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dreamersparacosm · 4 months ago

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under the checkered flag - epilogue blurb 1!

prompt ; in which your boyfriend, who’s normally all confidence, cockiness and self-assured, turns into a pouty, jealous mess when he remembers how much of a catch his girlfriend really is.

warnings ; unprotected sex, lil bit of oral (m recieving) (also this is not even a blurb. this is a whole ass story. also wrote this hungover so if there’s grammar errors… welp. idk how i got so ahead of myself pls help)

request ; linked here

part of the under the checkered flag universe

You’re not entirely sure why you agreed to this.

The room is packed: it’s loud, buzzing with conversation, glittering lights and expensive diamonds you could never dream of affording, filled with the kind of people who look like they walked off the cover of Vogue. Jungkook, of course, is in his element, shaking hands, flashing his signature grin, seamlessly weaving through the crowd like he was born for this.

Meanwhile, you are hiding behind him like a child.

“Baby,” Jungkook murmurs over his shoulder, amused. His hand rests against your hip, keeping you tucked close as he greets another executive, another industry legend who already knows exactly who he is. “You gonna say hi or just use me as a human shield all night?”

You huff, clutching onto the sleeve of his tailored suit, peeking past his shoulder just enough to offer a shy, “Hi.”

The older man chuckles, shaking his head. “Cute one you got there, Jungkook.”

Jungkook beams, unbothered. “I know, right?” His fingers tighten around your waist, clearly very proud of you, and he wants everyone in this room to know exactly who you are.

And, to be fair, they already do. Your face has been plastered across every media outlet since his last race a few weeks ago, the headlines barely able to contain themselves. “Jeon Jungkook Off The Market: Meet the Woman Who Stole His Heart.” Paparazzi shots of him running to you after his win, kissing you in front of thousands, wrapping you in his arms like you’re his greatest trophy. Really, it was getting a little overwhelming.

You smile up at him as the aforementioned man turns away to entertain another person “Why are you doing this?”

He bites back a smirk. “Doing what?”

“Introducing me to every single person like I’m some mystery. They know who I am, Jungkook.”

“Do they?” He grins, leaning down, voice dropping just enough for only you to hear. “Because I don’t think they know you’re the love of my life yet. Want me to make a bigger announcement?”

Your face bursts into flames. You slap his side, making him laugh as he pulls you closer, not letting you escape even an inch.

“Relax, my love.” He presses a kiss to your temple, warm, grounding, very much second nature now. “Just wanna show you off a little.”

You groan, burying your face in his shoulder. “I hate you.”

“Liar liar pants on fire.” He says it so easily, so confidently, because he’s right. You’re completely, stupidly in love with him actually. However, the worst part of that? So is everyone else in this damn room.

The buzz of the party hums around you as you trail behind Jungkook, hands still lightly clinging to his arm like it’s your lifeline. He doesn’t seem to mind, laughing lightly as he introduces you to every person who approaches, all the while keeping one eye on you, making sure you’re still there, still close. You’re the quiet one, always in the background, but tonight? You’re sticking to him like glue.

The chaos around you only adds to the sensation of feeling out of place, and your mind pulses with the need to break free for a moment.

“I’m gonna get some champagne,” You tug on his arm to get his attention, hoping he won’t follow, aching for just a second alone.

“Alright,” Jungkook says, winking at you. “Dont wander far, I’ll miss you too much.”

You roll your eyes, the slight teasing in his voice making you smile despite yourself.

And finally, with a little space between you two, you head for the bar, where the bartender is already pouring multiple glass of champagne, a brand you hardly recognize besides the times that Jungkook has sprayed it over your head in his locker room after a win. You grab one, thank him with a smile, clutching your drink tightly, letting the warmth of the alcohol loosen some of the tension in your shoulders. You lean against the bar, taking in a deep breath, trying to shake off the intensity of the room.

You shift slightly, your heels pinching the back of your feet. Even though Jungkook is across the room now, deep in conversation with some high-profile men, you can still feel him, like a phantom touch, like gravity pulling you toward him even from a distance.

You’re halfway through your first sip when someone leans in beside you. His voice is warm, easy-going.

