#I should have mentioned that I like my monsters monstrous

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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 “Mmm… Nothing we haven’t seen before. Got a couple of cool 3D models of the storm your screen, “Anything interesting?” 

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. 

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. 

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. 

[sea-salted-wolverine]

hey man sorry to send you an ask out of nowhere but you made a comment on a post about enjoying meandering discussions speculative biology. i do not understand science but i have been trying to give minor scientific justification werewolves in my personal canon. you got any thoughts? sorry if this is a weird ask to send i'm really sleep deprived and it's making me act weird

Werewolves I feel are better off in the hardcore magic category but we'll give it a shot.

So, the real life beasties that have physical cyc to the moon are pretty much all mating cycles so we are going down a very specific path. Coral reefs have multitudes of species that all time their breeding to the full moon to take advantage of both seasonal currents and overwhelmed predators. If the water is absolutely chock full of larve and funky lil fertilized eggs things that want to eat them are spoiled for choice and the individual eggs have a better shot. Bugs do something similar.

Sea turtles lay eggs on the beach and when those babies hatch they find the water by finding the reflection of the moon and following the light. This leads to very sad sea turtle babies who are born on beaches next to cities and wind up following headlights into traffic.

So for werewolves, the moon is less of the driving force behind the transformation and more of a way to sync everyone's transformation to the same night. Figuring out who is a werewolf while the werewolves are all people is nearly impossible and sorting through is a terrible evolutionary strategy especially if revealing yourself as a werewolf to a human gets you chased with pitchforks and torches. From simply an evolutionary standpoint, the way to make more werewolves is to put 2 wolves together and hope they breed. The full moon is just a convenient date for scheduling sexytimes.

So let's think about the transmission of lycanthropy.

In dogs there is a transmisible cancer. Very sad, major bummer, but, the point is that its viral. Or at least acts like a virus. The canine cancer cells (virophages? I'm also operating on less than ideal sleep, bear with me) infect healthy canine cells and then do what cancer does. but the DNA of the cancer cells, while it is still canine, is Not the mutated DNA of the infected dog. It's basically bits of a different dog growing inside the sick dog. Which, in real life is very bad and kills the dog, and if we are going the hard science route only works in one direction. One insane physical transformation is possible, changing back is way harder. Butterflies don't go back in cocoons, salmon don't come back from a spawn.

So imagine lycanthropy to be more like zombification. You get bit and you won't know till the full moon if its infected you. Once you turn, there is no turning back, the wolf overtakes your cells from the inside to use for its own purposes. Once a month the world lives in fear as the beast claims the night, ravening and hungry.

The full moon acts as a spawning schedule for the virus, such a violent transformation is an all or nothing event. Either the infected individual passes on the sickness to lie dormant for another month or their over wrought body gives out under the strain. Like a rabid animal, doomed to die and only a vehicle for the thing that kills them. The full moon is a time for making more werewolves after all.

[oreo-creampie]

“𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! Sukuna is mean, Monster fucking, breaking and entering (reader is aware he is coming), somnophilia, choking, hints of masturbation, choking, manhandling, huge huge huge size kink that swings both ways, let’s say Sukuna’s monster cock can fit cause I say so, light pain kink, degradation/taunting/hints of praise if you count being called a slut in bed rewarding (which I do but to each their own), pussy slapping, pinching your clit once, mentions of a toy that he licks once to see if it still tastes like you what can I say he is a nasty fucker,

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧! ❛ there’s so many things i wanna do to you.❜ + sukuna

𝟏𝟑𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Fey; monster fucking with sukuna always hits just right but when you add consented to somnophilia + breaking and entering

Sukuna slowly pulls your curtains back, the full moon illuminates you bedroom well enough. He grabs your blanket and gentle peels it off, bunching it at the bottom of the bed.

The inhuman toy cock next to you catching his attention. It’s thick but yet it still pales in comparison to his’ own. It’s hot that you have something like this to occupy your time when he is away.

Did he ruin normal men for you? He hopes so. He wants your sloppy cunt to crave his inhuman cocks.

Sukuna picks the toy up and licks it, tasting your sweet cunt. Swirling his tongue around it’s tip. He considers triple stuffing you, but which hole should he shove it in?

You roll onto your back and stretch your arm out, seeking your blanket. Promptly giving up when you didn’t immediately find it. You’re in the perfect position for Sukuna to play with you.

Making quick work of his sweats, his shirt having ripped off when he transformed before he broke into your house. Something you’ll have to pay for.

He carefully climbs onto the bed, towering over you, giving him a thrill. Comparing himself to you, you’re so small, weak and vulnerable, perfect for manhandling and stuffing his cock into.

Whimpering in your sleep, “Sukunnn..” Your soft cunt quivers around his thick fingers. You’re so wet, soft and tight around him. Licking your soft clit with his hand’s tongue. Whilst slowly spreading your legs apart.

You furrow your brows, and slowly open your eyes. “Whaaann?” He bites your thigh when you try to close your legs. Using his weight to force your smaller, soft body into a mating press.

He accusing you, “You’re a brat, there wasn’t a window or door unlocked for me.” Roughly smacking your soft wet cunt.

You whine, “I know!” Another harsh slap, and he glided his thick fingers in, licking your clit. You mewl, “Nnn you can pick the lock!” His fingers and tongue is magical on your cunt. Your thighs trembles, toes curl and your cunt is soaking his hand.

Sukuna looks down at you, “You got tighter, does it turn you on thinking about me wanting your sloppy cunt so badly I’d break in for it?”

He glides his fingers out, smacking your cunt whilst crooning. “What a depraved slut!” Pinching your soft clit, smirking when you cry. You’re so helpless in his large hands, it’s so easy for him to manhandle and fuck you as he pleases.

“I’m your depraved monster cock loving slut.” Sukuna stuffs his hand’s thick tongue in your soft aching cunt. Squeezing your throat, fondling your breast, switches between sucking and biting.

He fondles your soft breasts, sucking on your nipple. “Let’s see how much my cum my cocksleeve can take before falling back asleep.” Replacing his soft tongue with his long thick fingers stretching your cunt out.

He insists, “There are so many things I wanna do to you.” He loosens his grasp on your throat. “How long do you think you can keep me entertained for?” Gliding his fingers out, smearing your slick on his cock.

“I dunno I’m sleepy, but you can keep fucking me even after I pass out.” He’s monstrous, towering over you, nudging your soft cunt with his fat cock.

You winch when he rolls his hips forward, giving you just the tip. His cock above it, rubs your soft clit. You whine reaching down, splaying your hands above his stomach’s mouth. He grabs your wrist, raising it above your head tightening his grasp around your neck.

Sukuna lifts you bed, sinking you down on his cock. Your head reaches his chest, tilting your head back Sukuna makes you look up at him.

He sneers ,“Since you already had fun without me I don’t have to stretch you out right? I can have my fun, use your soft little cunt how I want.” Pressing your smaller body to the wall, you’re so helpless.

He smirks, “This is the kind of perverted shit that gets a monster fucker like you off isn’t it?” Sukuna is beating your pussy up, making her squelch and your toes curl.

You clench your cunt and his smirk drops with a loud groan. “Stupid little brat with your dumb little cunt.”

all works

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:22」 — p.seonghwa

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➮ naga!Seonghwa × fem!Reader wc: 6.3k summary: Y/N’s naga roommate is still trying to get used to the hustle and bustle of life in the city. He finds it difficult to go out and socialize as monsters aren’t socially accepted yet. So he tends to go a little stir crazy and get bored often. dinner time is no different when he suggests they do something fun. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: food & alcohol consumption, snakes, snake behavior (literally. Not metaphorically lol), snake biology and anatomy; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this was originally Wooyoung when I started planning but I couldn’t get the idea of naga!Seonghwa out of my head so I swapped him and Woo, giving Wooyoung siren instead. Nagas are one of my favorite creatures/monsters/cryptids. I have a special place in my heart for naga!Idols after writing that Mingi one for the Library of Illusion. It’s just a fun concept. Thank you for reading! If you like this, please consider reblogging and supporting my writing! The next part is another member of Ateez and it’s going to be an interesting one, so stay tuned! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), table sex, double penetration (f receiving), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (seonghwa is a snake man with two d!cks, they don’t make condoms for snake men. But they do make them for humans. So use them), multiple orgasms (f receiving), use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, etc.), that should be all but of course, let me know if I missed any. kinks: Table/counter sex + double penetration dialogue prompt: ❛❛ I’m bored. Let’s fuck. ❜❜

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You stared, dumbstruck, at your roommate as he stared at you with his bright, green, reptilian eyes.

“What did you just say?” you asked incredulously as a smirk started to form on his face. “I said,” he started, never taking his eyes off yours. “I’m bored.” Your eyes narrowed as you stared him down. “I meant after that,” you retorted. The smirk on his face grew even more.

“Let’s fuck.”

When he had initially said those words to you, it was after you had returned home from work, excited to have the entire weekend off to relax and unwind. You had been prepared to come home, make dinner, and perhaps curl up on the couch with your favorite bottle of wine.

What you hadn’t expected was for your naga roommate to suggest the two of you have sex to combat his boredom. That was the furthest thing from your mind. The idea of fucking your 4.5 meter long naga roommate had not even crossed the threshold of possibilities in your mind.

When you first met Seonghwa, it was like seeing the Loch Ness Monster or Bigfoot for the first time. Nothing truly prepares you for seeing a cryptid for the very first time. There are no preparation classes or exams for that kind of thing. You have to rely on your instincts and while every single bone in your body had told you to run, you just couldn’t bring yourself to listen.

Despite his monstrous stature and long, snake-like body, Seonghwa was the exact opposite of a monster to you. He was kind, courteous, polite, and quiet. He sometimes had a bit of a chaotic streak but he was great company and you enjoyed every second you spent in his presence. 

When the Monster Relocation Initiative was enacted, making it illegal to discriminate against sentient humanoids, you found yourself wanting to help in some capacity because of your new budding friendship. You went through the proper channels, signing up for a monster roommate. Somehow, Seonghwa got matched with you and you were beyond excited to have him in your apartment.

Your ridiculously cramped apartment.

Not that it was cramped before, oh no. Before Seonghwa moved in, your apartment was just the right size. Perfect for you, living alone in a historic building renovated into apartments after the Monster Relocation Initiative was announced.

To you, your apartment was exactly the right size… for a single occupant. But add a 4.5 meter long snake-man and it started to get cramped real quick.

Not that you were complaining. On the contrary, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Seonghwa may technically be a monster but he was the furthest thing from scary. Was he capable of wrapping you in his strong coils, squeezing the life out of you and eating you whole? Probably, but you knew he would never do that.

The difference between most monsters and the ones protected in the M.R Initiative was that the humanoids were sentient, capable of intelligent thought and able to learn and distinguish the difference between right and wrong. Could Seonghwa kill you in your sleep? Of course, he was fully capable of that. But would he? No.

This integral difference between most monsters and the humanoids allowed most of them to get jobs and integrate into society. It was illegal to discriminate in any way against them, denying them employment, housing, or entry to establishments was punishable by law. They were legally members of society with citizenship cards, IDs and the right to vote.

Socially, however, was another matter entirely. While they couldn’t be denied jobs for being who they were, many places of employment found entirely valid, albeit bogus, reasons not to hire humanoids. This had been the subject of many of your conversations with Seonghwa by this point.

He often complained of boredom, being cooped up in the apartment all day. It was a difficult subject and rather sensitive for him. His lack of employment. Since Seonghwa moved into your place, you’d taken on most, if not all, of the financial responsibility, paying all the bills, buying all the household groceries and supplies. Again, you weren’t complaining entirely. You enjoyed having Seonghwa around.

He did wonders for your mental health, which was why you often sat and listened to his complaints.

The topic of unemployment had come up again while you sat at your dining room table, where you were finishing up your dinner, Seonghwa having finished a long time ago. He had been talking about his day spent inside while you were outside, at work. He complained of the boredom and you listened patiently.

“Come on, Y/N!” he whined for the nth time that day. “I'm so bored!” You swallowed your mouthfuls of noodles before giving him an apologetic look. “Hwa,” you said calmly, setting your fork down as you finished your meal. “Why don't you try again and find another job?”

His lack of employment wasn’t entirely his fault. He’d been extremely diligent in the beginning, applying for a plethora of jobs he was more than qualified for. He managed to secure job interviews left and right but each time after the interview, the result was the same and after almost a year of numerous failures to secure a job, Seonghwa became more and more dejected. More depressed.

While being legally accepted into society, Seonghwa was still not accepted socially due to his monstrous size and form. He’d been passed over again and again for job simply because he looked different. The more human the humanoids looked, the more likely they were to blend in and while the top part of Seonghwa was human enough, the other three meters of him was all too telling of his nature.

It had been well over a year since Seonghwa started living with you and while you were financially capable of handling the household bills until he did manage to land a job, Seonghwa was berating and beating himself up for it. He often snuck into your bed, at least as much of his body that would fit, and the two of you would stay up, talking late into the wee hours of the morning.

Most of his concerns circulated the same train of thought: finding a job and establishing himself as a member of society. He hated the isolation that his previous life forced on him, living all alone in the caves in the mountains with no one to talk to, being confined to the caves and starving until some poor creature wandered into his lair. He hated every second of it.

It was nice, having a warm body near you, and while Seonghwa wasn’t the cuddliest creature, he did tend to wrap you up in his embrace, mainly to keep from pushing you off your bed with the rest of his huge, elongated body. The amount of heat between your bodies on some of the colder nights was nice but it left you wondering what the line between you was and had you crossed it already.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't think about Seonghwa in that way. More than once you had walked in on him showering, water running down his human torso as he tried to wash only his hair and not get his scales wet. Not because he couldn't get wet but because he didn't want trail water everywhere.

You pushed the inappropriate thoughts aside as your friend started to speak.

“What's the point?” he muttered. “All I get is rejected. By jobs, by society, by everyone.”

You felt your heart sink. Your poor best friend. He was such a bright, bubbly person-- monster? He had so much love to give so to see him so down pulled at your heartstrings. You set your chopsticks down and reached across your tiny table to place a gentle hand over his that rested on the wooden surface.

Seonghwa looked from your hand up to meet your gaze as you smiled warmly at him. “I don't reject you,” you said softly. Seonghwa accepted your gesture, taking your hand in both of his hands and bringing it to his face, turning your hand over and pressing your palm against his cheek. “I know,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

As quickly as it started, the tender moment was over when your phone buzzed violently against the table. Using your free hand, you grabbed the device as Seonghwa stared wide-eyed, his slit-like pupils widening to twice their normal width. “Ugh. What part of working hours do my bosses not understand,” you grumbled, reading over your supervisor's text. 

“It’s the weekend and nearly nine at night,” you added as you read over more of the message. “Well, at least I can handle this from home,” you continued when Seonghwa didn't reply.

You glanced up, mid-text, to see why he wasn't responding. He was looking at your phone, a far off look in his eyes. “Hwa?” you called gently. He seemed to snap out of it and look up at you. “Are you alright?” you asked softly. Seonghwa nodded, eyes fixating on your phone again. “That sound,” he started, voice barely above a whisper. You looked down at your phone and back up to your friend.

“The vibration? Oh shit! I totally forgot!” you said quickly changing the vibration settings on your phone. In the wild, snakes sense the world by vibration and heat signatures. Seonghwa was no different. He'd told you in the beginning how highly sensitive to vibrations he was. He also can see in the dark using heat.

“It's not that,” Seonghwa said suddenly. “It reminded me of… nevermind,” he said after a brief pause. You could tell something was on his mind. Not wanting him to feel like he couldn't talk to you, you locked your phone screen before setting the device back on the table, face down and giving Seonghwa your undivided attention.

“No,” you started. “It's okay, you can tell me.”

