🖊️ by @winnielewoo
🏷️ NSFW Choose-Your-Own-Adventure
Join your newly found friend group in college as they play a few party games to pass the time! Considering you've had a crush on one of them for some time, you don't suppose being stuck in a closet with them would be so bad... would it?
🔗 READ/PLAY HERE
📖 Episode 1 of 1
🪶 A Glimtember Week 1: Love Games submission! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
(aka how he picked you to be his precious tester. warning: mentions of stalking)
ray found you on social media first
he doesn't ever leave mint eye, so social media would have to be the first place for him to look
what kind of person he was looking for, he had almost no idea. his savior wasn't very specific about who must be chosen, she just decided to let him take the lead for once. the only thing was that it couldn't take more than a month to find you, as the revenge plan against the rfa was already in its early stages.
in ray's mind, his savior was letting him choose his partner. he was choosing someone to share paradise with.
this trust, this freedom to choose someone special is what made ray obsessed. he was picky in his search, meticulously analyzing and researching local people close to his age. he knew he would never get this much freedom again, so whoever he picked had to be perfect... not just for the mission, but for him.
he chose a variety of platforms to observe, but he wanted to make sure he could see what you looked like. posting faceless on twitter wouldn't be enough. he knew the right person would be obvious to him, he just had to keep looking until he felt that spark.
the search took about a week. he needed to make sure that you were someone who could disappear without too many people noticing. he didn't want a huge crowd looking for you, it'd be too much of a headache.
ray will never forget the moment he first saw your photo. his face felt hot, his breath faltered, and he couldn't look away. he couldn't stop his hands from moving on their own, desperate to see more of you.
it was like he was under a spell. he was in awe of you, the way you carried yourself, your looks, and every word you wrote on your account. you were perfect. you were the one.
since your account was public, ray took it as an invitation to watch you. he didn't follow you or like any posts, but he was obsessed with everything you posted.
he studied you, even if he had limited content to work with. through your social media, he learned your favorite foods and how you decorated things. he made notes on all of it, spending hours finding things to make your room to your taste.
he began fantasizing about being yours. he would look at your hands in your photos, imagining how they would feel in his. he wondered if you would be struck by him at your first meeting like he was with you. he prayed that he could get even a fraction of your attention, that you would show him a glimmer of your light.
what kind of person were you interested in?
ray wanted to be your prince--that was his biggest dream of all. he wanted to be the pinnacle of romance for you and to sweep you off your feet.
he spent another week just following your socials before he took things a step further.
finding your address was easy, the phone number easier. ray was ecstatic. you left yourself so exposed to him. no vpn, no ways of protecting yourself, so he kept an eye on you... just to keep you safe until you came to magenta.
all he had to do now was figure out how to bring you to him.
this is when anxiety crept in. how could he get you to agree to come? to abandon your life? what if you hated him?
he worked harder to princess-ify your room. he spent more time in the garden. he stayed up all night scanning through your pinterest account. he will be everything you could ever want. he will prove it to you.
Summary: Many years have gone since the infamous dismantlement of Mint Eye and the beginning of a new, difficult journey to rehabilitation for every unfortunate victim ensnared in its clutches. Saeran found himself still standing despite this journey being particularly lonely for him. He didn't anticipate seeing you at the one event he believed he could handle without any surprises after all these years.
Notes: ~ 4k words. Hurt/comfort. Reader is Saeran's former assistant (my take on how such a reunion would go). Saeran is somewhere in his late 20's-early 30's! <3
Credit: dividers by @/saradika-graphics, picrew link used in banner: here!
It never really occurred to Saeran that he would get to see you again. And even if he did, he doubted you'd be happy to see him. After all, he could undoubtedly say the same about almost every former believer he had the misfortune of encountering over the years.
Not that he could blame them in any way for freezing right where they stood and withdrawing in on themselves the moment their eyes would land on his face. His hair may have been longer, fuller, and more vibrant - no longer the damaged, dried up mess that likely stayed on his head in tact solely due to his spite alone - and his complexion might have gained the healthy color it previously lacked; yet, his eyes had remained same.
That same, unnatural mint that was a permanent mark for each and every person unfortunate enough to be caught in Mint Eye's clutches. He supposed, that could be a comfort to some. A reminder that they weren't alone in their suffering, and that there would always be people who understood them the way no normal person could. However, that companionship was not feasible for him. Not when his position was so unique and isolated from the very beginning. Not when he used to yell orders and lash out at those very same people who were now all slowly getting better after the harm he partially caused. He used to be proud of it: how much power and control he had compared to every other normal believer. He now saw his former self for what he really was: a complete and utter blind idiot.
He couldn't blame anyone for not wanting anything to do with him. He might have changed, but the damage that he has caused will not just disappear as a result of said change. He knew that fact better than anybody. He knew that awful sense of bitterness and grief that would knot in his gut anytime he saw his brother, who he knew now never meant to hurt him. A brother who loved him in a way he still found hard to fully comprehend. However, his anguish and rage persisted despite this newfound understanding. That's what made the road to recovery so cruel. He could get smart and rational all he wanted, but no logic would mend his tattered heart that refused to listen to reason.
And who else knew the full extent of his slow corruption better than you? His assistant, the one who was bound to his side against your will, manipulated and pushed to your very breaking point for no other reason than to mirror his own misery and loneliness back onto you. He hated himself for missing you the way he did. He hated his fingers for attempting to locate remnants of your existence in this new, free world you both inhabited, since it'd just exacerbate his pain. He hated his hollow heart for aching in the middle of the night as he tossed and turned in his bed, remembering how warm and steadying your arms have felt around his middle once upon a time on a bed much colder than this one.
He never once praised you or appreciated you the way you deserved to be. He had no right to yearn for you like this. Not when he had not provided you with anything worthy in return.