“Is it safe to assume you’re with Jungkook?”

The voice comes from your right, definitely belonging to someone who’s good at conversation.

You glance up, blinking at the tall, well-dressed man beside you. He’s… handsome, you suppose. Friendly. Dressed in a navy suit, collar slightly open, drink in hand. Polished, but not in an obnoxious way. He leans against the bar with a casual kind of confidence, the kind of presence that blends in rather than commands the room.

“Yeah, I am,” you admit, still feeling a little shy. “I’m his… well, girlfriend. Sort of.”

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “Sort of? That’s an interesting answer.”

You huff a small laugh. “I mean, yes. I am. He just… likes making a big deal out of it.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” he chuckles, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I take it you’re not used to all this?”

You shake your head immediately. “Not even a little.”

He laughs, genuinely, like he understands. “I get it. These events can be overwhelming.”

You tilt your head slightly, curiosity creeping in. “You say that like you’ve been to a lot of them.”

He grins, and that’s when it clicks. You suddenly recognize him, the familiar face.

“Wait—” Your eyes widen. “You’re a driver too, right? You raced today.”

His smile turns a little playful. “I did. And I did alright, if I say so myself.”

“You placed third, didn’t you?”

He blinks, slightly impressed. “Didn’t expect you to know that.”

You blush slightly, shrugging. “Well… I may have learned a thing or two from Jungkook.”

“Ah, so he’s been turning you into a racing expert, huh?” He teases.

“Not even close,” You laugh, shaking your head. “But congratulations. Third place is still huge.”

“Thanks,” He says, tipping his glass toward you. “Though, I have to admit, Jungkook is damn near impossible to beat. The guy drives like he’s invincible.”

You smile softly, the kind of smile that only comes when someone you love is being praised. “Yeah… he does.”

“You must be proud of him.”

“I am.” The words fall out before you can second-guess them, before you can hide them behind your usual shyness.

That much, you know is true. You are proud of Jungkook, more than he’ll ever know.

The man watches you for a second, a knowing look flashing in his eyes. Then, he smiles, shaking his head slightly. “He’s got a good one.”

You tilt your head. “What do you mean?”

He gestures toward Jungkook, who’s across the room, entertaining the guests, bright and effortless. “I mean, it’s not every day you see him this… settled. The guy used to be a bit of a wildcard.”

Your stomach flutters. You know that. You know exactly who Jungkook was before you.

You swallow, about to respond, when his next words catch you off guard. “Though, I have to admit…” He leans in slightly, voice dropping just a bit, teasing but still measured. “It must be tough, standing next to him all the time, knowing you stand out. ”

You feel your heart skip, your fingers tightening around your glass. You’ve always been completely oblivious when it comes to flirting. It’s not intentional—you just never assume anyone would be interested in you like that. Compliments fly over your head, teasing remarks get brushed off as jokes, and subtle advances? You don’t even register them.

Even with Jungkook, it took months of playful taunts, agreeing to do whatever you wanted, and blatantly flirty texts before you even considered the possibility that he might actually like you. And now, standing here at the bar, faced with a man who is clearly steering the conversation into dangerously suggestive waters, you’re a little slow to catch up. The moment finally clicks a beat too late, the realization washing over you like a delayed shockwave—oh. He’s not just making conversation. He’s flirting. And you? You walked right into that trap.

You let out a soft laugh, playing with the hem of your dress, trying to ignore the way his words sit uncomfortably in your chest.

“I mean, yeah,” You say lightly, swirling the champagne in your glass, forcing yourself to play it cool. “Jungkook has a lot of eyes on him. That’s kind of the deal when you’re one of the best, right?”

You try to steer the conversation back to Jungkook, hoping it’ll naturally fizzle out, but he gives you a look. A slow, appreciative glance. The kind that lingers just long enough to make your stomach twist in anxiety.

“That’s true,” He muses, his voice casual. “But I think most people would be looking at you tonight.”

Goddamnit.

Your fingers grip the glass so roughly it might shatter in your hands as you blink at him, processing. You laugh again, but this time it’s a little awkward, a tad nervous, like you’re trying to buy yourself a moment to think.

And then, as naturally as breathing, you look for him. Jungkook.