You noticed how Seonghwa's cheeks turned a slightly darker shade of peach. “No,” he said nonchalantly, waving his hand. “It's nothing.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to feel the weight of your stare which took less than three seconds. “You know you can tell me anything,” you replied kindly. “You know I'll never judge you.” Seonghwa gave you a very pointed stare, raising one eyebrow.

“Okay, except for that one time I saw you swallow three whole rotisserie chickens at the store, I won't judge you.”

A familiar smile broke over your roommate's face as he remembered the day in question. “The look on your face was priceless,” he mused, a giggle escaping him. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but the chickens weren’t,” you retorted, causing Seonghwa to burst into laughter. “I know, I'm sorry,” he said between giggles. “I promise I'll pay you back!” You joined him in his laughter a moment later, shaking your head as he laughed loudly.

The laughter eventually subsided and you got up to clear the table, moving to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Seonghwa followed, leaning on his elbows against the kitchen island while he watched you. It was only a few dishes you needed to wash and once you set them aside and removed the gloves, you turned to find Seonghwa staring you down, his green eyes exploring your form.

“Hwa?” you called to him, drawing his attention slowly back up to meet your gaze. You saw the tip of his long tongue, which was remarkably human in color and forked, dart out to lick his lips. “I’m bored,” he said, making you roll your eyes as you moved to the fridge, your fingers wrapping around the handle only for his next words to make you freeze.

“Let’s fuck.”

You had been staring at him for a good five minutes, equal parts shocked and confused by his sudden proposal. “What did you just say?” you asked, your voice cracking as a smirk spread across his face. “I said I’m bored,” he repeated, trying to play coy. You shook your head. “I meant after that.”

Seonghwa’s smirk only grew as he stared at you, his eyes seeming to glow slightly. “Let’s fuck,” he repeated, his words taking all the breath from your lungs. Never had he been so bold. He’d never been so forward with you before. You felt a wave of heat course through your body, spreading from your core to your extremities and settling in the pit of your stomach.

“What… why… how…” you tried three times to ask a question but each time, the words failed you. Seonghwa tilted his head with a mischievous smile. “Snake got your tongue?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I – uh…” you trailed off, cheeks burning under his gaze.

“Are you always this eloquent?” Seonghwa asked jokingly. “What prompted this?” you finally managed to choke out. Seonghwa shrugged, leaning back up. You could hear the coils of his snake body slide over the wooden floor, the boards creaking slightly under his weight.

“I’ve thought about it all day actually,” he said simply. “Thought about what?” you asked, your voice cracking again. “Fucking you when you got home.”

Coughing overtook you as you accidentally inhaled your own spit. Seonghwa was by your side in an instant, guiding you to sit down at the table and offering you your glass from the table. You took a couple sips while he rubbed your back soothingly. “Does the idea of fucking me gross you out that much?” he joked. You quickly shook your head.

“That's not it,” you replied quickly, voice raspy from the choking and coughing. “I'm not opposed at all actually.”

You stopped, turning to look at Seonghwa who was now smirking at you, a devilish grin on his face. “Oh really now?” he asked softly, tilting his head. “Thought about me in that way, have you?”

Your face burned again, cheeks growing warm as you nervously pulled at the collar of your shirt. “Is it warm in here?” you murmured, looking down at your bowl full of broth that was now definitely cold.

Seonghwa's smirk grew. “It's a little warm,” he answered, reaching up to brush your cheek before leaning in, lips inches from your ear. “But it's about to get a whole lot hotter.”

You stared at the naga as he continued to smirk at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “W-what do you mean?”

Seonghwa leaned his upper torso on the table, the bottom snake half of his body resting on the wooden floor, the boards creaking beneath his weight. He cocked his head, still smirking. “It means,” he started, eyes quickly scanning your frame before darting back up to meet your gaze. “That I'm bored.”

His answer was anticlimactic and that must have showed on your face because he quickly held up a finger, making you wait. “Let me elaborate,” he added. You nodded, motioning for him to continue speaking. He lowered his finger, again scanning you quickly.

“I've always found you insanely attractive for a human. Normally your kind grosses me out or maybe they just annoy me,” he said, bringing his hand up to tap his chin thoughtfully. “Regardless,” he continued. “You're the first human to treat me with kindness and aren't bothered by my… unconventional appearance.”

You opened your mouth to protest his word choice but he simply took your chin in his hand, halting your movements. "Don't deny it," he stated, giving you a stern look. “You know that other humans aren't so keen on my kind. I don't look human enough for them. It's why no one will hire me and why you've been covering my ass all this time.”

Again you tried to speak but he gave your head a gentle shake.

“I'm still talking, sweetheart,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave. Heat rushed between your thighs at the sound of his deep husky tone of his voice. You tried to discreetly squeeze your thighs together but Seonghwa had always been so perceptive.

“Back to what I was saying,” he said, a smirk returning to his lips as he rested his free hand on your thigh. “I find you exceptionally attractive. Everything about you is enticing. Your voice, your eyes, your smile…” he trailed off, eyes lowering to your thighs clenching together. “Even your scent,” he rasped.

You let out a tiny gasp as you felt the pointed tips of his nails dig slightly into the exposed flesh of your thigh. “And judging by your reactions and what you said moments ago, you clearly are attracted to me,” he continued, glancing back up.

You pulled your bottom lip gently between your teeth as he eyed you. “Isn't that right?” he asked, tilting his head. You nodded, not trusting your voice to speak. “And so let me rephrase my earlier statement,” Seonghwa said, moving his hand from your chin to grab the back of your neck.

“I'm bored. Let’s fuck.”

You had no chance to respond, only gasp before your voice was muffled, Seonghwa closing the short distance between your lips and taking you in a searing kiss.

The hand on your thigh held steady, fingers squeezing your thigh as Seonghwa parted your lips with his and his tongue slipped into your mouth. One of the more unsettling features was his forked tongue. You'd never felt it before but you were surprised it was soft, almost like a human tongue only forked and much longer.

Seonghwa pulled back much too quickly for your liking, chuckling when you attempted to pull him back in for another kiss. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I'm not going anywhere.”

You whined when he dodged another one of your attempts to kiss him. “Hwa!” you whined but he merely chuckled before pushing your centerpiece and other table decorations from the surface. They fell to the floor with a clatter while you stared wide eyed at your roommate.

“Are you ins-”

“Get on the table,” Seonghwa ordered, stopping you in your thoughts. You blinked incredulously at him. “O-on the table?” you stammered. He nodded, standing up straight. Looking at the now clear surface, you looked back at him. “Wh-why?”

“Because,” he said in a growl, the hand on your thigh sliding up under your loose shorts. “This is the dinner table and I'm hungry.”

You quickly scrambled up, ignoring the way the table creaked as you scooted into position. Seonghwa was quick to pull off the shirt he was wearing. He only wore it around you at your insistence. His naked, toned torso was distracting at times. 

“Take these off,” he ordered, tugging at the hem of your shorts. 

You moved at lightning speed, pursuing the material down and discarding it on the floor. “These too,” Seonghwa continued, running his thumb over the thin material of your panties. You were about to comply when an idea popped into your head. 

“You take them off,” you retorted. 

Seonghwa eyed you, squinting suspiciously before he leaned over, towering over your form. “If I take them off, I'll ruin them,” he replied. “You really want that?” You shook your head. “Control your strength,” you answered. “Tease me. Seduce me.” Seonghwa laughed out loud. “You're lying on your back all but presenting yourself to me on the table, sweetheart,” he stated. “I think I've already seduced you.” 

Wordlessly, you sat up, pushing him back. “Then I guess I'll get dressed again,” you replied, moving to drop to the floor but Seonghwa stopped you, fingers wrapping around your throat lightly. “Like hell you will. You want me?” he asked, eyes burning into yours. You swallowed thickly against his hand, nodding slowly.

“Then you're gonna lie back, spread your legs and let me tease you until you're begging me for my cock,” he continued. Almost as if his words were hypnotizing, you slowly laid back as his hand slid from your neck and down your chest to the hem of your shirt.

He pushed it up as he leaned over. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his lips leave light kisses down your stomach. “You want me to tease you?” he asked softly. “I'll tease you, alright?”

You let out a soft moan as his kisses moved further and further, skipping over your core and starting at your knee. You chanced a glance at him, moaning loudly as your gaze met his. His lips parted in a grin before he continued kissing down the inside of your thigh, stopping to nip at the sensitive skin, making you gasp.

“God, I can smell you,” he groaned, burying his nose into your core. “I can't wait anymore,” he growled, pulling back, grabbing the sides of your panties and pulling them down your legs, leaving a trail of arousal smeared down your inner thigh. “I need to taste you.”

Before you could respond, Seonghwa had your legs over his shoulders and face buried in between them, tongue easily slipping between your folds. You gasped out, hands moving to his hair and gripping tightly. “Holy fuck, Seonghwa!” you gasped.

He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations to his tongue. “I'm going to ruin oral for you,” he murmured, pulling back to look at your glistening sex. “From now on, only I will be able to eat you out. No one else will be able to compare.”

You moaned again as his tongue returned to your clit, the appendage wriggling and teasing the sensitive nub. "Hwa," you whined, chest heaving as you panted. His hands pushed your thighs further apart, opening more of you up to him. “Don't worry, sweetheart,” he replied. “You'll cum eventually.”

You felt his tongue prod at your hole and almost as soon as he found it, his tongue was slithering its way in, making you whimper, walls clenching as his tongue explored your pussy. “S-Seonghwa!” you cried out, back arching off the hardwood. He pulled back before your orgasm washed over you, making you whimper in protest. “Be patient,” he said simply as he gave you another devilish smirk.

His tongue was back on you in an instant, flicked your clit as his claws dug further into your skin but not enough to make you bleed. You knew you were going to bruise from his insane grip. Your fingers tightened their hold on his hair as he ran his tongue up and down your clit, the forked, pointed tip a strange contrast to the oddly human feeling of the muscle.

Your hips started to buck, rolling against his face as your orgasm approached once more. Seonghwa groaned, letting you rut against his tongue, keeping his head still for a moment before he grabbed your hips, pinning them down against the wood as he went back in, lapping at your clit in rapid movements until the tension that had been building finally snapped like a rubber band and your climax washed over you.

You let out a moan that bordered on a whine as you tugged at Seonghwa’s hair, trying to pull him away from your sensitive nub as your body jerked in reaction to each drag of his tongue over your swollen clit. “Hwa,” you breathed. “Please. No more.” He obliged instantly, withdrawing from your cunt and kissing a wet path up your body. Stopping at the edge of your black bralette.

This needs to come off,” he murmured, taking the material in his teeth and tugging lightly. “D-don’t rip it,” you whispered, moving to sit up on the edge of the table, making him sit up straight and watch as you pulled your shirt off over your head, letting it fall to the floor with your panties. You held his gaze as you pulled your bralette off, letting it also drop to the floor. His eyes left yours, gaze wandering down to take in the sight of your bare chest.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he said softly, shifting to lean over you, his lips meeting yours in a much slower, more languid kiss as he laid you back against the table, the wood creaking under your combined weights. “What if it breaks?” you whispered against his lips.

“That would be impressive,” he murmured, lips ghosting over yours as he moved to kiss your neck. You could feel something rubbing against your cunt and glanced between your bodies to see the slit at the base of his torso. It was something you’d noticed plenty of times. The bump surrounding the slit wasn’t massive but it was still a decent size. It didn’t occur to you until then that was where his genitals were located.

Your head fell back against the table as he nipped at and sucked small love bites into the sensitive skin where your neck and shoulder met. “Hwa,” you breathed out, back arching slightly, pressing your chest against his. “Hmm?” he hummed in response, his tongue gliding over your pulse point and up to the base of your ear. “I need you,” you whispered.

“Needy little baby,” Seonghwa said as he let out a chuckle and shifted slightly, pressing that mound at the base of his torso against your wet core. “Does my little angel need me?” he cooed in your ear. “Wants me to fuck her?” You nodded, whining as he rutted against you, your arousal smearing over his skin. “Then who am I to deny her?”

He pulled back slightly and you let out a whine of protest but you quickly felt something hot and warm brush against your cunt and gasped. You tried lifting your head but Seonghwa made that impossible, taking you into a searing kiss. “Hwa,” you grumbled as his lips left yours. “I wanna see.”

Seonghwa snorted but pulled back slightly. “You wanna see what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “I wanna see it,” you said, trying to look down between your bodies. Seonghwa let out a dry laugh but obliged you, pushing himself up. Your eyes traveled down his lean body until you were met with a sight you were not expecting.

The slit had been split open and not one but two cocks had emerged. They were a pale pink color, the tips slightly red. Whether that coloration was natural or because he was aroused, you had no idea and you weren’t sure if you wanted to ask. The general shape was relatively human-like except for the head. The tip of each cock was slightly pointed, the base of the head flaring out a small amount.

The shafts were both mostly smooth with a few prominent veins. White beads of precum oozing from the slits on both. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows to get a better view, lips parting in awe. Seonghwa watched your expression, keeping an eye on your body language as you eyed him up. He knew he was quite different from a human in this regard and the look on your face was anything but disgust. There was an excited look in your eyes.

And that, in turn, excited him.

“You done staring?” he asked in an amused tone. Your eyes snapped up to meet his. “Sorry,” you whispered as he leaned over you, lips inches from yours. “It’s just so different.” Seonghwan hummed in response, lips brushing against yours as he leaned in closer. “You like what you see?” he asked softly. You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as his lips ghosted over yours before kissing you softly.

“You want both of them at the same time?” You let out a sound between a moan and a sob. “Yes,” you groaned as his lips kissed slowly along your jaw. “I want both of them in me.” Seonghwa held back the growl that rumbled in his chest. “Let’s start with just one,” he murmured in your ear. “On your stomach for me, baby.”

You quickly got up, turning to face the table. Before you could actually climb onto it, Seonghwa bent you over the edge, pressing your chest against the wooden surface. “I’ll go slow,” he said softly as he leaned over your back, the tip of one of his cocks pressing against your cunt. “I promise.” You nodded in response. “I trust you,” you whispered as you felt the very tip of his cock part your folds.

“Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” he asked softly. You nodded wordlessly, folding your arms in front of you as he grabbed your hips, stilling behind you as he looked down at where one of his cocks was about to disappear into you. He wasn’t lying earlier, he had thought about this moment for a while now.

“Oohh shiiiit,” you groaned, burying your face into your forearm as you felt Seonghwa ease the tip of his cock into your cunt. You heard him hiss from behind you. F-fuuuuuuck,” he grunted as he bottomed out, burying all of his length into your walls.

“You feel so warm,” he muttered, one hand moving to rest against the table, the other keeping a firm grip on your hip. “S’full,” you whimpered, your walls fluttering around and gripping Seonghwa’s cock as your body tried to adjust and accommodate him.

“Yeah?” he asked with a slight chuckle. “You like that? You like feeling full, baby?”

You responded with a whimper as he pulled back and gave you a gentle and shallow thrust, a deep rumble sounding from his chest. Almost like a purr. “Fucking hell, so warm and tight,” he said again, marveling at how strong of a grip you had on him.

“It’s like you’ve never been fucked.”

You groaned as he picked up the pace, his hips hitting your ass with each thrust with a slap. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Seonghwa hissed, slowing his hips. “I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he growled.

That being the constricting of your walls around his cock. “I c-can’t control that,” you gasped as he gave you a deep thrust. “Well try, damnit,” he huffed. “I don’t want this to end before it’s really even started.” You cried out as he gave you another deep thrust. “Ooh, that’s new,” he said cheekily, repeating the same action. “Your neighbors might not enjoy all the sound though.”