But life has never been fair to him, was it? He supposed he shouldn't have been as shocked to see you hanging out at the one RFA party he chose to attend for the very first - and last - time. It was like a cruel joke, really. Nothing could stop him from carefully preparing for this day, he was sure of it. Not any invasive and uncomfortable questions from the rest of the RFA that would undoubtedly follow, not the crowded venue or a few tipsy guests who have drank a glass or two more than advised, not even Jihyun's photograph placed above the center stage to pay respects to the same man he has killed with his own two hands.
This was intended to be his ultimate goodbye to his painful past, nearly a decade later. A way of stepping into his future as a free man with his own life and his own choices, no longer a trapped boy who could only be used as a tool and discarded when he'd show his damage. This was where he was meant to be finally at ease.
And there you were, the one ghost from his past he couldn't have possibly prepared himself for.
In a black, sleek outfit that wasn't particularly exceptional or outstanding in comparison to the plethora of fancy colors and shapes mingling in the space surrounding him, but nevertheless the one that made his breath halt for reasons other than his nervousness alone. You looked different from how he remembered you. Happier and fuller. With eyes of that same mint hue that now sparkled with confidence he never got to see in person. But he recognized you nonetheless. Some part of him wished that he didn't.
It seemed that even after all these years, you were still just as unaware that he was observing you the entire time. Your hair styled nice and neat and your cheeks looking far fuller than he remembered them as. He supposed none of these developments were surprising. He knew he looked quite different from your last encounter, too. Nearly unrecognizable even. It was stupid of him to stand there in the shadows, fixating on each and every new tiny detail his eyes could notice about you. You probably wouldn't have wanted to be monitored like this. If anything, if he truly cared about you, he should make his leave early so as to not accidentally remind you of the past when you weren't actively seeking it out.
But... Something about the occasional stiff shift of your feet or the way you'd cast your gaze down, your shoulders drooping ever so slightly with a familiar kind of insecurity he knew all too well has kept him there. His brain may have been attempting to persuade him that you were the flourishing, free flower he had always imagined you as, but his heart - flawed as it may be - could discern that you shared a significant number of his concealed sorrows. Perhaps he was still greedy enough to wish to indulge in that camaraderie he couldn't share with anyone else.
You were also distracted. By what, he couldn't know, but the subtle hesitancy in your body language told him everything he needed to know. The ways in which he learned how to read your body and mind were not something he was particularly proud of. He wished he'd learn you little by little, with what you'd willingly allow him to see, just like you've done for him. But he wasn't able to retract all of his bad decisions now. And as he watched you standing there, leaning back against the wall with a glass of some citrusy-looking drink, he suddenly found himself feeling more on edge than he's felt in a while.
His fingers tightened around his own glass, even though he hadn't drunk once since the party started. Some part of him felt bad for it. He was aware that Saeyoung made a tremendous, needless fuss behind his back about making sure he had everything he could possibly need for this specific party. His brother probably hoped that he'd become a permanent member if the party was 'good enough', although that would never happen. Saeran didn't like to be treated like some helpless damsel that couldn't stand up for himself, even if he knew his twin's actions came from a good place. Still, he felt a little bad that he couldn't appreciate his efforts to make things comfortable for him.
He wondered if you noticed these subtle signs of him scattered about. He wondered whether strawberry lemonade evoked thoughts of him in you, despite recognizing the self-centered nature of such a want. But he couldn't help the way his stupid heart throbbed in his chest, almost like it was physically trying to burst straight out of him and fly into your direction with zero concern for anything but its own selfish wants.
It didn't help that that outfit of yours fit you like a glove, or that the way the golden light would catch in your minty eyes would make his throat go dry.
The truth was... He simply hadn't realized just how much he'd truly missed you until right this second. Additionally, the fact that you were alone was the most significant factor here. It would be so much easier for him to simply push down all these unwanted memories and feelings if he could see you enjoying yourself with someone else: someone who'd make you laugh and smile the way he never got the chance to. You were all by yourself, though. No date. No set of friends he'd enviously eye from the sidelines before moving on like a forgotten ghost.
And the worst part was that he couldn't even bring himself to feel bad about it, either. Instead, he felt... relieved, even. He couldn't help but despise this unpleasant emotion. After all, you deserved to be happy and surrounded by people you could call your home. He shouldn't be pleased that you felt out of place or anxious here.
He watched as you looked around, probably trying to seem more self-assured than you really were, and the sight made his chest ache again. For some foolish, self-centered reason, he really was relieved that you were anxious and alone, just as he was. Because that meant you were still his assistant, the one he remembered and fantasized over when the nightmares would get too draining. But you were much more than that, even if he didn't understand it till far too late. Somewhat of a pattern with him, it seemed.
He didn't want you to carry on with your life as if he had never existed. The sheer thought of watching you from afar as you laughed and chatted with people he didn't know, looking so free and careless without him there, made him feel sick.
Saeran could have changed and grown, but he remained selfish and greedy deep down inside. It reminded him of the way he'd felt watching Saeyoung's face crumple into pure heartbreak as he held him down on the hard floor, his strong hands shaking against his thin wrists. At that point, he ought to have felt at least a little bit bad. He should've apologized to him. But the truth was that he wanted Saeyoung to quake and break at the mere notion of his departure from this world. Deep down inside, it's all he's ever wanted. To see that he was important enough to his brother that the sheer idea of him being torn away was as painful as getting half of Saeyoung's heart ripped out of his chest.
Saeran, Ray, even Unknown all had to endure this anguish for years, after all. What's so bad about not wanting to be alone in it?
Before he could spiral any further into even uglier of memories, Saeran shook his head, placed the still-full glass on the nearest bar with a faint clunk, and made his way across the room to you. His eyes raked up and down your figure again as he approached closer, clearing his dry throat before he could chicken out of this.
Hell, you may not even recognize him for all he knew. He didn't know whether that would make him feel better or worse.
"-Are you looking for someone?"
The moment your eyes darted to meet his own, that thought evaporated immediately. Nope. You undoubtedly recognized him. That hitch to your breath and wide-eyed look told him all that he needed to know. He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or even more scared than he already was.
He hadn't seen you since... Since that day. Since he confined you to his room despite your best efforts to comprehend his scattered state of mind as of late. And the last time you actually spoke properly felt almost like an eternity ago.
And here he was. In an equally perfectly tailored black suit, his shoulders broader than you remembered them being back when he was so incredibly thin, it was a wonder he had the energy to do half the grueling work he had piling up daily. His jawline and eyes remained the same, though, but less guarded. He knew he probably looked intense to you, although intimidating you was the last thing he'd want to do right now.
You both just remained there for a few heavy seconds too long, staring back at each other with so many unanswered questions and unspoken words. He couldn't blame you for freezing up. This was an awful way to make an appearance. He was never good at this sort of thing.
"...U- Unknown-?"
He flinched immediately. Right. Fuck, he never even told you his name, did he? It was a good reminder of just how greedy and self-centered he has been with you. He has demanded so much of your time and attention, yet he has failed to reciprocate even a quarter of all that you've given him. Hell, he was doing it right now, too.
His breath hitched again, and he gave a small shake of his head. He swallowed down the lump in his throat that had formed when he heard that name, which he hadn't heard in years now. If you could even call it a name, that is. Still, it always did sound different when it came from you. He wondered how his actual name would sound like spoken in your voice now.
"...No. I mean- Yes, but-" He huffed, suddenly feeling restless, raking a hand through his hair. A long-suffering habit. Still, now his fingers wouldn't grip onto his strands with enough force to rip out a chunk without even noticing the pain. Now he just made himself look a mess after spending almost an hour taming his hair in the mirror. This wasn't going well. "-Saeran. My name... My real name is Saeran. Saeran Choi."
The least he could do for you was this. Although he was still doing it badly. You definitely had so many questions. Enough to last a full day or more. And yet, here he was, just- making an appearance to you after so many years, acting like it was the most normal thing ever. He needed to apologize. Bow low and apologize for everything. Ask if there was anything you would have liked him to say or do for you. But what could he even say when there was so much to apologize for? How could he even start?
Under your wide-eyed, unreadable gaze, he felt smaller than he had in years. He wished he could know what you were thinking. Were you afraid of him? Angry with him? Disgusted? Uncomfortable?
...Relieved?
-No, he couldn't dare hope for such a thing.
"Saeran...," you finally all but breathed out. It seemed awkward, subdued, somewhat uncertain. The way you pronounce a new name just to test it on your tongue and hope to get it right. But it shot a shudder up his spine anyway. You swallowed, placing your own glass on the closest surface. He could see your hand quivering, the contents of the glass on the brink of spilling out if luck had not been on your side.
He couldn't help but beat himself up in his own head. You were already feeling anxious for one reason or another, and him walking up to you like that probably only made it ten times worse. Just as he opened his mouth to finally utter a stilted apology and scurry away from you, you did the same, you both ending up speaking at the same time.
"I'm sor-"
"-Can I-"
A feeling of mutual awkwardness lingered in the air as you both paused. He cleared his throat again, scratching at the nape of his neck: "It's okay. Go ahead. Say whatever you need to say."
Even if it's a request to leave. He'd certainly not blame you one bit. You nodded, blinking back at him in a somewhat dumbfounded manner. It was clear that you weren't used to him being so... soft-spoken, or respectful with you. Yet another thing among many he felt shitty over. But he did see the tension in your shoulders easing just a little, so... maybe he did manage to make you feel more at ease? Even just a little.
"Can I... Is it okay if I-" He watched your hands flex and fidget, your voice cracking with nerves. He was unaware of what you wanted to ask of him, however your evident anxiety over it instilled a sense of shame in him. So, he exhaled, taking a small step back, giving you space he figured you probably needed. He did simply walk up on you out of nowhere.
"Whatever it is you want to say or do... I'll accept it," he lowered his head a little, tearing his gaze away from your face, if only to show you that he really was of no threat to you. Not anymore. "Even if it's to run away, or- hit me, or... whatever. It's the least I can do. For you."
His words might have been stilted, gruff, and more than a little awkward, but he meant each and every single one of them. He hoped that you could tell that he was sincere. And if not, then the presence of so many other people here would make you feel more at ease.
You still managed to catch him completely off guard, though. Because rather than turning on your heel and running for the hills, or pushing on his chest, or sneering at his sorry excuse of an apology you... sucked in a short, shaky breath and then launched yourself at him.
Not to hurt him. But to throw your arms around him instead.
That was hardly the tackle he had expected. One second, he was bracing himself for a scared excuse, or angry demand: two people who hadn't been in each other's lives for almost a full decade now parting ways like it was best for them both, regardless of what his stupid heart might have wanted instead. The next, you were virtually smashing into him with enough force to push any remaining air out of his lungs. Your arms locked around his neck, your warm body pressed flush against his chest in a way that had nothing to do with an angry sort of violence he braced himself for.
He froze, his arms lingering awkwardly above your middle. And... Oh, you smelled just like he remembered. God. Of all things, he was unaware that he had missed your scent, too.
"Saeran...," you practically sniffled, a sound that made his heart constrict in his chest alone. If that was how a heart attack might have felt like, he wasn't sure he'd mind dying that way. "What- What are you doing here?"
For half a heartbeat, he just stiffened right there in your arms, as unused to being held as he was all those years ago, but then his heart finally took the reigns again. His trembling arms moved around your midsection, drawing you closer to him as if it were second nature. And in a way, it was. He had just never appreciated it before, when it really mattered. One of his hands slid up your back to cradle the back of your head, your hair so different from the one he used to fiddle with as you sat on his lap, but familiar all the same.
He let out a short breath through his nose, a mixture of relief and something much more intimate and dangerous, and he allowed himself to become even more selfish when you hadn't forced yourself away from him out of fear or contempt. He buried his face into the curve where your neck met your shoulder, swallowing down the rush of emotion suddenly threatening to burst free. His eyes became slightly wet out of nowhere.
Right... You asked him something, didn't you...?
"I'm with my brother."
His arms remained in place. Even after the immediate shock of your acceptance wore off, he kept you close, breathing in that scent of yours that couldn't possibly be a dream. His fingers carelessly fiddled with your hair, an old practice he immediately fell into repeating.
God, you felt good. Better than good, no. You were warm, and real, and accepting. After over a decade of pure silence and distance, he somehow found you in his arms again, almost like some bizarre gift from fate that he wasn't sure how to accept, considering how cruel it was to him otherwise.
He knew he had so much to say to you, and yet... The only thing his overwhelmed mind did come up with was-
"You look... You look well. I'm glad."
It wasn't flowery, and he was very certain he still sounded awkward and rough, but he never did figure out how to put his emotions into words in a way that would stick. But he did mean it. Despite his prior internal struggle, he was glad to see you out and about. Even if his heart was pounding so hard he swore you could physically feel it freaking out through his chest.
"You- You have a brother?" He heard you whisper against his shoulder, thankfully not pulling away quite yet, either. He couldn't help but feel guilty again: God, just how much of himself did he keep hidden from you-? He all but detested himself for giving away so much of his own heart to those who had only ever taken advantage of his devotion while ignoring those who had only ever shown him love. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his suit jacket, that same sense of desperation fueling his every breath reflecting in your touch as well. "I... I'm glad."
He couldn't help but let out a wobbly laugh at you accidentally mirroring his own words. Though the sound sounded a bit too wet for his liking. However, the way you joined in helped to lessen this feeling of embarrassment. At least he wasn't alone in this confusing mix of emotions. Still, this was the first time he approached you in so long, and you were completely focused on him. That was just like you.
You moved, giving his shoulders a slight squeeze with your hands: "Are you okay? Like... really okay?"
Saeran swallowed hard, your clumsy worded question still somehow hitting him square in the chest. There was a time when no one had ever asked him that question. Nowadays, it's something he could hear uttered to him just about every other day: casual check-ins and worrisome probings alike, most of them thanks to his overly protective older brother, of course. However, you were unaware of the extent to which his everyday life has transformed now. Of course you'd ask him that.
There was a time when nobody ever asked him that, but you did. You always had this stupid, stubborn habit of looking past his ugly exterior, past the meanspirited words, and somehow seeing right through to whatever broken mess was underneath.
"Yeah...," he said after a beat or two too long for someone telling the full truth. However, this was not the appropriate time or place. Although it's not like he knew if that time or place would ever come. "I'm okay. Better now."
He shifted a little and finally pulled away from you so he wasn't glued to you like a fool. Not necessarily because he wanted to, but because he knew he should. Even though he was still hesitant to completely let go of you just yet, maintaining his grip on your shoulders. He wasn't willing to look back out on all the chattering and dancing people outside of this little corner, and he certainly didn't want to see a couple of familiar faces definitely witnessing this reunion from afar. In the end, he was not exactly discrete about this. There was a small sense of self-consciousness there, as he was suddenly all too aware of how ridiculous he made himself look right now. Clinging to you when no one even knew about your relationship with him.
You gave him a small, shaky smile.
"...I like your hair," you said softly, eyes darting up from his face to the red mop of hair in question. A slight ghost of a smile graced his lips in return. If you had told him that before, he'd probably take it as an insult. That red color, buried beneath the alarming amount of bleach, used to make him feel nothing but anger and disgust. Nowadays, he found haircare even somewhat relaxing, whenever he actually had the energy for it.
"Thanks," he echoed, eyes soft. "You... probably have a lot to ask."
ᝰ.ᐟ WARNINGS : Extremely Dubious consent, second hand embarrassment; Mentions of Ray, Jealousy, Toxic Possessiveness, Saeran is a warning all on his own. Mentions and usage of toys, fingering, Choking, aggressive biting. Rough, just rough man, Fem!Reader, 3K words.
You don’t know how you got yourself into this mess, caged against a wall by a man that looked twelve seconds from biting your head off. Teal eyes wide, manic as they fluttered about every twitch of your expression, jaw wound so tight and teeth painfully grinding. He was more akin to a beast than a man, ravenous and deadly. Her bedroom was a mess, ransacked as if a tornado had materialized right in the center. Books torn open, shredded pages strewn about and crumpled below his feet, stained with steps caked in old mud that still lingered on his black dress shoes.
“You’re disgusting,” Saeran sneered, messy bleached white hair curtaining his crazed gaze. “Nasty thing, walkin’ round ‘n acting like some pious savior. Did you think I was as naive as him?” His hand shifted, lithe fingers bruisingly curling around your arm, pulling you to him with a hiss. You managed a quiet wince, reminding yourself to be resilient. This wasn’t Ray, but still a part of him- a violently sadistic part of the blushy cheeked flower prince that swooned you into Mint Eye, that you were certain was tucked deep somewhere within the armor of thorns.
Yet you couldn’t help the concern that seeped into your veins, hairs standing at the nape of your neck anxiously; Saeran may have always seemed hot-tempered, hell even erratic when at a loss of what to do; But this? This was a blazing heat, a rage simmered between the spaces of his squared shoulders, threatening to blow.
You fumble when he suddenly pulls you along, dragging you over the shattered remains of your glass coffee table. Praying that no shards would slip through the leather of your flat shoes, the last thing you needed was to develop some rare infection hidden so deep in the mountains. Your mind still so focused on caution that you hadn’t even realized he suddenly stopped, kneeling to pull something from under your bed, ignoring how you nearly fell forward thanks to his unrelenting grip. Expecting anything, but what he pulled from the shadowy recesses below your bed.
As he stands, he seems all the more incensed— yet the tips of his ears burned a ruddy tone. All at once, something is roughly shoved forward, jabbing your chest in a mocking fashion, and his face twists to something dangerous.
Silicone, cold and maroon. Curved and a bit too long, nails digging into ridges that you hadn't quite yet reached. This fucker really just found your dildo.
Indignant, your face flushes, desperately clamoring to take the embarrassingly phallic object in his hold. It was one thing to have it be found, but so horrifically swung around with little regard for any modesty. He twists his grip, throwing her to the bed with a grimace.
“How did you—?” You gapped, knowing your face would be ghastly blanched if it weren't for how mortifying this was. You flounder within the confines of movement you’re usually allowed. “That is private; personal!”
He clicks his tongue, tossing the item aside to the bed. He doesn't hesitate when he steps forward, suddenly focusing his attention fully on you. “Who said you can run your mouth, huh? Huh?” he clicks his tongue, cupping your face with the grace of a starved tiger. His nails dig dull crescents into the apples of your cheeks, feeling the ache of your own teeth against the inside of your cheek. His eyes snap wide, leaning forward till his breath puffs out hotly against your face.
“Privacy,” he spat, “you don't get that. You're my property, my responsibility. Mine. Can you get that through your fucking lack of brain?”
A retort sits heavy on your tongue, your jaw constricts, fingers latching onto his wrists but never digging. Something about how everyone's entitled to privacy, how Ray gave you time and space. Then he continued to rant, lost in his own self-made offense.
“I thought the first time you were just being desperate, some needy bitch humping her own pillow.” Saeran can't help the chuckle that escapes him, still bewildered.
“Then you did it again. Right at nine thirty. Louder— you wanted me to see?” He grits his teeth, “Yeah, yeah. Of course you did.”
What?
The pieces click in place— sure, you knew he was monitoring you through your phone; watching your each and every action with the RFA, guards posted at your door. Yet, the last thing that you wanted to believe was that he was watching you like some pervert in the dead of the night. “You're watching me—?!” Your words come out muffled, clipped beneath the press of his palm, panic igniting within your veins.
Saeran blinked, lips pressing tightly into a thin line. His head tilts, leaning forward. “Don't act so stupid.” His knee shifts, looming beside her hip. Your ears burn, attempting to lean back to create some distance, leaning and leaaaaning just so that your arms buckle and back meets the duvet below.
“You knew.”
You hated him, you were sure of it. You despised Saeran, this carnivorous creature of violence— it had to be hatred that made your mind race, your heart drumming in your veins. Hatred that blinds your goodwill and intentions, that blurs the thought of that rosey cheeked hopeless romantic that you still longed for. But his scent is everywhere, his presence is suffocating and demanding— it wasn't your fault, that Saeran was all consuming.
And that he was right.
Part of you had a suspicion, an inkling of a thought lingering between messages. Sometimes Ray seemed to know you better than he knew himself, suddenly summoning himself to your doorway with just the thing to all your sorrows. Willed with pain? Here's your medicine! Craving a hyper specific treat? The chefs are already on it for dinner time. Lonely? His presence was at your disposal. You'd dismissed it as him simply being far too observant, connected to your needs. But the truth was so obvious, you didn't dare to voice the question.
“Were you thinking of him?” Saeran questions, eerily quiet. He cages over you, white pink-tipped hair framing his face as he looks. He was sure he hated you too, Saeran wasn't made to admire— no, he was made to sneer, to snap his teeth at anything that dared challenge his sense of self. And you were no different. A pathetic whimpering dog, weakly always looking at him with those eyes. Those eyes that haunted his dreams, that questioned his reality. He withdrew his hand, shifting it rather to cup her cheek, twitching.
“What?” A shaky whisper, only acknowledged at first with a flicker of his gaze. His brows furrow, finger ghosting over the corner of your lip. Lips that Ray touched, kissed. Why would you kiss something as weak as him?
“Did you think of him,” he repeats, throat tight. Challenging. “Did you fuck that plastic thing in your messy cunt praying he'd see? That he'd finally grow some balls and take you in its place?”
Shocked, you squawked, hand shoving against his chest. “Don’t say things like that. Of course not!” You gasp, feeling his hand trail lower, dancing along the curves of your throat. “I'd never… I wouldn't…”
His gaze burns into you, twinkling with something unknown. It's clear, he doesn't believe any of your attempts to feign ignorance. His lips quirk, almost sneering. “...Me?”
Your lips part to dispute, to argue that you’d never think of him like that. But something about his face, awaiting— hitched breath almost expectant for her answer. It broke the fragile mask you wore. “...Yes, Saeran. I.. thought of you.”
His eyes widened for a fraction, face blanking above her. Lips parting and shutting as if at an entire loss for words. He almost looked like Ray, shattered by a simple sign of want. Yet, just as quickly as it manifested; pale features twisted, darkening into something starved.
You were barely given a second to react with anything other than a surprised squeak before his face tucked into your neck, hand roughly grasping the collar of your dress. It wasn't romantic nor a gentle affection born from love. It was ravenous, like a man finally offered his last meal as he faces the gallows. Saeran consumes, messily lapping his tongue against your throat. His teeth snap, sinking into flesh in desperation to leave something of him behind with you. No kisses follow, only ghosting your collarbones as he dips lower, suckling marks along the way..
“Off,” he gruffly commands, making no room for patience as he pulls, prying the threads apart with his hand and teeth. He ignored your indignant cry of ‘Hey!’, wasting no time in diving for the kill. He bit at the curve of your breast, groaning as tension eased from his jaw. You whimper, face dipping into a ruddy hue as your fingers traversed the length of his suit, from lapels to hem, skimming past the collar of his button up before settling on those bleached strands messily sitting at his scalp.
“Saeran,” you creen, squirming. Wincing at a particularly harsh bite; he groans, shoulders slacking as his tongue flicks out, circling the perking bud in the center, hand toying with the opposing nub. You murmur his name again, this time gasping. He watches every reaction, allowing shudders to crawl up his spine with every soft cry of his name.
His hand trailed downward, cupping the sticky fabric of your clothed cunt. Saeran laughs, lips splitting into a sadistic grin that makes your heart drop. “Fer me?” He snickers, at first questioning— before quickly cutting his own train of mind off. “Soaking yourself like a bitch in heat. How long w’re you prayin’ fer me?”
His words slur, mind buzzing with the heat, spit slicked at the corners of his lips. Messy and unrestrained. “Actin’ all stern, a brat wanting’ ta be put in her place. All while dripping.” You whined, stiffly shaking your head in protest.
Saeran scoffed, “No?” His tone dripped with malice, mocking as he dragged down your soaked panties down her thighs. He didn't ask, no. That's not who Saeran was. He was a taker through and through, a push first and gauge the results within the soreness. “She says otherwise.”
He spits out, sitting up straight. He takes in the sight of you, clothes tattered and callously ripped; skin flushed and quivering below his touch. He throws your legs over his thighs on either side, spreading you out with a grin. He relishes the view, enjoying how your gaze skittishly avoids his own. Embarrassment boils in your blood, vulnerability sitting below skin as you realize, incredulously, that his suit remained crisp— crinkling at the waistline, along with the clear sign of his arousal straining against charcoal toned slacks.
His pointer drags along your puffy folds, slow and tantalizing as he gauges each reaction. Gaze twinkling when your head falls back, eyes snapping shut to avoid locking with burning teal irises.
“See?” He cooes, mocking. “She knows what she wants. She's practically drooling for me, doll.” Another draaaag of his fingers, gathering your slick messily between digits. Then, without warning, he plunged them into your entrance. Fingers curling, breath catching in his throat, his fingers moving iin and ouut as if you were something to study, mimicking the very motions you made in the dead of night— when you thought nobody was looking.
Damn bastard, either he was a fast learner or he'd watched you finger fuck yourself enough times to memorize every motion your hand made. Your hands latch onto his arms, nails digging deep into his suit jacket. “Don't talk like that…!” his brows furrowed, plunging deeper— even adding another finger into the roster. He continued the rhythmic erratic pace of his hand, nearly slipping out a shaky whimper at the increasing sounds of your shuddering moans.
He was sure he was losing himself. He wondered if you tasted sweet, if the flavors would mask the poison that was the Elixir. If he could crawl into the shadows of your bedroom whenever he was forced to swallow the bitter concoction to lap between your legs. Praying that the taste would become his new balm—
He pauses, suddenly going still. His expression shifted to conflict. You really were a devil, a seductress wrapped in heavenly silks. You were there to steer him into a path of the damned, of the weak. Ready to soften up his insides and drink them whole.
No, he was stronger than that, better than that. Better than Ray
He withdraws his hand, ignoring your whine. How you breathily questioned him, frustration building within you to have the sudden stimulation stripped away. You ask once, but he just stares at the rise and fall of your stomach. Then you ask again, louder. Only then does he snap back, his clean hand lurching forward— wrapping around your throat. It doesn't dig, the grip remains tight—but not suffocating. He squeezes once, a clear warning as he wipes his soaked fingers on the surface of his slacks. Saeran didn't care if they stained, he'd threaten any follower that dared to question him.
Wordless, he reaches out— plucking the item that started this whole mess. He grimaces, turning the toy to study it. Curiosity twinkling in his vision as he takes in every faux ridge, even the two buttons sitting pretty at the base. You shakily exhale, attempting to draw back his gaze with another call of his name. Which only makes him squeeze at her throat again. “Sae…ran?”
“What?” He scoffs, lips curling up, but it's far darker. “You thought you were gonna have it easy? You ain't calling the shots.”
Saeran slots his thighs, shifting them juuuust right to prop you into his lap. Bulge pressing to your dripping heat, he rolls his hips once— hissing below his breath. He taps the silicone surface of your toy, he fights back the dryness in his throat. Then prods it right to your aching hole, once again, ignoring the shy squeak of embarrassment. He sinks the toy past its faux mushroom tip— eyes narrowing into slit like focus he pushes it deeper and deeper. You gasp, trying to knock your knees together to shut your legs which is made infinitely times more impossible with his body slotted between them.
“Wait, wait wait—” you heave, blinking as your eyes moisten, the stretch as painful as it is delicious. “I can't take more— s’nough! I can't—”
“Not asking.” His jaw ticks, he notes that despite your words, you practically suck the toy in. Desperate for more. “Y’er gonna take it. Gonna ruin this filthy pussy, mkay? Gonna ruin it so whenever ya’ play it, you'll just think ‘bout me.”
He continues, sinking inch after inch into you. It's slow, but it's relentless. Watching as your thighs quiver, as your eyes roll and spittle accumulates on your tongue. His breath grew heavier, despite his desperate attempt to remain unaffected. “Thats it,” he breathes, “Thaaats it. See? She's practically begging for
more.”
You're the worst. The thought lingers in your gaze, something he catches with ease.
He chuckles— only when he finally thinks he's reached the limit does he press his thumb to a button. The toy whirs to life, vibrating within your pulsating walls, pressing to that gummy spot that made you see stars. He relishes the way you practically shriek, head thrown back as your eyes flutter. Hair strewn about like a filthy halo. “There she is,”
You moan unabashedly, mind turned to mush as his grip around your throat only tightens, constricting your air intake. The bleach haired man leans down, lips messily pressing against your own in a kiss that's all tongue and teeth. Gnashing and ravenous to taste, to devour. He thrusts the toy just as rapidly, withdrawing it from its very tip to then slam it back as deep as it could go, his eyes sparkle— staring in amazement as you pathetically cry out weak ‘s’too much!’ and ‘it hurts’ between kisses! His thumb presses into your jugular, watching your eyes bulge and your lips part in desperation to intake air. Brows upturning, he ignores the way his own hips buck in occasion to match your own rocking. He had a point to prove.
His tongue presses to the roof of her mouth, before he parts. Licking his swollen lips as he quickens his movements, lulling your gaze as your mind practically becomes mush. Satisfied, he pries off his grip on your throat, instead meeting his other below, circling at your clit with calculated motions. Roughly pressing the swollen nub with a hushed command that barely registered in your melted mind.
All at once, the coil that built within your belly had snapped, back arching as your toes curled. He doesn't stop his motions, pupils practically blown out to a pure inky darkness as he watches you unravel. He commits the shattering of your watery expression to memory, the messiness of your hair, even down to the sweat-slicked glaze of your flushed skin littered in bites. He nips at the bare of your knee, reminding himself to expand the distance of his marks. He wants to kiss at the stretch of your legs, to run his tongue over the curve of your spine. Wholy, fully his.
The thought sickens him, so, before you can come down from your high fully. He withdraws, slipping out of your bedroom with the swiftness of a man horrified. He misses the bleary confusion in your gaze, or the way that once the tremors in your limbs ease, you sleepily try to call out his name. Wanting him, needing him.
No, Saeran wasn't made for love. For the comfort of a warm bed and the weakness that came with your touch. So, despite the stickiness between his legs, the wet patch he refuses to acknowledge. He staggers to his room, cursing your name the whole way through. He hates you, he hates you and he needs you.
What a shame. He clearly needed to up his dose tomorrow, double.
☆ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 : Saeran Choi/Ray/Unknown x Reader/MC
☆𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 : spoilers for Ray's after ending, mentions of death.
☆𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 : Angst (im sorry)
☆𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 : Saeran was good at putting his walls up, at lying, at acting. Those were skills that had become necessary to survive during his time as a believer of Mint Eye. But he found it excruciatingly difficult to not fall down on his knees in front of you and cry.
I don't want to die. I want to live. I want to live with you -he felt Ray speak inside of him, and his heart weighed heavy in his chest as he banished those thoughts away.
"Whatever is necessary to ensure my brother and you are free. And happy."
-
You understand what Saeran's plan is, and that it doesn't include him getting out of this place alive. (1.9k words)
♪𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 : phew i needed to get some sad feelings out of my system... i hope you enjoy. Please leave a comment/repost/heart if you can!! makes me feel appreciated <3 Also posted on ao3 !
✧˖*°࿐
"You-... What the hell are you saying?" You stared at him blankly, trying to register what the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with had just said.
"You'll let Vanderwood in, take Saeyoung and you will both leave with him while I distract V and Rika. I won't be coming with you." Saeran's voice was steady, his eyes unwavering and his warm hand squeezed yours reassuringly as you understood what he was trying to imply. Your gaze drifted off of his beautiful face for a moment, catching a glimpse of the chain linked to the cuff on his ankle Rika had put on him when he arrived at V's house. Just like when he was a child.
You had had a gut feeling, you should've followed it. Damn it you should have insisted again and again and told him not to come. Of course, he had been saying how your love would always be a constant in both of your lives, how no matter what happened to him he would always be happy, how he was so grateful he ever got the chance to be loved by you. So many beautiful things that sounded so… final. Damn it.
You felt bile rise in your throat.
"You're going to die." The words involuntarily slipped past your lips like vomit while you leaned on him and tried to fight the nausea climbing up your stomach and onto your mouth. "He won't let you live."
"I'm not afraid." He said calmly, bringing you into his embrace. "I would do anything for both of you. My brother took care of me when I was young, you took care of me when I was a grown up..." He rested his chin on your head, avoiding to look you in the eyes, terrified that his mask would crumble if he did. "I need to repay you." He whispered against your scalp.
"With your life?!" You raised your voice but your hands pushed against him softly, just enough to be able to look at his face. He hated that you rejected his touch but he hated that he had to face you right now even more. "You know I can't live without you... what are you doing?" Your hands clutched the white fabric of his shirt against his chest, your eyes filling with tears. He found you beautiful even as you cried, but he hated being the source of your pain. He hated how his last moments with you were being tainted by hate when he wanted you to have memories full of love to hold on to.
"My love... Please don't cry. I don't want the remainder of our time together to be spent any other way than happily." His hands left the body they were holding to find your face instead, his thumbs drying the soft flesh that was being wet by the tears slipping through your eyelashes. "I want us to be happy, like we promised". His lips curled into a sweet smile in total contradiction with the horrible words they were letting out. You looked at him, confusion joining the heartbreak in your eyes.
"Saeran." Your hands gripped his own that were resting against your cheeks to stop their ministrations. You managed to breathe calmly enough to stop new tears from spilling out while you spoke, but your voice was starting to waver. "I cannot live without you. What are you doing?" Your eyes pleaded with his to be truthful, repeating yourself and not letting him escape the question.
Saeran was good at putting his walls up, at lying, at acting. Those were skills that had become necessary to survive during his time as a believer of Mint Eye. But he found it excruciatingly difficult to not fall down on his knees in front of you and cry. I don't want to die. I want to live. I want to live with you -he felt Ray speak inside of him, and his heart weighed heavy in his chest as he banished those thoughts away.
"Whatever is necessary to ensure my brother and you are free. And happy." His mask didn't falter, his lips didn't let go of their comforting smile, even as his will to live that had finally picked up again in his chest after years of wishing for death was being forcefully teared away from him. Something mattered more to him than the primal instinct to fight for his life. Something so precious he ignored the pain that was destroying him inside. Something more important than life itself.
You.
"...Happy?" Your gaze fell away from him as you cast your face downward and he felt guilty for the feeling of relief that washed over him during the moments you weren't scrutinizing him, your searching eyes felt like they were burning him every second the confusion in them grew. It was short-lived, however, as he felt you shake beneath the fingers that were still cradling your head.
"Happy!" You let out in a trembling tone. "I'll..." You tried to catch your breath. You failed. You sobbed. "I'll never be happy without you." Saeran felt you shake harder against him and he bought your head to his chest in hopes it would help you calm down. An image of Saeyoung cradling a crying Saeran in a similar fashion flashed in his mind. His heart felt like it was being broken into a thousand pieces as he understood the pain you were in, your fear of being left all alone. Your cries came straight from your guts, just like his did when he was being beat and starved as a child. When he realized Saeyoung wouldn't be coming back. The situation offered him a mirror he would've preferred to have never looked into, and you felt so small in his arms as you cried against him. He felt something crumble further inside of him.
He felt the same way back at Magenta when you'd told him you'd never abandon him if he ran away with you, even after he'd starved you and abused you the way his mother did. His walls were coming down faster than he could build them back up. Seeing his angel, his miracle shaking with sobs because of him... it was just too much to handle.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry... please don't cry my love." He held you tighter against him, resting his cheek against your scalp and finally letting his own tears silently fall out of his eyes. He cursed himself internally for both hurting you and letting you see how much this was affecting him. Either way he was failing the promise he had made to you everyday since you had left Mint Eye with him. He had to get himself together.
"Listen to me." He spoke softly, holding you in place against him. "I thought I would die long before I could make it into adulthood, and to be honest sometimes I didn't even want to live that long. My life was full of pain and sadness... but it all made sense the moment we met."
"Don't-" you cried out against him, you didn't want to hear him speak like this. Like this was the last chance he would ever have to tell you these things.
"Everything I have endured was to be with you, I know this now. We were fated to be together and I'm glad to leave this planet after I got to experience your love, it was all I needed." You tried to get out of his embrace, feeling suffocated by his words and your incessant crying but he didn't let you go this time. No, if he had to lie to you to seem selfless he would at least be selfish with his hug and keep your warmth close to him. He would finally get the embrace he'd been craving all his life. "I don't have any regrets, my angel."
Oh but he did.
"Don't lie to me..." you whispered against him and tried pushing once more, but it lacked strenght as your heart was never in it. You held him tighter. "Please, we always said we would be truthful with one another." You didn't want him to let you go, you didn't want to let him go.
"I'm not lying." He tilted your head back to kiss your forehead. "I'm not." He repeated himself and kissed your wet cheek. "I'm not." Your nose. "I'm not." A whisper against your lips, an apology.
I am.
"I want my brother to be free, I want him to enjoy the life he never could because he was too busy protecting me." I do. "I want you to be happy, to live a normal life that will be gloomy at times and beautiful at others." I do. "You'll move on, you'll live and love just like you were meant to. I want you to, even without me." I don't. Saeran felt a shiver run down his spine at the guilt he felt from the internal confession he had just made.
"I don't!" You said vehemently, wriggling your head out of his grasp enough to be able to beg him with your eyes and mirroring his thoughts, again. "I don't want to be happy without you, and I can't anyways. I don't want anyone else, I need you. Saeran, please... I-" You took a deep breathe to try to stop the new tears from coming out. "I thought we would always be together, you said we would..." You failed again and a choked sob escaped from your lips. "You said you'd never leave me, you said we'd have children that looked like us and a big garden where you would get flowers for me everyday and a fireplace to fall asleep next to and you said you'd paint the walls in our room, you... you said..." The tears falling from your eyes were like uncontrollable ocean waves crashing over your cheeks and drowning the words in your throat, stopping you from speaking them any further.
"We'll do all that in your dreams my angel. I'll give you the life I promised you every time you fall asleep at night." His kind eyes looked upon you as his thumbs resumed their activity of drying your tears. "And you'll get to hold on to all the happy memories we made together. Our first kiss, our late nights together, the heartbeat we could feel in each others' arms, the moments we were one." He kissed your lips, eyebrows furrowed and focused on the feeling of them, wanting to memorize their warmth and shape to remember in his last moments. He hoped you would remember too. "All of that made it so worth it and more." Not enough. More time. More. Ray was getting louder inside of him, weeping.
But Saeran didn't have more time, he had until sunrise tomorrow to enjoy what he was supposed to have access to for the rest of his life. His heart ached and broke all over again when he thought of what would happen when the morning came.
"I can't do it without you... please, please there has to be another way." You sobbed.
"There isn't. You can do it, my miracle, my princess. You're the strongest person I know." He kissed you again. He couldn't tell if the tear that fell down your joint lips was his or yours.
hello.... im back on my bullshit and wrote another (nsfw) mysme @glimmerfics story! it's in line with their ongoing writing challenge -- glimtember!
it's a mysme college au where they play spin the bottle and you end up in the closet with your chosen rfa member :) i worked rlly hard to write this and make sure everything's working well lmao so here's the fruits of my labor!
also, it's nsfw, but i made a more sfw route if that isn't your thing! so i hope yall enjoy it :)