Your eyes search the crowd, scanning past the fitting dresses and tailored suits, past the photographers and the industry elites, until they land on him.

Of course, he’s right at the center of it all.

He’s laughing, head thrown back slightly, looking so alive, so magnetic, exuding the kind of confidence that made the world fall in love with him (and you as well, for that matter.) His suit jacket is long gone, probably thrown off on the back of a chair somewhere, replaced with a perfectly tailored white button-up, his sleeves pushed up just enough to tease the tattoos running along his forearm. He looks stupidly good.

He’s glowing, genuinely happy, his eyes crinkling as he talks, hands gesturing animatedly, completely and utterly in his element.

You bite your lip, a new kind of frustration blooming in your chest. How is he over there, completely fine, while you’re over here trying to figure out how to escape this conversation without being rude? Why must the universe put you, of all people, in the ring of fire?

“So,” The driver’s voice pulls you back, making you blink and turn your attention back to him. “How did you and Jungkook even meet? I don’t think I ever heard the full story.”

You shift again, clearing your throat, desperate to reroute the conversation away from yourself. “Oh—uh, through work, sort of. It’s actually kind of funny—”

Focus. Focus on Jungkook. Keep it safe. Keep it neutral.

You take another sip in between your sentence, the champagne fizzling against your lips, but the tightness in your chest doesn’t ease. You keep your focus on the man, trying to steer every single word back to Jungkook. It’s a delicate balancing act, keeping the conversation polite while dodging every veiled compliment, every lingering glance, every slight shift in tone that threatens to turn friendly into flirtatious.

“Yeah, it’s kind of funny, actually,” you pick up where you left off, still trying to keep it collected. “I had no idea who Jungkook even was when we first met. Everyone was freaking out about him, and I was just..”

You pause, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “Well, completely clueless.”

He chuckles, leaning in slightly, interest still flickering behind his eyes. “And now you’re wearing his jacket, front and center at every race.”

“Guess I learned who he was real quick,” You joke, though your fingers tighten slightly around your glass.

He tilts his head, like he’s about to say something else, perhaps even heavier, when two warm hands slip around your waist. They’re firm, familiar. A voice, deep, steady, and close enough to feel the breath of it against your temple. “Didn’t realize you two were getting so close.”

You blink, your entire body reacting before your mind even processes it. His presence is instant, all-consuming. You barely have time to react before you feel him pull you back against him, his grip on your waist just tight enough to send a message. The warmth of his chest presses against your back, solid and unwavering.

And when you tilt your head slightly, looking up at who you know damn well is your boyfriend — Oh. Oh, he’s not happy.

His jaw is tight, his lips pressed into a firm line. His usual easy-going expression is replaced by something darker, sharper, a quiet intensity simmering behind his eyes.

The man clears his throat, shifting awkwardly. He knows. Everyone in this room knows. Hell, even the higher powers know better than to mess with Jungkook’s girl.

“Jungkook,” he greets, nodding slightly. “Good race today, man.”

Jungkook doesn’t move. Doesn’t nod. Doesn’t blink.

He just keeps his eyes on the man in front of you, expression unreadable, until he finally speaks.

“Yeah?” he muses, voice deceptively smooth. “Guess I’m lucky I had my girl with me.”

His hold on your waist tightens, just slightly, as if reinforcing the point.

Your pulse spikes, warmth creeping up your neck as you become painfully aware of how close he is.

You’re not usually the center of attention. But right now, you may as well be standing in the eye of a storm.

The tension lingers for a moment more. Jungkook’s hands are possessive, fingers pressing slightly into the fabric of your dress. His presence is impossible to ignore, a wall of warmth at your back, his cologne—deep, musky, with some woodsy notes—wrapping around you like a second layer of skin.

The man shifts, clearly picking up on the shift in atmosphere. Still, he offers an easy smile, nodding toward you.

“She’s beautiful,” he comments, like it’s the most obvious fact in the world. “Guess I can’t blame you for keeping her close.”

Jungkook hums smugly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. “Prettiest girl in the whole damn room.”

Your stomach flips violently, a cage of butterflies releasing themselves in your body. You’ll never get used to the way he speaks about you.