You had no chance or urge to respond as he picked up the pace again, pounding into you from behind. “What? No snarky comeback this time?” he asked, chuckled as you shook your head, unable to speak. The wood under you creaked as he leaned over, placing his other hand on the table for leverage.

“You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you,” he whispered in your ear. As if to drive his point home, he shoved all of his cock into your cunt and held it there, enjoying the way you struggled against him and whimpered. “Feels that good, huh?” he whispered as you started to relax under him.

You felt the tip of his tail curl around your ankle. “I can feel your heart pounding,” he murmured, lips tailing along your shoulder as his chest dressed against your back. “I can hear it. I can smell you,” he continued. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

You nodded, shuddering as he started to pull back and resume thrusting. “I never would have pegged you to be a monster fucker,” he chuckled. You let out a groan as you felt the pad of his thumb press against your asshole. “What’re you -ah!” you gasped as he slowly pushed the tip of his thumb into you. “If you want to take both, I should probably prepare you,” he said softly.

Your walls clenched around his cock and he groaned, movements halting momentarily as he tried to regain his composure. “I told you to stop doing that,” he said in a low voice as he pushed his thumb further into you. You moaned against the wood of the table. Seonghwa quickly withdrew his thumb, letting a drop of spit fall onto your asshole before pushing two fingers into you, making you gasp, your hands balling into fists. “You okay?” he asked softly as he stilled.

You nodded. The intrusion, while welcome, still stung slightly. Seonghwa gave you a moment to adjust, slowly working your hole open, stretching slightly as he moved his fingers in and out of you. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stretch you fully,” he murmured as he felt his cock inside your walls twitch. “It’s fine.” you said in a breathless voice. “Just put them both in.”

Seonghwa grimaced at the thought of roughly shoving his cock into you, knowing it would hurt you greatly. “No,” he murmured, shaking his head. “We’ll just have to be patient.”

Your body had started to relax as he moved his fingers in and out of you slowly. After what felt like hours but was definitely only a few hours, he finally pulled his fingers out of you, resuming his thrusting. His pace was slow but the thrusts were powerful, rocking you into the table with each snap. Your hands tried to find purchase on the table as he continued to fuck you against the wooden surface.

“Oh fuck this,” Seonghwa suddenly growled, pulling out of you completely. You whined in protest but when he easily flipped you over onto your back you stopped whining. He lined both cocks up with your holes, the first sliding into your cunt easy but the second needed some guidance and coaxing. He managed to ease the tip into your ass, making you gasp as you felt the head of his cock slowly start to stretch you further.

“Hey, hey,” he said suddenly, noticing your body tense up. “Relax,” he whispered. “It’s gonna hurt but only for a bit,” he added. You nodded up at him, taking a deep breath and letting out. As you exhaled, he pushed more of the head into you, the flared base of his cockhead stretching you more before it finally slipped snugly inside. Seonghwa paused, letting your body adjust, gently stroking your thighs and whispering words of praise and encouragement in your ear.

When you had relaxed even more, Seonghwa continued to push into you, both cocks filling your holes simultaneously. It was an entirely different experience, looking up into his green eyes as he pushed back into you slowly. You tried to maintain eye contact but your eyes betrayed you, rolling back as both cocks bottomed out. 

“Oh I like this more,” he chuckled, stilling as he let you adjust once more. After a few minutes, he started to move, setting a steady pace, pumping into you as he watched your face contort in pleasure. “I like being able to see your face. See the expressions you make as I fuck you,” he said as his pace increased, starting to pound into you. 

The feeling was foreign but you enjoyed it. Both holes being filled at the same time provided a new type of pleasure, one you’d never even considered before. You knew after this, there would be no going back to normal men or normal sex. Not when you had Seonghwa in your apartment. As if he read your mind, Seonghwa spoke up, repeating the same sentiments you’d thought to yourself.

“I don’t think I could give this up,” he groaned, hips hitting the back of your thighs and ass with each powerful thrust he gave you, the sound of skin hitting skin and the wet lewd sounds of his cocks slamming into you filling the apartment. “Now that I’ve had a taste,” he added.

“Gonna wanna fill you every night.” You moaned in agreement, knowing that your nightly routines were about to change forever. “Would you let me?” Seonghwa asked breathlessly as his hips stuttered. “You gonna let me fuck you every night now?” You nodded, moans raising in pitch as he continued to snap his hips, driving his cocks into you.

Your lips parted, a moan falling past them which was soon swallowed by Seonghwa as he leaned down, taking your lips in a messy kiss. His hips never faltered, his thrusts growing erratic as he drove both of you to orgasm. His tail was still curled around your ankle as he gave you a couple more thrusts, throwing you over the edge. Your walls tightened around his cock as you came, pushing him to his own climax.

Each moan you let out he swallowed eagerly as he fucked you both through your respective highs, emptying a ridiculous amount of cum into your abused holes until he finally stopped moving, his thick sticky cum dripping out of you and onto the floor. Neither of you spoke, only panting against each other as you tried to catch your breath and process what just happened.

Seonghwa finally pushed himself up, using the table for support as he looked down at you. “I think…” he started, speaking between each labored breath. “We should get cleaned up.” You nodded, your chest rising and falling with each pant. “I think that’s a good idea,” you croaked. Seonghwa smirked down at you as you licked your lips and tried to sit up. “What?” you asked, noticing the hungry look in his eyes.

“Round two in the shower?” he asked eagerly. You scoffed. “You just came! And a lot I might add,” you protested, feeling even more of his cum spill out of you. Seonghwa leaned in, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You forget I’m not human,” he murmured against your lips. “So?” you asked in between kisses.

“I have a lot more stamina than anyone you’ve ever fucked,” he continued, pulling back and giving you another smirk before kissing you once more. You felt heat settle in the pit of your stomach as you remembered the two cocks that had emerged from the slit, both pink with pointed reddened tips. A fresh wave of excitement and arousal coursed through you at the prospect of being filled with both of them, something you had begged for earlier. Seonghwa, sensing your excitement, gave you another couple of kisses.

“And besides,” he added. “I’m not done with you just yet.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[aphroditelovesu]

May I request a yandere alphabet with Daemon Targaryen?

❝ 🐉 — lady l: It was my first time writing a yandere alphabet so I hope it's ok. Forgive me for any mistakes and I hope you like it! ❤️

❝tw: yandere themes, obsessive and possessive behavior, kidnapping, mention of death, punishments and murder.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!daemon targaryen x gender neutral!reader.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Daemon shows his love and affection for his darling through gifts and touches. He's not exactly romantic but he has his moments.

He likes to present you with everything that he finds interesting and that may be of interest to you. It's the most common way for him to show his love, besides touches like a hug, kiss on the forehead or holding your hand.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Very messy. Daemon has no scruples when it comes to his darling. He will make a huge mess, bodies lying on the street, blood staining everything. Daemon will kill, disembowel, and torture anyone for you.

All for you. He will not feel any kind of remorse.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Daemon won't exactly be cruel to you because he cares and loves you in his own way. If he gets to the point where he needs to kidnap you, he will try to be as patient as possible.

But patience is not his strong point, so there may be times when he will be cruel. Yelling at you, squeezing your neck and demanding you stop acting like a spoiled child. It's moments like these that he shows his monstrous side.

He may mock you by imitating your voice as a form of mockery, degrading you further.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Daemon would never force himself on his darling, he would never do something like that. He's a monster, he knows that, but not that kind of monster. He can force you to stay close to him, hugging you and even kissing you hard, but it will never go beyond that.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Daemon doesn't like being vulnerable and hates appearing weak, so he won't show his heart to his darling much.

There are times when he will be softer and a little vulnerable, but nothing that makes him too uncomfortable, except when he is drunk or needy. In these moments, Daemon will grab you and tell you how much he loves you and how much you mean to him.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would find it amusing. Seeing you think you can against him is fun for Daemon. So sweet and so naive. As if you could win against a Targaryen.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Daemon considers it a game in which he knows he will win in the end. You are the prize he will win at any cost.

He will love watching you try to escape him. Seeing your efforts go in vain, the way you get frustrated when he takes you every time. Adorable.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

The worst thing you could try to do is cheat on him. Daemon will not accept this at all and when he gets his hands on you, you will regret having crossed him.

He can and will physically hurt you. He won't go to the extreme of torturing you, but Daemon will leave marks on your body to remind you that you should never do something like that again. Dietary restrictions and even beatings are among the things he will do.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Daemon sees himself in a pleasant future with you. With him being King and you at his side, whether as his wife, lover or Hand. He can't see his future without you.

And if he can have children with you, he will.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Daemon feels very jealous. And he's not subtle about it at all. His gaze is hard and anyone can sense the imminent danger that comes with that feeling.

He takes out his jealousy in the worst way: on you or on others. Depending on the situation, Daemon will leave you full of possessive marks or scattered corpses behind.

He has no problem killing anyone who made him jealous. Was that guard very nice to you? He will die. Was that prostitute giving you looks? Her body was found in poor condition.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Daemon likes to take you flying with him in Caraxes, going to bars and parties by his side. Always keeping a close eye on you when you are in public, of course.

He's not afraid or embarrassed to show how he feels about you in public and will deal with anyone who says anything about it afterwards.

Daemon tries to be the most compassionate towards you, he doesn't want you to hate him, so he tries to be kind and caring towards you.

Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Daemon is definitely not subtle about his intentions with you. He will send gifts, touch you in public and stay by your side. He has no problem showing how he feels about you.

He may try a more subtle approach at first but it won't last. He will make his intentions very clear. Daemon doesn't have the patience to woo you properly.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

No. Daemon has always been this way, reckless, violent and cruel and that has never changed. Everyone already knows the prince and Dameon has never tried to hide who he is.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Daemon can be very cruel with his punishments. He can restrict you from certain needs, such as your food to more superficial things. He has no problem taking it from you, after all, he was the one who gave you such privileges.

In more extreme cases, Daemon can physically harm you, even leaving scars on your body. It all depends on how naughty you were.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Daemon will not take away your rights unless he thinks you deserve it. If you are good and obedient, he won't need to do something like that.

But if you're not? Daemon will take everything he can from you. Your family, your friends, your basic rights, everything. Until the only thing you have left is him.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Daemon is not an example of patience but he tries for you. He tries his best to be patient with you because he knows it's necessary, that you're scared.

But Daemon can easily lose his temper if you do something he doesn't like or that bothers him. You will have to walk on eggshells around him.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you died, Daemon would enter a deep state of grief and sadness. He will become more bitter and cruel than ever, anyone could become the target of the pain he feels for losing you. The countless deaths he caused were a result of losing you. He would never be able to get over your death.

If you escaped or left? No, no. Daemon would burn the world down behind you. He would do anything to find you and he would find you. He has a dragon and he knows his brother would support him in this. It's only a matter of time before he has you in his arms again.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No. Daemon wouldn't feel guilty about taking you because you're his and there's nothing wrong with taking what's rightfully yours. And he would never let you go, beg and cry all you want, you will never get rid of him.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Daemon isn't sure what brought out this side of him, maybe he was always like this. But what may have been what brought out his obsessive side was the affection, the love you gave him. You saw him and he loved it.

He found himself wanting more and more of this attention, this love, and he wasn't willing to share it with anyone else.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Daemon feels bad seeing you cry because he hates seeing your beautiful face stained by tears, especially if he was the one who caused them. But he won't actually do anything to fix it. But he will comfort you, pull you into a hug and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

He hates it when you yell and if you yell at him, Daemon will put an end to it quickly. Pushing you against a wall and squeezing your throat usually does the trick.

If you try to isolate yourself, he won't let you. You won't stay away from him under any circumstances. You'll have to get used to his presence or things won't end so well for you.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Burn alive your enemies and/or people who have harmed you in some way as a form of retaliation. And feed them to his dragon.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Daemon has no apparent weaknesses and he won't even leave them exposed for you to use against him, he's not stupid. But if he trusts you enough, you can use that against him.

Once trust is established, Daemon will be more tolerant of you going out alone, or at the very least with just one guard and not an entire armada, and perhaps letting you wander around his house alone.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Yes. Daemon doesn't want to hurt you physically, but he will if he sees fit. He will have no problem inflicting pain on you, but don't worry, he will take care of you later.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Daemon would rather be adored than worship but he adores you in his own way. He worships your body, your mind and how sharp you are. These are qualities that he adores in you.

But you will be put on a pedestal once you accept your role in his life.

Oh, he would go to any lengths to win you. He would compete for your attention in jousts, battles, and any other way to get your attention without having to resort to kidnapping. Something he will do if he sees no other alternative.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It doesn't take long for him to snap.

Daemon is not patient and he wants you, so he will have you. He may try to win you the traditional way but since that doesn't give the results he wants, Daemon will bring you to him. He will take you.

Maybe a few weeks at most.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes, but not intentionally.

Daemon doesn't want you to be a puppet, a marionette that he will control. He wants to see a fire in your eyes, he likes it when you fight him and if he breaks you he won't have that anymore.

But he can do it accidentally. And Daemon will try everything to bring you back.

He doesn't like it when you're broken, it's not fun for him.

[whalesforhands]

chew your regret (geto x reader x gojo) pt.3

previous masterlist next

warnings: no fluff here folks, just suffering. gore mentions.

“Suguru?” The man let out a laugh, throwing his head back as the sun shone down on him. “He’s my best friend. My one and only.” A boisterous exclamation.

“Ah, Satoru?” He smiled, gentle, soft and affectionate. The moonlight bathed him in an ethereal glow. “In this world, there is definitely no other like him.” A serene confirmation.

“After all, we’re the strongest.”

There was a ‘we’, a ‘they’. In those conversations you’ve had, there was no ‘you’.

Maybe there never was.

No matter how you view it, Satoru and Suguru were made for each other. They loved the other in a way only they could ever understand, a love so deep it transcends meaning.

How could you ever have thought you’d be able to fit in a puzzle that never required you?

You should never have coveted what was never yours to have.

You feel the marks on your neck sear, the aftermath of your little session with the two boys. They glowed an angry red, the beginnings of the hickeys starting to mar your nape as you wince slightly at the soreness.

You floated around in a domain, eyes blank and empty as you thought and thought and thought, mind racing back to the times of your first significant memories of the duo.

Your breaths uneven as you heaved, the heavy stench of blood filling your nostrils as you shook. Your knees, scraped. Your leg having had had an arrow pierced, embedded into your flesh. You’re in pain.

It was a Grade 1 curse. What was supposed to be a straightforward, simple exorcism of the appearance of a few Grade 3 curses, your second ever solo mission, had soon taken a sharp turn.

You screamed as you felt the curse’s hands snap your arm, your staff laying on the ground, broken and useless much like your hand.

You heard the damned thing snicker, laugh at your pain as you struggled to maintain your vision. To stay awake. Stay alive. You can’t die. Not when you saw the young girl cowering behind the pillar you had hidden her in.

“Hehehe! You sorcerers are a joke!” It taunted, it’s hand gripping painfully tight around your torso, making you wince as you felt one of your ribs give.

“Oh? Not going to scream again? Perhaps I should break something else?” It squeezed tighter, it’s disgusting tentacles wrapping around you as it’s jaw began to unhinge, revealing a red, slime covered mouth, rows of yellowed, misshapen teeth and a sliced tongue. You felt bile and blood rise in your throat, desperate to fight off the pain. Desperate to fight back. You can’t be eaten here. Your vision was white hot, your broken arm feeling limp and useless at your side.

You heard a cackle.

Tchak! “Let the lady go, you ugly monster!” A small rock was thrown at the monstrous curse’s head.

No. No no no no nonnonono You felt yourself be thrown into a concrete wall, your back taking the brunt of it as you clawed at the wall with your good hand for support.

Stand up. Stand up stand up stand up.

“And what do we have here?” You heard the curse hum, it’s slimy appendages moving further and further from you. Towards the innocent civilian you were protecting.

Shit. You can’t see. The blood was rushing to your head. Your heart pounding at a mile per minute.

Your vision is gone.

You heard more screams. Your legs burned as you forced yourself up. Your eyes closed as you channeled your cursed energy.

Get the focus off the girl. You may not be able to physically see the curse with your current state, but you sure as hell can sense it.

You focus. Focus and focused and focused, a blast of your pure cursed energy surrounding itself around the girl, who was running for her life towards you as she screamed and begged for help.

You want to keep her safe. You promised, afterall.

Your mind steeled, your cursed technique activating as it formed a barrier around her just in time as the curse reared one of its ugly tendrils, forming a spike at the end as it readied to plunge through the civilian’s skull.

The tendril bounced back, burnt to a crisp by your cursed energy as the protective barrier burned, shined bright within the dark compounds of the abandoned car park.

The curse giggled. “You think that measly shield is going to stop ME?” It clawed and clawed at the barrier, the little girl curling into a ball in on herself as she cried and begged for it to be over.

The curse was futile in its attempts. You can’t break a promise. You steadied your breathing, your hair a mess and blood trailing from your face as you shakily held your broken staff in your good hand, your good elbow bracing yourself against the wall for support.

“Come…” You heaved. “Get me, you ugly bitch.”

It reared its grotesque head towards you.

“I should’ve finished you off first, sorcerer!” It broke into a run towards you, screaming agonized threats. “You’re going to wish you died just now!”

You hope your shield holds. This is your end. You can’t fight anymore. The last remaining remnants of your cursed energy flicker uselessly on your staff, dying out as you prepared for death to take you.

You failed. Failed to accomplish your mission. Failed. Failed failed failed failed failed

“Oops.” A strong wind blows in your face, the curse incinerated with one strong blast, with no milliseconds left for it to even think about its final words. “Suguru would’ve called that overkill.”

Gojo Satoru has made his entrance.

You never felt such relief, your knees collapsing where they stood as the chosen one stepped before you.

He took one look at the young civilian girl that had fainted from overwhelming fear, your cursed energy still glowing bright around her, before turning his judgmental gaze towards you.

“That was weak.” You know. “That all it took for you to get in this state?” You tried.

You couldn’t even answer him, your body burning in pain as you struggled to stay alive.

“Gotta hand it to ya, though.” You felt his presence near you, hearing him squat down to be eye level with you, his bones creaking slightly. “Pretty stupidly brave of you to sacrifice your last pitiful reserves of cursed energy on ‘er. Respect.”

You think you felt your heart throb at the compliment, before you passed out.

—

You sat within the confines of your hospital room, aimlessly staring out the window. The bandages encased almost your entire body, your cast heavy as you looked into the outside world with one eye.

(The other was tucked away behind an eyepatch to speed up recovery. Apparently, using reverse cursed technique on you in your sensitive state would cause you to potentially implode. Gonna have to wait a while before you could receive that treatment.)

You smile down at the signature Gojo had left on your cast, a crude drawing of what was meant to be him winking and sticking his tongue out.

(“You don’t have any other friends anyway. I can sign it as big as I like!”)

Beside it, was Shoko’s sign. A small message to you to recover quicker, cause being left to the two menaces was driving her insane, and she missed you so much.

(“I missed you.” She whined out, plopping her head onto your lap as you sat upright on the propped up pillow. Her short auburn hair obscured her eyes as she stared up at you, a pout on her pretty lips.)

“Please excuse me.” The hinges of the door squeaking slightly as they were opened.

Suguru was finally here. You’d didn’t think he cared enough about you to come.

“Ah, Geto-san.” You tried to bow in greeting, wincing when you were only able to bend forward awkwardly due to the pain and stiffness of the bandages as you met his eyes. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“It’s nothing.” Suguru bowed back politely, a small bag of what he had seen you snack on during breaks in his hand.

(They were bought at the supermarket nearby after he decided it was rude to visit a hospitalized classmate without something. He’s better than Gojo.)

“I’ve come with some gifts.”

—

Suguru sat upon a chair at the side of your bed, lazily leaned back on the chair as a leg crossed over the other, hearing you fumbling with the plastic bag with your one good hand.

He broke the silence.

“Satoru told me about your mission.” He pauses, before smiling. “He’s been non-stop whining about having to fill in that report in place of you.”

(Gojo would’ve never written that report if it wasn’t for you.)

You let out a polite laugh. “I suppose I should thank him accordingly after I’m discharged, then.”

Suguru stays silent, watching, observing you.

“Were you actually going to let yourself die, trying to save that little girl?”

You stay silent, your one eye cast down towards the scratchy sheets of your bed. You don’t hesitate with your reply.

“I think protecting those who can’t protect themselves is a noble thing.”

“Even at the expense of your own life?” He cocked a curious brow.

You smiled. Genuine, soft and melancholic.

“Even then.” You direct your gaze towards him, looking him straight in the eye. “If not us, who else?”

Geto smiled. “You’re pretty strong, huh?”

——

You drift endlessly in the confines of your cursed space. You don’t think you could even forget them if you tried.

You think you’d curse yourself to remember them even in your death.

If- If all they wanted was your physical being… That’s okay, right?

You’re okay with that. Right? It’s all you can offer the two who had everything. The two who your heart hopelessly longed for.

Fate has cursed you to love.

And you’re going to accept it, wholeheartedly and in all its cruelty. You’re going to take it, cling onto the hope that they could ever love you, take and love and love and love, then die. No matter the pain.

That was just your fate, right?

masterlist next

Notes:

Gojo thinks it’s amazing that you push on through again and again, despite your weak self. Putting others before yourself is something he isn’t used to seeing, and he’s so intrigued by your weird kindness. You never stop smiling either.

Geto thinks your strength is admirable. You were clearly weak and struggling to nurture your cursed technique, you should’ve given up long ago. You don’t possess any talent. But you didn’t give up at all. Cool.

The hospital was the first time you had ever properly met eyes with Geto. He didn’t expect your one good eye to be so sparkly and full of life. You looked cute.

Your cursed technique is pretty simple. It’s more defensive than anything. A technique that allows you to make barriers, walls and transport you to void of empty space. The void is not your domain. Only you can get in and out of it.

Unfortunately for you, you crushed on Gojo first.

[soulessjourney]

Voilà

Paring: Astarion x fem!DurgTavReader

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: You and Astarion get into a fight when you decide to duel Orin on your own resulting in your life being taken.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Mentions of Violence, Injuries, Mentions of death

You were fully aware that slipping away in the dead of night to confront Orin would constitute a betrayal of not only your group's trust but also that of the one person who loved you unconditionally. It should have been evident to you that the moment someone woke and found you absent from your bedroll, they would alert the others, and a search would ensue. You should have anticipated their eventual arrival at the temple, where Astarion, practically on his knees, would plead with you not to proceed with the duel. Yet, despite this, there you stood, facing Orin as she circled you, eyeing you as though you were her next prey.

"My, look at you," Orin sneers, her gaze cold as she addresses you. "Father's favorite standing here begging me like a fool. I had hoped killing you would’ve left you dead. I should’ve known that wouldn’t be the case, not when you were his perfect little killer." She spits as she circles you, her disdain clear. Standing taller, you choose to ignore how she has taken on your appearance.

"Oh, how easy it would be to act as you, to torment your little friends until they beg for death," she continues, her voice mocking, her finger trailing against your armor.

Your gaze wanders to the side, spotting your companions watching you, their eyes filled with worry and fear. You had promised you wouldn’t face Orin alone, but part of you knew you had to. You had to break free from your father once and for all. Your heart cracks when your gaze finally lands on Astarion, who is resting on his knees, pure fear adorning his features. Your eyes soften at the sight of him. How you wanted to crawl towards him and hide in the safety of his arms. But you know that if you don’t go through with this, the chances of waking with his blood on your hands will only increase as time goes on. Turning back to Orin, you curl your lip in defiance.

"I don’t want to be his Chosen, Orin. You can take the role if you want it so bad," you snap.

Orin lets out a twisted laugh as she reverts to her true form. "Oh, but you are his Chosen, and the only way to stake my claim is to kill you. So hold still, you pretty little thing, and I’ll make it quick," she mumbles, trailing the tip of her dagger against the side of your neck, nicking the skin and causing your blood to bead against the wound. A hiss escapes your mouth as your eyes narrow into a warning gaze. It's clear she wants a duel to the death, and you are determined to protect your friends, even if it means going down with her.

As a yell tears through your throat, you make the first move, lunging at Orin and swiping your sword in her direction. She gracefully steps back, hissing at you in response. "Dirty way to play, little thing," she hums, just as light shoots up from the ground around her, and she takes on a more monstrous appearance, a slayer form. It's evident she won't make the fight easy, and you are well aware of that fact.

A screech fills the room, its echo bouncing off the walls. Astarion stumbles forward, his breath catching in his throat. "Tav, get out of there! She'll kill you," he snaps. Keeping your back to him, you clear your throat, watching as Orin lunges towards you, her daggered nails tearing into your skin. With a yelp, you jump back, your hand flying up to grasp your wounded arm. You stare at the monster in front of you, your eyes focused on its shape. This is what you were destined to take on if you had killed Isobel or Astarion. Clenching your jaw, you swing again, catching the skin of the Slayer, causing it to screech and its eyes to narrow in on you.

Both of you engage in a frenzied dance, slashing at one another for what feels like an eternity. Exhausted and drenched in blood and grime, you're unsure whose it is - yours, hers, or both. Orin lunges at you again, knocking you to the ground as she swings her claws, tearing into your armor. Distant screams of your companions implore you to fight back, but you're just so weary. Your gaze flickers in and out of focus as Astarion's pleas echo in your ears. Weakly reaching for the sword that was knocked from your hand moments ago, you drive it into Orin just as she moves in for the final blow. Another screech fills the room before Orin’s body collapses onto you, pinning you down. Letting out a cry, you lie there, struggling to catch your breath. The barrier between you and your friends dissipates, and they rush to your side, with Shadowheart and Halsin dropping to their knees to tend to your wounds.

Your eyes scan their faces until they lock onto Astarion's. His expression is blank, but tears stream down his cheeks. You remember him confessing how much you meant to him and how he'd rather endure Cazador’s rule than lose you. Yet here you are, lying in a pool of your own blood, likely realizing his worst fear.

Amidst the faint chatter of the butler nearby, your attention snaps to the familiar sound of your father’s voice. “Child of slaughter. I come to give you your inheritance,” he declares. Pushing the others aside, you rise slowly, confronting the moving reflection in the pool of blood at your feet. “I have a gift for you, Child. You will use it to lacerate this world.”

Shaking your head in defiance, your gaze darts around as you reject his words. “I’d rather die than live in your twisted image.” you declare. “I refuse to be associated with you; you are no father of mine.” A surge of fear courses through you as silence envelops the room.

“You reject my blood, and so I will reclaim it,” he retorts. Your eyes widen in horror as your bones snap and a scream tears through your throat. “I will find another who is worthy.” You're unsure of what happens next; all you can hear is Astarion's horrified scream and see him sprinting towards you as your body crumples to the floor.

---

You felt like you were drifting through a dark abyss, with no sign of light in sight. The chill seeped into your bones, and the desperate urge to call out for Astarion clawed at your heart. Fear surged through you as you curled inward, tears streaming down your face. You had died, leaving your companions behind, abandoning Astarion after he practically pleaded with you to stay away from Orin. He had vowed to find a way to free you from your father, but you had ignored his pleas. The realization jolted you awake. He must be terrified. Astarion had confessed that you were the person he trusted most, and you had shattered that trust. You reached for your chest, trying to soothe the ache that lingered there.

With a small whimper, you suddenly jerked, feeling as though you were being propelled back towards something. The dark surroundings blurred as you were thrown further. Air rushed into your lungs as your eyes snapped open. Rolling onto your hands and knees, you retched onto the floor. When you finished, white strands fell across your face, catching your attention. You furrowed your brow; you were sure you never had white hair. Those dark strands with a deep red hue haunted your dreams, a reminder of your blood relation to Bhaal.

A hand rested on your back, and you slowly lifted your head to find Karlach standing before you. You had expected to see Astarion, but he was nowhere to be found. "Hey there, soldier," Karlach murmured, helping you to your feet. "Take it easy; it's not every day someone returns from the dead," she said with a gentle chuckle, supporting you with her arm.

Shadowheart approached with a smile, remarking, "It seems white hair is the theme of redemption." She examined you for any injuries, noticing your gaze searching for Astarion among your companions. "He's gone; he left after Withers began chanting," she said softly, guiding you away from Karlach for better support. As you stumbled out of the tower, your heart sank. Astarion wasn't there when you woke up, and you couldn't blame him. You had betrayed him, and his absence weighed heavily on you.

He was quick to pull away, shaking his head. "You don’t understand, do you? You died. I lost you, and you will never know what that feels like. Having to watch your body go limp, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t save you. Each time I blink, all I can see is you crumbled on the ground, lying in your own blood. Your skin was so cold, Tav. I couldn’t feel that warmth every time you hugged me or held me as we slept. You weren’t looking at me with those beautiful eyes of yours anymore; no, they were hidden behind your eyelids. You were gone, Tav, and I never want to experience that ever again." Your shoulders fell at the sound of his voice cracking. You had truly crushed him, and you knew it would bring on new trust issues between the both of you, and you would spend your entire life making it up to him.

"You’re right, I don’t know what it’s like. I’m so sorry, my Star. I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to do everything in my power to protect you from myself, even if it meant risking my own life. You mean the world to me, and I never want to put you in harm's way. Not like I did, ever again. I’m here now, and I don’t plan on leaving your side ever again." Your eyes searched his for any sign of rejection, but there was none. He only nodded and pulled you into a crushing hug, his tears falling onto your shoulder.

"Please don’t leave me like that again. I couldn’t begin to think about what happened to you. If Withers wasn’t able to bring you back, I wasn’t sure how I would be able to go on. I would’ve been so lost without you to lecture me about my bad habits or to call me out on my poor decisions. Promise me you’ll never do that again." His arms tightened around you as you brought your arms up to wrap them around his middle.

"I promise, I’ll always be right here." And you would keep that promise, even if it meant jumping from one lifetime to the next, you would always find Astarion and hold him close. You may have saved him from himself, but he was your savior in more ways than one.

[rosegoldenatlas]

Odysseus from Epic the Musical has two major character flaws. The first one is one of the more common ones in Greek myths- pride. This is shown in multiple songs but the first time I really noticed was during 'remember them' and 'my goodbye' for obvious reasons. He not only went directly against the advice of his patron goddess Athena, but implies that he doesn't need the aid of a literal goddess. Of course during the time he is in very intense emotional distress and Athena isn't helping. But buddy.

His second flaw however, is in my opinion much worse. He cannot find a middle point when it comes to anything. Like in 'luck runs out' when Eurylocous tells Odysseus that he's being kind of stupid.. in front of the whole crew. When he pulls Eurylocous aside instead of telling him 'hey next time you have any comment or complaints just pull me aside first please' like what would be a good compromise. He tells his brother in law that he should comply with everything he says and to stop talking about his opinion because its making people doubt him. (I can't have you plating seeds of doubt. I can't have you disagree each rout. I need you to always be devout an comply with this)

This flaw is shown beautifully in 'Monster' the act one closer when he lists people and their way of seeing I guess. (Begins on 'is the cyclops struck with guilt' ends with 'or does he throw away his remorse and safe more lives with guile') he will give an example of a way that could be seen as more human (cyclops is guilty, Circe saving her nymphs pain) and one more monstrous (cyclops avenging friend doesn't feel bad, Circe just being insane) he sees two polar opposites and nothing else.

Then he mentions Poseidon this is where Odysseus leans into the idea that one can't be a man in some regards and a monster in others. Poseidon's example is all more monstrous because he is a God. Odysseus then looks back at the war on troy and both justifies and does not justify his past actions. The end of the song reflects on how Odysseus believes he cannot be a man and a monster and uses his last two examples as how being the monster works (Poseidon and war of Troy)

[thedeafprophet]

The Captivating Princess: An Overview

As I have been pondering that most content around The Princess is not easily accessible, I have decided to do a little write up on who she is. This will not be unbiased - many are aware of my in depth views here- but hopefully it will provide a good summary.

I will try to keep it light, but there will be some ES spoilers in here. Discusisons of information from: The Gift, Say It With Flowers, Reunion, and A Crown Of Thorns, plus some references to Sunless Skies. I intend to mostly focus on who she is in Fallen London though, not in skies.

Who Is She?

'At the very front, cross-legged on the floor, sits the Playful Prodigy. She has the cheeks of a cherub and blue, mischievous eyes. In her arms is a baby, wrapped in a black swaddling-cloth: presumably the Captivating Princess.' - The Gift

The Captivating Princess in universe is The Traitor Empresses' youngest child. Unlike the other royal children, she is an entierly fictional character, and does not have a real world counter part. She was born the year of the fall, 1862, making her around 37 in 1899 (or more accuratly, 40 as of 1902).

She is the most social of her family, frequently seen outside the Palace while her siblings are not . She can be found in both upper society functions, and sauntering down into the.... less savourey locations in London. She does so love to mingle. She is throughougly beloved by the people despite her collection of scandal, and is an extremely popular figure within society - captivates them, if you will.

The player can become aquainted with her at The Feast of The Rose, should you wish to spending some masquing at the Duchess' Banquet. She is also who helps you return to court in the making your name: persuasive arc. She does so have a penchant for the arts...

Most of all she is noted for her habit of honey - both the rumour of her having her own honey-den in veilgarden... and other, less savoury aspects around such.

The rest of the overview below the cut will be going into more detailed, more spoiler heavy, and dark matters

Content warnings: Child/infant endangerment, drug use, torture, bees mention

Matters Of The Palace And The Honey

'No one will tell you what happened, but the word 'traitor' is whispered in the palace corridors. You cry for your mother, and someone gives you a jar and a spoon to quiet you.' -A Crown Of Thorns

One cannot begin to go into the rest of The Princess' character without first going over the issue of the red honey. To go over the entire lore surronding red honey would be a whole post on its own, so i will give just a brief run down here.

Gaoler's honey, which is called red honey for the colour of its hue, is an eviler version of prionser's honey. It is made when bees crawl through people's mind, made of their memories. It is excrustiatingly painful for the victim, who relives the pain every time the honey produced from them is consumed. The Palace contains its own set of 'cage gardens' where people are imprisoned and their memories collected. Cheery, right?

The Princess and her family have all consumed the red honey, the whole of The Palace seeming to have taken to if very soon after the fall. How they got it so quickly after the fall, I don't know, but they seemed to have a lot of it going around.

Its likely The Princess was fed it from infancy, alongside her siblings and other family members. Text implies in general the children in the palace were heavily neglected after the fall, even being given the drugs to make them be quiet. Its...well, an utterly horrible image of how those kids were treated.

Oh yea and it turned all The Princess' siblings into horrifying monsters. The details around what happened are unclear, but it seems to be some connection between the frequent consumption and a 'bad batch' that did Something to the royal children, turning all but The Princess into physically monstrous forms. And most are still consuming it. 10/10, another great move by the british royal family.

It is very likely it is why she is as she is today. Whatever she is, she's not exactly human. She continues to consume it regularly, and on occasion 'shares' it with others.

What Exactly Is She

'Only the Captivating Princess looks as she did in the mirror. Among the nightmares, her beauty is worst of all. It rakes your eyes like fire. ' -The Gift

 "The change imposed by the Red Honey was a gift. As it was to me. The rest of our family proved... inadequate to the wonders on offer." - Reunion

I don't... know. Not really. Sunless skies has her shedding her skin and revealing a bee-like monster underneath, but that was after some considerable other lore stuff and in a different game, and i dont consider it directly applying with in FL.

Within the neath at least, The Princess is quite powerful. Not just for her political role and image as the beloved princess, but also for her seeming power of persuasion and adoration. Her beauty is considered maddening, everything pales to her existence, and its hard not to just immediatly fall to your knees and do every single thing she's asked of you~

Which while i'm sure is a common experience for some around pretty women, is clearly an indication of some sort of mental power here.

She's also considerably stronger then she looks, and i surely do not believe most would stand a chance against her in a physical fight. Nor do i personally believe simple weapons would do much to harm her.

'The Princess' expression curdles. She shoves the table, which sends plates spinning to the floor. She treads on meat as she advances. She has dropped the knife. She does not need it.' - Reunion

Matters Of Morality And Personality

'She points at the Spinster. "I had to compel her from retirement. Since her fiancee is my maid, I had leverage. She should have just done as I asked. Clearly, there's something wrong with her." - Say It With Flowers

The Princess is entitled, cruel, and uncaring towards others. Everything you'd expect from a british royal, but with the added effect of being literarly monstrous instead of just metaphorically. She evidently always expects to get what she wants and has a tendance towards aiming for suffering just for the sake of watching others suffer. And thats without getting in how her frequent use of red honey is directly causing extreme harm to the victims.

All of this tends to be hidden under her vaneer of sweetness. She acts so lovely and sweet and kind, and would do as she was sentencing someone to death. And that is something she'd be inclined to do. She has a penachant towards pet names, and is overly touchey/doesnt seem to care much at all about boundaries. Why would she?

'The Captivating Princess holds your chin in her sharp nailed hand. She stares, intently, at your face. ' - Say It With Flowers

'A happy voice rouses you. Delicate fingers are stroking your hair. "I knew you'd be perfect. So curious. So bold. So resolute. Thank you, for exceeding my estimation."' -The Gift

The Princess is also quick to change moods, becoming angry if she doesnt get her way, or becoming extremely bored rather quickly. If she's not interested in something, she's inclined to leave right away or ignore it, or find some other matter to entertain herself. She also doesn't get along with her family, having an intense rivlavry with one of her brothers (The Brooding Captain), and will often aim to sabotage and manipulate her siblings and other family members. Not to even get into what rumors surrond her suitors, most notably around their deaths...

The things and way she is in skies is all the more.... extreme.

Aims and Motivation

While its hard to say why she does a lot of other things, The Princess does seem to actually have an interest in the arts. When she ran for mayor in 1896, her slogan was “Make London Magnificent For Me.”, and her platform was pushing more for the public arts. Indeed, throughout her appearances in the games, art does seem to truly be an area she's interested in.

Beyond everything else though, The Princess is completely, and utterly bored. She cares little for the lives of those around her, and seems to take great pleasure in the suffering of others, and seemingly this is all related to The Princess' aim for entertainment.

'"Honestly? I'm entirely bored. I am either fawned on or feared, or – worst of all – pawed at by the infatuated. Everyone believes they know me, because of my family."' -1896 Election text

and.... well. If i'm to put my own word in here, I think in her own way, The Princess is lonely.

'And..." She hesitates for a moment. Her last words are hurried. "This is not a gift that should be borne alone."' - Reunion

The earlier line from the election speaks of being pawed at - that her boredom comes from either being fawned or feared, implying no one is truly looking at her. Two of her storylines tentivly involve trying to make another character be What She Is, that she not be alone in this.

She has done many cruel and vicious things, that is of note, but one can't help but think of the inherent tragedy of her character. Never once having a chance to be anything other then she is, being raised in a household that found it suitable to give drugs to children to get them to stop crying. Of never really having anyone like or love you, to everyone fawning at you immediatly with no true level of connection.

In short: The Princess is a horrible cruel woman, and there is an inherent tragey in the fact that she exists the way she does at all.

[worldbeyondtheworld]

Here's the AU route I mentioned in my post (here) collecting several ideas for a Swap AU / Slay The Monster AU.

Please buckle in. This is going to be long, long post. The main part has *looks at numbers* more than 2,000 words. The author notes have more than 1,000 words. I will add the author notes in a reblog, so that you can find them if you want.

The Voices exist as separate entities after the Princess acts, dies, and the Chapter 2s start. They manifest as protectors of the Long Quiet’s pieces (Quiet for short) but only one can appear at a time and often needs time until they are fully physical. Who and how depends on the Princess’ actions in the previous loop as well as in the current one. Other Voices can manifest in their minds in chapter 3s and 4s as in canon.

Does that make it a Protect The Monster AU?

I love this direction because it evokes a similar contradiction to the canon game that doesn’t exist in this kind of AU. The Narrator wants the Princess to slay the Long Quiet. It’s the classical trope of ‘the hero / princess / prince slays the monster for the safety of their people’.

@billcyphersballsack has pointed this out in their own beautiful post about a Slay The Monster swap AU. Please give it a look here: https://www.tumblr.com/billcyphersballsack/754954086465585152

But the Narrator’s claims and the initial expectations are upended in the next Chapter when a set of protectors reveal themselves, wanting to keep the Monster safe and seeing the Princess as a threat. Or when the Princess claims to want to help, they work with her to free the Monster and escape the cabin.

The Voice of the Hero manifests rarely. He’s Quiet’s Heart and so the most vulnerable in some ways. He’s their emotional anchor, unwilling or unable to separate from them. When he does, it shows that something has gone very wrong.

Now for this route: The Princess argues in Chapter 2 with the Narrator. (From here on, I’m switching to the personal ‘you’ for the Princess as if she was addressing herself as the Long Quiet does in canon.)

The prisoner could be cursed and be actually like you. They are not monstrous! They are harmless as you’ve said before! You know after meeting them! You showed them step by step how to remove their own shackle after a trap caught you. They didn't know if they are a princess like you going by the charades they made, but you are sure that they will figure it out once they've escaped. They are just so sweet and kind, they have to be a princess! The monster is somebody else who’ve captured and imprisoned them in the cabin. Quiet just needs to do exactly what you say next time, because they’ve been down here so long, they don’t know anymore how to escape!

This is the only route where Quiet's body changes this much. They gave their own identity up and filled it with your reflection. Being themself didn't help anybody, least of all their Voices. And you were so kind…

When you spot the cabin again, it looks like before at first. But the closer you get, the more differences you see. (Related to Quiet, this is also the only route where the cabin changes.)

The Narrator is unsettled. This part of the Construct should always be stable. The Princess can find it even on the ever-changing path. The little details that were there before have vanished. You can’t tell if the walls are made of wood, stone, or something else. The cabin’s inside has no furniture anymore. It’s featureless – the ceiling, the walls, and the floor look all the same. The weapon lies next to the entrance which is just a perfect rectangle at the back, as if cut out. You ignore the weapon. You’re here for your friend, after all.

Walking down reveals a different picture. The stairs crumble under your steps. You arrive in a long corridor which is lined with cob-webbed mirrors on both sides. Your reflection moves in infinity alongside you. The Narrator warned you that you’d be changed. It’s still very strange.

At the end, behind a rusted door, you find… Another prisoner? It’s not the same cage as before. It looks similarly to the cabin behind but as if it went through an earthquake. Cracks run from the floor up the walls to the ceiling. Some spots hang uncomfortably low or bulge down like bubbles about to pop. The bars in the tiny window have bent.

This prisoner looks similar to you. Another princess, here? They wear the same dress you do, after you’ve changed from dying. Even the same gloves and shoes. Up close, you are unsettled because you could be looking into those mirrors again. They repeat your movements a few second after you. Looking closer, you notice that their skin is reflective. They only move when you do. But when you stop smiling, they continue, just looking at you.

You think you spot black feathers underneath in glimpses in-between as they fail to answer your questions about your friend.

Oh. OH. OH NO NO NO NO-

When you shake their shoulders, asking them to speak, they mirror you - much softer as if afraid to hurt. They still don’t speak. It’s like you are the only person left in the basement.

Alright, alright, you can fix this! You've promised them you'd leave together, so that's what you'll do! They both can tackle everything else once they've left the cabin and these damned woods.

You either vow to help them – you don’t know how, but you know you’re the reason for this horrible transformation. It doesn’t matter that they didn’t look like you. It doesn’t matter that you feel lonely and want another person who understands you. It doesn’t matter that you were afraid of the Monster. You forced them to be like this, rather than respecting who and what they are. And it’s your responsibility to help them undo the damage and heal.

Or you double down on your self-lies and tell yourself that this is fine. Your friend was always a princess / prince / heir apparent. This is just another effect of the curse. Probably something about mirroring every living being they encounter under specific circumstances.

No matter your choice, the basement begins rumbling ominously. The already unstable ceiling gains more cracks, raining rocks down. Rushing, you pull Quiet up, sling their arm around your shoulder, and go go go.

You are reflected infinitely as before, but Quiet doesn’t appear in the surfaces. The earth’s shaking makes everything that much more confusing. You don’t notice at first the shadow in the mirrors following you, because it is not being reflected.

Your actions and their consequences have earned you the ire of the Voice of the Hero. Or he is just that terrified, so he's lashing out. He doesn't trust you. He fears what else you might do to Quiet after you not only destroyed their agency, but also forced their own identity onto them. He heard you ignoring every detail Quiet shared with you about themself. So he’ll kill you if you’re not careful: Swiping out of the glass with his claws at your heart from unexpected angles, to try and save them.

A - If you have vowed to help Quiet heal, your determination allows you to pass the corridor without tripping. For a moment, there’s the thought that this is a demon. But you realize because of the previous loops and from his words that this is a (true) friend of your friend. He’s trapped, too, but in the mirrors. And he's not thinking rationally because he’s afraid and wants to save Quiet. If he kills you, everybody will just reset in the same place they were in the beginning. Quiet might get worse if they stay any longer.

If you look to the side just as you’re about to leave the corridor, you see a second figure reflected next to you. They look vaguely like how your friend used to look like. Their arm is around your shoulder. Next, the ceiling caves in from the earthquake, blocking off the corridor.

As you climb the stairs, you hear the Voice of the Hero crying to give them (Quiet) back. His voice cracks from grief and fear and loss. You can leave in silence because you think you trying to comfort him will be shallow. From his perspective, you’re kidnapping a dear friend whom you have turned into a shell of themself for selfish reasons.

Or you steel yourself and yell back a promise (for both of them). “I’ll return and free you as well, once they are in a safe place where they can heal. Nobody will hurt them for their true self. Or maybe you’ll get better first.” You address Quiet. “And get here before I do to save your friend.” As the silence drags on, your heart sinks and you turn to leave.

“Alright. I’ll hold you to that vow,” a familiar voice whispers, right into your ear. “If you hurt them, I will tear your heart to shreds.”

Whipping around, you find no other company other than the person you’re holding up. Have they become heavier? They’re leaning more into your side. You would have seen if they had turned their head to you. It was their voice – same tone, same cadence – when you first met them before you died. It’s the voice of the shadow who attacked you from the mirrors to save his friend. They sound the same. How?

You shake your head to clear your mind. No more dawdling. There’s two persons who need help, quickly, and who need to reunite. You shuffle forwards. Your friend doesn’t fall in step even as you both reach the stairs’ top.

“Are you o-” No. Do not ask THAT. “-Oh. Is your leg hurt?”

They’re not looking at you, but down into the basement. Just five steps down, darkness swallows the stairs. Not even a hint of the mirrors is visible. Funny, it didn’t feel that far.

There’s a likely reason for their reaction. You encourage that independent thought. “Let’s get out of here. The sooner we’re hiding from any scoundrels left around, the earlier we can plan how to get him out.”

It’s only now that they look at you. Their smile is gone. The edges of their face are blurring. Black feathers peek out of their hair that darkens at the roots. More feather are growing on their arm where you’re holding on. They look better- not much, but they do. They nod.

At the door, they stare around. They’re holding onto the door’s handle, clutching it so tightly that it crumbles in their hand and their pointed nails suddenly pierce their palm. You gently nudge them to let go – waiting until they uncurl their fist on their own. Staring down at your joined fingers, they exhale shakily and take the first step outside. This is when the sound of thousand of wings flapping announces the Long Quiet’s fetching of his Shard.

B - If you have chosen to double down on your mistake, you try to appease Hero. You have no weapon to defend yourself with against him. Everything is shaking apart, that you can barely keep upright. It’s a wonder the mirrors have only gained cracks. You lack the determination to evade and run because deep down you understand what you’ve done and intend to do is wrong.

He's probably another poor soul trapped - maybe her friend's personal knight, because he carries himself like one from the little you see. He's just misunderstood what happened and wants to protect them from a stranger.

You claim that this isn’t your fault, that you didn’t know that this would happen. But isn’t it better to look like a person again instead of a monster? The rest of the curse will surely leave once they’re outside and under people again. And if not, you’ll take care of them. All the while expressing that you will keep making all the choices for Quiet without ever bothering to find a way for them to communicate what they want, especially now that they seem to be unable to act for themself. And you only care about them because you think they are like you, not different.

The Voice of Hero goes eerily, dangerously still. A chill runs down your spine, and the hairs on your arms and neck stand up. A predator is lurking nearby.

“I understand,” he says, echoing from everywhere. You clap your free hand over your ear but it's still ringing. Speaking softly, his words drip with apoplectic rage. “You wouldn't have even bothered to hear them out if you thought them a monster. You only care about what is the same as you.”

The mirrors have reached their limit. They begin to crack, splintering the Voice of the Hero’s outline into several pieces that eyes, each of them staring you down. The ceiling is dropping. The mirrors’ surfaces go blank, one by one and become opaque. It removes the dizzying infinity but also hides him from view. What was once felt too wide open – an infinite room that you could never find a way out of because it could go anywhere – closes around you like a moving wall.

You start running again, but your escape is cut off by the mirror that slams down in front of you. You look- Why do you look changed again-

Shards explode outwards. From behind you, from both your sides. From above, from below. Your reflection vanishes as blood spurts. The shards cut you up, the last one piercing your chest. A clawed, feathered hand pushes it in deeper until it reaches your heart. You fall to the floor, unable to keep standing. By chance your eyes fall on the massive shadow that has manifested, cradling something pale close to their chest. He’s crying, water running down his face and dropping onto your friend, somehow unharmed, still wearing your previous face. They are crying too, eyes anguished over their sunny smile. They are not looking at you.

Everything goes dark and you die.

----

Voice of the Cheated / a similar Voice manifests in the next Loop as the first one. The others follow depending on the Princess’ choices, but it Will be all of them. The Princess in her self-lies feels cheated out of having a new friend; Quiet is anguished to be treated as less for what and who they are. They want to be treated fairly and with respect.

My Ideas about the next Vessel are sparse, except that she looks like what she saw in that last mirror and fears the Shadow / Voice of the Hero. He in turn will fall into a protective rage if she comes close to their hiding place.

[llovelyclouds]

notes on alecto

hii!! so a few months ago i did a full reread of the locked tomb and took note of anything i thought seemed particularly relevant. I want to share what I have but I'm not sure exactly how i want to format everything quite yet- but im just gonna go for it so bear with me if its a little disorganized!

throughout the process i've started coming up with some of my own theories, but i thought it would be cool to post everything i've compiled, so people could use that to make their own conclusions as well :D

I have sections for anything that seemed important about all the original lyctors & their cavaliers, so I'm going to start off with all my information gathered about alecto! buckle in, folks, there's a lot :-)

you can find links to the other posts in the project here!

(also ofc spoilers for the up to the end of nona ahead!)

ALECTO

titles:

Also referred to as “A.L.”, “Annabel Lee,”or “Annie Laurie”  John’s cavalier, the soul of the Earth. (And of course, nona <;3)

Annabel Lee poem  (mentioned htn. pg. 196)

Annie Laurie poem (mentioned htn. pg. 345)

notes from harrow the ninth:

Harrow's psychosis seems to begin after seeing Alecto for the first time (htn. pg. 51)

Augustine describes her as "more lucid" than Mercy as an insult to Mercy (htn. pg 168)

"'God, who did you bury?' [...] 'I buried a monster,' he said." (htn. pg. 195)

(depending on how much of The Body is real) Agrees that Harrow should kill G1dieon (htn. pg. 226)

“Augustine said, ‘To sisters, and to the women we‘ve left behind.’ God’s mouth was cheerful as ever, but his eyes were not when he said, 'Do I have to drink to that?’ For the first time, you were witness to the Saint of Patience discombobulated. ‘Apologies, John. Wasn’t meant as a jab.’ ‘It doesn’t hurt anymore- most of the time,’ said God, and he was still smiling.” (htn. Pg. 277)

"Even the devil bent for God to put a leash around her neck… and the disciples were scared! I cannot blame them! I was terrified! But when the work was done- when I was finished, and so were they, and the new Lyctors found out the price- they bade him kill the saltwater creature before she could do them harm… Oh, but it is a tragedy, to be put in a box and laid to wait for the rest of time." - Teacher (htn. pg. 328)

Says she has to go away for a while immediately after Varun appears (htn. pg. 334)

John says that G1deon doesn’t talk about her, but Augustine and Mercy still feel guilty about what happened (htn. pg. 345)

“When I first met her I just called her First, One. She had a real name, but I buried it with her, and nobody says it anymore.” - John (htn. Pg. 345)

“Annabel Lee was my- what do I call her? Guide? Friend? I’d hope so… [...] She was the first Resurrection. She was my Adam. As the dust settled and I beheld what was left and what was gone, I was entirely alone. The world had been ended, Harrowhark. One moment I was a man, and the next moment I was the Necrolord Prime, the first necromancer, and more importantly, a landlord with no tenants. [...] I was dazed… I was bewildered… and she was my defender and my sole companion, and my colleague in the scholarship of learning how to live again. It was bloody difficult. I had never been God. [...] She lived to see what happened at Canaan House. Not that she took much interest. My first Resurrection was not a normal human being, Harrow, and she struggled to pretend. Anger was her besetting sin. We had that in common. And when the cost of Lyctorhood was paid, when the emotions were at their peak… we found out the price for our sin. The monstrous retribution. To be chased for our crime to the ends of the universe, to have our deed stain our very faces and follow after us like a foul smell. She died after that first terrible assault.” - John (htn. pg. 346)

"That freak would have gone for me already… she could never act human." -Mercymorn (htn. pg. 408)

the lyctors knew some amount of truth about Alecto's resurrection, likely that shes essentially a resurrection beast (htn. pg. 478)

"'A monster, John!' Augustine barked. "She was a bloody monster in a human suit! She was a monster the moment you resurrected her, and then you went and made her worse!'" - Augustine (htn. pg. 478)

Gideon & Pyrrha liked Alecto despite the fact that the other lyctors (at least Mercy and Augustine) didn't (htn. pg. 479)

One of the reasons the lyctors wanted her dead was because the RBs were partially coming for her (htn. pg. 479)

Appears to claim Harrow's body after Gideon "dies" in the river (htn. pg. 500)

notes from nona the ninth

"Sometimes, [...] I don't like when you do- the necromancy word- [...] -but it feels nice at the same time. It's mixed up. It's like when you do that, it makes me sad- not sad that you did it, but sad that you can do it." - Nona, to Palamades (ntn. pg. 65) 

"Nona loved the blue sphere as much as she loved everything else. She, and nobody else, could hear it sing." (ntn. pg. 125)

"'And I'm not scared of dying. Really truly, Cam, I'm not…' 'Why not?' said Camilla. Nona thought about it. 'Because I like letting go of the pull-up bars and falling off,' she said. 'I don't like the part just before you let go and I don't like the part where you hit the floor, but I like the letting go.'"- Nona and Cam (ntn. pg. 125)

"Dust of my dust- such similar star salt- what they did to you and what they wrung from you and what shape they made you fill- we see you still- we seek you still- we murdered- we who murder- you inadvertent tool- you misused green thing- come back to us- take vengeance for us- we saw you- we see you- I see you." - Judith, (as Varun) to Nona (ntn. pg. 164)

Nona likes Gideon's (originally Pyrrhas?? maybe?) sunglasses, but only so long as nobody wore them (ntn. pg. 165)

"then she told herself sternly, Stop it! If she was going to do it, she thought, she might as well do it. She had some vague notion that when you committed to a thing you had to do it all the way. Who had said that to her? Who had taught her that? Once you've stepped in, said the voice in the back of her head, you're in. This isn't the Hokey Pokey. She had remembered something- she had finally remembered something! Only she didn't have anyone to tell." (ntn. pg. 203)

"Nona had thrown exactly two tantrums in her entire life. She couldn't remember anything about the first one, but Pyrrha had told her about it. Pyrrha had been laughing with her mouth, but not with her eyes: her eyes had been very brown and distant and uneasy, as though this tantrum had reminded Pyrrha of something her brain didn't want to bring back." (ntn. pg. 275)

"'But you see, Palamades, I don't mind dying,' said Nona, trying to make him understand. 'I've been doing it for ages. I'm not scared.'" (ntn. pg. 289)

"'I am glad you did not tell us this. We had no idea there was any recourse from Varun the Eater's effects, nor any beast.' 'Its pure theory,' Camilla said curtly. "Something's being transmitted through the light spectrum. Absorption through the eyes is worse for the brain.' This made Nona think of something. It tugged at the edges of her memory and stayed there, nagging.'" - We Suffer & Cam (ntn. pg. 322) 

Nona says that she never liked her hands (ntn. pg. 357)

"She wanted to shout. She wanted to be listened to. She wished the barrier had taken her hands. She wished she had thrust herself into it- become that big seething mass of flesh and meat and tendrils- ruined her body, just melted it; come back messed up, so that nobody could want her body but her, so that it would be hers and nobody else's. This was a horrible thing to think. Nona hated herself immediately and fervently." (ntn. pg. 358)

She hates having just two feet (ntn. pg. 390)

“You were the noise that was everywhere. It was like trying to talk to someone down a phone line with someone screaming through a megaphone in the same room. You drowned everything out. You were so huge and so complicated, and you were screaming, You wouldn’t stop screaming, You were so scared. You were so goddamn mad.” (ntn. pg. 405)

“You were screaming. I wanted you to stop, I wanted… I wanted you. I wanted you like a caveman wants a wildfire… or the sun. I thought you were going to take me, somehow. Purge me. Use me as an instrument. But you didn’t say anything…I was babbling, Show me. Come on. I’m ready. You kept screaming and screaming… like a baby in pain. So I tried to hurt you- I did hurt you. I reached out for you, and it hurt you… but I wasn’t strong enough. The caveman. The wildfire. The Neolithic priest staggering in front of the falling star.” (ntn. pg. 407)

“I wanted to make you the most beautiful body I could think of. He paused and said: “But I was stressed, okay? I was insane. Most of what had made me John had gone somewhere else. There were a few little thoughts left…a handful of things that made me me… a couple scraps of id. It’s not fair to judge me, right? I didn’t do this thinking… I didn’t do it like art. When I was seven, you know, all Nana had to play with in her house was some of Mum’s old toys. And my favourite out of all of them…” He gave a long, shuddering sigh. “My favourite was her old Hollywood Hair Barbie,” he murmured. “I loved her little gold outfit and her long yellow hair. She was the best. She got to have all the adventures. [...]” He said, from my blood and bone and vomit I conjured up a beautiful labyrinth to house you in. I was terrified you’d find some way to escape before I was done. I made you look like a Christmas tree fairy… I made you look like a Renaissance angel… I made you Adam and Eve… Galatea. Barbie. Frankenstien’s monster with long yellow hair. He said, As the world went up I remade us both. I hid me in you… I hid you in me. And when we were together… once the shaman had claimed the sun… I became God.”- John (ntn. pg. 408)

“Do you remember what you said to me once I had done it? When we stood here together?” She looked at him and she said, “Yes.” He said- “You said, ‘I picked you to change, and this is how you repay me?’” She said- “What else did I say?” He said: “You said, ‘What have you done to me? I am a hideousness.’” She said- “What else did I say?” He said, “Where did you put the people? Where did they go?” She said, “I still love you.” He said, "You said that too.” - John & Alecto/Harrow (ntn. Pg. 410)                                                

Nona has some kind of blackout on top of the truck and something happens in that time that convinces Pyrrha of her true identity (ntn. pg. 413)

Also based on Nona’s reaction at that point, maybe Alecto didn’t like Pyrrha even though Pyrrha liked Alecto (ntn. pg. 413)

“She’s scared to die. You’re afraid of so many things, but she’s only afraid to die. Then when the disciples come to you and say the word Lyctor, she does not understand that they want the thing you did to her- she watches as you watch… watch them misunderstand the process.” - Harrow, to John, (ntn. pg. 434)

“In [Aiglemene’s] hands was a huge black-metal pike about the same height as her, with an edge that gleamed in the light. Nona couldn’t stop herself looking at that edge: for some reason it made her palms sweat, and the back of her neck itch again.” (ntn. pg. 454)

“I might not help you when.. I'm back," she said, not quite understanding I. “I'll be different. I'll remember everything. I'll remember the thing I'm trying to forget. And Palamedes-  I won't love him. I won't love Camilla, or Pyrrha, or Hot Sauce, or even Noodle. I won't love anything… I won't know how. I won't be me at all, or.. I'll be the me who knows the thing, and knowing the thing means I'm not Nona- I'm someone else." (ntn. pg. 460)

she recognizes the tower, and the devils (ntn. pg. 440, and 447, respectively)

“You let that monster out of its box," said Ianthe, "and you start us down a path nobody can save us from. If God truly wants her out… if Teacher set this all up… if he wants her…"  “Wants her? He told me to kill her. He said Make it quick, but kill her, said me with my blood could do it- said me with my blood, I was the only one… " [...] “He loves her! " Ianthe howled. “John loves Alecto - John needs Alecto! Without that piece of Goddamn fridge meat, he's nothing- and we need to keep him that way!” - Ianthe & Kiriona, accidentally prompting nona to remember everything (ntn. pg. 470)

“She had been taken down this corridor: she had squeezed through this crack in the rock- not a passageway, not at that point. John had told her he had something to show her. He had said, It's very pretty. You'll like it. [...] John loved her. She was John's cavalier. She loved John. For she so loved the world that she had given them John. For the world so loved John that she had been given. For John had so loved her that he had made her she. for John had loved the world. [...] She hadn't come on purpose; the scrap of black-eyed meat had asked for it- the chain of a kiss: the ice that burnt the flesh of the mouth that had stuck to the mouth that was frozen.The teardrop on the hand. The hand that John had fashioned. [...] John had said, It's so beautiful. Come and look. She had said, There are almost no beautiful things left. where is Anastasia? Let me talk to Anastasia. [...] Glowworms, she had told John. Technically beetles, said John, but I always loved them. Narrow beetles with long strands hanging off them- a carpet of shifting, dead, winking lights at the top of the grave. Greenish, orangish, yellowish, moving over one another silently with those long filaments hanging down. [...] And the water- the huge pool of real salt water, where she had knelt and drank- [...] John and she had swum to the centre hummock rising out of the pool. Not an island, not really. An outcropping. With the marble pillars, and the marble top, and the long low marble table. He said he thought it was a nice place to be. To lie down. She had liked hard things to lie down on. It was hard to endure having a spine.” (ntn. starting page 471)

“There she was; John had made her so ugly, so unbearably ugly. The terrible face, with the terrible arms and legs and the terrible middle part, and the terrible hair, and the terrible ears: the nose too short, the ears too brief. But there she was- and within her the child, asleep, with the strange sword. The sword- her sword- her own edge had been pushed out, her swinging edge, her toy. Her plain bladed sword. And her body was chained up…” (ntn. pg. 474)

“Then Alecto remembered the vow, and turned back upon the altar to face the second child and raised the sword with wrath in her heart, for they meant to bring destruction upon her. But when the black-eyed infant showed her countenance to Alecto, Alecto recalled her, for it was a face one dreamed in Alecto's dream. and Alecto stayed the sword.” (ntn. pg. 476)

“And Alecto said, Pyrrha, he laid me down as an appeasement to them; he fed you to them as an appeasement to them; but he has never appeased me, and now all he has done was teach me how to die." (ntn. Pg. 476) 

"Alecto said, I am very sorry about Samael. The child made no answer. Alecto said, I remember my vows. As I swore to Anastasia I swear to you. I am in your service until you bid me the favour, and whatsoever you appoint I shall perform, and consider the vow rendered. This is what I promised, until such a time as you deal with me as you see fit.” (ntn. pg. 477)

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Overanalyzing Mikey's fear

This post will be a bit vague, since most of Mikey's fears are connected to an unrevealed piece of lore... but I'll try to explain it as best I can

Living on the streets, Mikey obviously had to turn to unscrupulous means to survive. You may notice that when I refer to Leo, I call him a "petty thief". But I don't refer to Mikey as such, I call him a "con artist". Why the difference? Because Mikey has morals in him. Misguided and backwards, but they are there. Leo's driving moral is survival, so he has no problem taking whatever he wants. Mikey's conscience won't allow him to do that, so rather than steal outright, he tricks people to give him their belongings. His argument? "If they're dumb enough to fall for it, then I earned it and they deserve to lose it!" So, to reiterate, Mikey has morals but they are strained due to his life on the streets.

Mikey wants to be a good person, if only for his family's sake. He wants to set a good example of what a family should be, and what better example than himself? Like the song says, "If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and then make that change!" So, Mikey desperately attempts to be as perfect as he can. But, perfection is difficult to attain, and it brings a heavy weight on one's shoulders. Even so, Mikey has been carrying that weight since his early childhood...

Leo and Mikey have always been together, ever since Leo found his little brother in the alley. But their experiences in families has been vastly different (as we'll see in the next fear fungus update). Mikey was always the golden child, Leo the troublemaker. Mikey found that being the good kid was more favourable in order to get a family, so that was a big motivator to be perfect as well. It was never enough, though...

NOW ONTO THE LORE. In the comic, Mikey mentions "the teapot", and Donnie refers to it as "the emotionally traumatizing lore drop". I don't want to divulge too much, but I will say that Mikey stole something he never should have, felt badly about it, and when he tried to make amends, things went terribly wrong. Immediately afterwards, he was kidnapped by Draxum. But specifically, let's focus on Mikey's attempt to redeem his mistake. It failed catastrophically, which he did not expect. He truly believed that his coming clean about his misdeed would make it better, but instead it made it worse. The person he wronged? They blew up at him. They were enraged, furious! And he didn't expect that, because he was starting to think of this person as family. And Mikey had always believed that when a person apologizes, you forgive them! But his forgiveness was withheld, and Mikey was crushed by this fact. And so, he ran away... and unknowingly ran straight into the clutches of his creator...

OKAY NOW HERE'S THE BIG ONE. Sadly... I can't tell you the reasoning behind this. But let's look into the psychological aspect of it, shall we? Both Mikey and Donnie view Draxum as a monster, the most evil person they have ever known. Why? Because they both went through the same traumatic experience with him together! I think it is very interesting that while Donnie was afraid he would never live up to his father's standards, Mikey was terrified that he had surpassed them. The most evil, cruel, monstrous person Mikey had ever known told HIM that HE was "wretched, awful, evil, he told me I was a BAD PERSON". Whatever it was that Mikey did... he feels that it is unredeemable, unforgivable, even worse than the "teapot incident".

But to bring this back to a wholesome note -- because if we don't then Dr. Feelings will have my head -- Donnie helped Mikey understand that what he did was not unredeemable. He is not unforgivable. And from Donnie's perspective, Mikey is his hero, simply because he rescued him from a bad situation. More than once... but that's a story for another lore drop!

@boots-with-the-fur-club @daboyau

[satosugusandwich]

𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔯𝔢 𝔐𝔢𝔞𝔫…

True Form!Sukuna x Fem!Afab!Reader (This is an AU!!! Sukuna is not a homicidal maniac cannibalistic murderer! I think he’s sexy and my morals say no dick from crazy murderer BUT dick from crazy 😍)

Cw: mentions of violence from previous chapter, body image issues mentioned, sukuna is kinda an asshole

Description: You've been friends with Yuji Itadori for some time now and have seen the best, the worst, and the strange in all your years of knowing him. You've never thought he was one to have any crazy secrets and well... you were wrong. And now the demon bound to Yuji is bound to you too! How fun! Good thing that you aren't stupid and won't fall for a being that by no means should you have ever interacted with! Right? Right...?

*despite this being an aged up version of yuji, there will be no sexual stuff involving him, also the violence is only in the first chapter with a few mentions after that!!! Cross posted on Ao3 under Spicycrunchroll! THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT LATER ON!*

Chapter 1 here (chapters will also get much longer once the plot is moving)

Chapter 2: Pain in the Ass

So now you smell like piss, vape juice, cum, tears, and malicious horror in the front of your best friend's car. Nothing about anything is normal right now and as much as you wanted to know about the monster in the back seat, you were still in shock from almost being trafficked and also knowing that the monster brutally attacked the men that were attacking you. They might have deserved it, but it’s not exactly the most enjoyable experience for you. You looked into the rear view mirror and could see the monster glaring out the window, seemingly bored and watching the lights of the city as Yuji sped to your home.

Yuji broke the silence. “He’s bound to me. Cuz of some family curse. He’s been sealed for a long time, but I reawakened him. You can see him now, right?” The last sentence sounded almost worried.

Your throat ached from sobbing. “Yeah.”

Yuji’s face was pale and drooping. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’ll help you when we get home.”

You closed your eyes and another tear spilled. You attempted to shift away from the thoughts of what just happened to you, “Thank you. I’m not going to ask about him too much, right now it’s all a lot to process, but what… is he?”

Sukuna huffed from the back seat, shifting ever so slightly. “I’m a demon. You can ask me.”

“Hey!” Yuji called out. “Don’t talk to her like that after all of what she just went through.”

Sukuna sighed and remained silent, turning his eyes to look at you and fixating on the outline of your face. “I’m no threat to her."

Yuji didn't respond, instead he focused on driving home, not knowing exactly what to say to you. You didn't know what to say either, your mind racing back and forth between the traffickers, the man you went out with, and the demon in the back seat. Even though you wanted to find anything else to talk about, you couldn't help but be curious about him. You tried to eye him through the rearview mirror, looking at his features. If it wasn't for his intimidating and inhuman appearance, you'd think he was pretty hot, and he also looked a lot like Yuji. Much larger than Yuji, and much much larger than Yuji. He has to slump down in his seat and his legs are pressed against the back of your seats, he easily takes up half the space in the back of the car, and on top of that, he's built like a wrestler. You couldn't help but stare at him, taking in the features of the more monstrous side of his face. Sukuna certainly notices your stare, but says nothing of it. Under normal circumstances, he'd tease but he's not exactly interested with upsetting you more. After your stare lingers on him long enough, he meets your eyes in the mirror and you quickly look away, an shiver running up your body. He couldn't help but smirk at your reaction.

When you arrived at your apartment, Yuji insisted on holding onto as you wandered inside together, along with Sukuna following closely behind. You didn't ask about him even when he followed the both of you inside, standing to the side of the living room while you and Yuji wandered to your bathroom. After what felt like a century, you removed your soiled clothes and tossed them directly into the trash, not wanting to wear them ever again. You didn't even care that he saw you strip naked, he didn't even care either, he was more focused on the fact that he's gonna have to find some way to explain what just happened and what that might mean for you. You didn't have an inkling of what he was thinking about or what had even happened to make Sukuna suddenly visible to you and Yuji wasn't very excited to explain it to you.

After showering and sobbing for almost another hour, you finally left the bathroom to get dressed, your eyes avoiding the mirror as you rushed to get dressed, disgusted by your own body. You opened bedroom door and went out to see Yuji who was dead silent on the couch. Sukuna had moved from the door and was now looking through your fridge. He paid no mind to your presence even as you gaped at him rummaging through your food, Yuji noticed your expression and turned to Sukuna.

"Don't just eat her shit!" He sounded exasperated as though he had this conversation before.

Sukuna groaned. "You humans and your decorum. Drives me insane." He shut your fridge but took out sandwich meat and started to eat directly from the packaging.

"Um. You can get bread and cheese." You said, making both of them stop moving. "Did I say something wrong?"

Sukuna started to laugh. "Here the brat was, concerned you'd be upset I'm stealing your food." The mouth on his stomach also stretched into a smile before opening up and he dumped the rest of the lunch meat directly into it, making you gape even wider. "That's enough for now." He stepped out of your kitchen and immediately went to the recliner in the room and sat down, watching your face.

Yuji sighed again and gestured for you to sit down. "Listen, y/n. I have something I need to tell you now. I know you have a lot on your mind, but I don't just wanna tiptoe around." Yuji swallowed, looking down at the floor.

Sukuna seemed to be already annoyed before Yuji even started started talking, groaning dramatically. "Do I need to tell her? Spit it out."

He quickly quipped back, "I'm telling her!"

Sukuna rolled his eyes and sunk back into the recliner which now looks significantly smaller with him seated on it. You shifted your gaze back to Yuji and waited for him to speak. "What is it? Can't be any worse than what we just went through."

"His name is Ryomen Sukuna. Or at least that's the name that was given to him. He's a demonic spirit of the past that became bound to my family a long ass time ago, but after the first person he was bound to died, he was sealed away, but then one day, I was fucking around with some shit that was passed on to me and... well... next thing I knew he was sitting on my bed." He looked to your face for a reaction, but all you could muster was a stare. He took that as a sign to continue. "Sukuna is bound to me and as a result of me asking him to save you, he's bound to you now."

You blinked a few times before speaking. "What? What does that mean?"

Yuji looked to Sukuna then back to you. "Well, for one, you can see him. And now you can interact with him freely. Sukuna can interact with whatever he wants, just not whoever. Because of his bindings to my ancestor, he can only do certain things, like for instance, he can't hurt someone unless given a direct command. And the reason he is bound to you and not the guys he attacked is because of the way he had to save you. You see, the guy who first orchestrated your kidnapping was also bound to a demon and this demon was--"

"A pain in the ass." Sukuna interrupted. "A pitiful excuse of one too. A manipulative bastard that made a vow they regret now." Sukuna had leaned forward, looking at you with all four eyes. "By killing the bastard, I ended up creating a vacant binding and the weakling decided to reflect the binding back onto me. Luckily, the stupid shit didn't know how to do the spell properly so I was able to choose who I had to make a vow with. I don't desire to be commanded around by anyone else and thankfully, you aren't the type to demand others."

You didn't say anything in response to him, he's right. If you had the courage to boss anyone around, you wouldn't have slept with all the one pump chumps and found yourself in the situation you did. Yuji, on the other hand, was pissed that he said that to you.

"What the hell? She was literally kidnapped and almost sex trafficked, what the fuck is wrong with you!?" Yuji shouted and Sukuna had no expression.

The demon cocked his head to the side and rested it on his hand. "I didn't say anything hurtful. She's more docile than the other assholes who were in the proximity."

You rose from the couch and Yuji panicked, before he could say anything you reassured him. "He didn't hurt my feelings. Don't worry. I want to go to bed."

Yuji got up to follow. "Do you need me to sleep with you?"

Swallowing a tightness in your throat, you answered. "Could you?"

"Of course!"

Sukuna watched the two of you retreat to your bedroom and couldn't help but wonder why you stopped the conversation so soon. He isn't fond of the situation himself, when he went after the man that kicked you out of his house, he was hoping it'd be a quick return to sender and was beyond angered when he was faced with one of his own. Few demons have the audacity to openly manipulate humans, let alone the pride. He was grateful they weren't a human and was able to get rid of them, but wasn't pleased with the fact that now he has a new "owner". Truthfully, the whole situation left him scowling and exceptionally eager to release his frustrations. The humans that tried to apprehend you were foolish to ally themselves with such a cunt of a demon, but even more foolish to try and steal a human for the sake of a demon's orders. Really, Sukuna leaving one of them without the ability to speak ever again and the other with a few shattered bones was a blessing. The ones that attacked Yuji should be grateful that Itadori was compassionate enough to leave them only with some broken limbs as well. Sukuna's takes no thrill in fighting the weak and barely takes any enjoyment in other's suffering, in fact, compared to most demons, he finds it boring. And here he is, stuck with the most boring people he could have as masters, at least Itadori's ancestor was a fighter himself and sought strength similar to Sukuna. Then again, he reminds himself, at least Itadori and you are stupid enough to be funny.

Sukuna sighed to himself and looked out the window of your apartment, he's going to have an overwhelmingly uneventful life with being bound to both of you. Here he was, so ecstatic to be awoken once again, just to have to watch a shitty college romance between two brats and now watch your pathetic and sad life. At least amp up the drama if he's stuck as a bystander! Well, he wishes for that, but unbeknownst to him is that he already has plenty of drama for himself approaching at high speed now that you're in his life, as he is in yours.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #46 Lone Women by Victor LaValle

I was first introduced to LaValle with The Ballad of Black Tom, which is still for my money one of the best of last decade's crop of Lovecraft reimaginings/deconstructions/whatevers and has earned him a great deal of loyalty from me. Lone Women does not really live up to those heights, at least past the first act (or, better put, the thing it does isn’t what I was hoping it would), but the first act really is excellent and it does accomplish what it’s trying to with admirable skill.

The book follows Adelaide Henry, the child of homesteaders in one of the few areas of California where black people were allowed to homestead. She leaves behind a burning farmhouse with her parents corpses still inside, running away from the ruins of her life with a charmingly literal steamer trunk of her unresolved baggage that only she seems capable of lifting without help and which must never be opened or unlocked lest what’s inside get out.

The actual meat of the story is her settling into a new life in Montana, where a broadly worded law allows unaccompanied women to claim a homestead in their own right if they hold and work it for three years. With only an incredibly optimistic marketing brochure to guide her, she just about starves and freezes to death a few times over before beginning to make the connections she needs to stay alive (Montana in 1915 being so short on black people that no one really bothers to organize or make an identity around hating her on principle). From there, it’s a matter of enjoying the eerie atmosphere and waiting for the other shoe to drop (in this case supplied by a family of bandits) and see how quickly everything goes to shit from there.

This is a well-written book, but one where I struggle with whether to properly call it horror. The first act is, certainly – the portrayal of prairie life and the looming darkness in Adelaide’s past are both excellent, the sense of uncanniness and of building tension as you see her make friends and wait for something to inevitably go wrong are both absolutely excellent. It’s only in the third act, when the monster turns out to be a poor, abused child who only needs to be offered a hand, and the marginalized and outcast join together to build a happy new life for themselves outside the remit of the almanacs or history books, that it feels like a genre boundary was jumped along the way. I have a sort of principled opposition to conceptions of horror where the unstoppable preternatural monster is on the side of good and the townsfolk with their nooses and pitchforks are both evil and never had a chance to begin with.

The book’s afterward mentions that LaValle went back and forth on whether any of the heroes should die in the climax or whether there should be some sort of taint or tragedy to it, but decided that what was needed in today’s climate was an uplifting tale of the ‘lone women’ banding together and triumphing against society - I suppose I just have fundamental philosophical issues with that whole train of logic (or, at least, empirical issues with the idea that that niche is not already served).

It’s incredibly interesting to compare this to The Changeling, LaValle’s last book. Both are notionally horror stories centred around children that are ‘wrong’ and in some sense monstrous, and both are impossible to really understand thematically without the context of post-2016 American politics. Of course, in Changeling the child really has been stolen and replaced with a monster, and the whole thing is told from the father’s perspective (and quite sympathetically), whereas in Women the child was turned into a monster only by the abuse of her parents, and is eminently redeemable from the efforts (and told from the perspective of) her sister. Which is far more thematically agreeable to me, for obvious reasons, but imo does make for rather less compelling horror.

It’s interesting, as well, that Changeling is by far the more heavy-handed and explicit about its politics (to a degree that stood out even in the rather elevated environment of Trump-era genre fiction), but also felt far more personal to and a vessel for working out the preoccupations and insecurities of the author. This, meanwhile, felt like he wanted to do something with the fun rabbit hole of historical trivia he fell into and the actual story came out after – and so was very informed by a sense of what sort of story should be written in These Unprecedented Times.

The historical trivia is absolutely great, though. LaValle really captures a sense of actually living in a desolate frontier, and of the little bits and pieces of interaction and connection that made life livable in such a town. The afterword was at least half just lists of research materials, and he makes most of them sound genuinely interesting.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hunter Hookup

Sam and Dean have been on the search for their father ever since he disappeared on a hunt for the yellow eyed demon, and it appears that they are not the only ones looking for him. Dean wants answers, but he gets much more than he bargained for (2.5k)

Warnings - smut MDNI, unprotected sex, fingering, fluff, slight angst, mentions of killing, choking, alcohol consumption

dean winchester main masterlist more supernatural

The Winchesters, there were many things that could be said about them, good and bad. However right now you didn't want to speak about them, not as you downed another glass of whiskey, ignoring the man beside you of whom was persistently trying to get in your pants. Let's just say that wasn't happening, he had no chance, he was some drunk that was no doubt frequently sat in the very stool of the bar that you were occupying right now. He'd be easy prey to any monster, it was quite a shame that you had just killed the werewolf that had been lurking around this specific town.

The slam of the double doors of the entrance slammed open, whisking your attention to the two lean men that strode in, a smirk took point on your face, they certainly didn't look very happy, and you couldn't blame them, surely there had been no monster for them to find as you had already taken it out. "You boys look like you could use a drink." You stated as they prowled closer to you, displeasure written across their faces. "Maybe you should go and buy yourselves one, I'm sure you just came back from a long and gruelling hunt."

Dean disgustedly rolled his eyes at you, clearly not being fast on forgiving you for selfishly saving the lives of the population nearby. "You're hilarious, you know a heads up woulda been nice that you had caught up to it. Instead of letting us run around like headless chickens searching for it and looking like mad men for continuing to work on an already closed investigation." He sat on the stool beside you, hollering the bar tender to bring him a glass of something strong that would no doubt sizzle down the pain in the ass that you were giving him with your presence.

"But it's so fun to watch you two make fools out of yourselves, really puts a new filter on a hunters perspective of the infamous Winchester brothers. I'm sure your pops would be proud wherever he is." Dean growled at you as you stood, slinging your bag over the shoulder of the tattered jacket that you were wearing, though Sam stopped you from leaving as you planned to, caging you in by the bar. A presumptuous squint troubled his eyes as he daringly stared you down, no doubt by the mention of their missing father.

"What do you know y/n?" This was no time for your games nor your teasing, this was a serious matter, and he wouldn't have you poke fun about it. He had left everything behind to search for the one thing he had abandoned when he built his new life up; he owed his last living parent this much, even if he had burdened him with the cruel lifestyle of killing things and following in the steps of the family business that kept all humans constantly in danger, just so that the yellow eyed demon that had killed his and Dean's mother would pay for his monstrous crime.

"I know how to kill a werewolf quicker than the two of you assholes put together, and much... much more. In regards to your father Sammy, more than you again. You see, he put me up to the task of finding him if he ever went missing, so how about you drop back into school and let me abide by the task that John gave me." With yours shoulder you butted past him, though as your silhouette fled, Dean's head had perked up, surprised by the nonsense that had spewed from your lips. It was undefinable if he believed you yet, but it was a clue closer than they were.

"Take my beer." Dean said to his brother as he patted him on the shoulder, streaking past and chasing after you. He knew where his loyalties laid and that was with his father, and if you had more to know then he'd damn well get beneath your skin until you revealed all that you had discovered to him. You wouldn't joke in regards to their father's disappearance, Dean knew your reputation and sure you were a pain in the ass when you bumped into each other, but in concerns of his father he was aware that you had the utmost respect for John, his name was practically royalty in the hunting community.

But that was not why you respected the man, no, it was due to him all those years back saving that orphanage from a hungry ghoul from which you emerged out into the world and began to follow in the same saviour footsteps. He had saved your life and now it was your intention to pay that debt by trying to do the same, your life had been a struggle but it was more of one as a heavy hand repeatedly slammed against your door. It was not hard to conclude who was the proceeder of the disruptive sound, and so you sighed, well aware that it would be near on impossible to shoo the son of the man that the mystery surrounded away.

The chore of opening the door to speak to him was a short one as he barged right into the room that you had paid to reside in for a few days, walking to stand in the middle as you defeatedly closed the door and crossed your arms as you stalked behind him. "What is all this?" Dean's voice strained from shock as he noticed your pin board filled with all sorts of excerpts from papers that had been torn from their original founder and scrawling of mindless of words. "Progress." You said, noticing him running his eye over each sentence on the wall. And it was, a work in one that you still had yet to crack, you simply hoped that Dean wasn't memorising each piece on that board, otherwise the route that it set would get him into trouble.

"Your dad wouldn't want you to chase after him Dean, that's why he set me as a precaution if he didn't come back. And my job would be a lot quicker if you wouldn't start playing with my thumbtacks." You slapped his hand away from the board, unamused by his childish habit to touch everything. He frowned at you, twisting the hand that you had scolded him with in his grip, pushing you back with easy force so that your back was against the wall and he was staring down at you. His forest green eyes were searching for any silent clue that your expression could give him but his forage to do so came up empty, and so he chose to brashly speak to you again.

"Don't lie to me y/n, you're as stumped on his whereabouts as me and Sammy are." Dean suspected aloud, watching as your head coyly cocked to the side. He wasn't wrong but you weren't about to let him know that, otherwise that would give him the upper hand for the first time in all the years you had been acquainted. His neck craned down so that his face was that bit closer to yours and you smirked up at him, even though deep down you felt sorry for the man and his younger sibling, not only for the fact that their father was missing but that the man that was supposed to protect them had dragged them into this life. This cruel and long road that gave no escape except that of a long and excruciating death, which would would end up with the person being sent to the coiling trap of hell.

"Maybe you haven't been searching hard enough Winchester. Who was it that your father had been searching for all along, the demon that had started this entanglement of hunting for him? It's not that difficult to piece the story together Dean, and I'm not sure what I am going to find, hence why he had me be the one to uncover where he is. I understand how frustrating this must be for you, I really do, but I don't know what I'm going to find, so if you want to release all of that stress you're feeling go out and hunt some monsters, just like you've been trained to do." You attempted to push Dean back by the chest with your one free hand, however that didn't suffice enough as an escape, you could have tried harder however Dean only brought his body closer against yours.

"I've got something else in mind y/n/n, and I think you'll like what I'm thinking..." in response you huffed, only for him to trace his rough and scarred fingertips across your collarbones, sketching along your skin until he choked a delicate hold around your fragile dove like neck. A sonically pleasing whimper dribbled out from your blushing lips causing a smirk to balance out across Dean's sultry face; he had achieved dominance against you within your own rented confinement. He had initially thought it would be of more difficulty to make you fold from his touch, but alas he was happily surprised you willingly coiled beneath his shadow like a good little girl.

"Oh yeah? I wasn't aware you had the ability to think Winchester, you've always been a little slow with your thoughts." Perhaps he had thought that you were going to be obedient too soon, as it seemed you were biting back and tantalising and truthfully he preferred this side of you. It was very on brand for your character, and the clash of your contrasting domineering would only bring more fun to this enclosed interaction. Dean pressed down with his skilful fingers on your throat, cutting your supply of oxygen off at its point of air travel. You rather liked how he had a grip on you, it was long overdue to have fallen into the hands of the infamous Dean Winchester, to be another woman in his bed.

Except to him you were different, you had more than one thing that he wanted. Answers was the primary thing that he wanted, however in the moment the answers to what seemed to have slipped from his mind as he helped you shoulder off the stained blouse that you had trekked after your earlier hunt in. Beneath the material it was an expanse of soft skin that felt like heaven underneath his fingertips, he wanted to trace every scar that adorned your tired flesh, he wanted to kiss every stretch mark in sight.

And he got prepared to do just that by aiding you in climbing out of your clothes as you assisted him with his own, until you were both naked in your own forms, hungrily moulding your lips together like malleable greek statues. He was above you, panting into your mouth as he stretched your walls out with his fingers, it began with one digit slipping past your folds, and then two, until finally there were three fully sheathed inside of you. He worked them at an impatient pace, he couldn't wait to stuff you with his cock and have you clawing like an animal at his bare back.

When he removed his fingers he placed them in his mouth and hummed at the taste. "You taste like the sweetest cherry pie I've ever eaten." His lips slithered along your neck as he rutted his lower half against your own, coating his cock in your flowing wetness, groaning at the friction. A small whimper surpassed your lips until something passed within you; you weren't going to submit to him, no matter how much your body begged for you to. He would hold it against you until your breaths were up and you were burned on a ceremonial pyre.

"Well we don't have time for you to eat anything Winchester, there's a hunt ongoing and I'd much rather get back to that." You retorted at the infamous executioner of monsters, taking him by surprise as you hooked your leg around his own and flipped him over so that he was laying on his back, and you were seated atop of him. "I'm sure Sammy is wondering where his big brother is, maybe we should just stop here..." you teased him, smirking as his green eyes only grew significantly darker.

"It's a bit late for that baby girl, considering your already sat naked, it would be such a shame to waste this situation. God knows I've been waiting to fuck you from the first time I laid my eyes on your pretty little frame." His hands rested on your hips, helping you line yourself up with his cock, the back of his head sinking into the pillows beneath when your pussy engulfed his length. "Fuuuuuccckkkk." Dean moaned, his mouth falling open as you sank down on him until you were filled with his thick cock.

"For the first time I'd say your weight Dean, it would have been a shame not have you inside of me." You gasped lightly, adjusting for a moment until you began to ride him, hands placed firmly on his chest to support your movements. It felt amazing to be in control of a man that was so well known for having any woman at his mercy, your neck lowered once more as you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, before entangling your tongues in an ever losing battle.

You kept moving, and kept moving until a feeling of euphoria grew within your abdomen. Your vision became momentarily blurry as you spoke the hunter's name again and again, coming close to the edge, and you fell over it when Dean finally moved one of his hands, and began to rub at your clit, causing your orgasm to rattle your entire body. He too was close and that spurred him enough to take matters into his own hands as you lulled in your orgasmic bliss, throwing his hips up as he fucked you from underneath, until he was done and emptied his seed within your walls.

He panted, with you laying atop of him and your head upon his chest softly listening to his heartbeat, his slowly softening cock still inside of you. It was a surreal moment, you both knew that your bodies would one day ignite in a dance of passion and pent up frustration, and it had all been worth it. "I hope you find your dad Dean. I'm not going to stop looking but I know you aren't either, and it's not my place to get in the way of that. I... I hope our paths cross again soon."

You whispered sleepily and dazed as you stared away from his face, still using his chest as a cushion. Everything inside of you taunted your mind for letting any inkling of feelings slip through your lips, however it was all soothed when Dean stroked his fingers through your hair, coaxing you into an even more tired and relaxed state. "Oh, I'll definitely be seeing you soon sweetheart. How does the morning sound?" He enquired, hoping to continue the hunt for his father together.

[gunilslaugh]

Not So Different Epilogue

Oh Seungmin Summary: You certainly had to be crazy to be in a relationship with Seungmin. (non-idol au) WC:752 Warning: mentions of blood

part 1 part 2 part 3

photo not mine credits to owner.

Your front door opens and the sound of footsteps fill your house. A smile appears on your face, knowing exactly who it is. 

“You’re back?” you asked, walking into the entryway of your house. 

“Yes, I’m back doll.” Seungmin reaches out for you to pull you into a hug, but you don’t let him. Your hands grasp onto his arms to keep him in place. The smile that was originally on your face falls.

“Why are you covered in blood?” you questioned, looking at the blood splatters covering his face and clothes. “Actually don’t tell me,” you retracted your previous question. 

“The guy deserved it,” Seungmin grumbles with a dark look coming over his face. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you say. Your hands that rested on his forearms slipped down to his hands. You led Seungmin into the kitchen and sat him down in a chair. Walking over to the sink you grabbed a rag and wet it with water. You walked back over to Seungmin and gently lifted his face with his chin. You began to wipe away the dried blood from his face. Seungmin closes his eyes for a few moments. Enjoying the gentleness of you cleaning him up. When he opens his eyes he sees your concentrated face with a hint of something in your eyes. 

“Are you upset with me?” he asked. His hands came to rest on the sides of your thighs. 

“I prefer it when you don’t come home covered in blood,” you said while applying a bit more with the wet rag. 

“He really deserved it,” Seungmin stated. You set the wet rag aside on the table and move your arms to rest over Seungmin’s shoulders. 

“I’m not saying that he didn’t,” you say. 

“Then what’s with that look?” he interrogated. 

Honestly it scared Seungmin how much he cared about what you thought about him. Many months ago, back before he ever met you, he didn’t care what anybody thought about him. Why should he? They didn’t mean anything to him, but then you came along and awakened motions he had long buried in his heart. Because even though he wouldn’t never admit to it. Seungmin always wanted somebody to care about him.

Now that he has you he never wants to lose you. He never thought about changing his monstrous ways. Committing vile acts was a part of who he was, so when the thought of you leaving him for being the way he was crossed his mind. The thing that terrified him most was that he thought he would try to change for you. Seungmin never wanted to change before. He found nothing wrong with the way he was, so he didn’t understand how you could have such a powerful effect on him. 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Seungmin,” you told him directly. Seungmin is slightly taken aback by your words. You don’t want him to get hurt. That means the look in your eyes wasn’t that you were disappointed or upset with him. It was a look of concern. 

“Get hurt?” Seungmin looks at you with softened eyes. 

“Yes, get hurt. I know that this blood on you isn’t yours, but I still get scared that it could be.” You lightly tugged in a blood soaked patch on his shirt. A smirkish smile tugged at the corner of Seungmin’s lips. You certainly had to be crazy like him if you weren’t concerned with the horrendous crimes he was committing, but whether he got hurt committing them. Seungmin moves to take one of your hands in his. He brings it up to his lips and presses a kiss on your knuckles. 

“I’m a vile monster. I assure you no one can hurt me,” he says cockily. You sigh unimpressed with his cockiness. Little did you know that Seungmin was lying. There was indeed one person who was capable of hurting him: you. You could easily hurt Seungmin if you ever decided to leave him. 

“You better stay true to that,” you tell him. 

“Trust me, I will.” Seungmin suddenly pulls you down onto his lap using your hand that he was holding. 

“Seungmin!” You laughed. 

“Let me hold my doll for a bit,” he says. 

“Your clothes are still dirty,” you complained.

“It’s fine. Just stay here. It’s not like you can escape me anyway.” He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. 

“Fine, only for a couple minutes,” you gave in easily. Seungmin smiles, pulling you even closer.

part 1 part 2 part 3

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