her bearings, Richie was already retrieving his knife.

Watching him struggle to his feet, Tara changed tactics. She backed into the living room to put some space between them so she could possibly get another weapon. But before she could assess the room, Richie rushed her with a loud cry.

He clumsily wrestled her to the ground in a mess of thrashing limbs. Because of his size, he gained the upper hand quickly and straddled her. Tara fought against him, lashing out violently with her hands, and her nails managed to catch on the side of his face.

Gasping, she dug them deeper into his skin and, with all her strength, pulled.

A yell of agony tore its way out of his throat, and Tara could feel his skin peel beneath her fingers and get stuck under her nails. But he didn’t let up. His fingers found their way around her throat and squeezed.

He had her pinned down. His fingers had a death grip around her throat and her vision was beginning to go dark around the edges.

She thought she saw a flash of something behind Richie, but she paid it no mind, keeping all of her focus and strength on punching and kicking and squirming. He pressed down on her trachea even harder, and Tara choked.

But then, Richie screamed and all at once his hands released her throat, and she could breathe again.

He careened to the side and only then did Tara notice the knife sticking from his left side. She looked back up and saw you with wide, terrified eyes. Despite the danger, she took a moment to appreciate the circumstance before her.

You had picked up his knife and stabbed him with it. She would have smiled if her throat wasn’t on fire.

Another ragged cough tore its way from Tara’s throat and that brought your attention from her attacker to her. Your eyes softened and you started toward her. But Richie wasn’t down just yet.

He wrenched the knife from his side with a grunt. With rage in his eyes, he turned to you, staggering unsteadily back to his feet with the knife tight in his grip.

“You fucking bitch!” he roared.

You froze and, without any other option, fled into the kitchen with Richie stumbling closely behind. Just as your fingers brushed the hilt of one of the knives in the block, he snagged the neckline of your shirt and yanked you back.

“Oh no you don’t.”

Richie pinned you against him, one arm steadily anchored around your ribcage and the other, the one with the bloodied knife, rising above his head. Tara tried to stand, but equilibrium was shockingly hard to regain at that moment.

She was just getting to her knees when he plunged the knife into your stomach. The pained scream that you let out would haunt Tara for the rest of her life.

Richie smirked, wide and unruly. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

The only response you gave was a whimper. He grabbed you by the neck and slammed your head down onto the kitchen counter. Hard. A loud crack echoed off the walls and you fell in a heap on the floor, unconscious.

Words like rage, fury, and anger were far too soft to describe the feeling that overtook her when your body hit the ground.

The emotion that overcame her was rough and discordant, and primitive. It bled over her vision, tainting it dark crimson, and pushed her to her feet with a newfound balance and sick certainty.

At full speed, Tara ran and latched onto him, using all of her body weight to throw him back onto the living room carpet.

Richie tried to stand again, but Tara tackled him back down and straddled him. But Tara punched him once, hard, then again and again and again until his head lolled and his grip slackened, leaving the knife to fall onto the carpet beside him.

Seeing him lying under her, bruised and defeated, didn’t satisfy Tara, nor did the ache in her knuckles. Not after he hurt you so badly. She needed him to bleed. She needed him to suffer.

He needed to pay.

Steady fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife at her side. As she raised it above her head, she found a certain poeticism in it—the fact that Richie was going to meet his end at the hands of the true Ghostface, with his own weapon.

With a deep breath, she allowed the savage tidal wave of emotion to wash over her, and she saw more than felt the way she slammed the knife down. Time became a blur of movement. Red clouded her vision, but she could feel everything—the hard hilt of the knife, the give of the flesh beneath it, the satisfying crunch of bone.

The image of you being stabbed playing over and over and over, fueling the raging wildfire within her.

By the time she returned to herself, there was an all-encompassing silence; the only sounds impeding it were her labored breaths.

The knife in her hand was slick with blood. A fierce ache ran from her forearms to her shoulders. Tara looked down at her victim and her brows furrowed.

What remained of Richie’s head was a mess of jutting bone fragments, scattered clumps of blood-soaked hair, and chunks of torn flesh. Amongst the soup of blood, bone, and brains, there was an eyeball rolled off to the right. Distantly, she wondered where the other one was.

Looking further down, Tara noticed the amount of blood on the ground. The carpet was drenched in red, and given how saturated it looked, she wouldn’t be surprised if it soaked all the way through to the hardwood beneath it.

Tara exhaled sharply through her nose. That carpet would definitely have to be replaced.

Her eyes moved off the ground and toward the kitchen, where your limp form entered her vision. Immediately, she dropped the knife and ran to you, dropping to her knees beside you.

She scrambled to press her fingers to your neck, and thankfully, she found a pulse. It was weaker than she would’ve liked, but it was steady. You were holding on for her, and that meant everything to Tara.

Turning her attention back to your wound, she assessed the damage. The blade was still lodged firmly inside your stomach, and she hadn’t enough medical knowledge to know whether it pierced anything important based just off its positioning alone, but she knew not to take the knife out.

So she pressed her hands down around it as hard as she could. You let out a pained breath in your unconscious state but showed no signs of rousing. She wasn’t sure if that was good or not.

All that mattered was making sure that you stayed with her until the paramedics arrived. She knew you listened to her earlier, so authorities should be on their way with medical help in tow.

But she would be lying if she said her composure didn’t begin to slip with each passing second of silence.

What got her most was the blood. Tara was accustomed to gore and had long passed the point where anything like that bothered her, much less the sight of just blood, but this was your blood, and it was everywhere.

On her hands, slipping between her fingers, pooling beneath you, staining her pants, on your face, drying just beneath your nostrils.

All Tara could see was red, red, red, and not because of her anger, but because of her inability to protect you when it mattered.

The door opened, slamming harshly against the wall, and Tara jumped, instinctively putting herself between you and whoever was approaching.

She glanced back and saw her sister standing in the doorway, leaning against it slightly as she clutched her stomach. Their eyes met and Sam visibly relaxed. “Tara—"

Her gaze wandered left, and Sam stopped short by the door; eyes glued on the mess of human flesh laying limp on the carpet. Cursing silently, Tara squeezed her eyes shut.

She rushed to find any sort of justification, but it was hard when her world was falling apart before her eyes and beneath her hands.

“He—he hurt—” Tara broke off into a sob, the blood on her hands burning nearly as much as her throat.

Sam tore her eyes away from Richie’s remains and looked back over to her younger sister. Her eyes widened and Tara assumed that she finally noticed your worrying state. Tara kept her hands firmly pressed to your wound as she watched Sam, trying to figure out what her next move would be.

Finally, she said, “It’s okay,” sounding more like she was trying to reassure herself than Tara. She nodded to herself, repeated it, “It’s okay.”

Slowly, she moved from her place by the door and approached the body, looking like she was fighting the urge to be sick the closer she edged to it.

“What are you—” Tara started, eyes wide, but Sam interrupted.

“Listen, when the police come, you’re going to tell them that I did this.”

Tara blinked, lost. “W-What?”

Sam, with a pale grimace, reached down to the mass of flesh and began doing a mixture of spreading and splattering the warm, leaking blood on her shirt, face, and arms. Then she came to kneel on the other side of you, giving you a long mournful look before she spoke to Tara.

“When they ask you what happened, you tell them that he was trying to hurt you and I did…that to him because of it. Okay?”

Nothing was making sense. She wouldn’t take the fall for Sam if it were the other way around, so the fact that Sam was so willing to do it for her was…it was rousing feelings she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Why?” Tara asked, bewildered.

“Having this on your record, even if it was self-defense, will haunt you for the rest of your life. You have a bright future, Tara, and I’m protecting that.”

Traces of the affection she once felt for her sister flared up and to her surprise, Tara felt more tears well up in her eyes and spill over. Real tears accompanying the achingly real tightness in her chest. “Sam—”

Sam just shook her head. “You know how Sheriff Hicks feels about me; she’ll be more than happy to put this on my record. You’re going to be ok. Both of you will. I promise.”

Gently, she leaned her forehead against Tara’s and kept it pressed there until sirens blared in the distance. When Sam stood and went over to kneel by Richie, Tara blinked away her tears and pressed her hands down harder on your wound.

Police burst through the door, and everything blurred for Tara. The world became a cacophony of lights and sounds and movement, and she only snapped back to reality when paramedics started trying to take you away from her.

In her mind, she knew she should let them take you. That you were much safer in the hands of professionals that could properly tend to you, but the logical part of her brain was quickly overshadowed the moment someone tried to pull her away.

Because she needed to be next to you. She needed to feel your pulse, see the rise and fall of your chest with her own eyes to make sure that you were still alive.

So she fought every hold on her, twisted violently against the increasing number of hands clutching onto her, trying to separate her from you. And she nearly succeeded. She was so close, so close to making it back to your side.

A prick in her neck was the last thing she felt before the world faded to nothing, the last remnants of your name dying on her tongue.

A monotonous beeping in your ear was the first thing that you registered.

The second was how weird you felt. You felt heavy and weightless at the same time. You cracked your eyes open and instantly closed them against the blinding brightness you were met with. Briefly, you wondered if you died, but something told you that the afterlife didn’t smell like antiseptics.

Once more, you opened your eyes, going slower so your eyes could properly adjust, and finally took in your surroundings. You were in a hospital room and a glance to your left told you that the annoying beeping you heard was a heart monitor.

Awareness slowly crept back into your dazed mind. The moments came back one by one, flashing against the back of your eyelids as you blinked.

Ghostface attacking Sam. You going upstairs and calling 911. Running down and helping Tara.

Tara.

With a gasp, you jolted up. Your wound gave a powerful throb in response, cutting straight through the pain meds but you ignored it.

The last thing you remembered was the man—Richie? —thrusting a knife into you, then your face met the hard marble of the kitchen counter and that was it.

Was Tara ok? Did Sam make it? Was Ghostface caught and apprehended?

Those questions fueled you to sit up but you only made it halfway before strong hands were on your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“No, don’t move.”

Recognition sparked instantly. You knew that voice. Tara.

The need to know that she was alright nearly made you frantic as you looked at her, and took in her state.

She had a fading bruise on her cheek, and there was some much harsher, nearly black bruising around her neck, but otherwise, she looked fine, if a bit tired. You let out a sigh of relief.

You tried to lift your hand to her neck, but you only made it about halfway before Tara caught it and brought it to her lips to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Looks worse than it,” she said with a small grin, but you could hear the strain. It reminded you of the ache in your throat after what your father did, the bruises he left behind.

You looked away, decided to focus on the other questions plaguing your mind.

“What happened to the man? Is Sam okay?”

Tara’s eyes flashed with something, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. “Richie’s dead.”

“The police killed him?”

She looked away then and played with your fingers. “No, Sam did.”

“Sam?” you asked in disbelief. That didn’t seem quite right, but you couldn’t pinpoint why.

You looked at Tara, saw the exhaustion in her eyes, the way she was worrying her lip between her teeth, the tension in her brow, and you decided to believe her.

It had been a long, hard night for everyone, and you heard whisperings of something deeper going on with Sam, so maybe she was capable of that. After all, weren’t you?

And either way, it was self-defense. He attacked first, unprovoked. The world was probably better without him, as much as the thought put a bitter taste in your mouth.

Plus, Tara would never lie to you.

“Is she alright?” You decided on after minutes of processing.

Tara nodded. “Yeah, she’s stable. She’s in the room across the hall. The sheriff kicked me out to take her statement.”

“Can you tell her I said hi? And thanks for making sure Richie couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

That made Tara freeze. Just for a moment before she seemed to catch herself, but you saw it nonetheless. “Yeah, of course.”

Under any other circumstances, you’d have half a mind to ask Tara about her odd behavior or at least store it away for later contemplation, but as it stood, the pain medication was already sweeping the incident away.

Silence lapsed and you both just enjoyed one another’s presence, basking in the knowledge that the other was safe and sound.

The tempting call of sleep tugged at you. You tried to stay in the moment, but you were drifting. You could tell and so could Tara, who coaxed your attention to her with a gentle stroke of her thumb across your knuckles.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” you slurred, eyes already drifting closed.

You could practically hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Of course.”

She lulled you to sleep with the promise and a final, tight squeeze of your hand, and you drifted off into a drug-induced slumber with thoughts of your gentle, loving girlfriend at the forefront of your mind.

#this fic was written while almost exclusively listening to sonic the hedgehog music #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #ghostface!tara #scream #jenna ortega #i don't care how well this does #i just want it out of my face...#sorry this sucks lmao #this whole series isn't very good tho #so i guess that's the standard

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pattypanini · 1 month

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Lay All Your Love On Me

Chapter 9-Double Dip

Josh Kiszka x Reader and Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 9,206 (we got carried away with this one <3)

TAGLIST

AN: Hi everyone! Here is the ninth chapter of Lay All Your Love On Me from me and @mar-rein12! We are soooo proud of this chapter and slightly scared for you guys. We are going to add a poll after this because we want to know when you guys would like us to post because as college students this gets very busy. We hope you enjoy the ninth chapter, Double Dip

Warnings: 18+, SMUTTTTTT, Unprotected sex, BDSM JOSH!!!!, DOM/SUB, Kinks, Choking, Impact play, Restraints, Spanking with object, Praise kink, Degrading kink, Dirty talk, Alcohol, Choking (not in the hot way, on drink), Fluff.

Y/n's POV

As you’re heating up your leftover pasta, you zone out thinking about last night. You couldn’t believe that had actually happened, but you didn’t regret it a single bit. You probably wouldn’t have even believed it happened, if it weren’t for Josh’s name under your recent calls.

Charlotte had only gotten back to the dorm around 1 today, and thank god for that because if she had seen or heard what you were doing last night you most definitely would never be able to look her in the eyes again.

You whip open the microwave door and snatch up your pasta, following with you dropping it after realizing how hot it is. Taking a seat at the dining table, you notice that Josh still hasn’t reached out today. After over analyzing the situation you immediately come to the conclusion that you must’ve done something wrong.

You stab at your food with your fork, anxiously. You glance over at the clock hanging on the wall, 3 o’clock. You let out a sigh. He should have texted by now. You take a small bite of your food and decide you were going to text him.

You didn’t want to come off as pushy or antsy, but you needed to know that everything was okay between the two of you.

As you pull out your phone to formulate your message, a notification pops up.

3:03pm Josh: Hey beautiful! I hope you slept well last night after our call😏 Wanna hear about the date I planned for us tonight?

It’s like he can read your mind.

3:04pm y/n: Yesss

3:06pm Josh: Well first I wanna ask something, would you like to try a little something different tonight.

3:07pm y/n: What is it?

3:09pm Josh: I was thinking about being a little bit more dominant and you be more submissive, let me take control. A friend of mine was talking about a BDSM test, idk if you ever heard about that, but it got me interested. And they say to do it with people you're comfortable with so I figured we could try it together, if you want.

Oh. That wasn’t what you were expecting to hear, but you’d be lying if you had said you weren’t intrigued.

3:10pm y/n: I’m down for anything Josh, you know that. And yes I have heard about it, but haven't really done anything though. So how do you wanna do this?

3:11pm Josh: Okay great, well first off we need safety words. Red means stop everything, yellow means stop momentarily or slow down, and green is good, understand?

3:12pm y/n: Yes.

3:15pm Josh: Amazing. So I’m gonna say it once and only once. I’m picking you up at 6 on the dot, we have reservations at 6:30 at The Earle. I want you to wear a tight black dress, the one that you wore for your New Year's post. Also a pair of black lace panties. I want your hair loosely curled and natural makeup. Pack an overnight bag with whatever you want. I’ll see you tonight mama.

3:17pm y/n: Damn, controlling much?

3:18pm Josh: Do you not like this, all you have to do is say red baby.

3:19pm y/n: No I like it, I like this dominant side of you.

3:21pm Josh: Perfect mama, I’ll see you tonight then.

3:22pm y/n: Can’t wait, Joshy.

You relax for a little while before you start to get ready. You slip on your tight black dress and the black lace panties he requested. You take a seat at your vanity doing some light, natural makeup and slide on your black heels. Lastly, you curl your hair, being sure to brush through it lightly to soften the curls up.

As you comb through your hair your mind is going wild, one because of the BDSM stuff. It was stuff you had seen in the media and were interested in it. A lot of the guys at Michigan weren’t into that kind of thing, most of them are pretty vanilla. Plus it was with Josh, someone you trusted. The main thing making your mind go crazy was the fact that you were going on a real date with Josh. You would have never expected things to lead to it after friendzoning him. But maybe feelings were coming back, or never left at all?

You glance at the clock after regaining consciousness, 5:57pm. How could it possibly be that time already?

With a few sprays of perfume, you grab your purse, overnight bag, and walk out the door to wait for him. To your surprise he wasn’t there yet, he’s usually pretty early for stuff. But as the clock hits 6 you see a black SUV pull up in front of your dorm as if you summoned him.

As he steps out of the Black G Wagon, daddy’s money surely, he makes his way to your side and opens the passenger door for you after taking your bags.

“Thanks Josh.” He lends you a hand, helping you into the car. He makes his way back to his side and puts your stuff in the back seat, and hops back into his.

He puts on his sunglasses before leaning over to you and placing a kiss on your cheek. You can’t help but blush at his subtable gesture of intimacy.

“You smell delectable y/n, makes me wanna take you right here in the back of the car.”

Your eyes open wide, “Oh, thank you!” You blush and a nervous laugh bubbles out. Why did you say it like that? You start to lean back towards the door, Josh mirroring you with a confused look, studying your body.

“Y/n, I need you to calm down okay? It's just me, we're gonna get a nice dinner, we're just adding a little bit of fun to it. Despite me being the ‘dominant’ one, you have full control of the situation.” Josh attempts to calm you down, as you take a deep breath trying to steady your anxiousness. He put his hand on your shoulder, rubbing it softly with his thumb.

He looked pretty delectable himself. He was wearing a dark green matching suit with a black collared shirt underneath, leaving a few buttons at the top open revealing a silver chain.

He brings his hands to the wheel after putting the vehicle into drive and begins to navigate you towards the restaurant, resting his right hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly every once and a while. “I know, I know. It’s just… I’ve never tried anything like this before and I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

“Y/n, you could never make a fool of yourself, we're going to learn together. It’s my first time trying this stuff out too, I’m here for you and don’t ever want to make you feel uncomfortable. Your safety and comfortability is my top priority.” He reassures you, rubbing his thumbs back at forth on the top of your thigh.

You place your hand on top of his, giving him a gentle squeeze and a sweet smile. “Thanks Josh and I appreciate you for setting all this up, it was very sweet of you.”

“Anything for you mama” You feel the blush creeping up to your cheeks again. “ Also, we are almost there. It's a pretty short drive.” You both sit in comfortable silence for the next few minutes, until he pulls into the restaurant parking lot. “We're here, I wanted to get here early because they are weird about people being late.

You look at the clock. 6:11, oh. “Will they let us in early?”

“No they’re a bunch of assholes, you have to be there perfectly on time, can’t be early or late.”

You sat there not knowing what to do. I mean you could sit here without saying anything to each other but that didn’t seem like a fun option. But then a better option came to mind.

“Hey Josh, do you wanna do something fun?”

“Like, go to the backseat for fun, or something else.” His eyebrows shot up.

“Not backseat fun, that’s for later.” You say with a hint of sarcasm, knowing it's not actually sarcastic. “I mean like taking that BDSM test you were talking about, and maybe the rice purity test.”

“Are you sure you wanna expose yourself like that?” Leaning back in his seat more, getting comfortable.

“I mean I don’t care, I’m comfortable with you and would share whatever. I’m doing it more because I’m nosy and wanna know about your past.” You say reaching forward, fixing the collar of his shirt.

He looks down at your hand, sliding his tongue across his teeth, trying to conceal his smile. “Okay baby, whatever you want.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket, you pulling yours out of your purse.

You pull up the Rice Purity website and begin to check off the boxes, flying through it since you’ve done it with your friends many times before.

“Okay I’m done with the Rice Purity test, are we sharing our results yet?”

“No, do the other test then we can go over them.”

You nod your head and go on to the next test. This one was much longer, and had much more vulgar questions. Some that you agreed with strongly, some you were shading, and some that you had never heard of before, but wondered if you’d like it?

After a very long time of taking the test and waiting for Josh to finish he looks up from his screen.

“Okay y/n I’m done.”

“Yay so we can go over them now?”

“Hmmm no. It’s 6:28, so it’s time to go in. Looks like someone’s going to have to ponder my results until after dinner.” He gives you a fake smile quickly running around to your side and giving you a helping hand out of the car. He gives a quick kiss to your hand and shuts the car door.

He guides you to the entrance with his hand resting on your lower back. Opening the door for you, you're met with a lowly lit restaurant with lots of low toned chatter and a piano playing in the background

“Josh Kiszka, table for two.”

The hostess looks down to the planner and crosses off his name before grabbing menus and leading you to a table.

You're brought to a very nice area where the live music is playing. Josh pulls out your seat for you letting you sit down before pushing you back in. You could really get used to this pampered lifestyle.

“You’re such a gentleman Josh.”

“Just trying to treat you the way you should be mama. Nothing less than perfect for you, especially for how hard you’ve been working in the show.” He grabs his menu and begins to look it over.

“You have been working hard too, how can I repay you?”

“Oh trust me you’ll be repaying me tonight in bed.” He says with a smirk.

Your eyes shoot open and before you're able to say anything else the waiter approaches your table.

“Hello everyone, my name is Matthew. I'll be your server for today. Can I start you off with any drinks?”

“Yeah I’ll have a Moscow Mule and she’ll have a Dirty Martini. Thank you sir.”

He jots down the drink orders and hastily walks to the kitchen. It was a very busy night, lots of older couples, probably due to the fact that college students don’t typically have the money for a place like this. You took a look at the menu before you came and saw the expensive menu items. It was filled with lots of good seafood and many other options. You liked coming to restaurants prepared, having your meal planned out, and a backup option just in case.

You were planning on getting the scallops, but the steak also looked good from seeing them pass by with other waiters.

“What are you thinking of getting Josh?”

He sits leaning back in his chair, concentrating on the menu and slowly looks up to you. He looks so good.

“I usually get the same thing every time. The Beef Bourguignon.”

“Sounds fancy Josh, I think I’m going to have the scallops.” You smile looking deep into his eyes.

“You look so amazing tonight mama. The way you look under this lighting is driving me crazy.” He gives you a cute, little smirk.

Before you could say anything back, the waiter came over with your drinks. “Here you go sir, and for you ma'am, a dirty martini.”

“Thank you so much.” You give a polite smile and take a sip of your drink.

“Would you like more time to think over your order, or do we think you’re ready?”

“I think we’re ready. I’ll have the Beef Bourguignon and she will have the Scallops.”

“Sounds good, it's not too often I see men order for their girlfriends anymore. What a good boyfriend” Matt points out, while snatching up the menus.

“Oh, well he’s a great friend, not boyfriend but..yeah he’s great.” You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, no doubt looking like a freshly picked tomato.

Josh gives you a smile, not one of real kindness, but one that tells you you’ve fucked up.

“I’m sure he is. I’ll go put that order in.” As Matt walks away, your eyes follow his trail, you are scared to look back at Josh. When you shift your eyes to him, you’re met with a surprisingly pleasant look.

“Are you still too scared to just admit you like me mama? I know you do, or are you just trying to seem available to Mr. Matthew over there.” He reaches over the table to hold your hands between his.

“I…I wasn’t trying to, I just got caught off guard. I didn’t mean to…” You’re quick to defend yourself.

“I’m only kidding y/n, I’m just trying to get you riled up.” He squeezes your hands softly before bridging them to his mouth and kissing them. You take a few more sips of your drink and Josh notices it beginning to get low. “Do you want more darling? Or maybe a bottle of wine for us?”

“Up to you Josh, I thought you were ‘in charge’ for the night.”

He smirks to you, biting the inside of his cheek. “We’re taking this slow baby, but someone seems eager to be dominated, what a slut.” You can’t help but smile at his remarks. You did want to be dominated, badly. Before you could agree to his comment Matthew comes over to the table with another dirty martini.

“This is for you, I noticed you were getting low and don’t worry it’s on me.” Matt smiles at you with his bright white teeth, gently setting the glass onto the polished wood table.

“Oh my, thank you Matthew.” You accept his gesture and take the drink.

“Oh please, you can call me Matt miss…” You watch as his gaze lingers a little longer than it should’ve.

“Y/n.” You say noticing his hand was reached out for a hand shake.

“Well I’m going to check on your food. It should be out at any moment.” He smiles before noticing Josh’s near empty glass, and continuing to walk away.

Josh scoffs and shakes his head. It definitely was a little rude of him to do all that.

You notice that Matt had not gotten too far away, when he turns around you signal him to come back over.

“Hi Matt, I know you noticed but my date is running low so I’d appreciate it if you did your job and got him some more.” You shoot him a condescending smile, your tone laced with venom.

Matt’s eyes almost pop out of his head. “On it miss.” He turns back to the kitchen before anything else could be said. He’d do anything for a god damn tip.

You turn back to Josh to see him smiling ear to ear.

“That was the sexiest fucking thing you’ve ever done y/n. Such a good girl obeying and serving me.”

“Anything for you Joshy.” You bat your eyelashes at him.

“But you were still flirty with him before, so that’s a strike for later mama.” He teasingly raises his eyebrows at you, making you wonder what exactly he has in store.

As you wait a little longer for your food, due to the fact that it was busy tonight at the restaurant, you talk about how awful this week coming up would be during practice. Coleman was always so stressed the closer it got to the show. And although you still had a month-ish before the actual show, it was getting closer to hell week which was when you would run through the show full out all day and night. Coleman’s big on total perfection and mastery, to ensure the show goes exactly to plan.

When the food and Josh’s drink finally came out you wasted no time to dig in, in a classy way of course. It was very rare for you to indulge in quality food since all you ever ate was dining hall food and never went home for homemade meals. When you saw they served scallops on the menu, you knew right away that was what you were getting. You love seafood so much, it reminds you of your childhood, when your Aunt Jen would take you out to your favorite seafood restaurant for your birthday every year. You missed her deeply, ever since you broke contact with your mom, you drifted with her as well.

You jab your fork into one of tender scallops, popping the entire thing in your mouth. You savor the rich, nutty flavor knowing that tomorrow morning you’ll be right back to the regularly scheduled meals.

“Wanna hear a funny story?” Josh asks, shoving a large forkful of noodles into his mouth.

“Hit me with it,” you reply, still chewing on your scallop.

“To preface, I was still in high school when this happened, so you can’t hold it against me,” He smirks, pointing at you with a raised brow.

You giggle at his dramatics,”Okay…”.

“Promise you won’t?” He presses, holding out his pinky finger to you.

You interlock your pinky with his, “Promise.”

“Good. Jake, Sam, and I had the house to ourselves one weekend because our parents went on an anniversary trip. So… you know, we threw a big party. Jake and I were Sophomores, not very experienced with alcohol for one. Two, we didn’t have that many friends so the friends we did have invited a ton of people we didn’t even know. So, our house was practically filled with complete strangers.” Josh took a big gulp of his drink, followed by another forkful of beef.

“Rebels,” you mutter, a chuckle bubbling out.

“That's for sure. We crashed on the chaise chairs that surrounded our pool that night. Woke up to the house a total mess, someone had even broken one of the lamps in our living room. And, boy, it was not a cheap one either. But that's besides the point, I woke up and immediately needed to shit, you know… as one does. I was still kinda drunk, I definitely wasn't sober, so I was a little slower than usual.”

“Oh no…” A wide smile spreads across your face, as you tilt your glass up to your mouth, you take a hefty swig.

“I shit my pants. 16 year old boy, shit… in his pants,” A boisterous laugh leaves his lips, recalling the moment.

You swallow your drink, the same time a cackle escapes from your throat. You begin aggressively coughing on your beverage, you watch through your teary eyes, as Matthew comes running up to you. But you couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, your tears blurring your vision.

“Y/n, are you okay?” You can hear Josh ask.

You try to clear your throat to answer, when you feel strong arms wrap around your torso. Matt comes up behind attempting to perform the heimlich maneuver on you. You come to your senses with one final cough, your vision returning back to normal.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Josh’s eyebrows are knitted, a lilt to his voice.

“I was trying to help her!” Matt backs away with his hands up defensively. “I’m sorry,” he turns to apologize to you and walks back towards the kitchen.

“It’s okay!” You yell after him, facing Josh again, anger written all over his pretty face. He can’t seriously be mad that the waiter touched me to give the heimlich? “Josh, is everything okay?” You widen your eyes at him.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one that started choking!” He says in a surprisingly defensive tone.

“Why are you getting snappy at me? I didn’t try to choke?!” You bite back.

“Mm, yeah, sure. You also didn’t tell him to get off of you now did you, hm?” He fires at you, his lips pull into a thin, straight line.

“Are you actually serious?” You start, wanting to say more but held back to prevent a possible argument/

“Yeah I’m serious. You probably loved having his hands all over you didn’t you?”

You stare at him, not knowing what the fuck to say to that. This has to be a joke.

“That’s what I fucking thought, thats another strike mama.” He warns you.

So this is what it’s all about. Just nitpicking so he can be more dominant. You wanted to be mad, but you couldn't, you were kind of aroused.

You might be sick. Sick for thinking angry Josh was hot. Sick for wanting to make him even more irritated, to get more strikes, even though you have no idea what it entails. Sick for yearning to grab his hand, leave the restaurant, and fuck in the backseat of his car.

You let out a quiet whimper at the authority in his words, but not without him noticing.

“What was that mama?” He raises one of his thick, well-groomed eyebrows at you.

“Hm?” You think acting stupid might make him forget or possibly make him think he made it up in his own brain.

“Oh baby, I’m not stupid. You like it when I talk down to you, like a little brat.” Another mouthful of beef is forced into his mouth.

“Who says?” You challenge, wanting to see how far you can push him before he falls off the edge.

“Don’t act like you didn’t just outwardly moan at me talking to you,” What a cocky bastard.

“I didn’t. I think you’re making things up Josh,” You swirl your drink around in your cup, giving him the stupidest look ever.

He narrows his eyes at you.“Don’t think so mama, and plus it's not good to lie. That’ll be another strike.” He drops his fork down onto his plate.

Your eyes are bulging out of your head, mouth gaping. “Don’t look at me like that darling, or else I won't be able to wait until we get back to my apartment and I’ll put that mouth to use right now. A gaping mouth is good for many things, not just you pretending to be surprised while hiding the fact that your extremely turned on. I bet those panties of yours are soaked right”

“Who says we have to wait? I want you right now Josh.” You instinctively rub your thighs together desperate for any kind of friction. You've been struggling with your impatience for him all evening, ever since he brought up his little idea.

“Now, where’s the fun in that? The build up is one of the best parts,” he gives you a sweet smile flashing his gorgeously white teeth at you.

You roll your eyes at him, “ I suppose.” Your foot stretches out, brushing up and down his ankle with your high heel.

“Keep being a fucking brat and see what happens, but its obvious that being punished is what you want. Such a dirty whore.” He takes a sip from his drink reacting like he just told you the weather for the day. It seems only you had a reaction to what he said and thankfully the music was loud enough or else you would be getting a couple more stares.

Your face must have been concerned because immediately Josh’s demeanor softens. “Baby are you not liking this, I told you all you have to do is say the word.”

“No no no. I’m loving this, maybe a little too much. I’m just so taken aback, I’ve never seen this side of you and I’m really loving it.”

He smirks, probably feeling good about himself after you just exposed yourself, probably a little too much.

After Josh pays the bill and you convince Josh to give Matt more than a few dollars tip because of his jealousy, you prepare to leave and head back to his apartment.

“Okay I know you want to get into the action immediately but I want to take you somewhere else, if you don’t mind.” He smiles, reaching out to hold your hands between his.

“I don’t mind at all.” You scooch out of your chair, grab your purse, and follow Josh out of the restaurant. After a short 5 minute drive you show up to an ice cream parlor that you had never been to before.

“How have I never known about this place?”

“You must be living under a rock y/n. I loved this place as a kid, our dad would take us all the time.” You felt a little overdressed for an ice cream parlor, but being here with Josh made the outside world irrelevant. After looking over the many flavors you opt on a mint chocolate chip scoop in a cup and Josh chooses his regular, a double scoop of cherry vanilla in a waffle bowl.

He brings you over to a small table in the corner, letting you have the booth side. After indulging in your ice cream for a few minutes and realizing it was the best ice cream you had ever had, Josh breaks the silence.

“So do you want to go over our test results?”

Your eyes almost fall out of your head. “Here? Josh, we're in public!”

“Anddddd…” He says, waiting for your response. “It’s not like there is anyone around.”

Besides the family on the other side of the room and the old couple ordering, the place was empty.

You giggle before pulling your phone out of your purse. You find your results and wait for him to begin.

“Okay so, what did the innocent y/n get on her rice purity score?” Making sure he emphasizes the innocent.

“No way man, you first.” You say pulling your phone closer to your chest.

“Fine. I got a 46.” He says dryly, waiting for your response.

“Oh my god, you're such a slut Josh.” Not being able to contain your laughter.

“So I got lower than you?”

You wince a little, realizing you’ll now have to expose yourself. “If we're talking golf then sure.” He can’t help but let his jaw drop a little. “How about a 23.”

His mouth turns into a huge open mouth smile. “I can’t believe that, show me.” You flip around your phone sharing the evidence.

“Are you going to call me a slut now or something?” Half being serious, half joking.

“Y/n, I don’t think you're a slut. Seriously. I said those things before because I was jealous of what I couldn’t have. That number means nothing to me, unless you chose one of the last two options, then it matters.” You can’t help but laugh, one at the joke, and two at the fact that he sees you for more than your sexual history.

“That means a lot Josh, thank you. And it means even more knowing how jealous you were.” You giggle, taking a spoon of ice cream into your mouth.

“Why not just get the cherry flavored ice cream? The vanilla probably just makes it more bland.”

His head cocks to the side giving you a look that makes you feel like you're missing something. He begins to scoop up a good amount onto his spoon, making sure to get a big cherry in it. He brings the spoon to your mouth, normally you would be cringed out over something like this but it was different. You allowed him to feed you the icecream and to your surprise it was amazing.

You cover your mouth making sure that you lick the remnants off your lips. “That's so good Josh, I’ll have to get that next time.”

“So there will be a next time?” He says scoops up some ice cream for himself.

“I mean, I had fun tonight. Even without a label I like hanging out with you and going out.”

“Right, and one may even call those hangouts a date, don’t you think?” He says, cocking his eyebrow up at you.

“I guess one could call them that. No matter what they're called I love being around you Josh. At practice, your apartment, out somewhere. It doesn’t matter. And to me it doesn’t matter what we are either, does it matter to you?”

He sits there for a second thinking about the bomb you just dropped on him.

“If you would have asked me that a little bit ago I would have said it did matter. But whether or not we're more than friends, I enjoy your company and I think for now that’s all that matters.”

Wow, this was a whole new side of Josh. Such a sweet and tender side that you could really come to love. Love. That word had never been in the equation. You push your many thoughts aside in your head, enjoying the present moment with Josh.

As you continue your simple banter you finish your ice cream filling so full from all the food from tonight. The way his face looked under the light could put you in a trance, you barely could pay attention to anything he was saying.

“… it was so crazy. Like who pulls up to a wedding in a tracker themed party bus?”

You snap back into realty to hear the last bit of his story. “That is so crazy.”

He smiles at you, the moment was so pure. “Anyways, wanna go back and let me fuck the shit out of you.”

Now that was the Josh you were used to. “Been waiting all night for you to ask.”

—

When arriving at his apartment, you imagined it would be like the movies. When they are stumbling into each other, hungrily trying to peel off each other's clothing, wanting nothing but one another. But despite Josh’s words fucking wasn’t the first thing to happen.

You both walk in hand and hand and he lets you use the bathroom to change into something more comfortable. Normally you would wear a giant t-shirt and shorts but wanted to dress a little nicer. Which sounds silly considering you would be going to bed. You wore a plum silk tank and flowy pants that fit perfectly on your body.

After returning from the bathroom Josh was sprawled out on the couch waiting for you. He had a tight t-shirt on, his muscles underneath pulling at the fabric. His bottom half, dressed in red flannel pajama pants. Your mouth waters at the sight, your hand quickly moving towards your mouth to wipe it. He pats the spot on the couch next to him, “Come take a seat mama, lets watch our show.”

“Community? But I thought we were gonna-”

“Patience darling, all in good time. Don’t you wanna relax with me?”

Without a second thought you come over to take a seat next to him but are grabbed and forced to sit in between his legs, letting your back lay against his chest. The episodes went by while light chatter filled the air. His fingers made it to your head at some point and never left as he played with your hair, lightly twirling and braiding it in some sorts. As you were going into the third episode of the night, you remembered the BDSM test that never got revealed from earlier.

“Hey Joshy?”

“Yeah.” He says drying, trying to pay attention to the episode.

“We still never went over the BDSM test.”

He sat up now giving you his full attention. “You're right, let me go grab my phone and some snacks and I’ll be right back. I have a feeling this is going to be entertaining.” He smiles moving around you to get up. You giggle and reach for your phone. When unlocking it, it opens right to your messages and Jake's name is very clearly near the top. Before he got back, you quickly deleted the messages and turned on do not disturb. You felt guilty having to hide it, but you didn’t want this to ruin the night.

Josh walks back into the living room with a bag of premade popcorn and his phone in the other hand. He reclaims his seat, offering you the bag. “ What results are you expecting from me?” He pops a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

You turn your body so you are now facing him between his legs. “Hm… I don't know. From everything I’ve learned about you here lately, I’d say maybe age play or brat.” You chuckle at him, grabbing your own handful of the salty snack.

Fear and confusion washes over his face. “Excuse me? What the fuck?” You can’t help but laugh at his reaction.

“I’m joking, Josh calm down. What is your top 5 on the list?”

He scans over his phone before beginning to read. “Okay so number one, I have dominant, of course. Number two brat tamer, three rigger, four degrader, and five masochists.” Damn. You didn’t know what to expect but it wasn’t that. “Was that what you were expecting?”

“Um… no, not really. I thought you were going to be pretty vanilla” You can feel your cheeks flush, embarrassment beginning to take over your body.

“Wow, I’m kinda offended. Your turn now.” He says with a cheesy smile.

“One is switch, number two degradee-”

“Switch?” Josh proclaims as he interrupts you, his eyebrows raising in shock.

You jokingly roll your eyes and continue sharing your results. “Number two degradee, number 3 brat, number four rope bunny, and five is primal prey.”

You were waiting for a witty response but he was speechless. You don’t know what he was expecting. “Josh, are you good?”

“Yeah it's just interesting to hear. But it's good to know you were turned on all the times I would call you a slut. ” He shoots a wink at you.

“You’re lucky that I find you attractive, or else I would have slapped you across the face.” You give him a little smile.

“Oh! So, you dooo find me attractive?” He says running a hand through his curly hair.

“You really needed me to tell you to know that?” You play at him.

“I thought we were ‘friends’ though? Being attracted to me makes me think we're not just friends y/n.” He places a hand on your thigh, squeezing it gently. A sharp shiver travels up your spine at his hand placement.

“I mean we're friends with benefits if that's how you wanna put it.” You give a poor attempt at trying to appease him, knowing you both wanted much more than to be just “friends with benefits”.

“Yeah but I think deep down you know you want me to be more than that, y/n.” He begins to move his body, hovering above deathly close to your face. “What do you want from me y/n? Is it just the sex, because I can give that to you. I’ll fuck you just how I’m going to fuck you tonight. But I know deep down you want me. Maybe you're just too scared to admit it, but I need you. I need you so fucking bad y/n, in more ways than one.” Your hands meet his hips, fingers playing with the waistband of his pajama pants.

“Let me take you to bed mama, and by the end of the night I want an answer. I can’t be teased any longer knowing if I can have you or not.” He whispers seductively into your ear. You can feel the pool forming in your panties just from his voice alone.

You moan lightly into his ear, as he scoops you up off the couch. He carries you down the hallway bridal style, pushing his bedroom door open with his foot, stumbling inside. He walks over, throwing your body down onto the bed.

“Strip.” He commands at you as he walks over to the closest.

“You too.”

He whips his head around. “Are you back talking? I know you're not stupid, don’t play with me. That's another strike mama.” You notice that he’s not empty handed anymore. He grips the thick black leather belt he was wearing earlier, walking right back over to you. You can’t help but let your eyes widen at the sight.

“Don’t act scared now, we both saw those results. Do you remember the colors?” He asks softly, taking off his shirt in the process leaving him in only his pants.

“Yes Josh.” You rip your pajamas off quickly, leaving you sitting completely bare on his bed.

“Good girl baby. Have you ever done this before?” He asks, sitting beside you then lifting you to be bent over his lap.

“No.” You say timidly.

“I strongly disbelieve that, but we’ll just take your word on it.” You feel the cool leather beginning to brush over your bare ass. “What color are you right now?”

“Green, very much green.” You quickly spit out, eager for his touch.

“Good, now I want you to count with me since you were a very bad girl. Can you do that mama?”

You can count to 5. “Yes Josh.”

“Sir, you call me sir.” He says sternly.

“Yes sir.” You say pathetically.

Without any warning you feel a hard slap on your ass. “Fuck” You recoil at the feeling.

He leans down to whisper into your ear, “That didn’t sound like a one to me, how about we try that again.” Again, the belt goes flying through the air landing another harsh crack against your ass cheek. “…One.”

“Good girl. Only four more to go.” He taunts you, but you can’t say it doesn’t turn you on even more.

Crack!

“Two”, you squeak out, your eyes shut tight. Your hands travel to his thigh gripping firmly onto his thigh as he lands a third hit to your ass. “Fuck, three…”.

“Fuck three!” He mimics you in a high pitch moan. “You hear how pathetic you sound?”

No way.

“As much as you're acting like you hate this, I know you like it. Such a fucking whore. You’re so wet right now, I can feel you soaking through my pants.”

With another whip of the belt your hands can’t help but clutch onto his bicep. “Four.” Your voice, no doubt, sounds so small. The final strike is the worst. It stings the hardest out of them all and you could barely get your words out. “…five. Fuck Josh.” Your eyes begin to water as you feel a few drops roll down your cheeks.

“Good girl baby. So glad to know you're not incompetent and can count. Now get up.”

As you struggle to get up from his lap you couldn’t help but also feel the pool between your legs, coating the insides of your thighs. He pulls his pants and boxers off at the same time, revealing his hardened cock.

“You see that mirror over there baby.” He points to the mirror centered in front of his bed. You nod not being able to get any words out. “First, you are going to get yourself on that bed, and then I am going to leash you, and your going to watch me fuck you like the whore you are. Got it?”

It was almost embarrassing how fast you got onto the bed. You stayed there on your hands and knees facing the mirror, watching him slowly make his way around to the back of you. He begins to put the belt around your throat.

“I’m not going to tighten it all the way, I don't need you dying on me. Lift your hand up if you need me to stop okay?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good baby.” He begins to line himself up with your core slowly pushing himself into you. His grip on the belt tightens, pulling your head up.

“Oh God, you fill me up so well Josh,” You choke out. He yanks the belt back a little more and slowly starts to thrust in and out of you.

“That I do, mama. You’re so fucking tight holy shit.” He begins to press into you harder. “Look at yourself, so beautiful.”

You look up into the mirror, making eye contact with him, and can’t help but moan at the obscene sight before you, your head falling down towards the bed, but Josh wasn’t having any of that. He lets go of the belt and grabs a chunk of your hair and pulls you back up. “I said, you are going to watch me fuck you. What's so hard to understand, you dumb bitch.”

He lets go of your hair and grabs the belt again, pounding into you harder and harder. Your tears pick up even more, rolling down your cheeks. “What a poor baby, do you feel so good?” Josh reaches around to your face, wiping the tears off your cheek, smearing your mascara in the process.

You were so incredibly turned on you couldn’t help but tighten around his cock as you begin to feel an orgasm creeping up on you.

“FUCK Y/N.” He pulls the belt hard, pulling you up to his chest. “Don’t do that shit or else you’ll get another strike.”

It’s almost like he’s begging for it. Without a second thought you squeeze around him again.

“FUCK.” Disregarding the belt, he slams you face first into the bed, grabbing your hips with both hands to give him more leverage. You feel heat radiating off your ass as Josh fucks his pelvis into the same spots he abused earlier with the belt.

“You can’t take this pussy Josh,” You clench around his dick again and this time he’s had it.

“I’ve had it with your shit, y/n.” His grip tightens around your hips, yanking you back to meet his thrusts harder. You feel his tip brush against your cervix, bringing you even closer to the edge. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “Josh I’m gonna cum.”

“What a surprise. I don’t care, because we're not done til I say we are.” His thrust never soften or stagger. He continues to assault your pussy.

“Josh I’m cumming oh my god.” You feel a wash of pleasure go over your body, but the thrusts don't stop. “Oh Josh stop, it's too much.”

“I don’t care. You're gonna take it.” He begins to get sloppy, knowing that he’s close to climax. “What color are you, baby?”

“Green.. Fuck Josh.” You see him smirk in the mirror knowing this is exactly what he wanted to happen. The pain of the overstimulation begins to turn into pleasure once more.

“Oh baby, your pussy feels so good. I’m going to cum so hard inside you, get you pregnant so no one else can have you.” His head tilts back, mouth wide open.

Holy fuck. You would be lying if that didn’t take you back a little, but it just turned you on that much more. Before you can get a word out you feel a shot of warm cum fill your pussy.

“Oh fuck mama. You feel so good, too fucking good.”

When he finally comes down he flips you onto your stomach, releasing your neck from the belt, trailing it down your body. “You think you can give me one more baby.” You feel the cool belt drag over your wet folds, along with a few light slaps.

He was going to be the death of you.

Not being able to help yourself you begin to grind up against the belt. He takes your hands above your head and begins to tie your hands together and wrap the belt around his bed frame. You feel his cum leaking out, as he leans his face down in between your legs. “Are you gonna stay still for me mama, be a good girl?”

You nod, feeling like you were on an entirely other planet with all the different sensations going through your body at the moment. He reaches up and slaps your face and grabs your neck. “Answer me y/n.”

“Yes Josh, I mean yes sir.” His hand releases and he makes his way back down between your legs. “I’m going to suck my cum out of you baby.”

With that, his head disappears between your thighs, licking a stripe through your folds. His face reappears and he sticks his tongue out for you, presenting his cum to you. He leans up, planting a quick kiss on your lips, followed by a deeper one licking into your mouth. You hum in pleasure of his taste on your tongue.

“Taste good, baby?” He gives you the prettiest smile.

“Mmm, so good,” You moan arching your chest against his. He smirks, going back down to eye level with your cunt. He begins with quick circles on your clit with his tongue. “I love your tongue, sir. Always making me feel so good.”

He doesn’t respond as he speeds up his licks, making you squirm beneath him. He pins your hips down with his arm, “ Stop fucking moving, or do I need to tie your legs down as well?”

You liked the idea, but needed to cum again. You shook your head furiously and kept your legs still.

He keeps lapping up your juices, bringing you closer and closer.

“I'm so close.” This feeling was different, much more powerful, but certainly not foreign. You feel little spurts coming out, and Josh picks up on it immediately.

“Soak my face, mama. Drown me.” His tongue attacks on your clit faster until you let go.

Josh’s mouth opens wide, desperately trying to catch every drop of your juices. It was a sight you never wanted to forget. He swallows it down and looks up at you, his face completely covered in your cum.

“You’re so fucking hot babe.” He reached up to release your wrists from the restraints. As your arms come down and hit the bed, pins and needles wash over them after being suspended in the air for so long.

You laid there silently in his chest for a while until you broke the silence. “Josh, did you mean what you said about getting me pregnant?”

“No, I don’t think getting you pregnant is a smart idea for either of us. But having you to myself was true. I need you badly y/n, and I hope I’ll have an answer soon on whether you want me too.”

“How about we go out to the living room, watch community and cuddle for a little, my head isn’t the clearest after all of that.” You offer, Josh can’t help but let out a chuckle before getting up to collect your clothing off the floor. He helps you back into your pajamas and then puts on his own.

You look in the mirror to see your mascara smudged and hair all knotted and messy. You don’t bother fixing it much because it was only you two there tonight. You rub the mascara away a little, still leaving you with makeshift eyeliner on your waterline.

You follow Josh out of his room and drag your feet back over to the living room. When you make it there you are met with a familiar face sitting at the couch on his laptop.

“Finally you’re done, I was gonna go back to my room but didn’t wanna have to hear her moaning. So fucking loud, by the way, what were you doing to her Josh?” With that he closes his laptop and saunters back to his room, closing the door behind him. You couldn’t dare look him in his eyes as he walked by. You can’t imagine how either of them feel at the moment.

You were a little embarrassed to learn that Jake had been sitting here, listening to your sounds of pleasure. Yet, some part of you was completely turned on by the fact he was able to hear everything. Every little moan, whimper, and whine, all caused by his brother.

You take a deep breath and sit back down next to Josh, and cuddle into his side. You look up at him and smile. “Ignore him, y/n. He’s probably just going to use that imagery to jerk off because he doesn’t get any.” You awkwardly laugh. Yep, definitely not getting any. You internally cringe.

You immediately forget about it though as Josh pulls you impossibly closer. You wrap your arms around his torso and snuggle your head into his chest.

“Hey Mama, look here for me,” Josh says to you. You look up again, into his beautiful coffee irises. He wipes under your eyes with his thumbs, swiping away the remaining smeared mascara. “There you go, sweetheart.” He seals his act of affection with a sugary, sweet forehead kiss.

You blush under his touch, grabbing his hand interlacing your fingers with his. You bring his hand up to your lips, reciprocating the kiss across his knuckles. You hear a little giggle leave his lips. “Wanna watch Community now?”

“Yeah… yeah we can, right after this”, He takes your face in his hands, bringing his lips to yours. You make a move to deepen it by slipping your tongue into his mouth. It wasn’t like the makeouts you had before, this one was tender and passionate. Your hands reach for his face, slipping them up into his loose curls. His roaming across your back, not going any farther than your waist band.

He pulls away for a moment, “You can’t do this to me and not be mine y/n. I need you to figure this out for my sanity.” His eyes, large and pouty. “I don’t think I could ever get over you, whether we become a thing or not.”

You realize the game you were playing is not something you can carry out any longer. You were never tied down to one person, but Josh was different. The way he made you feel could never compare to the many other guys you’ve been with. Your fling with Jake though had to be put to an end or else you could never make this work out with Josh.

“I can’t make that decision right now. I want you too, badly. I just need time to sort some things out, and tie together loose ends with some people.” Making it as vague as possible to not lead him to think it could be Jake. “I want to take things seriously and not lead people to think I’m going to be open for anything.”

Josh stares at you, half happy, half still frustrated that he didn’t get his way. “I understand babe, this isn’t the way for me to do it either. I want to make it official official. Not just force you into it on my couch. I’ll give you some time, but I know it's coming.” He sends a bright smile to you, finishing it off with a deep kiss.

You break away again, “Josh, I’ve never felt this way before, I was so confused for the longest time.” You grab onto his face gently rubbing your thumbs across his soft cheeks. He nuzzles his face into your hands.

“Same, Mama,” your lips reconnect and let them do the talking. You push him down to lay flat on his back, he looks back up at you with innocent eyes.

You resituate yourself to sit on his lower abdomen, and begin to grind lightly against his soft dick.

He grabs a hold of your hips and stills you, “Can’t we have a sweet moment y/n.” He says in a sarcastic tone, smirking up at you. “Or is fucking always on the mind.”

You act like you have to think about that for a moment, “Mmmm… maybe?” you chuckle leaning back in for the kiss.

“As much as I’d love a round two, Jake is home now. Can’t we just enjoy this moment together.” He says as he pulls you in for another quick kiss. “Maybe, when he’s asleep though…” He adds, with a dorky wink. You playfully shove his shoulder and then relax your head back onto his chest.

He reaches for the remote, turning on Community. After a few episodes, you both doze off, only waking up when Jake slams his bedroom door to go out to the kitchen. Josh not waking even once. You awaken again by another slam of the door, what the fuck is he doing? You look over at Josh, to see him still peacefully sleeping like a baby. What time is it even?

You quickly turn your phone over to check the time, still in a half-asleep daze. 2:15am. Definitely not a time to be slamming doors.

You see a new notification under your messages, Jake. You swore you deleted him from your messages earlier. You click on his name anyway to see what he could possibly have to say.

2:14am Jake: I know he’s asleep. Come to the bathroom now.

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