The driver gives one last chuckle, his eyes flicking between the two of you before wisely deciding to move along with his night. He excuses himself, raising his glass towards both of you before scurrying away as quick as his legs can take him.

And then it’s just you and Jungkook.

You exhale, not even realizing you had been holding your breath, still feeling the ghost of his touch on your waist.

You’re about to say something, but before you can, he turns to you, leans down, presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. The warmth of it spreads across your skin like wildfire.

He pulls back, just slightly, his lips hovering over your skin, his voice dropping into something quiet, “You really let that guy talk to you for that long?”

Your eyes widen. “What? I wasn’t—”

Jungkook pulls back, finally looking at you, and he’s pouting. Actually pouting. The 27 year old man. Lips jutted slightly, brows furrowed, his usual confidence slipping juuuust enough to reveal the jealousy simmering beneath. It might be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

You can’t help it. You giggle, heart swelling in your chest.

“Jungkook,” You breathe out, leaning up, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He grumbles something under his breath. You kiss him again, again… one more time for safe measures. Tiny, peppered kisses, soft and teasing, trailing across his cheek until you feel the tension in his shoulders start to ease. He exhales slowly, tilting his head, still acting like he’s suffered through the potato famine, furthering your agenda on the sassy man apocalypse.

“I just don’t get it,” he mutters, dramatic. “Why does everyone love you?”

You giggle again, nose brushing against his as you murmur, “Maybe because I’m soooo beautiful?”

Jungkook scoffs. “You think I don’t know that?”

And for the rest of the night, Jungkook doesn’t let you go. Not for a millisecond.

His arm is wrapped around your waist like an iron band, keeping you flush against his side as he guides you through the afterparty. He greets people, nods along to conversations, but his attention never fully strays from you.

Every so often, he leans down, his lips brushing against your temple, the shell of your ear, whispering things only for you.

“Having fun, pretty girl?”

“Gonna keep breaking hearts tonight, or am I enough attention for you?”

“Can’t believe you almost let some other guy steal you away. The blasphemy.”

You laugh every time, eyes sparkling, cheeks warm from the champagne and from the way his voice wraps around you like velvet.

By the time you’re finally in his car, it’s even more obvious.

The moment he pulls onto the empty streets, one hand gripping the wheel, the other immediately finds your thigh. You’re all giggles and smiles, alcohol-induced laughs spilling from your lips as you shift beneath his touch.

“You’re being so touchy,” You tease, voice teasing, light, dripping with warmth.

Jungkook barely glances at you, but you see the smirk pulling at his lips. “Don’t see you pulling my hand away.”

You roll your eyes, but your skin betrays you, heat pooling everywhere his fingertips graze. His thumb circles slowly, rubbing absentminded patterns into your thigh, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“You’re ridiculous,” You mutter, biting back another laugh as you lean against the headrest, the world outside the car nothing but passing trees and shadows.

“And you’re also tipsy,” Jungkook counters, stealing a glance at you, his eyes dark, amused, playful.

He licks his lips, the silver of his piercing catching the streetlights, and you hate how mesmerizing it is.

“So?” you huff, crossing your arms in mock defense.

“So,” he drawls, fingers squeezing slightly around your thigh, watching with interest as you visibly react. “You’re all giggly and sweet right now, and I think I like it too much. My bad for wanting to get my hands on my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

God, the word rolls off him so easily it makes you dizzy.

“You like me all the time,” You poke his hand that’s on your thigh.

“Yeah, but I like you even more when you’re like this,” He plays with his lip ring as his eyes focus on the road.

You peek up at him through fluttering lashes, watching the way his jaw flexes, the way he glances at you just a little too long at a red light. And then, without thinking, you lean toward him, voice dropping into something soft, just shy of teasing. “You’re really that possessive, huh?”

Jungkook’s fingers flex, grip tightening, and for a split second, he looks like he might mount you in that car. “Oh, you have no idea.”

And, he proves it to you. The second his front door swings shut behind you, there’s barely a beat of silence before his lips crash onto yours. It’s immediate, it’s urgent, all-consuming from the tip of your scalp to your toes.

His hands are already on you, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you in like he’s been starving for this. You gasp against his mouth, the taste of champagne still lingering between you, and it makes you giggle yet again like a little high schooler. “Jungkook—”

“Mm,” He hums against your lips, not even bothering to let you finish.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy ,” You chortle in between, barely able to keep up with his pace. Jungkook groans, grinning against your lips before kissing you again, longer, slower.

“What did I tell you about calling me cute?” He mutters, voice low (definitely playing up the octave to seem even more menacing.)

“That it’s true?” You tease, bubbly from the way he won’t stop kissing you.

In a single swift motion, Jungkook grips your thighs and lifts you off the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and a squeal exits your mouth.

“Jungkook!” You yelp, arms looping around his neck in surprise. Except it’s really no surprise, because the man has made it clear he’ll throw you around like a rag-doll. He’s already moving, already carrying you toward the bedroom with so much ease your head is spinning.

“Tired of you running from me,” He murmurs, smiling cheek-to-cheek, his bunny teeth poking out as he shuffles quickly down the hall.

You can’t stop laughing, light and heady, fingers threading through his dark hair as he all but sprints the rest of the way. He nearly flings you onto the bed like you’re deadweight.

The laughter is still spilling from your lips when Jungkook slots your mouth with his again, swallowing every giggle, every teasing remark before it can fully form. He kisses you like he needs you to stay quiet, like he’s trying to erase every last trace of your playful remarks before they slip past your lips.

But, you are not letting him off that easy.

“You were so jealous tonight,” You whisper between kisses, smiling against his lips.

Jungkook groans, tilting his head back just slightly before diving back in, his mouth brushing yours in a way that feels punishing.“Maybe. Or maybe I was just passionate.”

You roll your eyes, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt as he leans into you.

“It was kinda hot,” You mock. “You couldn’t stand it, could you?”

Jungkook grumbles something under his breath, his fingers pressing into your waist, pulling you closer, as if kissing you harder will shut you up. But the moment his lips trail down to your jaw, your pulse leaping beneath his touch, you decide to take control.

In a swift motion, you push against his chest, sliding out from underneath him and standing up.

Jungkook stumbles back onto the bed, eyes wide for half a second before something darker, more intrigued, flickers through them.

You smirk down at him, your confidence surprising even yourself.

“Oh?” Jungkook muses, grinning as he props himself up on his elbows. “Taking charge today?”

You hum, sliding onto his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress as you settle yourself atop him.

“I think you need to be reminded,” You murmur, your fingers ghosting over the silver chain around his neck before trailing downward, nails grazing the buttons of his shirt.

“Of what?” He questions, eyes dark, eager, watching your every move.

You lower yourself, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, not quite kissing him, just kind of floating.

Slowly, with a purpose, you start kissing down his jaw and the column of his throat. “That I’m all yours,” You whisper against his skin, letting your lips brush over him with every word.

“All mine?” His voice is rough, strained, his fingers practically imprinting upon your skin. He needs to hear it again.

You pull back slightly, rolling your eyes just a little. The man knows very well you’re all his, but the desperation in his voice has you a little more soaked than you’d like to admit.

“Yes, baby,” You breathe out, cupping his face, your thumbs brushing over the faint pink tinge dusting his cheeks. “All yours.”

Now, Jungkook has seen many sides of you. The quiet, reserved girl who hides behind him at events, the sweet and hesitant thing who blushed at every flirty remark he threw your way, the one who overthought every touch, every glance, every lingering silence between you. However, that’s not to say he’s not thoroughly enjoying how unbelievably attractive you looked sitting on top of him.

The girl—the one who is straddling his lap, fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, murmuring sinful things in that soft, teasing tone, the heat of breath sending shockwaves straight through him—he does not recognize.

His heartbeat pounds in his ears, blood rushing to his cock. He can hardly breathe or think, all logic stripped away. Jungkook watches, wind knocked out of him, as you shift in his lap, your hips rolling against the growing bulge in his pants. He is ever the patient man; almost as if he wants to see how far you’ll take it.

He continues to stare as your fingers reach behind you, tugging at the zipper of your dress, the soft fabric peeling away from your shoulders, slipping lower, revealing more, more…more. