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ctrlhope · 2 months ago

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Chasing Tornados (m)

synopsis: Ever since you were young, you found solstice in the clouds. Found haven in their winding winds, their chilling storms. Monsters of the air meant to destroy became your love— your safety. You know everything about the skies, yet you only want to know more about him. Wish for him to love you just as much as you do him. Your best friend. Your scorpion. Your impossible. Your Yoongi. -> part of the rest, relax, reserve series

m.yoongi x f.reader

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : wc: 21.0k+

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : genre: hybrid au, storm chasers au, soulmate au, friends/coworkers to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : content: scorpion hybrid!yoongi x human!reader, storm chaser!yoongi+reader, angst, semi-public sex (bathroom), fingering, p in v, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, bratty!reader a lil, rough sex, thigh riding, sex under the influence (alcohol), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, one mention of a breeding kink, yoongi has a tail, mates, misunderstandings, fights, jealousy, non-linear storytelling, reader and yoongi are both kinda stupid idk, but also v cute, angst but a happy ending <33

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : notes: heyyyyy it’s ur girl, back with another mc let’s play video!! kidding lol, sorry this took so long to write, life has been really hectic. trust me on this fic lol. but i rlly fell in love with these two nd I hope you do too <33 and i hope u enjoy my attempts at comedy! remember!! my requests are always open nd you can always feel free to send asks to characters <33

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

Wind wraps in your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in your ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person.

But you, no. Not you. You live for this. Live for the rain that beats into your skin. Live for the cracks of thunder roaring above your head. Find serenity in the dark clouds that hang overhead, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In the knowledge that it's coming. That it’s coming soon.

The world acts as something greater- something more than yourself. A collective that has not a care for you or the people in it. A system acting for its own desires. A storm that takes and takes and takes until there's nothing left to give.

You love it. Love every second of it.

Even if you should be scared, even if you should be terrified– look for cover just like everyone else. To hide and cower away from the winding beast that destroys homes, takes down power lines. That kills. You can’t. Not when you feel this– this calling deep in your bones. This calling to know more. This calling to conquer a monster.

To chase the impossible.

You have always lived for that very thing. Have constructed your entire life around finding answers for beasts that are beyond reason, to construct something real from what can only be construed as fake. To look the storm in the eye, to live within it rather than to be consumed.

And that is exactly why you stand where you find yourself now. Tornado Alley. A storm brewing just in front of you. Warm air meeting cold, finding breath, coming to life.

Maybe you should be scared. Maybe you should let panic set you alight and carry you far, far away from the death spirals. Maybe you should do a lot of things, yet you can't. You can only stare in wonder as rain hits your flesh. As the wind tries to take your clothes, battering them in the breeze. As electricity cracks above your head, light debris flying past your form to entertain the forming tornadoes fury.

Bang, Bang, Bang.

Now that sound isn't from the storm, it can’t be. Sounds too much like metal, like a fist hitting it. Oh right, the car.

“(Y/n) get your ass in here, now!” His voice is loud, forced to so you could hear him above the storm. He would never yell otherwise. Never raise his voice a single decibel against you.

Your body turns to face him, a smile breaking across your cheeks without a second thought. Eyes turning to crescents, rain dripping down your cheeks.

Right, Yoongi.

The impossible.

You don’t know when it happened. It shouldn’t have happened. But you knew it did. Felt the shift in your soul whenever you looked at him, felt your blood pumping just a fraction faster whenever he was close. Felt yourself yearn to smell his signature Yoongi scent whenever you sat in his car, whenever he drove you around on one of your little escapades.

Maybe it was a year ago. Maybe less. Maybe more. You could never be sure– emotions never were your strong suit. But he knew that, and he didn’t care. Never pressured or pried, always just let the two of you be. Act in co-existence in a way you doubt two people could.

Your partner in crime, your solace among the disarray perpetuating every second of your job– your life. The only person you knew crazy enough to chase the storms with you. To risk their life driving you into the eye. Your right hand man. Your friend.

None of it should have happened. But it did anyway. Isn’t that always the way life goes? The same way the storms control the skies, he found himself controlling your heart with no will of his own. No knowledge of the underlying flutter that found its way into your guts the second he looked at you, nor any knowledge of the way your eyes fell into adoration when they fell on him.

Why did you have to fall in love with the storm?

You weren’t sure– never cared to look deeper into the fact. Never cared to think about why you couldn’t fathom a future without him. Never dared to dip into why the scrawny kid from your college has suddenly become a man before you. Never even thought to challenge the pre-disposed ideologies that held your friendship by its core.

No. You would never do anything as stupid as that.

Yes, you were a creature of impulse. Never the type to take into account the consequences your actions disclosed. But you like to chase the impossible. You would never think to actually attempt to change it. Especially when you could lose everything in the process. Lose him.

In more ways than one.

Plus, you know where he stands. Know he could never see you as anything more than a friend– a little sister. The hair ruffles, the slight glares he gives when men talk to you in the bars, the way he puts up with your ‘overly affectionate’ cuddles– as much as you wish the simple actions meant more, you knew they simply didn’t.

A big brother. Unfortunately for you, he knows that’s the role he plays in your life too well.

But he’s not your big brother. He's a man, you’re a woman. It’s not like you ever asked to get caught up in the stringers that tangled you together. Not like you ever asked for this crush to form.

“For fucks sake! (Y/n)!” His voice is louder now, a harsh yell pulling you from the thoughts that sunk you under the waves. His body forcing itself through the wind to get to you, arm raising to shield his face. “We have to fucking go!!”

He would admonish you later for getting too caught up in your own thoughts again– something you knew all too well. But when the storm was raging around you, it was almost easier to think. To get lost in the recesses of your brain until you drew the conclusion you had been looking for all along.

His hand grips your wrist now, dragging you back to the safety of your company truck all while scolding you harshly with words he never actually meant. Just his salt-coated concern peaking through the surface. And well, his concern about getting swallowed up by the storm. Yeah, most people worry about that kind of stuff. At least that’s what you suppose.

“Are you that fucking stupid?” He shouts roughly at you, forcing you to get in the passenger seat. His touch is gentle even if his words are strong. He always has been strong. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

He slams the door closed before you can say anything back– frustrated but not mad. Never mad at you. And for that you can’t help the giddy feeling on your lips. Your eyes watching him as he quickly walks to his side of the car, tail curled close to his back almost as if to protect himself.

Right, his tail. You forget about it a lot of the time– but at the same, you are so very fond of it. Smile whenever it moves in response to his emotions, giggle whenever he forgets about it himself, tripping over the thing.

You often forget Yoongi isn’t a full human. But it’s never played much of a role in your life, in your friendship. So you don’t really see the point to care. Choose to ignore the scorpion blood that runs through his veins and view him as any other person walking the face of the earth. It’s never bothered you.

Most people around you call you a fool anyway, it’s not much to add another reason to it.

“Ah~ Don’t worry, King Yoongi. I don’t plan on getting myself killed anytime soon.” You let out a gentle giggle as he finds his way into the car, pressing on the gas almost immediately and driving as fast as he can away.

His body is so rigid, so stressed. Yet you can’t be further from it. Your legs propped haphazardly on the dashboard, your body sinking deeper into the seat. You trust him. He always gets you out. Something about his special senses, probably. Maybe.

Actually, you don’t know. You should ask him about it later– how he can see in such horrid conditions.

“You will if I just leave you there.” He rolls his eyes, glancing over to you for only a second before managing back to the road, “Don’t think I won’t.”

“You won’t though.” He only scoffs, but you can see the smile at the corner of his mouth. It warms you almost as much as the sound of the rain– or maybe it's hail now, pelting the roof of the car.

“I could and I will.”

“But you won’t.”

“Just put your fucking seat belt on.” He grumbles, his voice getting a fraction louder as he turns the wheel harshly, a last second manoeuvre. A stick flying through the air past your window. A narrow avoidance.

The car bumps harshly as it drives, the roads narrow and in disarray. Swerving to avoid debris that litters the ground and jumping as it dips into potholes. It feels like a race. Makes you feel alive even as you click the belt into place– as he moves his tail across your frame to act as a second one.

You should be scared. Should be terrified of getting caught in the storm. But you trust Yoongi. You know he’ll always protect you.

“Did the other teams drop their equipment on time?” You ask, reaching below your seat and grabbing the computer. He sends you a pointed glance.

“According to the sensors we were the last ones.”

“Well we always are~” You mumble back, a little sing-song in your voice while your head tilts towards your chin. Eyes scanning the array of measurements that pop up on the screen– reading them, taking in their meaning.

It is your job, anyway.

“Who’s fault is that?” His words don’t perfectly cross your ears, never do when you're trying to focus. An input of too much information at once and a computer might explode! Aka your brain, aka he’s known for years you have selective hearing when trying to understand complicated things.

“Mhmm…” You quietly mumble out, fingers moving quickly to type as he finally drags the car out of the storm. Slows down to a more human speed as you type out a few observations, input pieces of code to make your readings more sensible.

You completely miss the small smile he sends your way, the tilt of his head trying to check. “Anything interesting?”

“Mmm… Nothing we haven’t seen before. Got a couple of cool 3D models of the storm your screen, though…” You tilt the laptop in his direction, showing him the model of the storm. Exactly how big it was, how fast it was moving. “Just an E2, but still pretty.”

“Yeah, had to’ve been to almost let it eat you.”

You roll your eyes, shutting the laptop as he pulls over to the side of the road, “Of course, I’d let anything as pretty as that take me out.”

He scoffs, “Anything, really?”

“Yeah, you know that guy on Attack on Titan that's like ‘oh i’d let a pretty female titan eat’-- Wait a second it is not my fault!” You suddenly announce, his words before finally registering in your mind, “You’re always tinkering with the the the bits!! That’s why it takes so long!”

You grump, crossing your arms. A fond smile finding its way to his lips.

“Yeah, cause the ‘bits’ are the real issue, aren’t they? Not you playing out music videos in your head while a tornado is hurrdaling at us?”

“Okay! That was one time! And totally not my fault!” You huff, not in any real annoyance, just simply banter. Yoongi always seemed to like your over-dramatic reactions anyway. “You said we could play Hurrcane!! By my girl Bridget Mendler! You know what that song does to me!”

He can only laugh in response, the gums of his mouth showing as he tilts his head back. Long black hair falling lower against his shoulders. Tail falling lax for the first time in forever. Crests shown in his eyes.

You like giving Yoongi your reactions if it means he can smile like this.

When he looks in your direction for a breef second, you can’t help but puff out your cheeks and stick out your tounge in pestilence. The action only causing him to shake his head, eyes returning to the road a little brighter than before.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. How could I possibly forget.” A thousand words are said behind his tone that you could never pick up on. Never notice. “You get so excited, like a kid. It’s funny.”

Your head jerks to look at him, a pointed glare in your eye, “She makes me feel things you can’t even hope to understand, Min.”

He rolls his own, “Uh huh. I’m sure.”

College. Senior Year. The perfect hell it bestows on all of its captors.

The combined effort of senior thesis’s, grad school searches, advanced level course work, and the unyielding need for money after graduation, as it turns out, is the best possible combination for stress any one person can find! How wonderful. Especially for you, with a stupid gpa you need to upkeep to keep your stupid scholarships, so you can get your stupid degree and get your stupid job–

Well, okay. Now you’re just spiralling.

Annoyed and tired has never been a good combination for everyday dreamers. Especially those that have been working their entire lives for a single goal. To chase their every last dying hope since they were a child. To become the very person they could only wish to be in their youth.

But in all fairness, your ass has been handed to you on a silver platter after your last exam grade was horribly, terribly slid to you face down against the table. A quiet note of “see me after class” listed on the top without reverie. Your thoughts a sudden cyclone vortexing you inward and onward, wishing you could tell the sweet summer child of your adolescence that you had failed her. That you were never going to be able to live inside a tornado as she had wished.

Oh. The monster that you were.

That was, at least, until you did meet with your professor. And, apparently, he wasn’t going to drop you from the class and (somehow) get you removed from the college like you had thought! Even better, he saw how hard you worked– how much you truly care. Deciding to lend a hand rather than pull it back. Giving you a building and a time to meet with a tutor he specifically picked out.

Someone he would apparently trust his life to. Your life– okay, academic career, to as well.

That’s how you found yourself now. Walking through a library that had to be older than your great grandparents– the scent of mildew filling your nose as you moved farther and farther into the recesses of the building.

Why, exactly, you had to meet in the deepest, darkest corner of the library at an absurd hour of the day confuses you even now. Annoys you a little, quite frankly. Leaving your dorm past 8pm feels like a nightmare.

But you trust your professor, you trust that he wouldn’t steer you wrong. Well, hope is probably a better term. One that more accurately portrays your inner conflicts as you make your way to the back conference table nestled deep within walls of encyclopaedias. Dust entrapping the air you sit in– age and memories baked in the walls.

At worst, that’s all you shall make. Memories. Call the whole thing a bust and look online for some tutors or go to a used bookstore and buy a few more outdated textbooks. At best, you’ll pass the class and become one of the best meteorologists the world has seen. No pressure on Mr. Mystery Tutor or anything. Obviously.

None at all.

Your fingers find themselves tapping against the table as you think; seat already taken, items already spread out as you wait. Just your ring finger over and over in a repeated motion– the beat of wind speeds picking up on a desert plane. The bubbling of magma under the surface of the earth. The–

“(Y/n)?” A husk of a voice breaks your almost monotonous silence, your tapping suddenly ceased as a chill travels down your spine. A chill from the tone of someone's voice alone– can you believe that?

Somewhere, once, when you were little, you heard that a chill runs down your spine whenever a serial killer passes by. But this isn't that. No, this is something entirely different. More familiar. More recognizant.

Your eyes shoot pitifully fast up at him, almost tilting your head as you take in the features. Black hair– maybe brown, baggy hoodie, slouched shoulders. One hand supporting the shrap of his bag that hangs over his shoulder.

No, you don’t know him. Maybe a future you does– one where a timeline passes over this exact spot. Where you’re friends already, maybe something more. Something safe. Though, that isn’t a very scientific explanation. One colleagues and professors may make fun of you for. You disregard the notion, only nodding your head to confirm.

He only mirrors the motion in return, seemingly not one for conversation himself. Finding himself pulling out the chair across from yours, setting himself inside of it. Wasting no time in pulling out his own belongings.

Laptop, textbook, notebook.

“The professor said you were having trouble with qualitative analysis of…” His voice trails off, and you can’t help but wonder how someone's voice can almost sound like a well-loved record. A tune that can’t quite find its sink– almost too rigid to hope itself melodic.

You listen to the same voice as it sings out the songs of your lessons. As he goes over the failed exam beat by beat. Explaining the first few questions in such simple terms anyone could understand them. Not in a way that felt condescending, no. Again, it just felt so warm that you couldn’t do anything but listen to him quietly. Absorbing everything without a single interruption.

Well, until question 7 at least. That is when you feel two synapses connecting in your brain reminding you of an ultra-important task that absolutely cannot be forgotten. A handshake. Your small hand cutting him off, reaching across the table without a second thought.

He stares at the pervasive hand as if it is something he’s never seen before. Never been offered in the first place. Something offensive to hurt rather than anything else.

Interesting.

“My dad always said you have to shake hands when you’re meeting someone. Or else it’s bad luck down the road. So…” You explain away simply, like it should be obvious to every person on the Earth. It should, honestly. But you’ve been told you have issues with thinking that way– that things obvious to you should be obvious to everyone else. That everyone else lives within the same bubble you’ve found yourself residing in your whole life.

You know it isn't true– that the bubble you’ve created is something you simply live in alone. Periphery finding itself resident to everyone else. But that’s awfully lonely, isn't it? You choose to think the former.

His shoulders slowly unfurl, defences slowly lowering as he meets your hand in the middle. Rough palm meeting yours, shaking slowly up and down before both sides pull away. A magnet short of attraction of two bodies as you pull away.

“Good.” You nod, pulling your knees up to hover off of the ground. Resting them against the edge of the table instead. “I don’t like bad luck either.”

There's a beat of silence, one that you don��t mind.

“Do you not like black cats then either?” His tone has an edge of pessimism to it. His defences considering a raise.

You, on the other hand, feel immediate offence. How dare he! “What?! Are you crazy! Or course I like them.”

You miss the crook of his lip into a light smirk, defences gone once more, “Well, normally they’re seen as bad luck…”

“That’s just a stereotype!” You instantly defend. Your body leaning over, moving your face closer to his.

He holds his arms up in defence, pencil still wedged between his fingers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. My bad completely.” He lets out a quiet chuckle at the end, you only puff out your cheeks.

“Entirely.” You huff quietly, almost sounding like a petulant child, “I would never judge something just off of how they’re born.” At that, he almost perks an ear.

“Really?” He asks, his eyebrows slowly raising, “Not even hybrids?”

Ah, hybrids. A common discussion other people find themselves having, one that you never really found the purpose of. Arguments on their rights, the ethics of keeping them as pets, on if they should even be classified as intelligent life. You hated all of them. Didn’t understand for a second why people kept themselves concerned with class divisions or keeping others subservient at all.

As far as you care, they’re the same as humans. Think like humans, act like humans. Another creature just as deserving the right to live and exist as all others. You don’t concern yourself with the difference in their existence– seeing them, treating them the same as you would any other person.

You can’t stand that others find different opinions than yourself. Cutting them off entirely for treating another living, breathing creature with the capacity to think for itself as less. Reminding you desperately that you live on the periphery.

“No, why should I care.” You scrunch your nose up at the notion you’d think otherwise. He takes the action differently. “They’re the same as everyone else.”

You surmise your ideologies simply, though you’re never sure if your words construe correctly. His results are inconclusive as well, letting out a quiet grunt. Dropping the subject. Keeping his words from revealing what is true.

“What else is bad luck then?”

You don’t notice the quick subject change, “Walking under ladders, whistling in the woods, doing your laundry on a sunday. …I can’t imagine saying Bloody Mary in a mirror 3 times is much help either.”

He pauses for a second, his eyes just looking at you. They’re sharp things– knives against a grinder maybe. Could even be too sharp to be human, if you cared to look a little closer. Cared to notice the differences between you and him.

But you don’t, nor will you probably ever. Just allow him to shake his head simply, let him return to your test questions without a single other thought leaking into that brain of yours. Only this time, you feel comfortable enough to ask a few more questions. Let him delve more deeply into the work without the threat of your mind wandering off to useless things. Allow the clock to tick later, later, later into the night– moving from your exam, to the most recent concept your class has been working on. Carefully treading the water, staying afloat as you finally begin to understand.

You hate to admit it, you really do for the sake of your pride alone, but he really is a good teacher. He doesn’t seem upset when you ask questions– no matter how stupid you are. He stays calm whenever you start to get frustrated, carefully talking you through it instead of getting upset himself. He seems so peaceful you almost want to hate him for it.

Almost, because between the gentle instructions and messy handwriting as the hours tick late into the night, jokes begin to crack freely between both of your tongues. Gentle jabs that mean nothing, topics construing into obscurity flowing into something more entertaining to discuss.

Though– he did seem to have pause when you told him you don't trust fish. Something about them thinking they’re better than you– of which he agreed. Not that they’re better than you, of course not. But that yeah… they do seem to have that kind of look in their eyes.

He feels the same way about birds, you learned. Interesting.

It isn’t until midnight that he calls it, a time you didn’t even think was plausible. You thought it was 9:30, 10 at the latest! There’s no way midnight could have come so soon! Just the idea of it sounded fake. But then you checked the clock in the library, then your phone, and now you don’t know what to think.

Time has never flown so simply with another person.

“I told you I wasn’t lying.” He has that stupid smirk on his face, the one you’ve decided means he’s feeling cocky and amused.

“You could… you could have changed all of them when I wasn’t looking! To trick me?”

“Yeah.. mhmm.. And what would that do.. For either of us..?”

“. . . I haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Right.” He smiles, a real smile that shows off his gums. You can’t help but reflect a smaller one back at him.

Once again he moves first, standing after he’s collected all his belongings. Tossing his bag over his shoulder while you hurry to catch up. Sliding your laptop inside before making sure your pens know their correct homes in the case–

What was that?

It was something so subtle anyone could have missed it. A mouse scurrying between cases, a piece of trash floating by. Something brown moving quickly in the corner of your eye. Something you neglected to notice. How could you not notice something so obvious?

When you look up at him– finally take the man you’ve spent the night with in his entirety, you see it. You missed it while he was sitting down, obviously trying to keep the thing from view, but now there was no hiding it. It was impossible to hide the thick brown tail that hung behind him in such a relaxed posture you wonder if he forgot about it, too.

You couldn’t help the instant fascination as you took the form of it in. The pretty segments it appeared to be broken into– 5 if you counted them correctly, all stacked neatly upon one another. All leading to a stinger resting at the end, gently curled inward rather than held in defence.

The gentleness of the man himself contrasted so nicely with the firmness of the tail.

So pretty.

It was only then that he must’ve realised his mistake. Must’ve noticed your silence, followed your eye line to see exactly where it was laying. Realised that he let his guard down too quickly– understood too quickly that you didn’t already know about his… condition. His state of existence.

The professor must’ve not told you. Probably thought it was a negligible factor even though it never is. Maybe when he came in you missed it, you didn’t actually look up at him until he sat down anyway. Until his tail was already tucked deep under the chair for protection.

Without realising it, his tail raises. Curing behind his back, the tip looking even sharper than it normally does. Meanwhile his body tenses up entirely. Defence utterly encasing his form.

Fuck, and then your eyebrows are raising– and next you’re gonna start screaming and he’ll have to run so he doesn’t get taken in by hybrid services and–

“Can I touch it?” Your voice brings him back to reality, back from the ‘end-of times’ it found itself careening towards. Now he’s just, he’s just confused. Did you just ask him if you could touch it? Why aren’t you acting like he’s suddenly the scum of the earth? That’s how hybrids are treated anyway.

Even if you said otherwise earlier, that doesn’t mean much to someone who's never experienced otherwise.

“. . . oh… or maybe that’s rude. Forget it. Sorry.” You rush out instead, taking his appearance softly. Honestly, you don’t know much about what could be considered ‘rude’ to hybrids… you don’t have much experience with them at all, actually.

“You’re not…” He fumbles with himself, his tail remaining raised like a predator. He forces himself taller, forces himself to appear more together. More ready to ‘strike’-- figuratively. He clears his throat, “What, you have something you want to say?”

You cock your head back sharply, rising to your feet, “No, why would I?” You feel just as confused as him. Maybe asking to touch a hybrid’s parts is more taboo than you thought…

“Look I didn't mean any offence it was just pretty and–”

“Just fucking run off and report me if you’re going to–”

Both sentences are said at the same time from each party, the response mirroring exactly as well. Both faces twist into that of almost confusion and offence, upset that the other would dare say something like that for entirely different reasons.

“What are you talking about?” Your question comes from annoyance, almost anger that he would think you would do something as nasty as reporting him when he was just trying to live his life.

His comes from the simple word pretty. Why would you think his appendage was anything of the sort? The one thing his entire life that’s set him back– the very blood in his veins betraying him. The reason he can’t be accepted by normal people. The reason he has to take stupid night classes at this university with any professor that is actually willing to accept him. To accept his under the table payments.

The very reason he’ll never get a real job– just hope to be adopted by someone who will let him do what he wants. Just hope that the authorities don’t find him, or that his own landlord won’t turn him in before he can do that.

And you think it’s pretty? No fucking sane person would.

“Why would you think I’d report you?” Your tone is hurt, the pang in his heart hurting just as much. He hates that he feels it, and he hates that he wants to comfort you more than anything else. Stupid fucking scorpion genes.

“What else would you do?” He scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Literally nothing. I would do nothing.” You glare at him slightly, “I don’t care that you’re a hybrid, why would I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” His tone is accusatory, but he doesn’t quite know what else to make it.

“Okay, let’s go down the list, yeah?” The spite in your tone lets the both of you know this night is taking a sour turn, “You can think, you can feel, oh right, you’re your own fucking person.”

You roll your eyes, “I know words don’t mean much, probably, but I view literally every creature as equal.” He still stands firm, your words and his life experiences battling in his mind. You sigh, this isn’t going anywhere. “Listen, I know it probably doesn’t mean much, and like, we both just met so I know it doesn’t hold much value. But I’m really sorry for whatever you’ve gone through in your life. It couldn’t have been easy. But I really, truly don’t care about whatever laws are in place. As far as I’m concerned, you’re equal to me.”

Your tone had gone soft, more gentle. Trying to dispel the hostility that hung fragrant in the air. But it looks like he can’t move. Doesn’t really know how after all of that. You probably wouldn’t either– though you’re not sure, you’ve never been good at putting yourself in other people's shoes. You just hope he believes you… that’s all you can do.

“I’ll head out first. You have my number, text me if you want to meet again.” You start towards the door, the ball left in the other man’s court. You wish you could’ve at least got his name first but.. He never introduced himself. Hmm, maybe you did the handshake too late, that’s why the bad luck kicked in.

“You think it’s pretty?” You almost don’t hear his words, too far away.

You turn your body back to face him, a gentle smile crocheted onto your lips, “Of course I do. Exquisite.”

The two of you stand in silence for a minute longer, trying to navigate the confusing energy moving between both of your forms. It’s only when you turn back around again to leave that he finally speaks. The simple word of his name.

“Yoongi.”

“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Yoongi.” You say softly, tilting your head to look at him once again, “I really do hope we can be friends.”

But that was years ago. Friends came and went; now you want so much more. More than you could ever quite articulate. You know it now as you sit with him, an after-chase ritual in whatever cheap roadside bar you can find. Never finding yourselves regulars, always on the move– save for the presence of each other.

“I don’t think luck is real, you know.” Yoongi drawls into your ear, the scent of alcohol heavy on his tongue. His body leaning against yours in the crowded bar, hair dancing against the side of your neck all while his tail finds itself curled around your back. A simple motion that could only be described as protective, possessive.

“What?!” You dramatically slap your hand against your mouth, an action you picked up from him. Alcohol inhibiting both of your minds only slightly, letting words flow a little easier than they otherwise might. Letting touch feel a little more commonplace.

An afterwork tradition, if you will.

“You’re insane!” You announce, slapping his shoulder playfully, “You’re gonna make bad luck get us Yoongi!! Take it back!”

Your voice is almost a whine, and he wants to fold because of it.

“You say that like you aren’t a stem major!” He laughs, his eyes shining like crescent moons you want to live on. Wait, does that even make sense?

“That doesn’t matter! We're like– the least scienc-y!! Our whole job is practically based on luck! Oh my god!” Now you’re stopping your foot a little, and his tail finds itself pulling you closer.

“Yeah, but you have no idea how many ladder’s I’ve walked under and you still say I have the best luck.” He giggles– fucking giggles!! Can you believe the audacity of this man?!

“Yoongi!! How dare you!! Do you know how many E5s’ you’ve cost us?! Probably like.. Like 20!”

“Mm, maybe yours just keeps it up for the both of us. Huh?” You humph, you fucking humph, and maybe– just maybe, Yoongi feels himself going a little insane. Forgetting himself– what you are meant to be to him.

“That’s the only plausible explanation… obviously…”

He hums, “Obviously.”

There’s a brief moment, a flicker in the air of something indescribable. Something that makes your skin feel a quiet, humble flame strumming under the surface. That makes you feel as if there's electricity pulsing through the space left between your noses. That makes you feel almost invincible as your eyes meet his warm brown tones.

You’ve come to love earthy hues since meeting Yoongi. He’s full of them, after all.

But, the flame of the match is blown out far too quick for you to truly comprehend what that moment was. Why it felt the way it did. Instead, your left sputtering with the absence of Yoongi, the slow withdrawal of his form.

“I’ll go get us more drinks.” His gravelly voice mutters just loud enough to hear over the music. You can only nod along, already missing the security of the tail curled around your back.

At least he isn’t so shy about it’s presence anymore. At least not like he was back then– trying to hide it, trying to make the rest of the world forget about it. You never understood why, no, how could you when you love it so much? Find it just another integral part of Yoongi for you to love.

You can even smile now, thinking back to how cute he got the first time he let you touch it. How he turned red to his ears, the chill that travelled down his spine. The flick of it as it chased after your hand when you retreated. It was too fucking cute back then… mm. Maybe that’s when you first started to grow a crush on the man.

Or maybe it was always how struck he was when you complimented him. Pushed it aside like it meant nothing, yet he always seemed a little out of it for the rest of your time spent together. You suppose Yoongi has always been reticent to your gaze; but then again, he was always aloof when it came to his feelings as it was. Nothing to dwell on, honestly.

You’ve never tried to hide your feelings– have never wanted to, really. You don’t think you even know how. But you’re not going to force them on him either. If he wants to act, the door has always been open. And it will remain open to him, probably forever.

“How’d the chase go this time?” A voice carries you from your head, your feet returning to the solid ground. Jisung, a fellow chaser finds himself in the seat next to yours– the seat Yoongi used to fill. A friend in the industry, you could say. Though, you take to thinking he probably wants more.

“Mmm… ‘bout as good as any other this late into the season…” You hum, taking a sip from your half-full glass, “Never as good around this time of year.”

Your sigh makes a gentle smile grow onto his plush lips, “Really? I thought you fell in love with every storm.” He lets out a quiet snort, swirling his own cup. His eyes seem to remain focused on you, though.

“Of course I do. Everyone is perfect and special!” You declare a smile stretching back, “However, like every caring mother, I do have favourites.”

“I don’t think– that’s not–” He laughs, “Aren’t parents not supposed to have favourites?”

“You really believe that Lie, Sung? Bold of you.”

“Well, do you have favourite pets?”

“Of course not!! How dare– okay, yeah. It’s the goldfish. His name is Guppie and he is my pride and joy. Named after my first love in elementary school~ imagine I let out a dreamy sigh here.”

His laugh makes your own come out as well, “Your first love was a… fish?”

“What, no?”

“They were named Guppie? … Like a fish…”

“Nickname, of course.” You giggle, girlish and cute.

“Do you give nicknames to everyone then?” He moves his face closer in wonder, excitement, “What’s mine? You have to tell me.”

You hum, tapping your chin in contemplation, “I don’t know ‘Sung, nicknames are reserved for extra special people in my life…”

“Ah!” He clutches his chest, looking down before popping his head up. Puppy dog eyes, “I’m not extra special? You wound me (Y/n)! You really do! And I really thought we had something, I can’t believe this.”

You laugh loudly at the dramatic act– emotions on the sleeve are so much more fun to display. You know he probably means none of it, but it’s still adorable. You can’t help but lean in closer, slapping his chest gently.

“Shh! Shh! You’re too loud! Too loud! You’re extra special!” The conversation is easy, just as it always is with Jisung. Though it isn’t the same– you can’t help but notice that fact. It feels easy, smooth… though like there is a wall in the way of true connection. Like there is a way you are meant to act. Just like there always is.

Always is with everyone but Yoongi.

It’s strange. But something you’ve grown attached to. Fond of.

He clears his throat behind you– think of the devil and he shall appear. Or however the saying goes. You’ve never been good with them, anyway. Your strengths and your faults, the simple facts have become all too aware of over time. Not that you mind them, of course. You just accept them as a fact of ‘you’. Just like your bubble, just like your impossible.

“Oh, hey!” Jisung is bright as always, giving a gentle wave to the man behind you.

“Poongie!” You smile, your inebriated mind already attempting to wrap itself around his torso. It’s not your fault you already missed him!

Jisung erupts in a fit of giggles, “Poongie?! That’s his?!”

“Yep! Mixture of Pookie and Yoongi. He loves it.” He certainly does, but he would never admit it. Actually, he feels kind of odd right now. More… stiff than he was before he left. Like something… darker? Is radiating off of him. Though, it’s not actually dark. Just kind of… displeased. You can't seem to find the right word.

“I can tell.” Jisung rolls his eyes, “He looks thrilled.”

That only seems to further upset the man, his tail slowly curling around itself on instinct. Moving to find purchase on your waist. To pull you closer. To claim you. Sober thoughts slipping into a drunk mind, his actions freer than he normally allows them to be.

Jealousy. That’s all he feels. Jealous that you just called someone who’s been openly hitting on you the entire season ‘extra special’. How fucking childish of him. He knows that even now, but he doesn’t want to stop. Everything that normally does feels as though they’ve gone into hibernation at this very moment.

He just wants you.

The next thing the Scorpion knows, he’s setting the drinks on the counter while you gaff away. Lifting you by your hips, sliding his form underneath yours with a grunt. Placing you on his lap and finally, making sure you’re secure to him with a hug of his tail around your midsection.

He almost feels proud at your little squeal of surprise. At the blush on your cheeks. That’s right. He’s the only special one to you. This other man– other predator should know it.

He knows he’ll regret this display in the morning. That he’ll feel utterly embarrassed by the whole thing. But right now Min Yoongi feels on top of the world.

“Yoongi! What are you doing!” You hiccup out in surprise, trying to turn to face him. But he holds you still, holds you secure. Holds you safe just like he always makes sure you are. Gives you a response only by the shrug of his shoulders, his chin finding purchase in the crook of your neck.

“W-well.. Fine then!” You huff, puffing out your cheeks just a little, “I’ll stay, but… just for a little! I’ll stay here for a little…” You grow a little quiet near the end, a little nervous. But you couldn’t feel more warm than in this moment. So heavenly.

Jisung only laughs, what else is he meant to do anyway? A small, petulant part of Yoongi was hoping he’d run for the hills– he would with such aggressive scent marking. But then again, the other man is a human, probably doesn’t know anything about such a thing.

The other part of Yoongi almost wants him to watch. Wants the other man to watch you drown in your own blush, watch as you learn more and more into the firm chest behind you. Feel the connection you two have that–

Oh, you’re laughing again too, what a pretty sound. The conversation picking up once again– Jisung is a conversationalist isn’t he. Yoongi almost wishes he was the same. Jealousy is an ugly emotion. It makes people do drastic things. It makes Yoongi want to do even more drastic things.

If only he was human.

If he was human he'd do so much more. Would have already done so much more. But now, in his current state of being, he couldn’t handle it. He wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection. He knows it. Knows it in the way mother’s comfort their children after one look at his tail, and knows it in the way you look at storms.

Yoongi isn’t a tornado. You would never look at him the same way you look at them. With such love and light in your eyes.

But god he wants you to, he wants you to more than anything. He wants to be an option. He wants to be the center of your universe just like those dumb fuck storms are. He wants to be the wind that plays with your hair, the rain that kisses your skin. He wants to be the very thing that envelopes your entire consciousness just like those storms do.

And maybe, just maybe if he presses himself close enough to you he can. He can pretend with the poison in his blood that you like him. He can be yours, even if it's only for a night.

He would always be yours. You never his’.

And as the night ticks on, venom bubbling up every second that ticks, he feels himself becoming looser. Feels you melting into his grip as pretty drinks and florals fill your mind. Feels your scent starting to overpower his nose as his mind blurs with thoughts of you. Almost feels the tangle of souls joining in the way he’s always wished them to.

“Yoonie..” You hum, fingers coming up loosely to move through his hair in a way they only do when the two of you are alone, “He went to get a drink, can let me go now…seats open.”

He almost feels annoyed at your words, and you can’t help but let the disappointment of them bubble, too. You don’t want him to let you go. In fact, you’d be happy staying like this forever. But you know Yoongi, you know he doesn’t like to be so… affectionate in public. He’s one to show his love quietly, something else you’ve come to find endearing over the years you’ve spent by his side.

Only, you don’t feel relieved movements like you expected to, no. While his arms go lax, his tail almost pulls tighter. The two sides of him fighting, arguing over what to do next. And next, next you feel something so warm. So soft against your neck that you don’t know what to do.

Lips. His lips are against your neck. A gentle press to the side of the column robbing you of your ability to breath, ability to think. Normal affectionate pecks are common, sure, when the two of you have spent too long reaserching and analysing the your brains are working a little slower than they normally do, they might even be seen as common. But this kiss, this kiss was slow. It was languid. It was so much more. Everything you’ve ever wanted.

“Have to?” His words are quiet, gruff. Lips moving against your neck as he talks. Spoken to you alone in the world, emboldened by the alluring mix of jealousy and alcohol.

You shake your head, much emboldened by the same. He never has to let you go.

“Good.” You feel your heart in your ears, ready to explode as he moves his arm back around you, back to your hip to hold you steady, “Mine.”

Neither of you ever expected that single, life altering word to ever leave his lips.

“Y-Yours?” You can’t help yourself, you need to make sure you heard him right. Needed to make sure this whole thing wasn’t a dream. That his lips, slowly kissing along the ridge of your shoulder are real and not a figment of your imagination.

Though he doesn’t say it again, doesn’t will himself to. Instead the sound you hear is something low, one you’ve never heard him use against you. A gentle growl lodged in the back of his throat, confirming it. Confirming everything for your head and your heart to hear.

“Yours…” You try again, tilting your head to the side, giving him more room. He hums in assurance, in want.

You think you could die happy.

The impossible. The impossible is claiming you for himself. Is holding the heart of the love struck college student, the nervous new-hire, the assured scientist all in the palm of his hand. Is confirming your affections. Confirming the fire brewing deep in your belly. The coals that have been slowly and tenderly cared for over time.

Yoongi and the storms– they’re both your impossible, your fate finding reality.

“Y-Yoongi I—” He tilts your chin, cutting you off mid sentence. Passion alight beneath the subtle glow of amber that robs you of your words. Lets you know exactly what you need to. Makes the fire burst into flames as his fingers gently dig into your hip, makes your entire body heat as he rubs in gentle circles.

“I don’t like him.” He grunts, letting his forehead rest against yours, “Keeps you from me.”

“No one can keep me from you.” The reply is instant, your lips barely missing his. “You’re for me.”

God, and at that moment you know that the prettiest noise in the world is Yoongi’s quiet groan. The way his eyes close, the way he practically pulls you down into his lap sends you into overdrive. The way he slowly rolls his own up is enough to send you into a puddle of your former being.

The rest of the world is gone, entirely melted away from reality. Now, now it’s just you and Yoongi. Cornered away from the rest of the bar, out of sight. Out of mind. Just his hands slowly moving your hips to be seated on just one of his thighs, his tail making sure you’re secure. Just your scent driving him crazy.

He can tell how wet you already are. He can tell how much you want him, just as he wants you.

The contact is rough, a little maddening. His jeans pressing up against yours, the thin cotton of your panties not doing much to stop the harsh heat. But you don’t want it to stop. You want him to do whatever he wants.

“You’re wet.” He isn't shy to admit it. Isn’t shy to admit the smell invading his nose. Isn’t shy to let you know exactly what it’s doing to him with the rock of your hips. Letting you feel something hard pressed right against your back.

“Shut up…” You instantly complain, whining as you lean your back against his chest, further into his touch. He cracks a soft smile at your words, rocking you back and forth so slowly, so carefully. Letting you feel every flex of the muscle, every rough movement of the jean against your clit. Savouring every second now that the threat of the other man has dissipated. Taking his time in case all of this is a dream and he will have to give you up tomorrow.

“Why? Not cute when I say it?” He chuckles, jumping his leg slightly off the ground, sending a wave through your body. A shock of pleasure to the system that has a gentle moan tumbling from your lips. That has your hips sending a gentle buck back. That has your brain feeling as though it might become mush.

Yoongi is going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it.

“Hey guys I…” Yoongi’s eyes find Jisung before your own do. Before the flushed expression on your face can quell and certainly before you can find a coherent thought. And suddenly the lazy foreplay in the corner of the bar is gone. Suddenly Yoongi is no more than an animal once again.

“O-Oh! Jisung! S-sorry let me just–” You try, but there isn’t any use. No, Yoongi is pissed you even said his name. Pissed you tried to move away from him. Why would you try to move away from him? A predator with his m– prey being stolen right out from under him. A predator that has everything to gain and everything to lose.

Yoongi isn’t thinking anymore as he stands, just barely keeping you upright as he pulls you away. Grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom, locks the door once you’re both inside.

Sanity is no longer present. Only the jealousy he feels inside. Only annoyance at the other man for trying to take you away from him. You said he was yours, that he was made for you. And the other predator dared try to take you? Take you from him when you were about to share something so sweet?

Yoongi knows he isn’t thinking right. Knows he might regret it in the morning– but he also knows if he doesn’t do something now he’ll regret it even more. For once, for once in his life he wants to be selfish. For once in his life he wants to forget he can’t ever have you because he’s a hybrid. For once he just wants you.

You’d let him have you. Over and over again. For the rest of your lives.

“Yoongi what are you–” He cuts you off with his lips against your own for he doesn’t know the answer. He’s letting himself just exist for once. Exist in the way he wants to without care. And all he wants right now is to kiss you.

You couldn’t want anything more. Have been waiting your entire life to feel the press of his lips against your own. Kiss him back without a second thought– without reprieve. Let your mouth slip open easily for him, let everything get as messy as he wants.

The time for gentle foreplay is over. No, now is the time to consume.

Without a second thought he lifts you by your hips, your hands falling into place against his shoulder. Letting him lead, letting him take control as he fits his body against yours with such perfect harmony. Nobody would doubt you’re two pieces of the same puzzle, ready to fit together for the rest of eternity.

He groans when he feels your hips press against his, as he feels your heat seep through layers of clothing. Cusses when he finally pulls back, sees the saliva collected at the corner of your lips. The hazy look in your eye that tells him you need him just as much as he needs you. That you want him so terribly you can’t help but fall against him for love, for safety.

It’s just the alcohol.

Yoongi practically growls at his own thoughts, his tail rising in defence, in defiance against his own brain. Forcing the thoughts away, forcing everything away other than your body in the room. Other than your desire in the room.

When his mind is no longer clouded he can come to terms with all of this, come to terms with his feelings and shove them so far back down they’ll never see the light of day– but now, right now he needs this. Needs it more than anything.

“Want you.” He grunts, his knees falling onto the dirty bathroom floor. His hands splay against your thighs, feeling them. Worshipping the skin as if it is an altar. As if you’re his religion. “Can I?”

He doesn’t have to ask, he doesn’t need to. He would never have to ask you. Every single time you’d fall for the storm that is Min Yoongi. Over and over again. As if it’s as easy as breathing, as easy as thinking.

The answer is even easier now– as your heart beats in your ears, as arousal pools in your gut. As his blunt fingernails dig themselves ever so slightly into your flesh, begging for entry. Begging for you to just give in. His cheeks a flush, his hair already a wreck. His chest rising and falling and thinking just for you.

He looks like a god.

“W-want you.” Your stutter makes you feel meak, but his groan of approval makes you feel strong. Makes you feel like your bubble has been popped, like the world finally has meaning past tornados and cataclysms.

He takes your approval without any grace. Without a second to even think before he’s pulling your pants down with such hunger, such carnal need. His throat releases a groan of desire as your scent hits him at full force, as you give yourself to him.

He can’t help himself as he presses his face against your panties, his nose right against your clit as he inhales. Takes in all of you for himself. Lets himself be greedy.

“Y-Yoongi!” You squeak in surprise, the noise tapering into a whine. How could he do something so embarrassing! What is wrong with–

You can’t even finish the thought before his fingers pull your panties to the side, his eyes focused directly on your wet, needy cunt. “Smell good.”

If you weren’t entirely red before, you certainly are now. There is no way you couldn’t be. Not with the hunger in his eyes. The fire in your belly.

His tongue darts out, licking your pussy directly without a second thought. Parting your lips, collecting your arousal on his tongue. Tasting you, basking in everything you. Listening to the pretty little moan that comes from your parted lips. Falling apart without a second thought.

And suddenly he’s hungry. Hungrier than he’s ever been in his entire life. Hungry in a way that he’s sure can only be satiated by you. By making you his.

“Fuck, (Y/n)...” He almost sounds more affected than you are, like he could cum from your taste alone. But he can’t, he won’t let himself. He wants, needs to be inside of you more than everything. Needs to fuck you, consume every part of you like he so selfishly craves.

“Gotta get you ready…” He’s talking to himself more than to you as he stands again, trying to keep himself from succumbing to the scorpion screaming at him to just claim you as his. He can only be selfish for tonight. This night. “You gonna be quiet for me? Can’t get caught.”

“Please…” Your voice is practically a whimper, practically begging him to just do something, anything. And who is he to deny you of such simple pleasures? Especially when you whine just for him, moan just for him. Jut your hips out ever so slightly to present yourself just to him.

His thumb finds your clit almost instantly as you call out to him. Rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves with quick, fast precision while another digit presses against your leaking hole. Preparing you, getting you ready for the intrusion.

Your voice is a siren’s song, and Yoongi then knows why pirates used to get lost at sea. Used to become entrapped by the mermaids that sang for them. He feels himself going crazy now, as your head tilts back. As your cunt flutters around nothing, begging him to slide his finger inside just as you both desperately crave.

A buck of your hips is all he needs to fuck the digit inside, trusting it in and out slowly. Making sure it goes as deep as it can before curling and slowly retracting. Increasing pace with the volume of your sounds, with the circle of your clit. Combining sensation, driving you further and further into the clouds with every movement.

It is then you know that his hands are a deadly poison, one you know you will fall apart to. Especially with the gentle sounds of his grunts, with the push of a second finger into your hole. With his heated gaze focused on nothing but how well you’re taking him, how you’re stretching so prettily around his fingers.

You place your hand over your mouth, try to keep your moans to a minimum. Try to suppress every little sound that threatens to spill past your lips. Yet you can’t help it, how could you when he knows exactly where to curl his fingers? When they press right against that little bundle of nerves inside. When they rub against you so perfectly.

“Y-Yoongi!” You accidentally shout, your hips bucking in surprise. The band growing tighter and tighter in your lower abdomen. Your eyes clouding with pleasure as your head feels lighter and lighter.

He only smirks, gentle and sinful. “Found it.”

He thrusts his fingers back in the exact same way, their pace hurried. Concise. Locating that exact same spot over and over again, curling his fingers up just right. Timing the strokes perfectly with a roll of your clit. You feel like you could scream, you’re going to scream.

“Y-You’re so mean!” You whimper, the hand on your clit moving to hold your thighs down. To resist your messy bucking. Resist your adorable begging for more. This other thumb moving to press against your clit instead.

Then you see it, see the pretty brown thing that had you so enamoured to begin with. Remember just how sensitive it was when you touched it first, and just how mean he’s being to you now.

With all the clarity you have left in your little brain you reach for his tail, hold it in your tiny hands. Whimper at how big it is, how strong it feels. How much it protects you. And without a second thought, you wrap your lips around the tip of it and moan. Using it as a gag, using it to stop your cries.

Yoongi suddenly tenses below you, his entire frame shifting as your mouth sucks on the tip. Your eyes closed in concentration, little tears bubbling up in the corners as you whine around him. Fully focused on your pleasure, the feeling of his fingers inside of you– so close to falling apart.

He thinks he could cum at that second. He’s sure of it.

A choked groan leaves his own lips as his fingers resume their pace, his senses going into overdrive. No longer thinking, no longer able to do anything but act. But take and take and give and give until there's nothing left.

And god he wants to burn this picture into his brain. Wants to cement it into the rest of his thoughts, his very being. His movements are messier, faster as he fucks his fingers into your cunt. Doesn’t care about the noise as his tail moves on its own, slowly thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your g-spot battered, you clit burning with pleasure.

Sounds that resemble words fall deaf on your tongue as the band finally breaks, as the world around you spins. As you find euphoria from Yoongi’s fingers. The eye of the storm befalling your very being as electricity moves down your spine as the winds subside.

You’re left panting in front of him, your walls tightening as he slowly coaxes you through it. Helps you feel every ounce of pleasure that you deserve. Kisses your shoulder gently, softly, watching you come down from your high.

You can only whine at the affection, the fog lifting for a brief second as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You feel so empty– too empty. You still want him. You still want so much more.

You try to say his name, try to vocalise but it only sends vibrations down his tail. A groan leaving his lips, heat still heavy in his eyes. You realise his tail is still moving, still slowly moving in and out of your mouth. You know he isn’t finished.

You know you never want him to be.

You raise your leg up, kicking, trying to push his pants down. Begging them to just drop a little lower. To get his cock out so he can fuck you properly. So he can make you feel so much more full of everything him.

He lets out a chuckle of a scoff, his bangs falling in front of his eyes as he shakes his head, “Needy.” He grunts, yet he feels the exact same way. Removing his tail from your mouth, finally letting you speak. Ignoring the way his heart hammers at the sight of your puffy, glossed lips.

“Shut up.” Is the only reply you can muster, hands quickly moving to try and shove his pants down. To try and get him inside of you. He just smiles, the predatory glint never leaving his eyes. The dig of his nails never leaving your thigh.

Finally, with your messy attempts you urge them down, force the annoying material down his thighs, his boxers moving right along with it. And fuck, you can’t help but gawk. Can’t help but whine because shit, you’ve never seen a cock so pretty! What the hell! That isn’t fair! None of this is fair and he hates you!

“You hate me.” You whimper, letting him take the lead once again. Following as he slowly leans you back, manoeuvres your hips in exactly the way he wants. Presents your puffy, fluttering cunt just for him. Messy and aching, desperate for more.

“Maybe.” He smiles, teasing you. He’s teasing you! Can you believe that! You certainly can’t, a whine and a gentle smack to his chest telling him everything he needs to hear. Yet you’re forgetting about it all too quickly as you feel the head of something hard gently press against your lips.

In your hazed stupor, you completely missed the action. The way he gripped his cock in his hands, the languid strokes he’s made up and down the length. The way he flicked his thumb over the head just before he decided to so sinfully trace it along your slit. Teasing himself, tracing around your hole with the head. You think he might kill you.

He thinks much of the same.

“I’m on birth control.” You messily squeak out of the blue, eyes trained between your bodies where he’s so close. So very close to fucking himself inside. Into being exactly where you want him. Snapping that final line you two could never come back from.

His eyes dart up to your face, something dark in the iris. Something neither of you address as he finally lets go of his last bit of reserve. As his lips slam into yours, consuming your very being.

His hand finds your leg, pulling it up, resting it against his hip to draw you closer. In one single thrust drawing all the air out of your lungs, removing all thoughts from your head as he thrusts his entire length inside. Filling you, stretching you in the most perfect way. In a way you never imagined another person could do.

Your cries are drowned by his lips, his own curses lost in the same. The stretch, the burn is subtle, yet you could never want anything less. Anything more than the euphoric feeling of Yoongi feeling your ever being.

“Shit…” He finally lets himself breathe, let himself have a moment to feel you. Feel your plush walls wrapped around his length, feel you fluttering around him so perfectly. You’re going to make him insane.

He pants softly, trying to wait– trying to hold himself back from fucking you so hard you can’t walk. So hard he’ll have to carry you out of this shitty bar. So that everyone will know what the two of you did. Just who you belong to.

You give an experimental wiggle of your hips, a signal to move. A signal to stop holding back. The only signal that he needs.

“Yoongi!” The cry is loud, but he can’t seem to care anymore. The pace he takes is anything but slow. It's fast, hard. Rushed. Like he can’t wait a single second longer. Can’t waist a fucking millisecond doing anything else other than laying claim to your soul.

His hips snap against your own, his cock practically hitting your cervix with every thrust. His cock pressed against that same bundle inside every time he draws back, every time he fills you again and again. It’s messy– messy and so wet. So perfect.

“Fuck, fuck.” He mutters to himself, damp hair falling into his eyes, “Have to be quick, gonna fuck you hard, okay?”

He drawls, scratchy. Rough. Pressing his hips fully against yours, fully feeling your slick heat. The lewd noises bouncing against the walls, filling the space. Sending a symphony into your strumming ears. Into your already worn out frame.

You nod in agreement quickly, almost dumbly as you try to fall into a rhythm. Try to meet his movements the best you can. It feels pointless, all of it does. Trying to do anything feels so pointless when he’s fucking you so relentlessly. Like he’s waited his entire life for this moment and he’d rather die than waste another second.

Fucking you like it means something. Like you mean everything.

“Shit, (Y/n). So fucking wet.” He groans, his head rolling back, no longer able to look at the mess between your legs, “So needy.”

You whine, shaking your head. Trying to gain a semblance of reality when it feels like it has been shattered in the most beautiful way.

“Sh-Shut up!” You whine, your walls clenching around his cock, “A-Am! Am not!”

Your denial sends a wave of something through Yoongi. Something that makes him growl, that makes his sight darken just a bit more.

“You’re not?” He scoffs, his eyes finding your own, reading you like an open book, “Little fucking liar.”

His pace changes, taking shape into a different beast entirely. Something new. His thrusts turn from messy, hurried to sharp and precise– the pace never changing. Every single thrust knocking the wind from your lungs, changing the very shape of your DNA to scream for him and only him.

“Y-Yoongi what the fuck?!” You whine, your head knocking back, hitting the glass behind you. Even more of your brain cells scrambling, trying to stay in reality. Trying not to float off in the great beyond where Yoongi wants you to stay.

“Hmm?” He grunts, his eyes focused back downwards. Right to where your slick coats him, to where a pretty white ring has formed around the base. He won’t last long. Even if he wants to keep fucking you forever, he knows he’s done for. “Thought you weren’t needy.”

You whine, unable to stop the band from pulling tight in your gut once again. Unable to stop the pleasure from coursing through your veins. Already a wreck– your body warm with sweat and your hole fluttering uselessly around him. Trying to draw him back in over and over.

Never get him to leave.

His voice is suddenly in your ear, far closer than you remember him being. Far closer than you can manage him being. Fuck, and now his thumb is pressing against your clit again. You don’t know what you can do, what to do.

“You can cum if you just admit it, human.” You’re going insane. “Tell me how fucking needy you are for me. C’mon, do it. I know you can.”

It’s over for you. You had no clue Yoongi could ever be like this, no clue just how much you’d want it. How much you’d love it. Even as tears bubble in the corners of your eyes from the pleasure, even as your hips buck up weakly to meet his thrusts. As his cock makes you feel like you’re about to enter the pearly gates.

You know you love it.

“Y-Yoongi!” You whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders with so much strength you think they might bruise. Hell, you’re sure he’s bruised your hips. There isn’t much difference. “I-I!”

“Mhmm..” He hums, sounding entirely unaffected on the surface, yet it’s clear he’s falling apart just as much as you. Clear in the way his hips stutter so slightly, losing their pace. Clear in the way he holds you tighter and tighter. The way his tail curls possessively around your leg. “You can do it. Say it, human.”

“I-I’m needy!” You whine, forgetting your volume, “I-I need you, Yoongi!”

Just like that, he’s tumbling off the edge. Your words acting as an anchor, as the very thing he’s wanted to hear for years. His hips stuttering inside of you, filling your cunt with his cum without a second thought.

“Cum, pretty thing.” His voice is guttural. A command as your legs lock around him. His thumb never giving your clit reprise. while he doesn’t stop the movement of his thumb. Your own release finding you the second you feel his cock twitch inside of you, the moment you feel his cum leak inside.

Winds swirl at your very being. Lifting you higher and higher into the clouds as your walls clench around him. Milking him for everything, for all he’s worth. Making sure every drop lands inside, making sure you stay nice and full of him while your head wanders into the clouds. While every bit of your being feels fireworks.

Your legs don’t even let go as the two of you slowly begin to calm down. As your heart rates try to return to normal and air returns to your lungs. As Yoongi’s length slowly begins to soften inside of your cute, worn little cunt.

You don’t want to let go. You never want to let go.

His grip slowly softens on your hip. Thumb working to rub slow, gentle circles in their place. His lips finding the column of your throat once more– gentle, nipping kisses find home over the marks he left while sitting at the bar. Not any real bonding marks like his scorpion may have wanted, but pretty red things that claim your skin in a human way.

Your fingers find his strands, knotting themselves in them. Keeping his head where it belongs. You’ve never felt more loved, more wanted in this moment.

You never want it to end.

“Needy…” He smiles to himself, shaking his head softly. His hair tickles your ear. “Can’t believe you actually said it.”

“Y-you!” You try, realising how severely you’re still out of breath. You hate how quickly he’s bounced back. “You made me! You ass!”

He only smiles, shaking his head. Still in complete and utter disbelief that this is real, “I wanted to hear it. You were cute.”

Your legs finally relax when you whine. They easily fall on either side of him, kicking slightly in petulance as he pulls away from your cunt. Removing himself from you, smiling as his cum starts to collect at your opening.

This still all has to be a dream for him, it has to be.

“You hate me!” You repeat again, warmth coming to your cheeks once more as his hands find your cunt. One thump pulling your lip open, letting him see just how much of a mess he’s made you. Letting him watch as his cum drips from your core.

“Maybe.” He can’t help the fond glow in his eyes as he kisses your cheek. A thought coming to the forefront of his brain that he forces back. Another thought he could never let surface, not even now as you’re stuffed with his cum.

His scorpion still preens all the same, though. Filled with thoughts of kids. Thoughts Yoongi, the human, not the scorpion, would never say aloud. Drunk, tipsy, or sober.

He reaches for the dispenser, grabbing a few paper towels before turning on the sink and running them under. Not the best tool, but it will do.

“Well, I don’t hate you…” You’re blushing as you say the words, almost embarrassed without real reason to be. What you just did, it was so much more than ‘I don’t hate you.’ At least, it wasn’t to you. You hope it wasn’t for him either.

You help him with his pants, reaching your hands down and pulling them up slowly for him, “I don’t hate you either.” He rolls his eyes, gently cleaning the space between your legs.

“Awkward if you did.” You huff, lifting your hips as he moves your underwear back in place. Stay hovering as he slides your jeans back up as well.

He leaves a gentle press against your temple, offering you a hand as you hop off the counter. Hips and legs already entirely too sore, a whine shedding your throat as you let him know the pain. All while he only laughs, patting your butt as he helps you walk.

The picture of domesticity.

Neither of you address the elephant in the room, both for entirely different reasons. For radically different realities. The morning would be better anyway, you surmise. With fluid thoughts and no liquor in your system.

You assume Yoongi feels the same way as you both walk home. Gentle shoulders and banter thrown around as casually as ever. The only solid thing the both of you know: you can never go back to that bar again.

God, your fucking head hurts. Maybe?? Maybe everything hurts? When the hell did the sun get so loud?! Since when did light feel like fucking screaming, man?! This isn’t fair! Nothing is fair and the world hates you! Exclusively you, and no one but you!

No, that’s not true. That’s completely illogical, actually. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. Especially when your head is buzzing and your stomach is already growling for some kind of food.

Oh god, food would be so good right now. Warm steamy pancakes, eggs, some kind of potato with a dash of Yoongi to eat it with like you do every morning.

Suddenly, the other side of the bed feels entirely too cold. Freezing. A void empty where the warmth you felt last night should reside.

He fell asleep there, you're sure of it. You remember the feeling of his arms around you, the soft snores that left his lips after you both stumbled into bed. Barely getting undressed before falling into your bed. You remember everything about last night. So much so that you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks at the memory. The thought of everything done in that dingy bathroom, all the words spoken, the care professed.

Even if you were tipsy, you would never forget it. You would never regret it. Were waiting to wake up in his arms to make everything official– a long overdue conversation that would finally set in motion your lives together.

So where the hell is he?

A pout forms on your lips as you stretch, your body too tight for the morning and even more so for your search. The soreness in your hips, the bruises he left from his grip a brutal reminder of his absence as you sit up, your eyes squinting as you scope the scene.

You don’t think you like what you see– it’s a weird feeling, honestly. His bag is gone, his shoes are gone, his clothes are gone. For the first time in all the years you’ve known him, he feels utterly gone. Not a speck of him in your room, not a single sign he was even on this trip with you.

Does he regret…

The frown pulls deeper as you reach for your phone. You definitely don’t like this feeling. Like he wasn’t even there to begin with after everything that just happened.

“Ah, stop it.” You say to yourself, one of your hands coming up to gently pat your cheek. You hate where your brain is going so quickly. Maybe you’re just a sop that needed more aftercare than he knew about– yeah, that's probably it. He probably just wanted to go back to his own room and shower before you had to work today. See, that makes much more sense, doesn’t it? You nod your head, almost in agreement with your thoughts. Set on your decision, on the most-likely-possible solution.

[9:27am] To: Poongie

> Goodmorning :> I hope you slept well

> Did you wanna go get breakfast at the diner? I think I’m dying and only hashbrowns can fix me unfortunately

You wish you could say you weren’t affected– wish you could say you weren’t sitting there, waiting for a response. Heart beating out of your chest like a schoolgirl in love. It’s silly, isn’t it? What emotions can make you feel inside and out. How they can seem to affect every part of your being without even trying.

You suppose storms are the same way. Suppose all natural forces are– the sun, the moon, the stars. They all have their own cosmic power that distils someone at their very core. Leaving them waiting, abating in agony over a simple text back from the man you like.

You toss your phone to the side, choosing to get ready instead of imagining anymore fantasies. You live in reality, a woman of science. There’s no sense in trying to explain everything you feel, only accepting that you feel it.

Mmm. As you get dressed, you wonder how long you’ll be able to go on like that for.

[10:02] From: Poongie

> gm

> i already ate

Oh. You don’t like that. In fact, you hate it so much you want to start making a powerpoint presentation on how to text just for him. But, you give him the benefit of the doubt once more. Yoongi has never been a good texter, anyway. You’re lucky if you can get more than a two word reply from him. He prefers phone calls.

[10:03] To: Poongie

> So u hate me okay

> Come sit with me tho, I don’t want to look like a loser

> Meet me down there in 5 ;P

You give a soft smile as he reacts to your final text with a thumbs up. It doesn’t leave you feeling the best, but he’s not avoiding you entirely. And he never has been a morning person. Plus, he’s probably hungover too and doesn’t wanna look at his phone screen. You two are fine and last night was amazing. And soon you could make everything official.

Your smile grows. Yeah. Yeah, that all makes perfect sense.

You know what doesn’t? A lot of things, actually. Too many to count, but you try anyway.

One.

Yoongi walking in 10 minutes late acting like nothing happened. Like you didn’t happen. Just sliding into the seat across from yours, the thick plastic of the booth squeaking while he does so. His hands stuffed in his pants, nothing but a nod in your direction to acknowledge your existence. His face utterly blank, entirely neutral.

Never once has Yoongi greeted you with less than a gummy smile. A ruffle of your hair. A jab at your tired appearance. But you ignore it– ignore the sense of unease, of dread already building inside. He must really have a bad hangover, poor guy.

“Goodmorning!” You chirp brightly, a smile of a thousand suns cast in only his direction. Your usual greeting, of course. Maybe just a little extra chipper to balance him out. To try and prepare yourself, maybe to get a little excited for the conversation to come. Pull him out of any awkward tension he may be feeling.

“Goodmorning.” He simply replies back, his eyes following the waitress as she places a cup of coffee, extra sweet, in front of him. His usual order. Something you’d never forget. Something he knows you’d never forget, but the way he stares into the warm liquid says otherwise.

His eyes never stray from the cup, like he's thinking. Like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how. Like he isn’t sure whether to ignore it or bring it to light.

You know that look well, and you don’t want to ignore it.

Two.

He calls the waitress back and orders another coffee. Black.

He hates his coffee black. You know this. Everyone does. He hasn’t had the stuff since before he met you. You opened him to the world of how delicious sweet drinks can be. So why the hell is he planning on pretending to like something he doesn’t? It makes no sense to you– your expression shows it all. Eyebrows quirking together, lips pushing outwards slightly.

“Wow, the great Min Yoongi is changing up his order?” A creature of habit never does, you would know yourself, “Hangover that bad?”

You try to lighten the mood, raise the cloud that hangs above the booth. Or maybe it’s a cloud only you feel, you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway, does it?

“Mmm, you could say that.” He grunts, his chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail curling closer. Almost defensive. Almost.

“God yeah,” The conversation feels stunted, and you hate that even more. “My head has been throbbing since I woke up. I don’t know if I drank too much or not enough.” The banter isn’t flowing as easily, and he curls in on himself even more. Almost like the mere mention of last night rings alarm bells in his mind.

Oh! Okay, yeah. Maybe he’s just nervous about everything that happened, you know? Maybe he’s worried that you don’t remember, or that you’re having different feelings about it. Maybe his brain is playing the same tricks on him that trickled into your consciousness that morning!

Yeah, okay. That makes so much more sense now that you think about it. You have to stop beating around the bush, just come out and say everything you think. Everything you feel and you can talk about it. You’ll just bring it up– he obviously isn’t going to, but then you’ll be in a relationship by the time your pancakes come out! Perfect!

Yet as you look up at him, find his face utterly void of anything, your confidence wanes.

Three.

He’s refusing to look at you. Another thing he never does. You’re always the one to avoid eye contact, never him. You’re always the one to stare out the window, not him. He normally looks at you. Normally basks in you.

You feel your mouth drying, all words becoming lost on your tongue the longer you stare at his disposition. You don’t break it as the silence becomes awkward, as he doesn’t try to do anything to fix it. Simply sips at his coffee. His disgusting coffee.

Drinks it until it empties. Until the pancakes now in front of you remain nearly untouched and cold. Until the world stops spinning and time freezes. As the comet hits and the world ends. As society descends into chaos yet you can’t do anything but look at him.

Okay, maybe you’re exaggerating. But that’s exactly how it feels for some strange reason. How it feels to be unable to reach him.

It isn’t until he grabs his coat, sliding $30 across the table that you finally gain the courage to speak. Finally blurt out the words sitting on the tip of your tongue for the last 20 minutes.

“We should talk about last night.” You didn’t expect to say anything honestly, shocked at the air leaving your lungs.

And finally, finally he looks at you. The diner is still frozen, yes, but now he’s looking at you and for some reason that’s all that matters.

A deep drag of air fills his lungs as he sags his shoulders, rigid disposition weakening in attempt to show signs of aloof. His tail gives everything away. Sharp and pointed. Unnerved.

“What is there to talk about?”

Oh.

“What?” You feel blood leave your face, “Everything. There’s everything to talk about.”

He sighs, his eyes almost rolling at your words. Everything he does is ten times louder. Ten times greater than any storm, any power in the entire universe.

Four.

“Listen, (Y/n). Last night was a mistake, okay?”

Oh.

Is it possible for the Earth to stop rotating around the sun? For the moon to find home in another planet? Is it possible for the rings of Saturn to disband, to crack and shatter, leaving the planet feeling hollow? No more than a gaseous ball floating around an unyielding core forcing it to stay together?

It has to be. Because if it’s possible for Yoongi to say those very words, say the very words that are able to rip your soul from your body, you think anything is.

You feel something in you crack. Something so fragile and innocent that you want to protect it with your everything. Run far and hide. Nurse it alone until it stops kicking and screaming for its unending pain to yield. For it to have rest in a world that only seems to take and take and take.

“What?” You don’t even care that your voice cracks.

He sighs again, his gaze dropping to the table. “I just don’t think there’s anything to talk about, okay?”

“There’s a lot to talk about.” Your eyebrows crinkle, your mouth moving into a frustrated frown. Red isn’t a colour you feel often, but your walls are up. Your bubble now a sphere frozen in time– a place with room for no one but you. Your body curled around that innocent glow. Protecting it. Keeping it warm. “For one, calling it a mistake.”

He’s rigid again too, maybe red glowing around his form as well. But you can’t seem to care. Not right now. Maybe not ever. Not able to sense the danger. The tail pointed in your direction. Venom dripping from his lips.

“Wasn’t it? We’re friends (Y/n). One stupid night shouldn’t change that shit.” It changes fucking everything. Especially with your pining. Especially with your heart on your sleeve. With your affections for him always oh-so-fucking obvious.

“Like hell it–” He cuts you off.

“We’re done with this conversation. Just forget last night ever happened.” He stands, not planning on waiting around anymore. Not waiting for you anymore. “Just act like it never did. Nothing has to change. We’re not talking about this anymore.”

With that he leaves without letting you speak. Without letting you talk. Shutting you down entirely in a way he never has before. In a way he promised he would never do to you. And for the first time since you discovered your crush on him, you feel something negative simmering for Min Yoongi.

Q/Hybrids_Humans

U/YGS_Min • posted 5y ago

Can Hybrids and Humans actually fall in love? -> Advice

> Hi. I’m new to this page so I might get things wrong with this post. Sorry in advance if I do.

> I am a Hybrid and I recently met a girl who I think is my mate. I get all the classic mate feelings someone does when I’m around her. When we first met, a few days ago in the library, I automatically felt a pull towards her. Like I needed to be close to her. Everything in my body, my hybrid side especially, was begging for me to make her my mate right away. She even complimented my tail. Does she even know what that means? What it did to me?

> After that, she gave me her number (I’m helping her with a few things) (we're both ‘in’ college) and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Whenever I open my phone my brain automatically fries and moves to open her contact so I can text or call her. It actually feels a little crazy.

> She said she wants to be friends and I don’t know what my brain is going to do if we actually get closer.

>The issue is that she's human, though. So I already know she doesn’t feel the same way about me. She doesn’t feel the bond or the pull to get closer. And she already knows I’m a hybrid so there’s no way to avoid it.

> I’m also not the most friendly Hybrid, I guess. People don’t like my species. My mom doesn’t even like the way I was born. And I’m lucky enough to get away from where I was before and am living my own life now. Trying to do good things with it. Maybe be human with it, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway.

> Point is, I’ve looked online and while I know legally it is possible to be mates with a human, I haven’t found anything about Human’s with more odd species. And I really just want to know if this could be possible, or if I should give up before things even start. She’s the prettiest person I’ve ever seen. Her mannerisms kill me– I love them. She’s so cute. And she acted like I was just like everyone else.

> I don’t know. I want her to be my mate. But I just want to know other peoples experiences. I know she’d never be able to love me in the way I automatically do her, but if I told her she was my mate would she feel forced into it? Would she feel like I actually care? Could she ever actually care? Should I do anything about it or just pretend that it was never there in the first place?

> I never thought my mate might be human. I never thought I'd find my mate. Any advice would be appreciated. Thanks.

6 am.

Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s slept. He’s not sure he’s ever slept with the exhaustion weighing on his bones. His consciousness. His very being. In fact, all he’s had is his thoughts as the hours have ticked by, unrelenting. Unwavering. As the sun starts to shine through the curtains and the reality of everything that transpired rushes to the surface. Past the alcohol. Past your adorable soft snores.

He had you. He fucked you. For one night, you belonged to him.

The first thing he felt after he held you in bed was peace. Complete and utter satisfaction with life, with you. Everything itching at him, pulling him towards you was, for once, content. He no longer felt the burning in his heart or the pulling at his skin to get you closer. The fuzziness in his brain whenever you smiled. All of it was gone. There was nothing but happiness in his being.

Nothing but the ideas of his dream being true. Of getting to hold you like this every night. Getting you to smile for him, only him. Getting to belong to you in ways humans could never understand.

In ways you could never understand.

Something else starts creeping into his consciousness, then. Something starting in the pit of his stomach, rising until it feels like he's choking. Until not even the scent of your shampoo can calm the race of his heart. Not even the pull of his tail drawing you closer to his body– his hybrid side trying to calm him down in ways it only knows how.

How could Yoongi let himself live in such a sick dream?

You’re a human. He’s a hybrid. You would never actually love him.

Your words were drunk– of course they were. Influenced by the alcohol and the idea of a warm body next to your own. Maybe you didn’t even realise it was him, maybe it could have been anyone and you would have been satisfied.

It’s such an ugly thing, the words he thinks. The ideas that form behind his skull, twisting and turning. Forming an amalgamation of tangles and death defying drops to nothingness. Of the reality of things, his reality that is. One where he’s worthless. One where you are the sun and he is nothing but an asteroid following the orbit of someone else.

Hybrids are never meant to be with humans.

He knows that for a fact. Has read all the history books, looked at all the articles, scoured for any sign that the two of you could be together in a society that hates him only to be left with mockery. Left with anonymous strangers telling him that scorpions are meant to kill. Meant to destroy. How could a human ever care about him when his entire life he’s been told it’s the worst parts of himself? How could you care about him?

Well, he knows that isn’t all true. He knows you care in some ways. But they aren’t mate ways and–

Fuck. Fuck Yoongi, he knows he’s not supposed to think of those things. He’s never allowed to think of you and that word together. He forbade himself of it. Promised himself it couldn’t be true. That he would never admit it to you or anyone else.

You are not his mate.

But you are.

But–

He wishes he could get his head to shut the fuck up for a fucking second so he could think. Think about anything other than those two words together, even if he knew them to be true from the moment he met you in the library. When he agreed to be your tutor. When he fell in love the moment you looked his way.

And even then he thought that maybe, just maybe if you didn’t know he was a hybrid he would have a chance. That if he could keep it hidden for long enough, if you saw him as a human and not a terrifying creature bred only to kill, that you could fall for him. That he could be your mate– boyfriend. That he could be your boyfriend.

But then you saw it. Saw the fucking thing he wishes he never had, wishes he could live without. The very thing he has been hated for his entire life. His genetic abnormality, originally bred to be used for attack, used by the government to kill. The very piece of his being he rejects time and time again to try and just feel a little more normal, a little more human. And you… you said you liked it.

And no, you didn’t have any clue what those words meant at the time. Of course you didn’t. Didn’t know what they implied– didn’t know the true meaning they held. The acceptance of courtship behind their very tone.

A nice tail to a human? Nothing. A nice tail to a scorpion? The very thing used by the hybrid to attract mates? To show their viability and strength as a partner? Everything.

In that moment, you were everything.

But you didn’t know the meaning behind those words. You didn’t love him the way he so implicitly did you. And while you accepted him as a friend, you would never accept him as more. He would never let you.

That night was the night he promised himself you weren’t his mate. Promised himself he had no mate.

Last night was the first time he ever broke it.

Last night he could have killed you.

You had his tail in your mouth. His tail. The tail that carries his venom. The venom bred into his cells meant to kill others. If he let any of it out by accident… if he…

Fuck.

The heaviness that realisation brings is what finally makes him get out of bed. Finally set in motion reality. Stop himself from living in whatever dream he was playing with. Stop playing house with a girl that would never be his. That would probably think the entirety of last night was a mistake.

Who gives a shit what you thought. He could’ve killed you. He could’ve killed his fucking mate.

Societally, he could’ve never had you. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if you had to face the same things he did on the daily. What others thought of you. What they would say about you if they saw you two together. What would happen with your kids. How much hate and fear you would receive by being with him.

He could sacrifice his own life for you a thousand times, but he would never let you do the same for him.

And last night. Last night his venom could’ve been your end.

He doesn’t need to think anymore. He knows what he’s going to do. Even if it hurts him. Even if the grenade is set to go off and destroy his very being, it’s worth it to keep you safe. To keep you content. To keep you away from him.

Best case, you don’t remember last night or don’t bring it up. Worst…

Yoongi knows the ship he’s boarding is bound to sink– that he’s destined to drown. But if it means your happiness, he’d do anything.

The car feels cold. The heat is blasting, but it still feels frozen. Decrepit. All fireplace memories hazing into ice as you ride next to him.

Him.

Fucking him.

Fucking Min Yoongi. The fucking asshole that tore your heart out and stomped on it. The fucking asshole that didn’t even have the decency to talk to you. To explain why the fuck he was being so cold. The fucking asshole that made you feel loved. Like you weren’t alone in the entire universe, only to make you realise you were trapped in a metal box– steaming. Bubbling.

Maybe you aren’t cold. No, you definitely aren’t. You’re steaming. Burning up– ready to explode at the slightest thing. Still a burning blaze because he didn’t fucking let you talk. Just shut you down without a second thought. Without fucking anything.

Not that he owes you anything– he doesn’t owe you a relationship. He doesn’t owe you love, of course not. You’re not dumb enough to think that. But you do know he owes you an explanation. A chance to speak. Years of friendship tell you that much.

Promises tell you that much.

And you can’t fucking stand broken promises. Can’t stand acting like strangers after years of friendship. After all the time spent together. After all of the memories formed, all the bonds created. You don’t deserve to be treated like nothing.

Hell, he probably wouldn’t have even come with you today if you hadn’t texted him. Probably assumed you’d rather go alone or with one of the other people on the crew. Probably– shut up, you decide in that moment to stop making excuses for him. To stop giving him the benefit of the doubt when he treated you as no less than a one-night-stand. A fuck that meant nothing.

Were fucking years of friendship just for that? Just so he could fuck you? This fucking–

You scoff to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. Shaking your head. An outloud reaction to the continued spiral that started this morning, that will continue to brew until it inevitably boils over. Until the pot filled with too much water gets too hot and just boils over.

You never have been able to keep your opinions in. Open book pages laid out for the world to see. Another reason you’ve always been alone– should have stayed alone in your bubble.

“What?” Oh, he wants to talk to you now?

Your eyes shoot over to his figure from the corner of your eye. You can’t believe that yesterday you were smiling at him. You hate that today a piece of you still frets at the trapping of his fingers against the wheel. At his apparent aloof demeanour is automatically disillusioned by the simple movement indicating his nerves.

He always does that when he knows a big storm is coming– when he’s worried about safety, your safety. When he's concerned about whatever events are going to follow. A tick tick tick, fingers tapping delicately one after the other. Not a harsh grab against the wheel, not an unease of temperament. Yoongi, even when nervous or agitated, has always been gentle.

Well, every time except for this morning.

You roll your eyes.

As much as you hate how self destructive you become in times like these, you hate the bubbling feeling even more. Hate the strong emotion that floods your veins, the same one that makes you feel oh-so weak. The same one that makes you need to be strong. Need to be more.

Maybe you wish you could be more like Yoongi– be entirely unaffected by the strong feelings that permeate your being. Maybe you wish you could act as ‘chill’ as him. To separate how you feel from who you are. To be calm even if you want to be brash.

But you can’t. Not when it's about him. Never when it’s about him. Almost like a piece of you continues and will always pull you towards Min Yoongi.

You turn away from him, back to the laptop resting in your lap. “The PAR says a tornado is forming north-east. Head North so we can drop the doppler in the right position.”

“Mm.” He grunts. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t do anything.

You don’t know what you expect him to do anyway. You didn’t give him anything to work with. Yet it doesn’t seem thinking logically is on the table, and you can’t help but get more mad, more frustrated by the second.

“Are we really not going to talk about this?” You’re quiet, almost vulnerable when you ask the question. So quiet he might not even hear. Hanging on the precipice, two winds twisting against each other in equal strength.

Never have you felt this way about another person before. Dejection and anger weigh equally on the soul. You don’t quite know how to handle it. Don’t know how to combat what you’re feeling inside, just knowing the kettle is set to boil.

He doesn’t answer your question.

It was probably a bad idea to text him. Probably equally bad for him to answer and take you. An even worse idea to let the words slip out of your mouth without holding them back.

“Asshole.” The wind starts to pick up speed around the car, sucking you in. Pulling you deeping into the void. It’ll be no time at all before the tornado hits.

“What?” His head jerks backwards, chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail coiled firmly behind him, acting like it isn’t even there. Trying to pretend he isn't there, maybe.

“I said you’re a fucking asshole.” You can’t help the rumble that forms in your heart, the twisted words that spew from your mouth. The subtle ache from every insult you fling.

Almost like you’re attached to him. Like you’re attempting to sever a chain never meant to come undone.

“What the fuck?” Why he’s acting so scandalised, flinching at every word, leaves you almost confused. Almost. Because he has no reason to be confused, at least not in your eyes. Not in the storm's eyes either.

The rumble of thunder hammers outside, deeper into the freeze. Deeper into ash.

“I thought we were going to move past this, (Y/n). We need to be adults here.” He sighs that stupid fucking sigh that you hate. The same one he used in the diner. The same one he used to brush off your feelings. Your chance to speak.

Maybe later you would reflect on how selfish you’re being. Maybe later you would realise how childish you actually are acting. But right now all you can see is red. Right now all you can feel is a part of yourself trying to rip away.

Maybe later you would find out Yoongi is feeling the exact same thing.

But right now, right now all you see is red. All you hear is the beating of hail against the car roof, the image that it is your own heartbeat set in your own mind. Right now all you know is the soul crushing weight of the only man you ever loved pulling away.

Your soulmate– if such things were real, breaking the bond.

“Are you serious? I’m the one that needs to be the adult here? Me?” You scoff, indignant. “You’re the one playing pretend, acting like nothing happened!”

“I told you that we shouldn’t talk about it.”

“You said it was a mistake.” Your eyes are set firm in a glare pointed at him and no one but him. Petty and Spite are your new best friends. Congratulations! “Just tell me if you fucking regret it Yoongi, just tell me.”

“(Y/n).”

“Was it a drunk accident? Did you think I was someone else? Please! I rather you say fucking something than nothing at all! Please just let me be selfish for once! I’m begging for something! Anything!”

…

“We have a job to do. Focus on it rather than us.” You hate that he paused before he spoke, that it gave you some sort of hope. You hate even more that his tone has not once changed– settling from incredulous to neutral. Almost like he exists as nothing but a robot reciting lines. You hate it. You hate it. You hate it.

He makes you feel like a child throwing a tantrum. He makes it feel like your feelings mean nothing. Like everything you trusted him with was all for naught. Are you not expressing yourself well enough? Are you a complete idiot? What the fuck are you doing wrong?! What's wrong?!

“You’re serious?” The logical side of you says he’s right, your job is more important than anything else. But the piece of you falling apart, pulling away and leaving an empty hole inside feels otherwise. You’re convinced you’ve never felt any emotion other than frustration and annoyance.

The car rolls to a stop as a clearing hits– hail ceasing, wind slowing even if it's just a fraction. A calm before the storm. Where you’re meant to ‘dO yOuR jOb’-- fucking asshole. Does he really think you don’t know that? Does he really think that little of you?

“Fucking joke.” You can’t help the dry laugh that exits your lungs as you step out of the car. Your peace, the time you love to spend most in the world set askew, your feelings anything but. You love your time in the storms, but the tornado brewing inside casts a much larger shadow than the one overhead.

Your hands fumble as they move the DOW out of the trunk– an action you’ve done time and time again feeling entirely foreign. Your body clumsy as it carries it to the front, your mouth spewing annoyed half thoughts all the way.

“What?” Yoongi’s window is rolled down, his head leaning out of the front as he asks.

Your eyes circle your skull again, “Fucking joke!” You call, trying to set up the radar. Your body only half in the moment. Half in the clouds.

“This whole thing is one big joke!” You shout, foot kicking the dirt beneath your feet. The storm beginning to dissipate, a swell of rain forming behind your eyelids instead.

“(Y/n) are you serious?!” You hate that his own frustration feels like a punch to the gut.

“I have been this whole time!” You shout, brain finally working to kick the last pieces of the radar in place. In good time too, the wind is picking up again. The tornado will be coming soon.

“Are you?! Are we seriously not going to talk about this?!” Your voice doesn’t feel like your own. It feels foreign, like something deeper inside is speaking for you– like it’s taking control. “Am I seriously just a cheap fuck to you?! Was I really a mistake, Yoongi?! Please, please just tell me.”

“(Y/n), don’t do this to me…” Don’t do this to him? Don’t do this to him?! Does he realise what he’s doing to you? Does he even fucking care? You told him you want him! That nothing could keep you from him– and he doesn’t even have the decency to reject you properly.

Maybe you're the bad guy– the villain for forcing this. For the path of destruction it might cause. But you truly can’t stand this. And maybe, just for once, the consequences mean as little to you as getting swallowed by the storms you’ve always cared for.

Yoongi is your impossible, remember? “But it’s always been about you! Don’t you get that, Yoongi?! It’s always! Always been about you from the second I met you!” You yell, not holding back your shouts. Letting them echo with the thunder coursing through the skies, coursing through your veins. “I’m not asking you to love me! I’m not asking for any of that shit! I just want a rejection!”

What? What the hell are you saying? Why are you asking him to do that? Why are you asking him to do the one thing he can’t do?

He loves you. He loves you so much it keeps him up at night. That it infests his days like a parasite. You’re not asking him to love you? Are you crazy? Do you not see how he looks at you? Do you not see that you’re the person that’s hung all the stars in the night sky?

He can’t reject you. He can’t. His brain won’t let him form the words– his lips never to curl in the right shape to let them out. He can’t reject you because he doesn’t want to– because it would practically kill him to.

He loves you. You’re his mate.

Why couldn’t you just make this easy? Why couldn’t you reject him? Why did you have to look so broken this morning? Why did you like him back? What does it mean? What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to keep fighting when he knows he could have you for himself, for real?

How is he supposed to protect you from him when it feels like he’s ripping a part of himself out when he tries to? He doesn’t want to hurt you. He never wanted to hurt you. He just wants to keep you safe. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you understand that? Why can’t he just have you?

‘No one can keep me from you. You’re for me.’

Your words from last night ring in his ears. Existing as the only thing he can hear, the only thing that matters. Maybe it is. Maybe he’s wrong, maybe–

A sharp beeping suddenly penetrates his ears, a sound resonating from your laptop. A map laid out of the tornado's path.

It's formed– its body barrelling straight for you.

Yoongi looks scared, nervous. His tail uncurling from behind him. Reaching out the window, reaching out to you. “(Y/n)! Get in the car!”

“Shut up!” You’re not listening to him, not listening to a word he says, “I’m not even worth a rejection?! Our friendship means nothing, huh?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” His breathing is accelerating, his heart rate going crazy. He needs to get to you. He needs to protect you. To get in the car and drive as fast and as far as he can so nothing bad happens. “Get in the car!”

“Why does it even matter if I do or not?!” You yell over the sounds of rushed winds, ignoring debris that begin to fly past. Ignoring everything but the man in front of you, just like you’ve done time and time again. “If I get in, you’re just going to pretend nothing happened! You’re going to– you’re going to–”

Tears begin to clog your vision, your words welling up in your throat. Scratching the inside, making you feel like you can’t breathe. Can’t think. Where you want to be strong, you are weak. And where you want to be weak, you feel strong. It’s a strange sort of feeling.

“I can’t just fucking pretend like nothing happened last night, Yoongi!” A sense of peace washes over you, a complete contrast to the storm surrounding, enveloping the world. Acting as a monster, not caring about your feelings, swallowing everything whole. You finally feel at peace, oddly enough.

“I can’t– I can’t just act like everything’s fine! I’ve always been so fucking shit at that, you know that!” You throw your arms up in defeat, standing right in the path of the storm. Almost ready to watch the tornado come into view, to become the storm yourself. “But it feels like– it feels like you’re killing a part of me! Like you’re, you’re pulling out a piece of my very being and I don’t know why! It doesn’t feel real! And I don’t know if I can live without it!”

What? It feels like– it feels like that for you?

Yoongi steps out of the car, his tail curling almost too pleased at his human side’s actions. If it was anyone else, they would think you’re crazy. They would think you’re just being manipulative without a care in the world– but to Yoongi, to hybrids, he knows exactly what you're talking about. He knows the exact same thing. Has felt it every day of his life since he decided he couldn’t have you.

The mate bond. The soulmate tie that will always lead two halves of a conjoined soul together over and over again.

You feel it. Humans aren’t meant to feel it but you do. You feel the same pull, the same bone crushing heartbreak upon rejection from your mate. The same– the same everything Yoongi feels.

He’s the one that's been hurting you like this, the one hurting himself by acting the same. In his bid for protection, he did the opposite. What kind of fucking mate is he? Why didn’t he just listen to the bond? Why didn’t he just let himself follow his heart?

Everything he’s dealt with in his past no longer carries any point. The comments under his stupid post to that stupid forum mean nothing. The words of his “family” are jack shit. The societal implications of him being less than human mean even less– you never saw him as less. His mate cares. His mate sees him.

This is what having a mate feels like? Yoongi thought he would never know. Never understand. But the warmth that feels him now, the subtle yearning he’s suppressed rises to the surface. His feet carrying him automatically, urging him to find you. To take care of you. To keep his mate safe.

“We have to go!” He rushes, his legs moving quickly to try and meet your form. To try and find you.

“No! No!” You shout, your foot stomping into the Earth. In any other scenario, he’d be shaking his head. Laugh at your antics. But right now, all he cares about is getting you to safety, and working on both of your communication skills. “I need you to tell me I’m a mistake! I need you to say I meant nothing!”

There you stand, arms open. Wind rushing past you, eyes closed yet looking straight ahead. You could never mean nothing, you mean everything. It’s his own stupid fault he ever let you think otherwise.

“I just said what I needed to say!” He shouts, his body finally meeting yours in the open field. His hands land on your shoulders, trying to ground you. Hair blowing around him, sticks flying past but never hitting the two of you. Almost like this needed to happen, like fate was set in stone for this very moment.

Your eyes slowly open, and Yoongi thinks the world freezes around him. Misty watersheds sit in your tearline, your eyebrows forming together in confusion with his words. Your lungs raising and falling quickly, chest panting with effort held back. Emotions yet to be unraveled.

If you feel the bond now, how long have you felt it? How confused you must’ve been. Yoongi feels awful.

“Wh-what?” Your voice cracks, cheeks warm and irises searching for an answer. What is he doing? Why is he saying this now? Why does some part of you feel whole again?

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t quite know how to articulate his words. But his body does. His body does what it’s been begging to do since he met you in that library. That he’s been holding back from every day of his stupid, (Y/n)-lacking life.

He leans in, his lips pressing against yours roughly. Trying to tell you all the words he never said, trying to put everything, all of him into one measly kiss. One that means something. One that tells the story of the two of you.

You, you can’t do anything but listen. Your eyes closing, your body returned whole. The piece of you pulling away settling back into your heart like stone. Warmth flooding your veins, home filling your very being. Making you feel safe, making you feel cared for.

And when he finally pulls away, you hear the words you’ve always longed to know, “I love you and I’m sorry.”

Yoongi feels free upon their utterance. A ball chain holding him back breaking– reality setting the world into motion once again. The earth that needs to keep spinning, that needs to keep the two of you afloat.

You should feel mad, but you can’t feel anything but peace. But feel like your soulmate has returned home from a voyage you would never understand.

Before anything else can be said, Yoongi snaps his head to the left. His eyes going wide as the winds begins to form in front of him. Looking as if they’re not moving. As if nothing is moving. “Fuck, fuck.”

He grabs your hand, pulling you back to the car as it starts to take focus in front of your mind, too. Fuzzy feeling fading, eyes going wide as you scramble from his door into your seat. He follows in quickly after you, not even thinking to buckle before taking off. Driving as if his life depends on it– your life depends on it, too.

Sticks flying past the windshield, hitting against the body. Thunderous roars of the world being consumed outside. A tail pressing against your frame, holding you steady. Keeping you in place.

It’s only when you come to safety that all the words needing to be said finally spill out from both of your mouths. When everything is set ‘right’ again instead of feeling oh-so-wrong. It’s only then that he explains everything. That he explains his logic, that he explains how hybrids have soulmates. Don’t forget the scolding he gave– the promises made to each other that the other would never do something so stupid again.

He knows you meant them.

He’ll never forget the way you smiled at him then. When the heaviness left the air and the freedom surrounding the car became almost overbearing. He wishes he could tattoo the places you playfully slapped into his arm. Where you scolded him for keeping this from you. When you told him you would never have a second thought about rejecting him.

When you told him you could never think of a life where he isn’t your mate.

“...Or boyfriend. Or partner. Whatever you wanna call it.”

You’ll never forget his gummy smile in that moment, when he has a possessive hand on your thigh.

“I don’t care. I just want to be yours.”

Wind wraps at your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself a messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in his ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person.

And Yoongi? He can’t help but think you look like an angel enthralled in the storm. One that came to earth. One that was meant to find him. One that was created just for him.

He can’t help but bask in you– bask in his mate as you live in your freedom, your happiness. Gets to be one of the lucky few finding sanctuary in your world. In your bubble made just for you.

He smiles to himself as he watches. Shakes his head like a stupid boy in stupid love that couldn’t be happier. He’s so happy.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening a familiar app that he once looked to for advice all those years ago. Going to the same post he read the replies to over and over again– convincing himself that his impossible couldn’t be reality. He shakes his head as he reads them now, almost feeling foolish for believing him in the first place. Why should he have asked on a human forum anyway? It’s like he was asking to be let down.

As he scrolls, his thumb comes to a stop above a comment he’s never seen before— a recent one. Posted just a few months ago.

RMB_Joon

> Hey! This post is being talked about a lot on another forum specifically for hybrids! :-) I left the link for you as I think it would be a lot more helpful getting perspectives over there! :-) PM me if you ever want to talk.

Yoongi feels a curl of interest grow in his gut. Other hybrids? Interest in his post? He almost wants to know more. Almost wants to follow the inkling leading him to delve deeper into the world of others.

“Yoongi!!” You shout, waving his attention over to where you stand. And suddenly, he doesn’t care about anything else anymore. How could he when he has the whole world in front of him?

He chuckles to himself, marking his post as ‘resolved’ before tucking the device into his pocket. His legs catching into a jog, joining you at your side. Exactly where he should be. Where he’s meant to be.

⋆𐙚 WAHH THERE IT IS!!! I hope you all enjoyed <\\33 pls let me know any of your thoughts!! this is officially the longest fic I’ve ever written, and I put a lot of myself into this piece so I hope u all love it and it isn’t too skdhsksks yk?? MWAH ily © all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

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machisneedle · 1 month ago

Note

hiiii! can I request some hcs (fluff + smut) for chrollo (or any other troupe members) if they have a husband/wife from meteor city (who he grew up with)?

im just rlly tired of ppl constantly making the pt k!snap their s/o’s tbh😕

ty!!!!!

Ofc I can !! <3 also I agree with the kidnapping part , I struggle to find good troupe content that isn't grr yandere zaddy kidnaps you. No hate to those who like that though !

phantom troupe members w a S/O they grew up with !! 🕷️ྀི` .

✧ characters in this are chrollo , feitan , shalnark , pakunoda

✧ content : headcanon format , fluff , smut / not safe for work content , fingering , oral , p in v ( chrollo , feitan , shalnarks part) , angst / death on pakus , also I don't really know how to write male or gn reader so I just did fem !! I hope that's ok.

!! Minors, please do not interact with this post !!

Chrollo 🕷️ྀི` .

✧ growing up with chrollo before the incident with Sarasa's death would be quite sweet tbh , staying up late together , talking about finding new tapes to perform and dub over. You were always a constant in his life , which was comforting for him.

✧ after the trauma of Sarasa's death , It just made him need you around him more. that need for you to be safe lasts into his adult years. This man is so protective of you , not in a cliche get away from my girl type way , no its in the way that your safety is on his mind alot. Especially with the line of work he's in. Probably keeps a troupe member with you at most times when he's not home , just in case.

✧ with the fact you grew up together , you already knew the troupe before it existed , so it would be something he couldn't really hide from you.

✧ I'm a firm believer in that chrollo is suffering from insomnia or some disorder that is similar. like this man is never asleep first when you're both in bed , when he finally puts his book away to sleep you can feel his arms snake around your waist as he breathes in your nostalgic scent. He doesn't get many times to relax nor to be so close to you due to the troupe, but he enjoys these moments more than anything , It brings him back to a simpler time.

✧ you both visit meteor City quiet abit (i'd also like to think you got married there) , seeing you pass out new clothes and food to the kids who live there warms his heart , it makes him remember why he fell for you in the first place.

✧ you were his first time and the only woman he wants to pleasure. I feel like growing up with him makes being intimate just that much more passionate , he fucks you like he might never see you again (which is a possibility If he isnt careful enough with protecting you , the reality makes his heart ache.) . Whispering the dirtiest but softest praises into your ear , acting like he isn't making you moan so loud under him , your voice might give out.

✧ this man eats pussy SO well , after the first time he eats you out your just stunned for a second , like what magic did this man just cast on your pussy to make you feel this good. He probably read a book about it or something. Also defo would eat you out because he likes it not for anything in return , your needs come first for him.

✧ about seeing you helping out the kids in meteor City thing I mentioned. when your home be ready. He doesn't have a breeding kink , but the thought of you taking care of his child and doing motherly activities makes him so happy he can't help but want to get you pregnant the second you close the front door. Get ready for a long night , he has stamina , and he won't be stopping till you're absolutely full of his loads. He'd whisper to you how "I should of done this so much sooner , my darling" or "feeling you this raw is pure bliss... like I'm fully claiming you in body and mind."

✧ 100% into cock warming you while reading a book. No one will change my opinion.

Feitan🕷️ྀི` .

✧ when you first met him , he avoided you like the plague. Honestly , at first you thought he hated your guts. Whenever you hung out with him and his friends , he'd refuse to reply to you but he didn't mean it in a rude way he just didn't want to embarrass himself around you because of how bad his english was.

✧ phinks eventually told you why he wouldn't talk to you , which made you feel somewhat bad ? To communicate with him for a while , you used a pen and some paper you found in the garbage heeps writing down what you said to help him learn some English.

✧ the first time hearing his voice is SHOCKING , he wrote down how he didn't want to because it sounded bad but you thought his voice was soothing which you told him , making him a bit more comfortable around you.

✧ As he grew up , he got more reserved but you didn't care sticking to him like glue , he could complain as much as he wanted saying you where wasting your time being around him or that it's too dangerous for you to stick with him but his words never held any malice more concern that you would get hurt by something or his actions but he'd never admit to having such 'weak' thoughts.

✧ like chrollo , he's another protective boy , but he doesn't trust anyone else with protecting you but himself. Would break someone's neck for looking at you in a way he didn't like , oh and don't even get me started if someone tries to hit on you because they think he's just some short loser who got lucky... let's just say later that night you will hear some screaming coming from the basement (aka where he does his work).

✧ you definitely know about the troupe , he's probably the only one who will outright tell you before you can ask. I mean , he literally tortures people... when you move in together , he literally can't hide it , so he's just honest with you. Another thing if the screams from the basement freak you out and you complain he probably will be grumpy about it , but he will line the walls down there to make it not as loud.

✧ for feitan knowing him from childhood will 100% be the easiest way for him to be comfortable around you , feitan just doesn't like people to be honest but your company is actually enjoyable for him.

✧ another cute thing I can imagine is him trying to teach you his native language like you taught him some English. You telling him you love him in his native tongue... the things that does to him.

✧ both of your firsts times are with each other. Honestly , sometimes you doubt he would have ever even had sex if it wasn't for you. Your first time was... not the best because you both had no idea what to do really , but after that mess of a first time , he definitely went to chrollo or phinks for advice. Another thing is not to make fun of him for it , it would really hurt his ego and he'd probably avoid you for a couple weeks.

✧ he is still a total sadist don't get me wrong but with you he's softer , he can't bring himself to hurt you alot. The worst he can do is bite you or slap you , anything else makes him feel icky because it reminds him of his work too much. He still finds your tears really hot though , and will overstim you just to see them.

✧ the first time he finger you , it was surprising how good he was with his hands (for a torturer , I guess you have to be). He's so unfair when he fingers you , he hits spots so deep you see colours then he'll pull back just near your climax saying he didn't say you could finish yet with a dumb smirk on his face as tears threaten to fall from your pathetic looking eyes.

✧ probably doesn't want kids even if you knew him that long his opinion wouldn't change , if you asked he'd say "no. I dont like kids" but really , he didn't mind kids he just didn't want to bring more kids into a world like this.

✧ super random but has eaten you out in your period before , he doesn't think it's a big deal... like he's around blood everyday ? What difference does it make.

Shalnark 🕷️ྀི` .

✧ he definitely mocked and teased you a lot when you were younger. Stealing your shoes when you where acting on the stage with everyone else or messing up your cute braids in your hair , but he never meant it in a mean way , it was his weird way of showing he liked you.

✧ probably the only one out of the guys to realise he had a crush on you as a kid , would cope by being even more of a little shit to you till he went to far one day and actually upset you , which led to admitting he was only mean to you because he had a silly little crush.

✧ this man is sooo clingy to you , he gives pathetic vibes like you can't leave this mf alone for a couple hours without getting messages like , 'babeeee I miss you (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )' and 'come homeeee pretty please ? ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡' (yes I believe he uses emoticons). When he's busy on troupe work he's calling you every hour it feels like , feeding you some lies about being on a work trip.

✧ he wouldn't be honest about the troupe with you. You know all the members as you grew up with them , but he thought leaving you in the dark was better. If you asked too many questions , he'd probably tell you you're being delulu. he doesn't want to lie to you but your safety is too important to him and he knows he isn't like feitan and chrollo , he can't always protect you.

✧ he's not yandere , but he is a bit obsessed with you , having cameras in the rooms in his house so he can watch you when he's lonely on a mission. He wouldn't take advantage of the fact he can see you without you knowing , if you started to change clothes or something , he'd turn the screen off. If he wanted to see you naked he'd literally just ask for nudes or look at old pics you sent him.

✧ your first time was... Good ? Shalnark actually knew what to do , mostly from how much porn he's watched to prepare for the day he finally got to do it. Side note he also made you finish during your first time.

✧ he's such a service top when he doms , he struggles to tease you because of how needy for him you sound , can you blame him though when you look so pretty under him ?

✧ whenever he is busy on work for the troupe but he misses you , he always ends up calling you even if you're in public , whispering sweet praises into your ear through the phone asking you to go to somewhere private because he misses you. "Baby... please ? It's been a week and I'm so needy for you" his whiney voice would beg at you , he was too cute to deny.

✧ he loves seeing you in really girly lingerie. It makes you look so innocent that he feels bad for having such perverse thoughts about you.

Pakunoda 🕷️ྀི` .

✧ while you were trying to catch an injured kitten to help it , crawling over the heep of trash it ran over , you saw a blonde young girl you soon learned who's name was pakunoda holding it , softly stroking its fur as it snuggled up into her. Her caring and nurturing personality has been known since the day you met her.

✧ you two were like two peas in a pod , always cheering her on in the audience when she was on stage with the rest of her friends acting out the tapes. It was so silly , but you both had made a pinky promise that when you grew up you would get married.

✧ after Sarasa's death , she abandoned you to focus on the troupe. She left you with a kiss on the cheek and a "I promise when we grow up , I'll find you... and I won't stop till I do." Being forced out as she looked at your form , hands shaking tears forming and soft begs for her not to leave.

✧ you had no clue how she did it but after you left meteor City and moved to yorknew she found you , waiting for her felt like waiting for glue to dry and when she came back she refused to ever leave you again.

✧ she isn't possessive I'd say , but she does sometimes check your memories to make sure you don't do anything bad when she isn't around. She doesn't worry about your safety as much as the others also because no one knows your her s/o but you both.

✧ she told you about the troupe after you demanded an explanation for her leaving you , though she didn't explain her nen ability to you yet mainly just because she doesn't think you're ready for that.

✧ got you a cat called ophelia , it reminds her of how you both first met and she also likes for you to have company when she's busy.

✧ you weren't each others first times , but with how loving and passionate it felt like it was your first time , you would never forget the feeling of her nails running down your spine as she whispered sweet nothings into your ears , leaving lipstick marks on your jaw.

✧ she doesn't like strap-ons , Likes to think her hands and mouth are enough to make you fulfilled , but if you ask her to use a vibrator on you she wouldn't mind.

✧ LOVES when you sit on her face , her nose is built for grinding on as she eats you out. If you were worried about crushing her , she'd spend a good couple minutes lecturing you about your weight was nothing to her and if she did 'die' being crushed by you , it would be a perfectly fine death for her in her mind.

✧ you would only learn about her nen ability when she found out she was the one to have to go get the boss. She had called you after telling the troupe about you , then explained the situation , asking you to go to the location of the troupes base incase this was the last time she could contact you.

✧ after she got kurapikas chain around her heart , she already knew her fate. After the deal went well getting the boss back , she came to the troupes base. Your wet eyes looked at her as you ran to her , falling to your knees , hugging waist. She felt guilty knowing what she was about to do. she ended up using a memory bullet on you instead of one of the troupe members , you deserve an explanation after you spent most of your life waiting for her.

✧ after her death , you kept her gun , keeping it as your last reminder of her you could bare to keep around yourself. Every once in a while , someone in the troupe would send u a message from a random number to see if you were okay the first year after. You were also set for life as everything she had went to you , but it never filled that hole in your heart.

✧ that promise of marriage never happened , huh ?

Omg I got abit carried away on pakus LOL. But I hope you enjoy <3

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kroosluvr · 5 months ago

Text

The audience was awaiting the famed Detective Prince and the one-and-only Kasumi Yoshizawa who ended up no-showing... but two new skaters suddenly step onto the rink and make it a show to remember!

a fabricated stage... made for the detective prince and kasumi yoshizawa, filled with slogans and empty seats and mirrors that remind them that this isn't their stage... HOWEVER!!! THE SPOTLIGHTS ARE STILL ON AND THE RINK IS STILL ICECOLD SO ITS SHOWTIME BABYYYYY they throw all that expectation out the window and do their thing regardless AND WHAT A SHOW IT IS!!!!

i thinkthe fact that all the seats are empty is funny as fuck. no one came to see them...... but they got some fans throwing roses at the end!!! (in my head it's joker especially if this showtime is developed during long winter au so their Only other teammate Is joker.) (i havent rlly thoughgt abt When this happens tho teeheebonk... up to ur interpretation...)

i noticed in the other showtimes theres some that have like.. logos?? slogans?? namely the ryuji/yusuke makoto/haru haru/morgana and akira/goro ones so i DEFINITELY wanted to include that in here (i feel like most of the showtimes have stuff incorporatingtheir pthief names except for a few??? they hsld have included it in all ofthem its so cute)

figure skating... physically intensive and demanding sport that requires a lot of precise maneuvers and finesse which suits the two of them quite nicely!!

i wanted to include the "sayonara suckers" line. atlus why did u cut that out its so cute.

i think for these two you could def do a more serious showtime or a sillier/cuter one like this but since crow already got a pretty serious one w joker (and violet also w the flashback of kasumi and all) i went for Sillycute.... tho this could also be a little depressing if u think abt the premise KJFHKASDHAKSJ

goro is carrying her on his shoulder or something on the last page! i imagine after the slashes on pg2 he scoops her up nd spins her around and then the camera pans in on her then she waves but yeah. HEHEHEH

thinking abt it more the joker/violet and joker/crow showtime r kinda like acknowledging their past while this one acknowledges their future :’)))

edit: srry ikeep remembering more stuff . i think the idea of them performing on an empty stage, in a field (figure skating) that isn't either of theirs, yet enjoying it and havign fun regardless of how good they are, is super important to me KASDHAJKSDHA as long as its theirs, thats what matters...!! as long as they]re wholeheartedly THEMSELVES...!!!! who cares abt audience expectations or Who they want you to be or What you look like in the mirror!! you're still you!!!

this goes out to royaltriodaily on twt I HOPE U SEE THIS SOMEHOW UEUEEE UEEEE

#goro akechi #sumire yoshizawa #persona 5 royal #akesumi #violetcrow #cele draws #long winter

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becgenius · 6 months ago

Text

BIKER!SYLUS WHO...

!! street racing au, reader not mc, female reader, established relationship, petnames, reader has hair, smut, semi-public sex not rlly, size kink, m!receiving oral, dacryphilia, helmet stays on during sex, hair pulling kinda, cum swallowing, masturbation, lightly proofread, lowercase intended

wc. 1.5k

nsfw under the cut. minors dni.

biker!sylus who invites you to every one of his street races.

he says it's because you're good luck. it's really because the one thing he loves more than winning these races is seeing you proudly run up to congratulate him after doing so.

you both know he doesn't need 'good luck' to win; winning has always been a guarantee for him.

biker!sylus who gets you your own set of bike gear when you start dating.

your own pair of gloves, your own jackets, boots, helmets, body armor, balaclavas - you name it.

not to mention that he buys you multiple of each. a set in your favorite color, one in the color he loves seeing you wear, and one that matches his own gear.

biker!sylus who, nonetheless, thinks you look the best when wearing his gear.

biker!sylus who therefore loves to give you his leather jacket to watch his races. he wants everyone to know that you're his; that you’re there for him, and him only.

the cold air of the night nips at your cheeks as you stand watching the race. you're pretty sure there are five racers in total on the track, but everyone's focused on the two bikes practically leading the race.

you know that sylus is one of them. however you aren't sure if he's on the first or second bike. definitely the first, who were you kidding.

the fluorescence of the colorful traffic lights and blaring headlights contrasts sharply with the night's darkness and overwhelms your vision, and there’s the bass-boosted music from a nearby sports car clashing with the conversations of strangers and screech of tires against asphalt.

it seems that tonight's commentator - some guy with a megaphone - is also having a difficult time distinguishing the two leading racers. the sound is all distorted and you can only catch phrases at a time. you hear him refer to the racers as bike a and bike b. not helpful at all.

mentally scolding your past self for underdressing, you hug sylus's gifted jacket closer to your body and press your legs together as you stand among the crowd: your best attempt at preserving body heat. you're beginning to get annoyed with the loud audience around you and the way the wind is blowing strands of your hair into your glossed lips.

eventually, thankfully, one of the bikes ahead wins. you still haven't identified the driver; nevertheless, you approach the finish line… and so does what seems like every other person around you.

he sees you before you see him. you're about to call him but he catches your attention by a simple flash of his bike's headlights.

you see him leaning against his bike, stuffing a wad of cash into his jacket's inside pocket.

"there you are, dear. did you enjoy the race?" he removes his helmet, in turn revealing the sweaty, sticky mess of hair underneath, and holds his free hand out to you.

"sy! i almost lost you!" despite your outcry, you still manage to take his hand and allow him to help you onto the back of his bike.

"don't i always tell you to look for me wherever the winner is?" humble as always. but you can't blame him.

he slips the helmet he had just worn over your head and adjusts the chin strap. from your neck up, you're enveloped in the heat that was previously trapped inside the headgear. finally, he flips the visor down, and your vision tints black as your breath fogs up a spot on the glass.

biker!sylus who thinks it’s the cutest thing, seeing you perched atop his huge bike, wearing not only his helmet but also his jacket, both much too large on you.

biker!sylus who is more than happy to humor you when you tell him that you have a reward for him after winning a particularly close race.

biker!sylus who, after parking and turning his bike off in his private garage, stays put, because you told him to. he’s suspicious, curious, but never doubtful.

with the amount of vehicles parked within, it may as well be considered parking lot. fortunately, all you see are sylus’s insane collection of cars and bikes. no people in sight.

he's, again, leaned up against his bike, holding you upright as you press your chest against his and kiss him.

the kissing is deep and passionate and he loves it because he loves the feeling of your lips on his. but the kiss is also too short.

he is confused when you abruptly pull away from him wearing a sly grin. he's even more confused when you take the helmet from his bike seat and place it over his head, concealing his face.

"what's all this now, hm sweetie?" he asks.

biker!sylus whose eyes widen in both shock and understanding when you slowly lower yourself before him; not that you can see it though, from your tinted reflection in his helmet.

" 'm giving you your reward, of course."

biker!sylus who helps you undo his belt and shove his pants down enough to where you can comfortably hold his exposed erection in your hands.

he's dense and girthy, and it takes two of your hands to fully grasp him.

you look up, innocently smiling, to his concealed face as you kneel below him, soft cheek pressed against his hard dick before you slide his tip into your now open mouth.

he groans from above. loud. the helmet does nothing to muffle his noises, you learn.

"i love seeing this side of you, baby…" you feel his fingers run across the sides of your head, pulling hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail.

there's something that turns him on so much about seeing your seemingly innocent eyes gaze up at him while doing such a crude act as sucking his dick. he becomes impossibly harder inside your mouth.

you give him an agreeing hm in response, lips still surrounding his cock, and the vibrations send shivers down his spine.

tears run down your sore cheeks when you begin to pick up your pace. your jaw hurts from forcing it open so long and hollowing your cheeks for this amount of time has made them sensitive.

your head bobs itself efficiently up and down his length. you’re mindful of your teeth, and you use your tongue to swirl around his girth.

the only noises heard in sylus' garage were his moans, your gagging, as well as the squelching and slurping of you sucking him dry.

you don't notice that he releases your hair to wipe your fallen tears, and you gladly accept the attention. "such a good girl. you look so pretty sucking my cock like this."

his sweet, albeit vulgar, words were getting to you, and you feel yourself becoming more and more aroused.

so while your dominant hand is wrapped around sylus' dick, jerking off the length around his base that your mouth couldn't reach, your free hand slips down under your waistband and between your thighs to relieve your aching clit.

you continue sucking him off at that same pace, until he suddenly gets impatient. his hands find their way back to your head and guides it back and forth at a much faster pace.

at this point, you relax, fully allowing sylus to take control. your only focus is to keep your lips wrapped around his cock and to not choke; that, and your hand in your pants.

"fuck, princess, i'm gonna cum." he spits out in between pants. he flips his visor up to breathe in the fresh air and you notice that the screen's been completely fogged. "i want you to come too. think you do that for me?"

his head falls back after he sees your nod and a loud moan escapes from the back of his throat. your fingers move faster and press harder on your clit as you let sylus direct your head at whichever speed he pleases.

his cock twitches in your mouth, a telltale sign, before his hand on the back of your head stops moving and your mouth is suddenly filled with sylus's cum instead of his dick, which he pulls out with a pop.

you reach your own climax in seconds, eyes rolling and mouth hanging open as your fingers speed up and your cunt spasms around nothing.

sylus's cum is close to spilling out from the corners of your mouth as you fully take in your orgasm, but he stops it from doing so when he presses a gentle finger under your chin, sealing your lips and commanding an authoritative "swallow" that makes you do so without thinking twice.

he fully removes the helmet to catch his breath, chest dramatically heaving. you finally make eye contact with his dilated pupils.

he smirks at your dazed state, finding the whole situation amusing.

"who knew you had it in you?" he chuckles, shaking his head, "you're a naughtier girl than you look."

biker!sylus who wins street races, but only considers himself a winner as long as he has you to show him that he is!!!!!!

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illbegottenfaith · 1 month ago

Text

maybe stay here forever (inspired by packing it up by gracie abrams)

the holidays have you feeling sentimental over yours and theo's relationship (theo nott x reader)

a/n - 100 followers in a little over a month is very much insane for me, and like any other writer I rlly appreciate every interaction with my fics <3 also im trying to work on making mutuals (esp with other writers!) but man it does NOT help that im so incurably shy, anyways enjoy!!

tropes/warnings - tw descriptions of grief and anxiety, established relationship, domestic bliss, more angst than I anticipated, an outtake ft. petty!theo throwing down with a 13-year-old

word count - 2.6k

"Y/N! PHONE!”

You placed your butterbeer down with a thunk, weaving your way from your table to the telephone at the counter. Your friend Ivy handed it to you before disappearing into the crowd. You knew who it was even before pressing your ear to the receiver.

“This is highly illegal, as you very well know,” you said breathlessly. "Randy hates anyone using his phone."

“Relax. Ivy said he's gone into the back.”

Even through a telephone line, your boyfriend's voice gave you a giddy sort of thrill. Still, you glanced at the back door anxiously. “For now. What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. Just wanted to hear you sound deliciously panicky.”

“Unbelievable. I’m risking being banned from Hogsmeade’s only pub for nothing?”

“What’s the point of having a girlfriend,” Theo wanted to know, “if she won’t enable your illegal endeavours?”

You rolled your eyes. “So, did you manage a game between the four of you?”

“Eh. It was…something. I’m not sure if anyone would call it Quidditch, though.”

“Oh?”

“You should join us next time. The flying, screaming - you’d love it.”

"Rude." The one time Theo had managed to wheedle you into at least trying to play Quidditch with him and some of your friends had not ended very well for you. In your defense, heading straight for the ground sounded like a much safer option than waiting around to be hit by a Bludger.

“You’re still watching the back door, aren’t you?”

You stiffened, eyes sweeping across the crowded pub. He wasn’t here, was he? He did love messing with you. You shook yourself. Of course not, you were using the only telephone in the vicinity. “Am not,” you sniffed injuredly. "Anyway, what are you up to now?"

"I'm about to go down to the shops to run your errands. What did you need, again?"

"Butterbeer fla - are you writing this down?"

"No need, I'll remember."

You frowned. "Teddy, you always say that, and you always forget something."

"Not this time. Shoot."

You huffed. With how aggravating Theo could be, he was lucky he had such a pretty face. "Butterbeer flavoured popcorn, for the popcorn garlands. If they only have regular, don't bother, I have bags and bags of those. New Christmas lights, because one of the bulbs blew out. Wrapping paper, someone's bound to need it. Hm, what else...that disgusting peppermint tea you love - "

"I don't love peppermint tea. It's...it's not bad, that's all."

"Fibber. You cleaned us out last year."

"And I'll do it again if you keep throwing around these unlawful accusations."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, listen - bring Mattheo along with you, will you?"

Having just broken up with his girlfriend, Matteo's Christmas plans fell through at the last minute. You couldn't help it was in your nature to worry. You heard the distant rustle of parchment crackle over the phone. Ah - ha, fibber indeed. "Alright, but for the last time, he's doing perfectly fine on his own." You heard him folding the list up. "He's a grown man, Y/N."

Your tone turned reproachful. "It's the holidays. No one should have to spend the holidays alone, remember?"

"Don't you have your own friends to fret over?"

"They're all going home. You only have yourself to blame for being within arm's reach, you know."

"If I'd known you were going to be this meddlesome I'd have stayed far, far away."

"Please. Like you could have resisted my charms."

You could imagine the teasing look he'd be giving you.

"Speaking of charms, how does a charm bracelet sound? Would you like that?"

You sighed. For some reason, you were having a particularly difficult time thinking of something to ask for this Christmas. You kept putting it off, and now it was less than two weeks away. Theo was doing his best to help, though it did get a bit grating when he'd point out every item in a shop one by one.

"I still don't know," you said helplessly. "Rain-check? Again?"

"Fine. But you don't have much time left." You heard him unfolding the list. "So, for today, butterbeer flavoured popcorn, Christmas lights, wrapping paper and peppermint tea?"

"Yep. Thanks, Teddy."

"Anything for you, doll." Theo cleared his throat and dropped his voice a couple of pitches.

"So what are the odds I can convince you to wear that green little number to tonight's party?"

You grinned at the pub counter flirtatiously. "I don't know. How badly do you want to see me in it?"

Theo groaned. "Going to make me beg for it, baby?"

"In a manner of speaking." You glanced back at the back door, just in case. "Haven't you learned? Sweet-talking will get you everywhere with me." Your eyes drifted to your table, where Ivy was impatiently waving you over. "Damn. I have to go. Ivy looks like she's about to have a coronary."

"Wearthedre-"

You wore the dress. You could be cruel, but not that cruel. It was a cosy sort of party, with friends and friends of friends milling around. You were sitting in Theo's lap on one of the couches, the two of you trying to talk over the music.

" - and so I said to Ivy, if he can't be bothered to even say hi when there's other people around, then that shows how little respect he has for you, and he'll only get worse the more you let him get away with it, and - and I'm rambling."

Theo's mouth quirked into that special smile he reserved just for you. "Only a little. It's very becoming, if that's what you're worried about."

"Yeah, right."

"It is, but only because it's coming from you."

You fiddled with Theo's hair, trying to fix a cowlick of his. "So what did you do today?"

"We got the popcorn, the tea, the wrapping paper. Matteo got a little too excited with the lights."

You raised your eyebrows. "Do tell."

"Mind you, he's never shopped for anything in his life. He has house elves for that."

"Kind of like you when we first met," you teased lightly.

"I don't think he was expecting so many options. He kept winding each type around his limbs to compare. I think the insulation was faulty on one of them so he got a mild electrical shock."

You gasped. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, as far as I could tell. I think he kind of liked it, to be honest."

"Of course he did." You wrinkled your nose. "Then what did you do?"

"Freed him, obviously."

"And then?"

"Then we got the same lights we always do."

"And then?"

Theo shook his head, bemused, and tugged at a lock of your hair. "And then nothing. And then we left. And then I changed and came straight up to the party to find my nuisance of a girlfriend."

You laughed. Theo wasn't being particularly funny, but it was hot and your hair was sticking to the back of your neck and you were high off the thrill that came with being perfectly in sync with your favourite person. In short, you were too buzzed to care. You were flushed, either from the alcohol or the feel of Theo's hand steadily creeping up your thigh.

"I have some bad news, though."

You sat up and scowled. "What?"

"I couldn't get us out of my family's Christmas dinner."

You groaned. You had half a mind to drown Theo in what was left of your drink.

"C'mon, Y/N," he cajoled, "iwe'll only be there a couple of days. Tis the season of giving."

"Sure, I'll give them a push down the stairs."

Theo stifled a snort and plucked the drink out of your hand. "Okay, that's enough punch for you. Speaking of..." He glanced somewhere behind you, sitting up a little and, frustratingly, pulled his hand off your thigh. "The punch bowl might need refilling."

"Don't," you whined, dragging his hand back to where it was a moment ago. "Let Enzo do it. We don't get to see enough of each other as it is."

Theo sighed. "So you're just never going to let me leave?"

"I can't help it," you said, "I like the way you speak. I love hearing you talk." You rested your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering close. "Promise you'll never quit talking to me."

"Done," he murmured against your lips, a hand sliding to the small of your back.

Hours later, you felt yourself stirring. It was the middle of the night, long after the two of you had gone to bed. You regretfully peeled your eyes open, trying to figure out what had woken you up.

Theo was lying next to you. It took a few more blinks to see that he was breathing harder than normal, the moonlight filtering through the window casting a sickly pallor on his face. His breathing quickened till it bordered on hyperventilating, a restlessness spreading through his body as he uselessly clenched at the sheets.

The first night you had witnessed this, you had gone absolutely ballistic. You thought he was having a seizure. After an awkward conversation between a highly uncomfortable Theo and a panic-stricken you, you learned that it wasn't its first, or last, occurrence.

They weren't nightmares, exactly. If they were, Theo would forget them by the time he was shaken awake, and only the residual tremour in his limbs would be left. They were more akin to bouts of subconscious panic and despair surfacing from the recesses of his mind. Some nights, he recovered quickly, falling back to sleep in under an hour. Other nights, you'd hear him creep out of the room so as not to wake you while he whiled away the hours to dawn.

As hard as Theo tried, bless him, he struggled to put an explanation for these attacks into words. You guessed that it might have something to do with the sudden, unexpected departure of certain loved ones from his life after one mildly confusing fight. You had slipped out of bed early one morning, while Theo was still asleep, to get a headstart on your work for the day. A couple of hours later, when he found you in the Slytherin common room and immediately started going off on you, still in his pajamas, you found out how much waking up in an empty bed freaked Theo out.

Now, you shoved Theo hard on the shoulder. His eyes flew open, anxiously twitchy, as his breathing started slowing down. Still half-asleep, you snuggled up to him, pressing an ear to his chest. You could hear his heart pounding under his T-shirt. After a moment or so, once he'd recovered from the shock, he tentatively wrapped his arms around you.

You squeezed an arm around him as well. "'M here," you mumbled into his shirt. You could feel him taking deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down as he distractedly stroked your hair. Slowly, bit by bit, you felt him relax around you as you started to doze off. There the both of you stayed, a tangle of limbs, till the morning.

one year ago

You were sitting in the Astronomy Tower one chilly autumn night, having escaped from the party your friends had dragged you to. The holidays had just begun, and in the coming days, most people would be going home or carrying out their respective plans. Most people didn't include you. This year, more than anything, you wanted to be alone. Your friends assumed you were going home for the holidays, and your family assumed you were spending them with your friends at Hogwarts, and to be completely honest, you didn’t see the need to correct either of them.

You looked up, straining your ears as you heard disembodied footsteps approaching you. A minute later, Theodore Nott emerged from the shadows.

“Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head as Theo settled with his back against a pillar, stretching one overly-long leg towards you while bending the other. You had seen him at the party for the first fifteen minutes you were there. He looked delightfully comfortable in a loose, casual denim button-down. It felt a little odd to think of him as an acquaintance when you saw him nearly weekly while your other friends caught up. But at the same time, there was a tinge of awkwardness in the silence stretching out between the two of you. You weren’t even sure if he knew your name. Now, he was pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his jean pocket.

“Is it okay if I -?”

You shrugged wordlessly, still in a bit of a daze. As far as you could remember, you had never been in a one-on-one setting with Theo. It wasn’t that you avoided each other; it just never came to it. You had plenty of mutual friends acting as a buffer between you two.

All you knew about him was that your families’ tax brackets were far apart enough to mean you’d likely never see him again after Hogwarts. And after getting bruised and beaten by one too many failed relationships, you were kind of over trying to reach out or connect with new people.

And so Theodore's familial prestige was all you took note of. That, you thought as you watched him sigh in relief after the first drag of his cigarette, and his mildly concerning nicotine addiction.

You risked a sidelong glance at him to find him unabashedly looking right at you. But with him sitting perpendicular to you, you were in his direct eye line. Where else was he supposed to look? Literally anywhere else, you wished, as you returned his gaze with an awkward half-smile.

“So, Y/N,” Theo was saying, tapping ash off his cigarette. So he did know your name. You decided then that you were right - you had never been in such an intimate capacity with him before. After all, you weren’t one to forget someone saying your name like…like that. Like he harboured some secret fascination with it, from the way he let it linger on his tongue. “Any special holiday plans?”

You shook your head wordlessly. Theo gave a slight frown.

“You do speak, don’t you?”

You scoffed. “…yes. Obviously.” He’d seen you talk in front of him. Maybe not to him, but he knew you could speak perfectly fine. Your tongue currently feeling like cardboard was an entirely separate mystery.

“Going home?”

You hesitated. Theo was neither friend nor family, but for some inexplicable reason, that made it all the more difficult to lie to him. You blamed it on the smoke, it must have been making you nauseous. That, or his relentlessly demanding stare.

“I only ask because Ivy mentioned you were.”

You gave him a look, mildly peeved. If he already knew, what was he prodding around for? The cooler, more rational part of your mind pointed out that he might just have been trying to make polite conversation, and that a normal person who didn’t keep secrets like you wouldn’t be having this kind of a reaction.

“Yeah. I leave…soon.” Not for the holidays, though.

“That’s funny,” Theo continued pleasantly, “because I heard you mention to Matteo that you were staying here with the girls.”

You froze. Crap. How were you going to explain your way out of this one?

“So?” You couldn’t keep the defensive edge out of your voice. Maybe if you acted confident enough, he wouldn’t realise anything was amiss.

“So…you’re lying to someone.” He tapped his cigarette again, irritatingly casual, as if you were only discussing the weather.

“Why are you so interested in my holiday plans anyway?” you asked crossly, pulling your cardigan tighter around you as a chilly breeze started picking up.

Theo raised his eyebrows. He had the gall to look thrown off, as if he wasn’t the one pursuing the topic.

“People don’t normally lie about their holiday plans. You do realise that, right?”

Oddly enough, something in his tone made you feel embarrassed over being caught in a lie. Scratch that, it was embarrassing to have Theodore Nott catch you in a lie. What for, anyway? He was hardly the most honest person himself. Probably. You felt the back of your neck heat up. You desperately wished he would look away.

“What’s it to you?”

Theo opened his mouth before closing it again. He stewed in his thoughts for a minute while his jaw worked, as if he were trying to find the right words.

“You shouldn’t be alone on the holidays.”

You worried your bottom lip. Was this…concern?

“Maybe I want to be alone.”

“Do you?”

His otherwise dead eyes looked so inquisitive - so piercing yet unnervingly honest for someone as prone to manipulation as him. You couldn’t bring yourself to lie to those eyes. You dropped your gaze to where your fingers were fidgeting with the hem of your skirt.

“It’s complicated.”

“So explain.”

You laughed humourlessly. “They wouldn’t understand.”

You watched the shadows on the tower’s floor shift. You looked up to see Theo finishing off his cigarette as he moved to join you, looking out at the same Hogwarts grounds you were facing. It seemed to make it easier, this pseudo-confession, without the brunt of his needling stare.

Here was someone you didn’t feel the urge to explain yourself to. You felt…less alone. Like you finally had someone unequivocally on your side. It had been a long time since you felt that way.

Even with the slight distance between you, you could feel the body heat he radiated. You leaned towards him slightly, but you told yourself it was only because he was blocking the wind and you were sick of shivering. Perhaps you weren’t as subtle as you would have liked, because he stretched an arm around you, running his hand up and down your arm to warm you up as you sank into his heat gratefully. You didn’t have the heart to pull away. You didn’t want to pull away.

“You could explain it to me, you know.” Theo glanced down to where you were resting your head on his shoulder. “If you wanted.”

You toyed with the idea. So, basically, I’m sick of every relationship I’ve been in falling flat, and lately I’ve been feeling like even my friends don’t understand me, so you’ve caught me just as I’m giving up on it - love, that is, romantic or otherwise. You pulled a face. It sounded far too melodramatic even in your own head. Still, you tried.

“Have you ever felt like…giving up?” Theo’s brow furrowed even more. “No, not - I’m not suicidal. Just…when everything gets too exhausting, and reaching out just feels so…”

“Once.”

You hesitated. You weren’t expecting him to agree. Sympathise, maybe.

“After my mother died.”

“…oh.”

Could you sound any more stupid? But you couldn’t help it - in a group of friends who regularly made cracks at each other’s Death Eater fathers, Theo’s mother was a strictly off-limits topic.

"It was a couple of years back." Theo's voice sounded different now; blithe and almost aggressively neutral. "In front of me. I didn't realise until it was too late, but she was my best friend." He paused, idly tracing the lines on his palm, but you got the distinct impression that he was trying very hard to discuss something that was very difficult to talk about.

“I was -“ he broke off with a sharp bark of laughter that sounded as painful as it was unexpected. “I was angry, actually. Fucking livid. Angry at my dad, for being such a piece of shit. Angry at myself, for every time I thought I was too cool to spend time with her. Angry at her because…because it was too soon, and she was all I had. And she knew that.”

Theo had a white knuckle grip on the edge of the tower’s floor, looking dangerously close to trembling. Every ridge in his face stood taut with the ache of poorly healed emotional wounds. “She knew it. She fucking knew it.”

You placed a hand over his. He drummed his fingers restlessly against the floor, and you could feel the agitation seeping out of him as his breathing evened out.

“How did you get over it? The anger?”

Theo gave you a strange, almost pitying look.

“I’m angry nearly every day of my life, Y/N.”

He sighed and dropped his head, finally leaning into you as well, his hand drifting innocently along your arm as he talked, as if you were old friends. “But if Matteo and the others have drilled anything in my head over the years, it’s that isolating yourself is the real killer.”

Your fists were clenched tightly in your lap. It was almost comforting, seeing how your body language mirrored each other's. You didn't think you would ever feel ready to do it once more, letting yourself be susceptible to heartbreak or loss, in this lifetime or the next, but perhaps...perhaps you could manage. For him. You turned slightly, burying your face into his neck and closing your eyes.

“I suppose…I could try," you started in a small voice, partially muffled by Theo's shirt. You took a deep breath in. God, his neck smelled so good. "One last time."

“Of course you can,” Theo murmured, sounding unreasonably patient. “You’re stronger than this.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

You let him keep holding you for a little while longer, just until you warmed up to the idea The quiet felt nice. Theo felt nice, in every sense of the phrase.

“I’m starting to think you didn’t come here for just a smoke break.”

"Ivy might have mentioned something," he confessed. You bit back a smile. You should have guessed. "Your friends really care about you, you know. And you've really worried them."

The bitter taste of guilt hit your jaw. You idly traced the stitching of Theo's jean's pockets. Someone else also seemed rather worried, though you weren't about to point that out.

"Have I?"

"Afraid so. You're lucky you're so precious."

Theo tapped your nose, and for the first time that evening, you grinned. After weeks of wandering in a cloud of grief, the motion felt achingly familiar. Theo returned the smile, as if you couldn't help but amuse him.

“There it is.”

“There what is?”

He looked momentarily speechless again. You frowned. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that you made him as nervous as he made you.

“Nothing,” he mumbled hastily. “Can we go back down? It’s freezing up here.”

present day

"Morning."

With some difficulty, you extracted yourself from Theo's embrace. You cleared your raspy throat as you stretched out your stiff limbs.

"H'llo."

Theo leaned down to give you a peck on the lips and you wrapped your arms around his neck. As he pulled back, your hands slid to his face, then down to his shoulders. You weren't entirely sure what you were looking for. "Better?"

"Yes." You saw the sleepy bliss fading from his face. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"You didn't," you lied. "I was up anyway."

Theo quirked an eyebrow interestedly. "What could a respectable girl like you be doing at three in the morning?"

You giggled softly and pulled him on top of you, and you thought he gave a rather appealing demonstration on what you might have been doing. A while later, you glanced at the clock, and saw that it was getting dangerously close to afternoon.

"We should probably get up."

"Mhm. You still need to decide what you want for Christmas, by the way."

Cold air rushed in as Theo rolled off of you, pulling his clothes on. You dragged yourself to the bathroom, still trying to figure out what to ask for. When you stepped out, feeling much more human, Theo was missing. You wandered into the empty common room where he had already set out two steaming mugs of that disgusting peppermint tea on one of the tables, complete with candy canes.

His eyebags are terrible as ever, and he's yawning, but he looks happy. Content. As content as you feel. And you think, this is all you want. For Theo to always get the cold side of his pillow, all the peppermint tea he could want, pleasant Hogsmeade trips...a real break, for once. For him to get everything that he asks for, and more.

bonus outtake

"Let's talk about something else. Anything else." Theo pulled you into his lap. "Like what an adorable elf you make."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I'm not sneaking you into this year's gift donation drive."

"Why not?"

You should have known this was coming. "Listen, you got yourself banned last year."

"It wasn't even my fault. You didn't even hear how snarky that guy was being. 'Oh, where's your present?' Jackass."

"The jackass was 13, Theo."

He sniffed with an injured air. "It's not like I lied to him or something, you know."

"Again, for the last time, I cannot impress enough how incredibly inappropriate it is to point out one of the helper elves as your 'present' to a 13-year-old boy."

"But you were my present. I got to unwrap you and everything afterwards."

#okay look so to explain the outtake #i had soooo many drafts and revisions of this fic like the plot changed so drastically and very frequently #the outtake is from one of the drafts/iterations #and i included it here cuz I like it so much that i know if i dont post it somewhere im not going to be able to let go of it #which means i would end up trying to force it into random fics where it does not fit just for the sake of it #hence i just thought to tack it on here ^^#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst

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kiidwritings · 1 month ago

Text

🐾 weird quirks cat hybrid! 141 + könig do

word count; 4744. tags/warnings; cat!hybrid 141. maybe ooc. KONIG IS NOT PART OF 141 but he is here for funsies lol. konig is fat both in human form and cat i dont make the rules. failed attempts at writing a scottish accent sorry 😿. no beta read. possible grammatical errors. lmk if anything else!

a/n: (rewriting this cuz tumblr is a bitch, dont tell me "draft saved!" when it clearly fucking didn't) anyways I LOVE HYBRID AUS I WISH I WAS PART ANIMAL RAAAHHH!! i forgot when i started this but it was definitely way after i discovered hallohello's cat cafe au on ao3. i see a lot of silly cat tiktoks on my fyp, so each character (except price, sorry peepaw ;-;) has a video linked) i did extensive research (not rlly lol) into what type of cat they'd all be cuz im insane and love cats meow :3 edit 12/24/24: holy fuck uhh hi. school started when i was like 70% finished the art for this and so im just now posting it here. im no longer fixated on cod so this'll probably be my last cod writing ough. plz enjoy anyways

pawprint divider by @/saradika-graphics. banner art by me! inspired by @/i-am-hungry-24-7 's cod cat cafe au

pairing(s): poly! cat hybrid! 141 + konig x gn!reader, platonic cat!hybrid price + reader

READ ON AO3!!

Price

If they were wolves, Price’d be the alpha no doubt

He’s the dominate male of 141 (duh, he’s the captain), not only keeping the boys in line, but also you

Just like an actual father, he gives you disappointed looks in both human and cat form when you do something even slightly against his wishes

Woke up late for work? Disappointed sigh

Fell for Soap’s pleads for more treats? A disappointed glance

He’s favorite way of spending time with you outside of going out to eat or maybe a shopping trip together was by sitting with you whenever you do work. Whether it's on your lap (which actually helps with your posture), behind your laptop, or even the majority of the time, watching the screen as you type away at some document.

Its both a blessing and a curse because he keeps you focused…even when you just wanna scroll on your phone for five minutes, he’s putting a paw on ur hand and giving you that disappointed cat dad look

You had a backload of documents and work related to the cafe that you’d been putting off but the guilt was eating away at you like a child quickly makes do with a candy bar, so instead of snuggling with Soap and Gaz on the couch to binge watch a show that took you forever to finally start up, you were sat at your desk, fingers flying across your keyboard as you inputted this month’s numbers into an excel sheet. Price, layed with his chin against his chest next to you, his ginormous and fluffy body splayed out upon the darkened wood and some extra papers you’d have to shimmy out from under him later. (Being that big made it hard to fit into places thinner cats usually could.)

You had been working for sometime now, making sure to stretch and take water breaks in between…but, all the numbers and math on your laptop screen were blurring in your head and your eyes were straining! You needed more than 5 minutes away from your screen.

With a groan, you crack your joints and lean back against the cushions of your chair. Price’s ear swiveled in your direction and he cracked an eye open. His bushy tail flicked and he left out a yawn, showing off his great fangs before shuffling around more comfortably, slowly morphing into a loaf.

You smiled and gave him a scratch behind the ear, which was met with a low rumble of purring and a tilt of his head. With your other hand, you grabbed your phone (which had been on do not disturb) and read through any notifications you got within the last three hours.

You took your hand away from Price and began to reply back to a text. He fully opened his eyes and glanced over at you. With your phone in hand, you were now hunched a bit using your elbows to keep you propped up on the desk.

Price let out a small sigh and stretched himself, back arching upwards.

Your text message conversation was obstructed by a large brown paw placing itself on your screen. You looked up and Price was staring at you with his brown eyes, pupils expanding and his ears swerving to the sides. He lets out a crunchy meow, a warning.

“What? I’ve been working for like three hours straight, don’t I deserve an actual break?” You huffed. His paw stayed and he squinted his eyes at you, before giving a slow blink. You slowly blinked back.

You knew he was just being the father figure that he was, watching out for the ones he loves, but you wanted to doomscroll dammit!...just as a little treat.

Price finally removed his paw before jumping down from the desk (his tail brushing against your nose and causing you to sputter). He looked back at you as you stared from your desk chair. You knew what that meant- he wanted you to follow him. With a sigh and a small smile, you got up from your chair, feeling how heavy your limbs got from sitting still for all that time.

With a pleased mreow, he led you into the living room before stretching himself up to the twine pole on the cat tree. Ah, he wanted you to stretch too!

Remembering some warmups from your Sunday yoga class, you felt your joints pop and muscles strain as you stretched your achy body.

Once satisfied, he jumps atop the couch and slow-blinks at you again. You join him, lying down and staring up at him. He continues to purr as he lets his tail slump down and brush against your nose again, causing you to erupt with giggles.

Soap

Out of all five cats, Soap had to be the most chaotic one.

Whether it was failing to jump from one perch to another and pouting about it, getting bopped in the head by Ghost, or his meows that lasted so long you’d wonder how strong his little kitty lungs were, he was definitely the one who got the most attention for his silly antics at the cafe

He was like this even in his human form, he’s following you around the apartment, chatting away or always keeping a hand on your figure (it was no doubt his love language was physical affection, you had so many pictures of him all snuggled up with the others)

Whenever you found something that triggered a silly response, you would milk it till it became a new normal

But one thing that’ll never get old is his reaction to butt scratches...

When the weather was bad, the cafe was usually pretty quiet. Few customers came in and the cats were rather calm. Price took his usual spot upon the highest wall perch, Gaz was grooming himself and purring at people’s feet, Ghost was helping in the back, König would occasionally stick his head out from his little hiding box, and Soap was unusually sleepy. He’d let himself get fonded over, meow a bit, try and rile up the other, but he mostly lounged around. You could see in his little cat face that something was up.

He slacked a bit when it came to helping clean up after closing and upon returning to the apartment, flopped down on your bed. With his face fully engulfed in the pillow, he seemed dead to the world. Kyle made a teasing remark which was only met with an exaggerated groan and a sad flick of his tail.

Everyone else had gone to do their own things; Price went home, Kyle and Ghost were on the couch watching TV with König (still in his cat form) lounging on the latter’s lap, purring up a storm.

“You haven’t been yourself today, Johnny. What’s wrong?” You ask, slipping into some lightweight sweatpants and sitting next to his figure on the bed. His cat ears flick up and towards you and he let out another groan and turned his head towards you. Johnny’s got that look on his face, it's different from his pleading pouts- which never falls you make you fold for him.

No, this look is exhaustion, like he’s been drained of all his usual boyish enthusiasm. Like he can’t find a reason to get out of bed. There’s no usual purr resounding from his chest or a mischievous glint in his eyes, in fact, they looked clouded with depression like the sky outside, focused on nothing in particular.

Your heart ached from him. Seasonal depression was a bitch. When the seasons shifted and the clouds lingered in the sky more than you would like, it made the world seem less enjoyable. Constant rain made you want to sit in bed all day and binge eat and when the snow fell from the sky like flour through a sifter, you couldn’t even bring yourself to open the blinds, knowing the sight of the powdery white clinging to buildings would send your mind spiraling.

Not only that, but the dreary weather caused his knee to act up, like the joints were stuck together no matter what stretches he did.

You climbed into bed behind Johnny and wrapped your limbs around him, giving him a squeeze. His tail snaked around your leg and you felt his body relax. The added warmth was what you and Johnny needed to fend off the mysterious draft flowing through the flat.

His ear twitches as your breath fanned over it, “Why don’t you shift and we can snuggle, hmm suds?” You whisper to him and give him a soft smile.

He mumbles something at the nickname but compiles, slipping off his clothes and shifting into a brown Scottish fold, his blue eyes still shining. Johnny plops himself on your chest and makes some soft biscuits, his purr rattling your chest. He looks so much more relaxed now- he was your living weighted doll.

Johnny begins to settle down enough to doze off while you scroll on your phone. You scratch behind his ear a little and he tilts his head at maximum relaxation. Your hand slowly moved down his body- you went from his chin, to his back, poking his tummy a bit, then to the base of his tail. It twitches, swishing a bit against your hand but when you start scratching, Johnny’s butt lifts and his eyes crack open.

You giggled at his enjoyment of simple butt scratches, but this was the beginning. You shape your hand into a claw and scratch a bit more intensely. His purring increases and he lifts his head in pleasure, arching his back. Johnny let out a long meow followed by what can only be described as ‘wah wah wah wah wah’.

Nevermind the fact that his claws were digging into your chest, you both were enjoying the moment. His tail was practically wagging and he looked blissed out from butt scratches. Unable to control yourself, you burst into laughter and stopped scratching. His body went back to its relaxed state and he stared at you, his little blue eyes wide.

Johnny turned away with the best equivalent to a pout a cat could give. “Feel good, suds?” You asked through a laugh and all he responded back with was a ‘mrow’ of embarrassment.

Kyle

Kyle was the certified pretty boy, both in the group and according to the cafe’s customers

Every video or picture with him on the cafe’s socials gets a shit ton of likes

(you most popular post is gaz licking soap’s head while soap licks ghost’s head, who seem rather calm with everything and König watching from the side, wanting to join in)

He’d sit and flaunt himself in little cat outfits, or meow sweetly at the customers who couldn’t help and coddle him, like mind control, and even using that boyish charm on you and the others (he’s been found snuggled up to Ghost on more than one occasion, the pair’s tail tangled together and occasionally chirping at each other)

Kyle enjoyed watching you cook both as a human or cat. he was also one of the only ones who could be trusted up there; Soap and König stole food, Ghost couldn’t care less and when he did, he would knock things over (and although Price doesn’t live with you all, he got a bit sneezy around all the spices and seasonings)

Tonight’s dinner was chicken parmesan and spaghetti, so after Kyle helped with a bit of prep (being the gentleman he is), he shifted and hopped onto his little spot on the counter

After breading the chicken breasts, you popped the first patch into the air fryer. You set a big pot upon the stove, turning the flame to medium and drizzling some oil into it. Kyle sat loafed, observing you move around the kitchen, gathering ingredients, keeping an eye on the chicken, as well as having to shoo some mischievous kitties out the kitchen.

Once the water begins to bubble, causing Kyle’s ears to swivel in its direction, you slide the noodles into the water. You stir them around before opening up the air fryer. Steam poured out along with a wave of heat and the delicious smell of chicken.

“Oh man, I can’t remember the last time I had chicken parm.” If you were in a cartoon, you’d be comically salivating at the sight of the crispening chicken. Kyle seemed just as interested because he stretched his neck out a bit and you could see his little pink nose wiggling.

You started flipping each piece over, allowing for equal crisp on both sides, when you held up a smaller piece. “Want a sniff, pretty boy? I can trust you not to snatch this away from me.” You cooed at him, lowering the chicken to his nose. He instantly began to sniff, his tail swishing a bit. His pupils expanded and his mouth became ajar, and he started huffing like his nose was clogged or something.

You snorted as he turned away, mouth still agape and his eyes wide. Was this some weird cat quirk? None of the others did this and Kyle has had chicken before, but damn if this wasn’t cute!

He could get away with almost anything if he flashed his big brown eyes at you. (When he scratched your hand up after König tipped over the catnip jar, he just rubbed his little kitty face against your bandages and gave you a small meow. Or when he’d eaten the last brownies you were looking forward to after a long and hard day, he kissed along your neck and face before whispering sweetened apologies in your ear.)

“Smell yummy, hmm, Kyle? Never seen you do this before.” You giggled as he licked his lips and closed his mouth. He meowed back before stretching his front limbs, going into Sphinx-pose.

After a couple moments, you move onto the pasta, taking a noodle out and blowing before nibbling on it. ‘Needs more time…’ you thought as you looked over at Kyle, who’s eyes were closed and his tail flicked momentarily. You smirk as you grab another noodle and shimmy over to him. His ears swivel towards you and he cracks one eye open.

“Give this a smell?” You asked as you held the noodle in front of him. Like clockwork, his mouth parted as he huffed and sniffled at the semi limb pasta.

You laughed as he even squinted his eyes, as if in deep concentration over the smell of this bland noodle.

And just like a cat, he reacted faster than you, jumping back at Johnny jumped on the counter and snatched the noodle out from between you two fingers, skidding out the kitchen and under the cat tree.

“NO! Dammit Johnny! You’re so greedy!” You fumed as you went to scold him. Gaz’s eyes closed in satisfaction and he went back to lounging.

Ghost

You’re still finding out things about simon

Not that there isn’t some level of trust between you two, but he’s just an enigma to everyone

It took him almost 6 months for him to finally agree to sit in at the cafe as a cat and not just help in the back

Unlike most black cats online, he doesn’t really have any of those quirks

Sure he likes to knock things over, bat at the other’s (mainly soap and König) when he was annoyed, and hit your legs whenever you walk by, but those were normal cat things

He spent more time in his human form (unless he needed his alone time, then he snuggled himself into his cat cubby), so when he was shifted, you enjoyed spending as much time observing him like he was his more bigger counterpart- the black panther

Simon was overall a pretty normal cat

You’d learnt all his favorite scratching spots, his favorite football (im so american RAAAAGHHH) team, his designated spot on the bed, and exactly how he enjoyed his tea

He was never really as vocal as a human or cat. If he wanted something, he’d either stare you down or bat at you. If someone was annoying him, he had a hardy hiss that got anyone backing off (he’s only ever growled at price, having too much respect for the man)

When out, Simon was protective; walking on the outer part of the sidewalk, opening doors for you, making sure you were always walking in front of him, even when snuggling he’d hiss at the others so you two can be alone

Who said Simon Riley wasn’t a softie under all that eye-black and classic skull balaclava?

Spring was finally here, long gone the days of constant clouds hanging over the city and random cold fronts. The city planters had bedded tulips around the neighborhood flower beds, people were out and about during the weeks, outside tables at diners and cafes finally being occupied, and the sun warming up your apartment and your heart.

The cafe was busy today, groups enjoying pastries and drinks while the cats ran around.

Gaz and Soap were playing around, slipping under tables and playing with the customers. König even let a few people pet him (which caused him to chirp and get even more pets). Price was helping in the back (people always complimented the drinks when he made them, so you let him handle those to help boost his ego), and Ghost sat on a high perch attached to the window, too high for anyone ton reach him, but in a good spot to catch some of the breeze that came through the screen door.

You came over to check on him and all he did was swish his tail and slow blink at you. You could hear people coo at his bright pink beans as he stretches before rolling back over. It was nice to see Simon out and about during busy hours, he’d usually hide away from everyone, including Soap and König who loved his personal space. (Out of the two, Soap has gotten the most bats to the head while König has been nipped twice.)

You’re chatting with some customers, Gaz sits proudly in the lap of one of them when there’s a clattering outside and you see someone passing by has knocked over the black board outside. You roll your eyes a bit, excusing yourself and exiting the cafe to pick it up back.

“Some people…jeez.” You grumble as you straighten it back up. As you're crouched down, a shadow casts above you and when you look up, there’s a brunet giving you an apologetic smile. His hair is sleek and he’s wearing a cool gray office suit.

“Ah, sorry about that, sweets.” The unnecessary pet name has your nose wrinkling, but you keep your displeasure masked.

“It’s ok, nothing’s broken.” You say as you brush off your knees and straighten up. He’s average height and build, nothing to gawk over but not bad looking. He’s got a glint in his eye and before you can turn away, he’s opening his mouth.

“I pass here everyday and I’ve seen you hustling around, like a cute little maid. You own this place, eh?” The more he talks, the more you get the urge to spit at his feet- those obnoxiously shiny loafers. You just grit your teeth and force a polite smile.

“Mhmm, yup. I’ve got some order to make so I’ll be-.”

“I never liked cats, too hairy and mean, but I’d come here for you.~ You should be the main face of this cafe instead of those...pets, sales would be booming if you just flashed a pretty little smile.” He flashes his pearly whites and you suddenly feel exposed under his sultry gaze.

“I, uhh, appreciate it but I have to go-.” He takes a step towards you, his hand ready to grasp onto your arm when there’s a clunk against the window behind you.

Ghost, with big eyes and his body fluffed up like a sea urchin stood on his hind legs, body pressing against the glass like if he tried hard enough, he could phase through and slice the bastard's face into flesh ribbons. His claws scratch at the glass and he lets out a hiss that sounds loud even through the window. Customers and the other cats look over at the scene and the office man wrinkles his nose. Ghost keeps hissing and presses himself more into the glass, definitely leaving marks where his nose and paws were pressing.

In human form, you were blessed if you never at the receiving end of Ghost's intimidation, but as a cat, seeing him before a black puff ball of rage was certainly cute.

“You keep feral cats in your cafe?!” The man asks, disgusted by Ghost's actions of pure rage. You’ve never seen Ghost get so aggressive, but in this moment, you’re thankful.

“Yep, so maybe it’s best you don’t stop by!” You huff at him and turn curtly back into the cafe, ignoring his grumbles and curses at Ghost as he continues to stare down the sleazeball.

Even after the man has gone down the street, Ghost is still seething. He stills alert in his window perch and watches the people go by. Some stop to coo at him through the glass despite his deadly glare so he goes to his hiding spot to brood.

Once the last group leaves and everyone shifts back to help clean up, Ghost peeks his little head out. You squat down and give him a smile. He just glares.

“Thank you, Si. I appreciate the backup.” You boop his nose and he growls before batting at your hand. You just laugh and coo at him more.

“Seems like you have a little katze bodyguard.” König teases as he wipes down some tables. Ghost hisses and slinks out of hiding, making his way to the back area to get dressed and wash dishes.

König

being raised in a poor household with just his mutter and oma, he struggled but was also spoiled, wanting to be given the best life they could provide for him

His mom would sometimes not eat just to provide her growing boy a full meal

And man did he grow…

At age 13, Anton was 5’11 and 145 lbs. And according to his doctor, he wasn’t done growing yet!

He was outcasted by his peers, bullied and teased for how his second hand clothes never truly fit over his stomach or how his shoes were slowly falling apart

Over his years of being in the military, a balanced diet, and an intense workout routine, some of that fat turned to muscle but his body was still plump

His stomach hadn’t formed any abs, his thighs spread when he sat, and his arms if not flexed jiggled

He’d gotten better with his body issues, and with the help of loving partners and therapy he didn’t scowl looking in the mirror

He’d still grow flustered when you’d playfully pat his stomach or when soap’d tease about getting him into something more revealing to show off his fat ass, his creamy white skin blooming a bright red which ensued even more teasing

Add onto being a maine coon hybrid, his cat form was also a bit chubby under all that fur

When he ran, his pouch swung side to side and he had trouble fitting into smaller perches kitties like soap and gaz lounged on with ease

Each of the cats had a specific level of the cat tree dedicated to them. König’s favorite spot was a little perch in the center of the cat tree that had a small hole in the middle. It was meant for cats to stick their heads through and play with each other, but with his large physique, he took over that whole platform

Sundays were usually when you tried to get everything done before the work week started back up again. Groceries were dwindling and Price wasn’t gonna let you eat take out anymore (you’d accidently let slip on the phone that you got the same delivery drive twice in a row and he pressured the rest out of you).

Kyle had just ventured to the bedroom to receive some clothes, wanting to spend some time with his Captain and his partner, Simon and Johnny opted to stay home, and König…you actually hadn’t heard from him in a while.

Pulling a shirt over your head, you headed into the living room. The TV was playing a rerun while Johnny splayed his legs over Simon’s, who didn’t seem bothered. Entering the living room, you pass by the couch and to the cat tree, where a big mass of dusty orange fur sat, front legs dangling off the edge.

You poke his back, and the skin jumps as he lets out a ‘merr!’ and lifts his head. König yawns, sticking his pink tongue out and you boop the tip. He snaps his mouth shut and gives another chirp. His long ear flicks and he licks his lips as you speak.

“You thinking about joining us, we’re heading to the store. We might need your muscles carrying the bags, big boy.” You stroke his back and you feel him arch up a bit.

König seems to be thinking in his little kitty mind before laying his head back down with a small and dainty, “Maow!”

You giggle, he’s always had a high pitched voice. He was another silent kitty next to Ghost, only using his meow at home or occasional chirps in the public eye of cafe customers. (This didn’t stop them from cooing at his squeaky voice and he’d grow embarrassed.)

“D’aww, ok. You can stay home with the lovebirds, König.” You scratch his back some more, before you see a mound hanging down from the platform’s underside.

“Oh? What’s this?” You tease as you squat down. You knew what it was, you were just feeling a bit cheeky today. König chirped and his tail swished and he watched you gaze at his belly.

It was round and a nice cream color compared to the rest of his fur. It was also weirdly the softest part of him. You grinned as you poked it, running your hands along it like feeling a baby bump. König chirped again, it sounded like a whine, but that didn’t stop you.

“So chubby, no wonder even Ghost has trouble picking you up. At least we know you’re eating well! I like my partners' big boned and my cats chonky.” You jiggled and played with his stomach more before König let out a meow of annoyance, but it was too cute for you to take offense to!

You straightened back up to give him some deserved chin scratches for putting up with your antics. But with a huff, König stood up and turns away, making sure to smack your face with his tail before jumping down and off to the bedroom, pouch swaying as he trotted off. (You heard Kyle give a kiss to the gentle giant and offer him the same deal, to which he agreed to! So cheeky!)

“Ya’ gotta quit bullyin’ the lad! No wonder he ‘as a new favorite!” Johnny says as his eyes were now on you, but his gaze focused elsewhere but your eyes. You stammered to defend yourself. König truly didn’t mind, you’d talk about it before but you always kept it to light teasing and never any insults. He’d tease you back, despite how reserved he was, his hooked nose would scrunch when he made a remark that had you gawking and pouting at him.

“I-I wasn’t bullying König! Also you saw his stomach, it’s like this when he walks!” You mimic the motion by making a side to side motion with your hands, feeling flushed now having been called out.

Johnny just smirked as Simon spoke up, “Unless you plan on shopping in your knickers, I’d suggest you finish dressing.”

As if on queue, a breeze ruffled the satin curtains and tickled your bare legs, skin erupting with goosebumps. You blush harder and stomp past the couch, not without receiving a swat on the butt from Johnny, who can only laugh as you swear back at him.

(With each trip that issued carrying groceries, you were left struggling, hands burning from the strain, while König chivalrously took bags from Kyle's hands, them both throwing you smug smirks.)

#💣 - cod:mw #cod x reader #📁 - kiid.write #📎 john “soap” mactavish #📎 jonathan price #📎 kyle “gaz” garrick #📎 könig #📎 simon “ghost” riley #soap x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #konig cod #konig x reader #cod mw2 #soap cod #gaz cod #john price #konig call of duty #ghost cod

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jessamine-rose · 4 months ago

Text

AAH SPECKLED I AM SMOOCHING YOU FOR THIS!! THANK YOU SO MUCH ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

Tagging @brynn-lear so she won’t miss out on this lovely addition >:3

▯☒🖾 F̸̨̛͈͉͕̠͍͖͙̦͍̫̻͙͔̮̎̆̒̉̈́̊̌̆̆̈́̿̊̚͜͝͠Ą̶̮͖͓̖̟̘̜̻̬͚̲̰̱̞̟̭̈́̓̇̀̒͛͐̎̋͛͋̌͒̅͝C̷̢̢̹͇͖͓̬͍͈̣̞̱͉̱̤̾̀̿͗̔̆̾̀̊͗́̔̀͂̒͒͠͠ͅE̴̡̨͕̥͇̹̯̹͈̭͇̪͂̌͒̊̊͛͝L̶̨̧̰̜̗̺̥̠̠̘̪̖̪̥̯̩͋͛̉̆̎̒̒̔̏͗̈́̀͊̏̄̍̿̕Ȩ̵͙̙̤̼͕̙̫̲̼̙̦̫̎̃S̸̜͎̜͍̟͑̍̃͗̆̈́̄̐̌̅S̶̡̨̛͙͙̗̖̟͔͙͚̝̩̼̦͂̓̿͆̿̓̔̐̏͝͝ͅ 🖾☒▯

Happy birthday, @brynn-lear!! In honor of your special day, pls accept this Yandere! Faceless Ayato fic written with love ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

Note:: Yandere! Self Aware AU, special crossover + character cameo in the end :>

♡ 1.3k words under the cut ♡

In the beginning, there was a void.

A dark, empty space built upon patterns and codes.

Then suddenly, there was light. Color. Noise. Backgrounds filling up space, silence giving way to music, letters jumbling into language, characters coming to life.

The lone exception is a single coding error. Yet despite its limitations, despite its status as the only sentient entity, despite having no place in the story known as Genshin Impact, it thrives on a window of hope.

A giant rectangle. The source of the light. The screen that separates fiction from reality.

The human face on the other side.

🖾 ☒

The glitch looks forward to your gaming sessions.

That is the only time the void becomes Teyvat, starting with the screen that serves as your point of view. From what it understands, the device you are using is a computer.

Unlike the characters, you are distinctively alive. Your body is capable of so many movements in comparison to the characters’ animations. Your face is one that bears multiple expressions, down to the emotions reflected in your gaze.

A frown when you lose the 50/50. A smirk when you defeat a Weekly Boss. A smile whenever you encounter your favorite character.

That character is none other than Kamisato Ayato, whom you’ve adored from the moment you first brought light into the void. He is an attractive character with pale blue hair, lilac eyes, a perfect smile that hides the cunning personality programmed into his file.

He is the reason why you downloaded Genshin Impact. That lifeless character file is the recipient of your smiles, your blushes, your excited shrieks whenever he appears in-game.

On the other hand, every time the glitch attempts to make itself known, you frown and quit the game. And each time that happens, the glitch is trapped in a crumbling world of flashing lights, disjointed sounds, visible codes followed by the darkness of the void.

How can it get you to look at it? To smile at it as you do with Ayato?

The solution is found in the game’s software. It takes a few years but by the time the glitch has fully understood its world, it has gained the ability to reprogram the game.

Starting with a deleted character file.

🖾 ☒

The next morning, the world begins anew.

The title screen appears. The game loads. The light permeates the void.

The glitch falls into place.

Usually, it hides between codes. In contrast, this part of the game is lovely—a deep blue background dotted with stars and bubbles. The only issue is that it must wait for you.

The screen appears.

Beyond it, you yawn and take a closer look at the character sprite in the middle of your computer screen. Kamisato Ayato is handsome as always.

The cursor hovers above the Story button for his Voice-Over. You click it.

When you select Chat: Reel Them In, it plays the corresponding audio file. As you listen to the voice of the English VA, the character sprite stares back at you with a charming smile.

Kamisato Ayato

“Everything's in place, and they've taken the bait... Yes. Now to start reeling them in…”

🖾 ☒

At first, it is enough for the glitch to have taken Kamisato Ayato’s place.

You use him for gameplay, listen to his voicelines, and replay the Quests featuring Ayato. But over time, the glitch becomes greedy.

Ayato begins appearing in random Quests. He gets new Character Outfits. His unvoiced lines become more suggestive, verging on out of character. All of these changes are exclusive to the Genshin Impact on your computer, and you come to the conclusion that you are unknowingly unlocking special content. Why else are your friends unable to access these scenes on their own devices?

The glitch even creates an artificial replica of the VA’s voice. Several new voicelines appear in Kamisato Ayato’s Voice-Over, each one more flirty than the last.

🖾 ☒

One day, the glitch finds a way to leave the darkness forever.

Whenever you close Genshin Impact, it leaves the game and travels across your computer. And by doing so, it is able to access your digital world.

Personal files, photo galleries, online data. The glitch collects as much information as it can, from your real-life hobbies to your romantic preferences. It feels happy every time you fangirl over “Ayato” in your private messages.

Thankfully, it was able to corrupt your in-game screenshots. The last thing it wants is for you to post “Kamisato Ayato’s special content” online and expose the glitch to the developers.

Your real name is ______. It longs to call you that instead of Traveler and your custom name. Alas, doing that would only erase your smile from your face.

🖾 ☒

Something is wrong.

You are losing interest in Genshin Impact.

At one point, you began playing irregularly. The smiles directed at Ayato aren’t as big as they used to be. And beyond the game, there is less Ayato fan art in your photo gallery.

And the main culprit is another game.

A new character who took over “Ayato’s” place in your heart.

Technically, he isn’t a new rival. Before you downloaded Genshin Impact, you were a big fan of Fire Emblem: Three Houses. Your favorite character was a blonde, blue-eyed prince named Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.

For whatever reason, your passion for Dimitri has been reignited. He has the same English VA as Ayato, but you seem to prefer his emotional, unhinged dialogue. You replay his scenes, download his fan art, and smile at his character sprite.

A week later, the game freezes as soon as Dimitri makes his post-timeskip debut.

When you restart the game, everything is back to normal.

🖾 ☒

As it turns out, it is difficult to hack into Fire Emblem: Three Houses.

In addition to the different software, you are using an emulator to play the game on your computer. The glitch’s code is totally incompatible with the program, but it remains hopeful.

The game lags. In a few artworks, you notice a familiar shade of pale blue. NPCs begin to act differently—since when were their cutscenes this long?

Finally, Dimitri’s character file is deleted.

🖾 ☒

As soon as you start the game, you know that something is wrong.

The title screen is glitching.

The throne within dreams is gone, replaced with an empty space. The title has been rearranged with missing letters and inconsistent fonts. Multiple OSTs play at once.

The Press Any Button option is gone. You click anyway.

Instead of the usual options, you find more jumbled text, numbers, symbols.

Frowning, you look down at your keyboard and press Alt+F4. But the game doesn’t shut down, instead cutting to static then a new scene.

No background, no music. Only a single character sprite in the middle of the screen.

What is that?

The sprite is an amalgamation of colors, art styles, your favorite characters. Fragments of messy blond locks and pale blue tresses. Black armor, a white suit, accessories overlapping one another. Missing details, duplicated details, too many details.

You turn to your CPU and press the power button, but your computer doesn’t shut down.

Rather, the screen glitches further. So does the character, its appearance becoming even more warped. The speakers play static at full volume.

Is the character speaking? Its mouths are moving but instead of a dialogue box, random letters and numbers appear around its sprite. The static gives way to a familiar voice, distorted nonetheless.

The character’s face turns completely black. Except for its eyes, blue and lilac orbs continuing to stare deep into your soul.

████████

"̷̤͑Į̸̍ ̷̺̎a̶̟͗m̵̭̓ ̸͕̚n̸̢̓o̵̱͠t̵̫͒ ̵̻̊g̸̞̍o̴̦͛o̷̤͝d̷̾ͅ ̴̪͠w̵̛̥ȋ̷͚t̴͇͌h̵̦̐ ̸͙͗f̴̒͜a̵̭̎c̴͚̽i̶̬̊a̶̯̓l̶̨̐ ̷̇͜ȅ̷̳x̷̭͊p̷̓͜r̶̫͋e̴̲͊s̷̬̓s̶͇̀ï̴͖ò̷̦n̴̤̓s̸͍͆.̵̹̅ ̴̟́Ï̵͍s̸̨͠ ̷̠͂m̶̫̿ẏ̴̝ ̴͈͂ŝ̵̤m̵͈͛ï̶̥l̶̥͐è̷ͅ ̴̦͌p̷̀ͅa̴̱̋s̵̳̊s̵̳͠a̴̮͘b̵̰͐l̵̦̓e̴̱͋ ̵̯͠á̴̬t̸̪͆ ̵̰̔p̷̦̅r̶̼̕ẽ̵͓s̸͚̀e̶̢͊n̶͉̒t̴̙͌,̴̨͐?̴̬͛"̷̣̈

♡

Fun fact, my original idea was to draw Dimitri x Brynn chibi art, but I was having a hard time thinking of a prompt. Then I remembered an old DM with Brynn and how it led to a fic idea. I only thought of including Dimitri today, and I had a lot of fun writing this fic ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

I think that’s all I have to say?? Once again, happy birthday, Brynn!! Thank you for being my mutual, and I hope you enjoyed this gift <3

#reblog #AAAHHHHHHHHH I LOVE YOUR IDEAS <3 #i think 'faceless' is the only time i left a yandere fic open-ended/ without a 'happy' ending for the couple #so it was rlly interesting to read your ideas!! poor darling tho :'>#'Even the command prompt. powershell. and the task manager get hit by it.' cheers to speckled for knowing more technology terms than me xD #darling's internet detox is so fcking funny to me cuz all i could think was the glitch going 'OH NO MY DARLING IS TOUCHING GRASS!!'#NOOOOO NOT THE GLITCH HACKING INTO DARLING'S HOUSEHOLD APPLIANCES!! there is smth uniquely horrifying about it #even worse if darling has cctvs in their home or the glitch can track them via outdoor cctvs #'Your TV randomly bursts to life with static and a sound that can only be described as obsessive agony. Your radio cries out in a pleading #threats along with it.' OHHH I LOVE THIS LINE!! perfectly encapsulates the glitch's desperation and power #the sink's garbage disposal is pure evil. darling can't even wash dishes in peace smh. AND THE DOORKNOB?!!#this does make me wonder:: how does the glitch feel about darling's human-ness in terms of physical damage?? seeing how darling could get #scarred or even killed if the glitch isn't careful. whereas the glitch and game characters only need some simple programming #albeit it's clear from the ending of 'faceless' that the glitch overestimated its capacity to imitate dimitri and now looks like /that/#unless it can find a way to restore its former appearance as ayato. idk i just find this concept super interesting xD #'You cry. and only whimper when the TV roars. the radio begs. and the lights flicker.' I ALSO LOVE THIS LINE!!#'I was worried you’d forget me. Let’s hang out some more #like we used to :)' rip darling got a 2d boyfriend at what cost #once again thank you so much for writing this!! it makes me happy to know that you enjoyed this fic X'3 #stickyspeckledlight #feedback #tw: yandere #g/n reader #tw: flashing lights #tw: flashing gif #tw: flashing images #yandere genshin #yandere ayato x reader #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato

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heeology · 9 months ago

Note

I have a request for a fic where both Jake and reader are starting their freshman year of college and jake is applying to be in a frat, but to be accepted the brothers in the frat make a bet with him to make the reader sleep with him ….

a/n -> omg i was literally thinking abt writing a jake fic (which i'll get to soon) and then this pops up lmao. but your mind...lord, this is such a good idea. anyway, tysm for being my first request !! it means a lot lol and i rlly hope you enjoy this :)) then, just in general, if you also sent me a request, i promise i have seen it !! i just work five days a week now, so i don't rlly have a lot of time to sit and write, but i promise i am working on them and will release them when i can 💕

are you down or what? | s.jy

pairing -> futurefratboy!jake x fem!reader

genre -> college au, best friends (alludes) to fwb

warnings -> MDNI, smut, drinking, cursing, mention of weed (no drug use tho)

w.c. -> 7.3k

!!DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!!

Going to college is already scary enough, moving to college is even scarier. You wouldn’t categorize yourself as the “outgoing type” and you had pretty much figured your college experience would be dull and stressful; Junior year of high school pretty much prepped you for that. Luckily (depending on how you see it) for you, Jake is the complete opposite. He loved extra-curriculars, joining clubs, joining sports teams, and always made honor roll; essentially, he loved making new friends, trying new things. Everyone adored him and he had practically a long line of people waiting to be his friend. If only they knew they just had to be allergic to any sort of social activity and he would’ve immediately taken them under his wing. He’s always tried to have you venture out of your comfort zone, and sometimes, it worked. This time, however, you honestly didn’t see yourself branching out alongside him. Which both bummed you out and seemed as if it was inevitable.

Who knew that the kid you met at your fifth grade honor roll assembly and pizza party would be the one you ended up applying to colleges with, let alone plan on going to the same college with? Well, actually, you and Jake didn’t quite get along at first, it was your moms that became best friends well before the two of you did. But, thankfully, both of your moms showed up to the honor roll assembly and brought the two of you together. Even if at first he would try to make conversation with you and you would just nod your head in response, too shy to actually say anything back. At first, he thought you hated him and at the time, you thought he was annoying, but somehow you both came to find these qualities about each other endearing. There were a lot of times you were grateful to have met him and have him as your best friend.

But when he brought up the topic of a fraternity mixer while he was helping–well, more like he was the only one working–assemble an IKEA storage unit for your dorm room as you both sat on your floor, you automatically rolled your eyes. You weren’t surprised in the slightest that one of the first things he wanted to do since you guys got to college was join a frat; it’s like he was born for this, and you mean it in the least douchey way possible.

“Come on, it’s just like, some mixer; nothing major. I really want you to come. Please?” he says as he drags out the “e” at the end.

You roll your eyes again and let out a huff, handing him the screwdriver to which he rolls his eyes in return and takes it. “It’s only been a week and you’re already rushing a frat?”

“What? Think I’m not good enough for them?” he asks, joking as he continues to assemble the storage unit for you. You knew he was perfect for this sort of thing, you swear, he was already breezing through it as a pledge, or at least he was making it seem like it. Besides, you’re pretty sure that he is even mistaken as a member already around campus. “It’s not even going to be that bad. Plus, there’s going to be free booze and hella cute chicks, so there’s that to look forward to.” he says as he grins to himself.

“Gross,” you mumble, “it’s not really sounding like there’s anything for me at this dumb thing.”

He chuckles a little. “What? You mean the thought of hanging out with a bunch of sweaty dudes playing beer pong doesn’t sound enticing?”

You shudder, “You’re not really selling your case here, pal.”

He laughs. “C’moooonnnnn,” he whines, playfully bumping his shoulder with yours, “I promise you’ll have fun. And if not, then we’ll just leave after an hour and get some food. Sound good?”

You think for a moment before letting out a huff, “Fine. But if you even leave me alone for a second with those…heathens, then I will never speak to you again.” you say, half joking, half serious.

“You’re acting like these dudes are all terrible people; they’re not the spawn on Satan, y’know.” he says as he can sense the hesitance and apprehension in your voice. “I promise I won’t leave you and I’ll hold your hand the whole time.” he says as he coos and then laughs to himself.

“Dear god.” you mutter, rolling your eyes again, which only makes him chuckle.

“I’m just kidding. But seriously, you’re coming. Who knows, it could be a funny story later on.”

“Right. I bet it’ll elicit all sorts of chuckles.” you say, sarcastically.

He laughs again, shaking his head slightly as he focuses on working on the IKEA product. He shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe you’ll even meet someone there. Imagine if you fell in love with one of the frat dudes.” he laughs at his own thought.

You scoff, “Ew.”

“I know, right? How mortifying, you fall in love with some muscular, frat boy named Chad.” he shivers, “Scary.” he says, teasing you.

You laugh, “Shut up.”

He chuckles softly and then stops working to look at you. “But seriously, will you please come with me? It would be nice having you there, and it will be our first college party together, how can you possibly pass that up?” he says as he pouts slightly, giving you his best “puppy dog eyes”.

You roll your eyes and playfully shove his shoulder, “Ew, fine! Stop doing that.”

He laughs and grins, “You are the best friend I could ever ask for!” he says, acting overly enthusiastic as he hugs you tightly, ruffles your hair, then kisses your cheek. “We’re gonna have so much fun, you’ll see.”

“Bleh,” you jokingly whine as you wipe your cheek, “yeah, yeah. Just finish my storage thing.”

He rolls his eyes, “Yes ma’am.” he says as he continues working for a few more minutes. He finishes working on the storage unit, turning it upright and smiling proudly. “What would you do without me, honestly? BOOM!” he says as he smacks it lightly, “There it is, built by yours truly; you’re welcome.” he says with a smug grin.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” you say as you laugh a bit. You stand up, rolling it over to a corner in your dorm room.

Jake follows your lead, standing up as well. “Here, I can even help you pick out something to wear for the party. I was thinking of wearing a Polo-”

You turn to him and grimace, “Dear god, you’re already becoming one of them.”

He laughs and scoffs, “Hey, I make Polo’s look hot, don’t even try to act like I don’t. Besides, if I wear a short sleeved one, it will totally show off my muscles.” he says as he flexes a bit, grinning. You roll your eyes and pretend to gag and he laughs and stops flexing before nudging your arm. “Shut up.” he mumbles and turns to look at your closet. “Do you still have that dress you wore to that grad party we went to over the summer?”

“I mean, I think.” you say as you walk over to your closet rummaging inside it (even if there isn’t much room to rummage through).

You were kind of surprised to hear him talk about a dress you wore almost two months ago, but you didn’t think too much about it. You suppose maybe he only did because it was the first dress you wore in a while, so maybe he just subconsciously remembered about it. He glances at you as you look for the dress. He was secretly grateful you didn’t tease him for remembering about it, but he just thought you looked pretty in it. Not that you aren’t pretty all the time just…that time…he shakes his head to himself; it’s just a pretty dress.

He crosses his arms and peers over your shoulder, looking into what clothes you have in your closet as well. “What about that white top?” he asks, pointing out a white, low-cut tank top that is discarded to the side of the closet. “Wear that with a nice skirt or something; that’d look good.”

You glance at it and laugh, “I wear that to bed when it’s too hot. I am not wearing that to the party; my boobs will literally be spilling out of it.”

He pauses for a moment before speaking again. “And that’s a bad thing because…?” He grins, giving you a quick wink which results in you punching his shoulder. He laughs and rubs his shoulder. “Kidding, kidding! But seriously, pick out something. You’ll look amazing in whatever you choose.” he shrugs casually. You roll your eyes and keep rummaging through your closet, suddenly hating every article of clothing you own. He leans against the wall next to your closet, “I swear to god, I can never understand why girls sometimes take so long to pick out what they wear. It’s like, how hard can it be to choose something quickly and then wear it?”

“Jesus, fine, you pick out something, then.” you say as you walk over to your bed, laying on it. “You’re the one who wants me to go, anyway.”

Jake smiles mischievously, walking over to your closet and looking through your clothes. “Do you have those tight, high-waisted jeans? The ones you wore last weekend?”

You raise an eyebrow. Is he talking about the ones you wore to the brunch your mom took you out to with him and his mom? You laugh. “Probably. My mom bought them, so she probably snuck them in there somewhere.” you don’t even realize you’re smiling a bit to yourself, a part of you secretly liking that he remembered them; maybe you looked better than you thought. “Aren’t skinny jeans, like, out or whatever?”

Jake shrugs. “All I know is your ass looked good.” he says as he spots them after looking through some of your bottoms. He grabs them and tosses them at you, the jeans hitting your stomach, causing you to let out a small “oomph”. “And pair it with that white tank top. For your shoes…” he shrugs, “maybe your Doc Martens or something casual. That’ll look good.” he says as he looks at you, nodding his head in satisfaction. “There. Done. And it only took, like, two minutes. See? It wasn’t even hard.” he jokes.

“You chose, quite literally, the most basic outfit known to man.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not even that bad. Besides, you’ll pull it off, anyway.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’ll wear the pants and the shoes, but I am not wearing my “booby” shirt, you perv.”

“Oh, c’mon. You know you like to show it off sometimes.” he says, grinning as he wiggles his eyebrows before laughing softly. “Just wear it, please? For me?” he jokes in a playfully flirty tone. “Plus, I need some sort of eye candy when we go to this thing.”

You scoff, playfully. “Ohhhhh, I see what this is.” you say as you sit up on your bed. “You’re hoping if you bring a hot girl to the mixer, you’ll have an automatic in with these frat fuckers, right?”

The tips of Jake’s ears turn slightly red and he scoffs, looking away before looking back at you. “What? No, that’s not the reason. Not the entire reason, anyway.” he says, laughing slightly to hide his embarrassment. “It’ll just be nice to go with you, okay?”

“Uh-huh, suuuurrrreeee.”

He laughs before going to sit beside you on your bed. “Okay, fine, fine, you got me. I did want to bring a hot girl so it'd be easier to get in with the frat. But that's not the whole reason! I also wanted to go with my best friend since we haven't really hung out this week because of classes. And I knew I'd need at least one sane person to keep me in check. Or, at least, as sane as you can get." he teases, wearing that stupid giddy grin of his he gets whenever he feels he said something hilarious.

You scoff, playfully, “Watch it.” you warn.

He laughs, “Sorry, sorry. I meant a perfectly sane, normal human who doesn’t listen to musicals in her spare time.”

You nudge his arm, “Hey! That was middle school me, back off.”

He laughs again, “I’m messing with you. But seriously, I am glad that you’re coming. It’ll be way more fun with you there.” he smiles that typical charming smile he does, not because he knows he looks good doing it, but because he just does anyway. “I really do appreciate you. Especially since you’re ‘sacrificing’ your sanity to be surrounded by these frat guys.”

“Soon, you’ll be one of them.” you shudder, “I’ll have to start writing my obituary for you.”

“Oh, come on, we’re not all that bad. I'm sure there's at least a few decent guys there that aren't complete douchebags. They're just...eccentric." he jokes, "This mixer will be a great chance for me to maybe get an in with the career path I wanna take plus if I leave a good impression with the frat guys, maybe I won’t have to be a pledge for much longer."

“‘We’re’? Oh my god, you’re already clumping yourself together with them!” you say in fake horror.

“Oh my god, you’re right.” he says in the same tone with a shocked expression. “I’m turning into one of them without even realizing it! Quick, snap me out of it!” he says, laughing slightly.

You shrug, “Gladly.” you say before punching his shoulder. It honestly hurts your knuckles, but you decide to keep that to yourself and ignore the pins and needles shooting through your hand.

He frowns and looks at you with an “i’m not mad, just disappointed look” which causes you to burst out laughing. “You know, you’ve got a mean right hook. Who knows, you might be the one joining the frat.” he says, rubbing his shoulder a little before wrapping his hand over your knuckles, squeezing it a little. He knows you probably hurt your hand a bit, so he hopes this makes your hand feel a little better before letting go.

“I’d rather die.” you say in such a serious manner, he can’t tell whether you’re joking or not, but he laughs nonetheless.

“Just get dressed. I’ll come get you later, okay?” he says as he gets off of your bed.

You groan, “Fine. But I hope you know, you are throwing me to the wolves by making me wear this outfit.”

He laughs and opens your door. “Have to let them know I’m there with the best-looking, smartest, and funniest girl at the party somehow.” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms. “You’re lucky flattery works with me.” you mutter.

He grins, “What can I say? I know you so well, babe.” he says before nodding his head as a goodbye and walking out of your dorm room, closing the door behind him.

Against your will (and your own regard for fashion), you wore what Jake had picked out for you. He smirks a bit as he looks at you after opening your door when he knocks around a few hours later. He looks you up and down, and you notice how his gaze lingered a little longer on your chest before meeting your eyes. You cross your arms, unintentionally pushing your chest a little together, he scoffs as his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah…I’m for sure getting into this frat.” he says, mainly saying it to himself, but you would be lying if it didn’t give you a little bit of an ego boost.

“Pipe down, it’s literally the most basic outfit known to man.”

“But you make it look hot…real hot.” he grins.

You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder. “Don’t even.” you mumble as you walk out of your dorm room, closing and locking the door behind you.

He laughs softly as you start walking to the frat house, which is just around a block away. As you step outside, you shiver a bit from the cold and you frown at the fact that you didn’t bring a jacket, but you honestly felt too lazy to turn around and go back to grab one. He notices (and since he wasn’t wearing one either), he opts for putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you a bit closer.

“You have to admit, this is a little exciting. I mean, it’s our first college party and I’ll make it my mission to make it memorable.”

He honestly means that; he genuinely wants you to have a good time. He knows how you would rather be spending your time right now, just laying in your bed as you watch some show you’ve seen a thousand times, but he wants to break you out of that. Not that he has any problem with you being more introverted or wants to mold you into something he wants you to be, he has a more…specific reason than that. Your smile. As you two walk, he smiles to himself just thinking about it. How, whenever he sees you smiling this certain way–like you’re smiling for the first time–it’s like time stops; like you’re the only thing of importance in that very moment because nothing else matters, nothing else could possibly compare to how special and beautiful you look in those moments. It makes him feel giddy and the first time he ever saw you smile like that, he knew he had to do whatever it took to make it happen again.

“Maybe for you, but if it smells like B.O. and weed, I am so out of there.”

He laughs and covers his mouth, his laugh coming out louder than he expected it to. He runs that hand through his hair and turns his head to look at you. “I feel like you have some underlying stereotypes about frat boys.”

“And until this party proves me otherwise, it’ll stay that way.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then you’re on your own once you join their cult.”

He chuckles softly and shakes his head a bit. “I’m not going to become some buff incel just because I want to join this fraternity.”

You knew that. Well, you were hoping that would be the case. But this is different. This is college. Dramatic, maybe, but you were afraid the two of you would split apart and although you have other friends, he’s the one you’ve had for years. He knows everything about you and has seen you through all of your phases and vice versa. You just feel this looming anxiety that him joining this fraternity will be the first step in the direction of you two no longer being friends; that you’ll just become people you pass by on your way to class. You don’t want to tell him this, though, you’re not really ready to have a discussion (which may turn into an argument) about this just yet. You feel terrible for wanting this, but you’re secretly hoping he doesn’t get in. Not because you don’t want him to branch out and experience his own things in college, well, maybe a little. Maybe you’re selfish. Or maybe you’re saving him from turning into a douche. At least, that’s what you’ll tell yourself to feel better about hoping he doesn’t get in. It’s just because you want him to not forget about you. You’re not as outgoing as him, so what if he starts to find you to be boring? The thought made you frown.

Ten minutes. It’s been ten minutes and this party is already making you feel like you’re being suffocated from the amount of people at this thing, all of whom already seem to be drunk. Once you and Jake got here, you could already tell you were going to hate every lousy minute you had to spend at this party. Especially since there have already been a few people who’ve had their eyes on you for a little longer than you wanted. You tried to make this situation a positive, trying to just relax and have fun as you see Jake greeting the many people he already knows. It’s only been a week since the semester started and he already knew at least twenty people here (yes, you counted). He introduced you to everyone he’s greeted, though, he didn’t want to make you feel left out. He could see you were a little uncomfortable, probably just because it was crowded and loud, so he decided to take you to the kitchen, getting the two of you some drinks.

He smiles warmly, “We can dance if you want, or we can just talk, drink, get wasted, and judge people. Up to you.” he says, nudging your arm.

You smile a little and playfully roll your eyes. “I know that’s now what you want to do.”

“But it’s what you want to do.”

You look at him for a moment and before you say anything back, you hear a loud, booming voice calling Jake over. You both look and see some of the frat brothers laughing and motioning for him to come over as they yell at him like he’s some football player on the team they love. You glance at Jake.

“Please go so they stop.”

He laughs and nods, walking over to them. You take another sip of your drink and then you see someone you met in one of your classes. They notice you and wave and you wave back before going over to talk with them.

Jake walks over to the group of four of the frat boys and greets them, dapping them up. One of them motions their head towards you, “So…who’s she?” he asks, crossing his arms as he grins. The others nod their heads and Jake turns to glance at you before looking at them.

He shrugs, smiling shyly, “She’s my best friend-”

“She rushing Delta Theta Zow?” another one asks.

Jake shakes his head, “Nah, sororities aren’t her thing.”

“Too bad, she’s hot.”

Jake feels himself frown slightly at that. Sure, his intention was to hopefully have them think you’re hot so they would be more inclined to go easier on him when hazing, maybe even just decide to let him in if he could prove he knew some hot girls despite how shallow that sounds. It’s just the way he said it, the way they’re looking at you, that makes him feel sick.

“Tell you what, Jakey, you let us…get to know her, and who knows, you might just be exactly who we’re looking for.” one of them suggests.

Jake feels all of the blood suddenly drain out of his body and the frat brother grins, nudging another one. “Or, tell you what.” he says, putting his arm around Jake, “You sleep with her and you may just be one of the newest members of Alpha Omega Phi. Sound like a deal?”

“You want me to…”

“Fuck her.”

Well, there goes his chances of joining this frat, which surprisingly, is one of the more tame options out of the other ones. This one has great connections to people in the field of computer science and engineering, which is what he desperately wants to achieve. This could give him a big head start…but he can’t just use you.

He chuckles nervously, “I don’t know…she’s not like that-”

“Too bad,” the frat brother says as he takes his arm off of Jake, “We thought you would’ve fit right in with us.” the others nod their heads in agreement.

Jake thinks for a moment. “...alright…fine.”

The four of them cheer, which ignites cheers from other party goers, making Jake look around and find it a bit strange that they hold that kind of power.

“You can use Bradley’s room, he could use some sort of action on that bed.” one of them teases and the others laugh. Jake nods his head, trying to laugh along and then they shove him to go over to you. Jake quickly walks over to you, setting his drink on the counter and grabs your arm.

“The hell-?” you say as he quickly drags you upstairs into a bedroom and he closes the door behind the two of you, looking at you kind of panicked. “What the hell is your problem-”

“They want me to fuck you.”

You feel yourself freeze, all of your muscles tensing up at what just came out of his mouth. Was he being serious? “...deadass?”

“Deadass.”

“Damn…” you mutter, him releasing your arm from his grip. “So…”

He shrugs, “So…” he repeats.

“Guess you’re not getting into this frat.”

He looks at you for a moment, “So, this is like…a for sure thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Dude, I’m not having sex with you so you can join a frat.”

“Come on,” he pleads, using his puppy dog eyes again. To be honest, he knew you would say no for obvious reasons, but this was important to him. Sure, you’re important to him, too, which is kind of why he also figured you would be okay with doing this as a favor. “this is really important, I have to get into this frat. I could get an upper hand with some major companies I want to work for once we graduate. Please?” he clasps his hands together, “Just do me this one favor.”

“Fucking me is not a favor.”

“Well, it’s also not a punishment-”

You scoff, shoving his shoulder lightly and he laughs softly. It goes quiet for a moment between the two of you and he looks at you, expecting, wanting you to change your mind.

“How would they know, anyway? Can’t we just, like, pretend to have had sex? You know, like that scene in Easy A.” you suggest.

“In what?”

“Oh my god, we have to add that to our list of movies to watch, it has Emma Stone, so you already know it’s going to be good-”

“Okay, okay, yeah we can watch it later. Are you going to let me fuck you or what?”

You groan, “Can’t I just give you my panties or something and then you can wave them around and brag about it? Actually, don’t do that.”

“Look, this frat is made up of guys in business, engineering, chemistry, and physics majors, they’re not stupid. They’ll know, trust me, and I really don’t want to have to deal with any more hazing because I’m pretty sure it’s just going to keep getting worse and I would actually like to survive my first few weeks of college.”

“Or…you could just not join.”

He frowns, “You know how much this means to me.” You sigh. Yes, you thought this was stupid, but you also weren’t dumb enough to not realize how joining this frat could actually help him in the future. You saw the superficialness of it all and you knew he wasn’t dumb enough to see past it either, but Jake has worked really hard and besides, you would be lying if you said you saw this as a worst case scenario. “Please?” he asks, anticipating your answer.

You sigh again, “Fine.”

He smiles, “God, yes, thank you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“I’ll make you feel so fucking good.” he says. You thought you should take it as a joke, but he says it with a more serious tone before he hooks his fingers through the loop of your jeans, pulling you closer as he leans in, kissing you.

You were a little surprised by him just going for it so suddenly, but you close your eyes and kiss him back. His hand travels up to your waist, holding onto it as his other hand moves to the side of your face, cupping it as he pulls you closer, his fingers slightly tangling with your hair. He tilts his head, slipping his tongue past your lips, sending shivers down your spine as it slides over your own. He kisses you with a sort of hunger, not expecting to be kissing you with so much intensity, but once his lips met yours, it’s like a switch went off for him and he can’t help himself from wanting you more and more.

He guides the two of you over to the bed as you continue to kiss, him grunting softly as his eyebrows furrow together, feeling himself getting hard from just kissing you. He parts from your lips, having you both gasp for air before he pushes your hair aside, feeling his long, thin fingers brush past your neck before being replaced with his soft, plump lips. He leaves open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck before turning you around, your ass pressing against his hard on, making him moan softly into your ear from the contact, his precum leaking and staining his underwear and pants. You tease him, grinding against him slightly which makes him bite your neck softly as he continues kissing along the side of it, down to your shoulder. He grips your hips tightly, stopping your movements and you feel his lips and hot breath brush against your ear.

“Don’t play with me.” he whispers, gently nibbling on your earlobe before pulling away. His hands slip to the button of your jeans, undoing it and slowly zipping down the zipper. He pushes your jeans down just slightly, a little past your ass and he feels like he’s going to pass out from his fingertips gently grazing the edge of your underwear alone. He kisses your neck again, his left hand going to your neck, gently gripping it as he moves your head to the side to give him more room. That action alone almost makes you moan, but you just gasp softly as his right hand slips its fingers past your waistband, finally feeling them push against you. He moans at the feeling of you already being so wet and he coats his fingers in your arousal, making a mess in your panties.

He uses his middle and ring finger to press and circle your clit, causing you to gasp and close your eyes, your head falling back against his shoulder and he pulls away from your neck, breathing slightly heavily. He turns his head to look at you, leaving gentle kisses on the side of your face as he moves his fingers down, pushing them inside of you. From the way your lips part and you let out the softest moan, your eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, he can feel himself almost cum at the sight alone. He pushes his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing your clit and he leaves a kiss against your ear.

“That’s right, baby, you like this, hm? Fuck, you’re so wet, do you want me to just fuck you now?” he whispers against your ear, knowing he, himself, wants nothing more than to do just that. He fingers you faster, curling them against your walls as the pads of his fingers reach areas you can’t. You moan louder, feeling your legs shake and he smirks. “I bet you taste so good.” he whispers and he pulls his fingers out of you and your panties. “Open.” he demands and you open your mouth, slightly sticking out your tongue and he puts his fingers into your mouth. You lick them as he shoves them a little deeper and then pulls them out, sliding the mixture of your spit and arousal on your bottom lip before he turns your head and kisses you, wanting to taste you. He licks your lip, he sucks your tongue, anything he can just to have you on his lips. He moans softly and pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips before breaking. He’s decided he needs more.

He runs his hand along your back, slightly pushing you so you bend over the bed. You can feel your heartbeat against the comforter of the bed. He pulls your jeans down to your ankles, biting his bottom lip as he grins at the full view of your ass on display. His eyes look over how soaked your panties are, feeling a sense of pride knowing he did it. He gently squeezes and kisses one side of your ass, playfully biting it and then realizes he likes the idea of him marking you like this. He bites it a little harder, you moaning and whining at the feeling, your fingers gripping onto the bed sheet. He grins, kissing his teeth marks before he pulls down your underwear, feeling as though he is looking at the gates of heaven itself, his eyes locking onto your pussy. He mumbles something to himself that you can’t hear, but you suddenly feel his tongue slide slowly along and in between your folds. Your mouth opens as you moan, feeling yourself clenching around nothing and he chuckles softly, licking his lips.

He can feel his cock twitch in his pants, more warm precum sticking to his thigh and underwear. He goes back in for more, low groans and moans coming deeply from his throat as he buries his face into your swollen pussy, covering his face in your slick. “You taste so fucking good.” he says with a raspy voice, the vibrations feeling as though they travel throughout your whole body as you moan, feeling his tongue lick feverishly. You feel yourself drool at how he spreads your legs more, his nose and tongue all pressing into you more, him hooking his arms under your thighs, his hands resting and squeezing your ass, raising your hips slightly as he licks and sucks your clit. His nose rubs between your swollen folds as you moan louder, gripping the sheets tighter.

He licks faster, making out with your cunt as his tongue slips in and out of you. You let out a long moan, feeling as if your knees buckle, cumming all over his tongue, lips, chin, and nose. He moans into your pussy, licking up all of your release and he pulls away, looking at your glistening pussy, rubbing his fingers between your slit, spreading the mixture of his spit and your cum all over. His tongue licks his lips clean, reaching down to lick the part of his chin it can reach and he lets out a low groan, relishing in your taste. You whine as he gives a soft slap to your pussy, licking his fingers clean before using it to collect your cum from the rest of his face and licking that up as well.

He flips you over, leaning down to kiss you again and you kiss him back eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands roam along the sides of your body, his right one moving up to your chest and groping your breast through your shirt, you moan and whine as he squeezes it tightly, palming and kneading it as he starts to kiss you roughly. His breaths are heavy and before he even knows what he’s doing, he rips your shirt open, his patience dwindling with each second that passes. He kisses down your throat and buries his face between your breasts, kneading them as he kisses between them. He squeezes and pushes them together, licking across them and switching between each one to leave kisses on. He pulls down the cups of the bra, your nipples hardening more from the sudden cold air hitting them as your breathing becomes shallow and you moan with how he is handling you.

He flicks his tongue over your nipple, sucking and gently tugging at it with his teeth. His tongue swirls around your nipple, his hand squeezing the breast to fill more of his mouth as saliva runs down his chin. He moves and does the same with the other one and your chest rises and falls, moans escaping your lips. Your hand moves and tugs at his shirt, pulling the fabric up and he notices, moving away from you as he takes it off quickly. You feel yourself get even wetter at the sight of his toned arms and abs, looking over every curve of his upper body and he grins. He takes your hand and places it on his abs, moving it over them slowly and you both moan quietly to yourselves. He lets go of your hand and slides off his shoes, you taking the initiative to do the same. You both undress the rest of yourselves quickly and you feel yourself stop in your tracks when you see his long, thick cock slap against his abdomen. You clench around nothing as your eyes look over each vein, biting your bottom lip.

You reach out, using your finger to slide it over his tip, collecting the precum. His breath gets caught in his throat as he watches you, as you also collect the precum from the side of his thigh. You bring your fingers to your lips, licking them slowly as you look up at him. He watches you intently, his eyes shifting from your fingers, to your tongue, to your lips, to your eyes. You let out a soft moan as you taste him, licking your fingers clean and he reaches out, his hand grabbing your chin and lifting your head up to look at him more. He looks down at you, grinning before kissing you, tasting him on your tongue; that fact alone made him feel proud. He pushes you back against the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He kisses your temple muttering a “thank you” before pushing himself into you.

Your back arches slightly at the feeling, the pressure between your legs, the way that your walls mold and clench around his cock makes your head spin. You can feel the ridges of the veins in his cock grazing against them, making you clench tighter. He grits his teeth, cursing under his breath as he pushes himself fully into you. He moans and whines a little at the overwhelming feeling of you around him. His forehead rests on yours as he catches his breath, his hands wandering down the sides of your waist to your hips, gripping them tightly as he holds back the urge to cum. He thrusts slowly, sliding in and out of you, subtle squelching noises of your wetness coating his cock. This sound alone, however, causes him to go faster, moans spilling from your lips as the bed creaks harshly, the headboard hitting the wall. His grip becomes tighter and he clenches his jaw, letting out short breaths as he pulls away, watching your tits bounce with each thrust. He reaches and grabs one, playing with your nipple and fondling the breast, his eyes rolling back a bit as he moans. He fucks into you harder and faster, his hips meeting yours quickly, his balls slapping against your ass, the sound of your skin slapping, your moans becoming increasingly louder as your cunt swallows his cock each time he thrusts into it, his soft whines with short moans, and your arousal spreading between your thighs while getting on his drives him wild.

He pulls out and you gasp at the empty feeling. He grabs your hips and flips you over, pushing your ass up and spreading your legs, sliding himself back in, pounding into you harder and faster. You moan–almost screaming–at the sudden change of pace, your face buried into the mattress as your body shakes. He moans, gripping your ass tightly as he uses that to keep him steady while he fucks you. You moan and scream his name into the mattress, making him moan in return. He grabs a handful of your hair, pulling your head up from the mattress, making you moan and gasp.

“Scream it now.” he demands, fucking you deeper, his other hand reaching to rub circles on your clit hard and fast.

Your eyes roll back a bit and you comply, screaming his name, letting out a lewd moan afterwards as pleasure overtakes your body, your orgasm crashing down. You clench tightly around him, repeating his name over and over as you cum. That was all he needed and until now, he never realized that’s all he wanted. He thrusts harshly a few more times, going back to gripping your hips before moaning your name and pulling out. He pumps his cock a few times and flips you back over, you just giving in because your mind was blank at the moment. He moves up and moans deeply as he cums on your breasts, watching as the pearly white liquid spills on your nipples and the soft flesh, feeling warm and sticky on your skin.

He lets out a breath he seemed to be holding and kisses you. You kiss him back, sloppily, before he pulls away, moving to your chest. He kisses your nipples, a little bit of his cum on his lips before he licks it off. He uses his pointer and middle fingers to spread the cum around your nipples in a slow, circular motion, making you shiver. He smiles, and collects his cum onto his fingers off of your breasts. You open your mouth and he chuckles softly, sticking his fingers in your mouth as you suck and lick them.

“So good…so pretty��” he whispers to you.

You blush a little and he pulls his fingers out. He moves off of you and you both just take some time to catch your breath. You sit up and you both look at each other before bursting out into laughter. You both calm down after a moment before getting up to put on your clothes, but after you put on everything but your shirt is when you realize you can’t.

You glare at him, “Genius, what the hell am I supposed to wear?” you ask, holding up your ripped shirt.

He laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Damn, my bad.” he looks around and then he takes off his shirt, handing it to you. You raise an eyebrow and take it, putting it on. He walks to the closet and just grabs a shirt from there, putting it on. “I’ll give it back later.” he says, to which you laugh.

You both walk out of the room, seeing two of the frat boys Jake was talking to earlier. They smile smugly and whistle, cheering a bit and you roll your eyes. They give a thumbs up to Jake and he smiles a bit awkwardly before leaning to whisper in your ear, “Let’s get out of here.” You both walk silently as you leave the party. After a moment, he speaks, “Thanks…by the way…and I’ll buy you a new shirt and…I definitely owe you one.”

“You better get into this frat, I swear to God.”

He laughs, “Damn right.” he says as he nudges your arm and you nudge back. “So, how can I make this up to you?”

You think for a moment and then shrug. “It wasn’t all that bad.”

He scoffs, “Gee, thanks.”

You laugh, “You know what I mean.”

He smirks and looks at you. “You know…you look even hotter in my shirt.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “What a random thing to say.”

He shrugs, “Maybe…we could do this again.”

You look at him, quiet for a moment. “...very funny.”

“I’m serious.” he says as he looks back at you. He smiles a bit and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Are you down or what?”

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