Nephilim (quatre)

nephilim (quatre)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere! ot7 x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, violence, manipulation

undoubtedly, the boys have opened their arms and hearts to you. but have you done the same? life has only gotten more stressful for you, and the closer you find yourself getting to them, the more you feel as though you are changing, and the more you push yourself away. you refuse to break. never forget: one’s hubris could be their hamartia. forge your lonely path with conviction. after all, it may not be yours for much longer. the victor or the fallen–exactly who is it that stands to lose the most?

——————————————————————

For a long time now, you had feared that your relatively peaceful days in Ichabod were coming to an end, and recent events only further proved your point. 

Mana’s forewarning carried its weight well, as Aemilia seemed dead set on making an enemy of you. She went from hardly acknowledging your existence to cursing it. 

She would never lift a finger to do her dirty work, oh no, for how could the delicate Augustus princess stoop so low as to take the garbage out herself?

No, she used her puppets Brooklyn, Constance, and whoever else she managed to sink her claws into in the student body to torment you. 

They tripped you in the halls, stole your belongings, and essentially made it difficult for you to bleed into the background like you used to.

Luckily for you, you happened to gain some formidable allies.

Mana was there to tell Aemilia’s lackeys to back down, and they wouldn’t dare approach you with Jimin around. And he happened to be around more often than not, strangely enough.

The three of you managed to form a strange alliance during this time. Your best friend was still extremely cautious around Jimin and his siblings, as were you, but they had gotten somewhat closer, which made you glad. You didn’t want to be the bridge between them, as you thought that would be tiring and more than you could already handle. 

Still, the two were only human. They wouldn’t always be there to defend you. Nevertheless, you were quite capable of defending yourself. 

You didn’t give Aemilia the satisfaction of breaking under her pressure. You held your head up high despite the amounts of rumors flying around the school about you, even if they made you want to split your own skull open. 

The student body, in part, was divided. Half of them wanted nothing to do with you, considering how you were associated with both the Augustuses and the Kims. They were wary of your actions, claiming you were steps away from meeting Wylynne herself. 

The other half whispered about how tired they were of Aemilia’s antics and tantrums, given that this was not the first time she had behaved like this toward another student. 

Two weeks passed by, and neither you nor Aemilia was giving in. The strawberry blonde was beside herself, and so were her poor friends. Every day that she failed to teach you a lesson was another day she went raving mad in private.

Soon enough, her patience would snap. She would find herself going over the tipping point, but the question remains: Who would stand to lose the most when she got there?

It was another stressful day for you at Ichabod Academy as you sat in your lively homeroom. 

Mana rested on your desk, laying their head on their arms. You figured they would be uncomfortable, considering the way their body was twisted around in their seat, but your friend was drifting off without a care in the world. 

You slumped in your chair, looking every bit as done with life as you had recently felt. There was so much you had to be on the lookout for, and today was no different. 

You blinked tiredly and looked at your best friend. You then decided to lay your head on top of Mana’s, who did nothing more than let out a grunt, and closed your eyes in an attempt to get some rest as well.

When Jimin returned from the restroom, he internally cooed at the sight. 

Your head started rocking back and forth as it tilted dangerously on top of Mana’s. Ensuring he wouldn’t wake you, the boy sat you up and leaned your body on him so that your head was resting on his shoulder. 

He smiled down at you in relief. Your classmates took note of his treatment and started to whisper about the two of you, but one look from him and the room quieted.

Unfortunately for you, the peace was short lived. There was a loud crackling over the intercom that shook both you and Mana awake. 

They sat up and glared at their surroundings in annoyance. You opened your eyes in a flash, desperately hoping it wasn’t your first period teacher. 

“Don’t worry, Ms. Diivi isn’t here yet.” Jimin reassured you. “It was just the intercom.”

You nodded in thanks and covered your yawn with the back of your hand.

There was some more crackling and finally, your principal began to speak. 

“Good afternoon, students. I apologize for the interruption, but this is urgent.  Constance Pierre is to report to the principal’s office immediately. I repeat, Constance Pierre to the principal’s office. Thank you for your attention, and please continue about your day.”

You squinted in confusion. 

Constance has never been called to the principal’s office before in her entire life. Even when she was causing trouble for you and other students, the teachers paid no mind and others were too afraid to report her. What could have happened?

The sound of feet pounding against the floor got closer and closer until you could hear it outside your classroom door. A blonde blur passed the room, disappearing as fast as it had come.

“Pierre…why does that name sound familiar?” You murmured to yourself.

“It’s the name of the freshman that went missing.” Mana said as they stretched. “Chance Pierre, I think.”

Your eyes widened in understanding.

“He was-is Constance’s little brother.” They corrected their statement.

Jimin glanced at your shocked expression and suppressed a dry laugh.

Quite frankly, he could care less about the Pierre family. Constance has been nothing but a nuisance to him and his brother.

He’d been willing to overlook the rumors of how annoyingly outstanding and clever the freshman was because he knew his little brother would always be better. 

But after the blonde went so far as to start pestering you, he used the information he’d gathered against Chance in its opportune moment. And he had no regrets.

You snuck a peek at Jimin and saw a familiar, cold decisiveness plastered on his face. It was the only expression you’d been seeing from him for a while now. Any time someone brought up the missing student, Jimin would go frostily silent. 

It reminded you of the difference between the two of you, just like his reaction–or lack thereof–the morning of Chance’s disappearance had.

You figured he was just uncomfortable talking about the situation and was carefully avoiding it, just as he had with you and Mana that first day you spent lunch together.

At least it wasn’t Mom or Mana, you thought to yourself.

“They must’ve finally found him.” You commented, distracted by your incoming thoughts.

Aemilia’s family is specifically in charge of hunting down anyone who can be perceived as a “threat” to the Kim family. Brooklyn Hayes and Constance Pierre, however, acquired social immunity for themselves and their families as the girls are so close.

Or so you thought.

Constance’s disheveled appearance the morning Chance went missing made much more sense, then. She was worried sick about her little brother, and one of her closest friends didn’t even bother warning her or her family. 

You shuddered. Just how many people would Aemilia sacrifice? How far would she go, just for her sick sense of what was right?

You had no intention of finding out.

By lunch time, the rest of the school had heard exactly what happened to poor Chance Pierre.

The fourteen year old boy was deposited in the family’s living room, returned out of the blue just like all of those who came before him. 

His mother had stepped out for a short moment to go grocery shopping and returned to find her bloody mess of a son, who she then quickly rushed to the hospital.

He was covered in bruises, had a broken arm and leg, several broken ribs, and permanent blindness in his left eye. All things considered, he is one of the lucky ones.

His family was just grateful that he was returned to them still breathing.

Whatever the message was, the Pierre family had received it loud and clear. And so had the rest of the town.

No one is allowed to leave Ichabod. Not without being stopped by Death herself. 

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BAD GIRLS GET GOOD GRADES

synopsis. jimin wants you to tell him why you think you’re dirty, even if it means that the cute class president image he has of you in his head will be tainted, because he thinks he can take it. scratch that, he knows he can tolerate it, because he isn’t the student council leader you think he is.

pairings. yandere!jimin x f!reader, yandere!taehyung x f!reader

genre. high school au! (legal age). student council president!jimin. rich kid!jock!taehyung. class president!reader.

word count. 6.7k

warnings. NONCON/DUBCON SMUT (penetration, riding). noncon touching. noncon kissing. exhibitionism. dirty talk. degradation. sex in a public area (aka the classroom again). blackmailing. yandere themes. possessiveness. mentions of handcuffs, sex toys, and pills. jimin is best boy. oc feels guilt for being horny :( and she feels undeserving and inferior 😞 taehyung’s an asshole but what’s new. and he’s called a motherfucker at least like fifteen times. and he’s still mean and flirty. but we still like it that way yk. but he smacks his lips when he’s eating fuckin chips i swear i’m gonna arrest him 👮🏻‍♀️.

part (3) of the SCHOOL F*CKING SUCKS! series.

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the first time jimin sees you today is when you’re running late to class. 

he walks in the empty halls with a neat pile of quizzes resting in his palms, graded and ready to be delivered. the classrooms to his left are filled with students listening to their teachers babble on and on about the boring lesson, leaving the halls for jimin and jimin alone. maybe that’s why your quick stomps echo so loudly behind him, or why he’s confused enough to turn around and catch sight of your stumbling state just before the crash. 

technically, the first time jimin sees you today is when you trip on one of your undone shoelaces and come slamming into his chest, violenting knocking his chin with your forehead.

the papers go flying (and so do his glasses). one by one, after drifting in the air for a solid second or two, the quizzes land on the ground with bold and unpleasant pen marks facing the ceiling. student council president jimin thinks that he needs to give a lecture about the code of honor and privacy concerns if you happen to catch sight of jihoon’s score of 32. but at the moment, he’s more worried about his uniform pants getting dirty from the fall, his painfully sore chin, and a girl who’s on top of him, chest-to-chest.

“hey,” he says with a stern tone before getting a good (correction: hazy) look at the clumsy student (uh, where did his glasses land?), “running in the halls is strictly…prohi… bited…” 

there’s a pause in his sentence. 

then, a hint of pink rushes up his neck.

“_____?!”

you’re no clumsy student; you’re the cute class president of mrs. yoo’s room. 

he almost doesn’t recognize you, not because his bare vision is a little blurry, but because it’s so unlike you to be like… this: blazer undone, hair a mess, backpack completely unzipped with folders hanging on for dear life. 

and you’re late. you’re never late, always arriving at least thirty minutes before class starts. his perplexity is disrupted when he sees your thighs laying between his legs. he’s unable to tear his eyes away from the hem of your skirt that’s ridden up a few inches.

“oh my god!” 

your exclaim makes him snap his head to your flustered face. you cry out apology after apology, hastily getting up on your knees from the more than awkward position, but a whimper comes out of your mouth after the fourth ‘sorry’.

“a-are you okay, _____?” concern paints his features as he assumes that your legs are hurt from the brutal fall. 

despite the pain in your thighs, you nod as a response. then, after swiping at his glasses on the floor to hand them over to him, you quickly crawl away and grab the papers on the floor (with your eyes aimed away from the numbers; honor code, remember?). “i’m so sorry, jimin,” you repeat for the umpteenth time, “i was just— i was just in a rush and— i’m sorry, i shouldn’t be explaining, i’m probably keeping you from something—!”

“it’s alright, _____, you don’t need to worry about it.” 

you cease your rambling when you see the smile etching his pretty lips. he’s looks so put together with his neat uniform, neater chestnut hair, dark rimmed circle glasses that bear no marks at all even after you throttled into him at full speed. this is the classmate you admire; the one who introduced you to the student council, the one who helped you through the projects he assigned. he barely voices his praise for your hard work, but that comforting smile of his never fails to reassure you in all kinds of ways.

until it morphs into a pout. “but you know better than to run in the halls.”

you bite your lip as your eyes cast down. “i’m sorry, jimin…” god, out of all the people in the building, park jimin had to be the one to see you like this. oh, how painful this pitiful punch in the gut is. and how embarrassing it feels.

by the time you face him again, he’s already got the remaining papers in his hand. you hand him your stack before he helps you stand with a gentle pull. “so,” he begins with an endearing tilt of his head, “why are you so late?”

it’s a simple question, really; much more simple than any physics problem you’ve ever worked. so why does it make you freeze? why does it make your hands all clammy, make your feet fidget and stutter, make your eyes dart from side to side? “oh… i just.. overslept.”

“overslept?”

you aren’t lying. you snoozed through your alarm this morning, mind still a mess and body sore all over.

even if you aren’t lying, you feel so… shitty. you’re not being completely honest with him like you usually are during council meetings and advice sessions, because you know that if jimin were to know the whole truth, he’d surely be much more than disappointed in you, and you don’t know if you can take that. scratch that, you know you wouldn’t be able to tolerate it. you’ve worked so hard to be in jimin’s favor in hopes of having a settled position in the council. you can’t bear to lose that spot. so even if the guilty feeling makes your chest tighten with shame, you force a small nod. “yes…”

he hums, doesn’t say that he knows you’re keeping the truth from the way you’re unable to meet his puppy gaze. he doesn’t say it because he thinks it’s so cute that you’re such a bad liar. 

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, as if repeating it would make you feel any better, “i know it’s my responsibility to get to class on time, but,” you finally look up at him, “if you could please understand, then i’ll be very grateful. and please, let me help you with the papers; it’s my fault that you haven’t delivered them yet.” 

jimin thinks you’re so cute without even trying. with your head held high and your eyes now determined to prove yourself better, you’re so cute, too cute that it almost makes him giggle, but he suppresses the glee with a smile that turns his eyes into happy crescents. “i understand, _____. we can walk together, since we’re both headed to your homeroom. but honestly, i think the one thing you need to worry about is an explanation to mrs. yoo.”

although you cringe at the thought of how ugly this one unexcused tardy will look like on your perfect record, jimin’s right. the idea of describing your lame excuse to your teacher, in front of the whole class, in front of student council leader park jimin, in front of rich, class clown kim taehyung (that motherfucker), has you wanting to flee as far away as you can, away from this building that once gave you meaning, and now gives you nightmares. 

jimin watches the knobs turning in your brain before he looks up in thought. he hands you the quizzes, telling you to hold them for a second as he reaches for a sticky note and pen in his pocket (so like him to keep supplies on himself at all times). 

“… jimin? what are you writing?”

he grins at you while he scribbles, nose scrunching and words playful. “something that will get you out of being counted tardy.”

the door of mrs. yoo’s classroom slides open and you stand as straight as you can, as confident as you usually are. you look a lot more put together by the time you and jimin arrive; your hair is fixed, blazer uniform buttoned up, and the pockets of your backpack are sealed tight and secure. but when your homeroom teacher halts her chalk from writing on the green board, and when she cuts her sentence to narrow her eyes at the two of you, you suddenly feel a lot smaller. you want to bury yourself into the half stack of papers in your hands, wallow in the incorrect answers to the quizzes.

shock replaces her discontent. “_____? you’re late?!” she exclaims. it’s like she can’t believe it, and you don’t blame her. “i thought you’d be absent!”

just when you begin your apology, your habit of rambling when you really have nothing to say, jimin starts talking. 

“don’t worry, mrs. yoo, _____ isn’t late. the student council had a meeting without notice,” jimin’s sweet voice and polite smile melts all the worries away, and you hear a couple students sigh as they admire him. the smile he has on is the same smile that he shows to all the teachers, all the faculty. he fishes for a note in his pocket, shifting his stack of quizzes on one hand and walking up to your teacher. you follow behind him as he continues, “i made sure that mr. jong wrote to you about the mishap. if you’d be willing to, could you excuse _____ this time?”

mrs. yoo takes the note. she looks to you, her favorite student, then looks to jimin, the council president. she doesn’t even check the sticky note, sighing and trusting jimin’s word. “tell mr. jong to send it via email next time, alright?”

jimin glances at you, and his lips give a small smile that’s laced with mischief. “yes ma’am. i’ll be sure to tell him.”

you’d never expect jimin to ever forge handwriting. unknown to you, he’ll do anything without complaints if it means getting you out of trouble.

after the graded quizzes are placed on mrs. yoo’s desk, jimin bids farewell to the middle-aged woman with a bow and says a friendly goodbye to you (not before glancing at a particular student seated among the class, which causes his expression to turn sour until he meets your wave with warm eyes). once the doors are slid shut once more, and once mrs. yoo gets back to writing on the chalkboard, you hastily make your way to your desk in the front row.

you can’t look at your teacher’s desk without wanting to puke or run away. you think that vomiting might be easier, given how sore your shaky legs are from yesterday.

a couple of students glance in your direction when you get to your chair. you try to smile at them, try to give them the friendly aura that jimin always pulls off, but the muscles on your face don’t cooperate. you seem like you’re wincing, and it’s not a good look on the poise class president.

“pffft.”

your head spins to a certain classmate in the back.

motherfucking kim taehyung.  

he leans back in his chair as his legs are lazily spread in front of him. the usual bored expression on his handsome face is graced with mocking amusement. unfortunately, yet unsurprisingly, it’s aimed at you. 

you want to scream at him, curse him out, yell out all the rage inside of you and tell the asshole that he’s such a horrible student, not because of his stupid pranks or his lack of respect or his absence of trying in studies, but because he’s using the goofy persona he displays to conceal a much darker side of himself. 

you want to do all that, yet you can’t stop yourself from watching his hands play with the eraser on his desk. 

of course his sleek fingers are adorned in expensive rings. of course they remind you of how he touched your skin in ways that force a shudder down your spine, how he gripped you by the waist and fucked you on your teacher’s desk last night. and of course, he sends a wink your way that goes unnoticed by anyone else, like it’s a secret signal just between the two of you.

your face feels hot with frustration, embarrassment, and all the shitty emotions that rich, class clown kim taehyung always manages to make you experience. 

dropping your bag on the floor, you plop in your seat with an irritated huff and start taking out your notebooks. but it’s so awkward, because you’re fumbling through your bag, making so much noise the more your hand rustles to find the goddamn pencil bag. you’ve never been this unprepared for class before. 

and to motherfucking kim taehyung, it’s adorable. from his seat near the window, he can see your pink ears, the pout on your lips, the flustered crease of your brows. he smiles to himself and leans forward, holding his chin in his palm. 

how cute, he thinks. 

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Butterfly

Summary: Your stepson, Yoongi, fucks you in the kitchen while your husband eats breakfast. 

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Yandere Min Yoongi

Warnings: murder, pseudo-incest, smut (penetrative sex, oral sex - fem receiving, slight choking, creampie), yandere behaviour, y/n does not have the best husband 

Word Count: 3.7k 

A/N: absolutely no one asked for this but i wrote it to get out of writer’s block 🥺 thank you if you read it <3

The knife’s blade flickered like a fish’s tail under the water. It rushed out of the tap, warm and comforting, as it washed over your hands. But you couldn’t savour the feeling for long. Turning it off, you wiped down the knife with a cloth before chopping the spring onions on the cutting board in quick, sharp movements despite struggling to keep your eyes open. 

You sprinkled them upon the hill of steaming jasmine rice alongside the egg omelette and grilled salmon in your husband’s lunch box. The savory aroma of the food filled your nostrils and followed you around the kitchen, a place your husband never stepped a foot into. You carried his hot cup of coffee to the dining table where he sat, as he ate his breakfast and watched the morning news whilst you had nothing in your stomach yet.  

You lived a clockwork existence. You rose with the sun, made his breakfast and prepared his lunch before he left for work every morning. You ensured that his clothes were ironed, that his coffee was warm and his dinner was made. Your hands polished his shoes and prepared his baths until your fingers were wrinkly like prunes.

But his sandpaper lips never kissed your fingertips despite the way he once gazed upon you like you were the flower he wanted on his lapel. A place which you’d never bloom but only wither for he was careless and undeserving. His lips (once soft and delicate with every inch of your skin) gruffly demanded your hands to knead his flesh despite the ache in your muscles (and your heart) as he laid in a porcelain bathtub, filled to the brim, like a king.

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Shy oc trying to study at the library but jk bugs her out and then fucks her in the corner whispering you have to stay quiet

Anonymous said: skirt with no panties, exhibitionism, jk ? ;>> so excited ty

Anonymous said: creampie + going out w it leaking + jk ahhhhh!!!!

i combined these three together and kindaaa changed it up a bit? i rlly hope u don’t mind🥺

study sessions with jungkook started out pretty tame and normal. just generally him attempting to maintain as focused as possible so as not to bother you. you keeping your eyes glued to your notebook and only making eye contact when completely necessary because your boyfriend just loved giving you flirty looks and goofy smiles every chance he could.

however, cute study dates were long gone and kicked to the curb when you wore that super cute new skirt you’d recently gotten to one of your study dates. jungkook thought it was cute, too cute. he let you know after he kissed you in greeting the second you were at arms length of him. in fact, he continuously whispered it into your ear, how much he liked it. how gorgeous you looked that day. how nice your legs looked. how he couldn’t wait to finish this damn chapter and show you just how much he liked it.

so it was really expected when your plan of slipping jungkook a small, scribbled note of torn paper as he’s silently reading over the text, one that read that you weren’t wearing any panties, ends up in a much more extreme route than you would’ve previously imagined.

“jungkook—jungkook please-“

you went sur exactly what you were begging for. begging for his attention, for him to look at you so that you could tell him that this most definitely wasn’t the place for him to have his hand up your skirt. or if you were begging for him to bend you over the shelf that was digging into your back and fuck you.

“i can’t believe you,” he whispers into your neck. it was easy access, the flimsy skirt doing nothing to stop his fingers from spreading your wetness apart and pushing a finger in. it slid in with no problem. your cheeks flushed from both embarrassment and arousal. “going out in this skirt without any panties? are you fucking kidding me, __?”

“i-i—“ you stutter quietly, hands grasping at his shoulders. your head leans back and thuds quietly against the wooden surface as he bites onto a certain spot in the crook of your neck.

“shh, just turn around baby.”

that has your eyes fluttering open. you thought this was it. just a little teasing and kissing in the back, and maybe, just maybe, he’d fuck you in the backseat of his car. but obviously that wasn’t the case when his hands tug on your hips harshly and spin your body to face away from him, and you pray to any higher beings that no one can hear the sound his zipper makes when he undoes his jeans.

“jungkook, we can’t. someone will walk by,” you almost plead, but your body is somehow simultaneously bending forward as the words leave your mouth. your words say one thing but your body is very much willing.

“shit—“ you whisper, chin dropping down and eyes fluttering shut. you were fucked, both literally and metaphorically. but jungkook seemed to trust in your ability to keep quiet, that or he just completely didn’t care at this point. you could tell all he could think about was your warm cunt slowly covering him with your warmth through the deep sigh he lets out.

you’d caught a couple once making out in this darker corner of the library, to which jungkook later informed you that this was the ‘couple’ corner of the library where students, perhaps even teachers snuck about. however, you always thought that making out was the limit. clearly, jungkook wanted to push way past that.

“quiet.”

that’s all jungkook whispers before he starts moving.

your eyes squeeze shut and you brace yourself as he starts moving. he’s quick and fast and he has to finish this because he’ll be damned if anyone catches him balls deep in his girlfriend, but he just couldn’t help himself. you were out in public, wearing a short skirt, and without any panties in. he was losing his mind.

“you’re so fucking dirty,” he whispers in your ear, breath getting harsher and movements growing stronger. “letting me fuck you like this. you like it.”

your eyes roll back as he continues spewing delicious filth in your ear about how filthy you are, how good you feel around his cock. how he’s gonna ruin you the second he has you alone. you reach back with a shaky hand, forehead sticking to the bookshelf as you let out uneven breaths.

“jungkook,” your hand grapples for his wrist because you need to hold onto him to let him know that you can’t control yourself anymore. you can’t hold back with the way he’s lodging his cock so deep into your cunt with every thrust. fuck fuck fuck.

your eyes roll back into your head the second his hand covers your mouth, his large and sweaty palm muffling the choked back sound that slips through your lips as your pussy squeezes him, legs growing shaky and just on the verge of falling to the ground but he’s holding onto you so tightly it’s bordering on suffocating.

his forehead presses to the back of your head and his other hand grips your hips harshly as his cum seeps into you. you have half a fucked mind to think that you’ll always have this memory, your boyfriend cumming inside you in the back of the library where literally anyone could walk by. and you’re loving every second of it.

he’s zipping back up and pulling your skirt back down in seconds before he’s grabbing your hand, a bit hastily but you’re so bleary eyed and fucked out you can’t even focus at the moment. it’s only when you’re standing right next to the table you were previously sat on as he’s grabbing both your things to leave that you notice the girl with that was sat right across from your, staring at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

and of course, it was then that your body regains sensation and you feel something trickle down the inside of your thigh.

Kook's snatched waist 😘

skate a little piece of my heart; jjk

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; rollerskatinginstructor!jungkook!! sfw!! fluff!! honk honk humour!! jungkook is a very handsome instructor and y/n can’t tell if that’s a bad thing or a good thing

➺ wordcount; 6.3k

➺ summary; your two left feet and complete lack of balance isn’t the only thing that’s making you weak in the knees this valentine’s day. 

➺ what to expect; “rollerskating is already hard enough as it is, and now i have to do it in front of him?!” 

➺ currently spinning on the record player; how deep is your love; bee gees

                                     »»————-　💫  ————-««

“this is so dumb.”

“safety is never dumb, y/n!” taehyung raps his knuckles against the top of your helmet and you scowl before swatting his hand away, “now, where are your kneepads?”

you let out a groan before tilting your head back slowly, your eyes widening in slight panic at the surprisingly hefty weight of the helmet

your arms flail for a second and you immediately reach up to grip both sides of the helmet before forcing your head back up

jesus

you nearly snapped your own neck there

of course, snapping your own neck would mean not being able to skate because you’d technically be dead… so maybe that’s not such a bad idea after all…

(by the way, it’s concerning how many times you’ve considered literal death just to get out of doing something.)

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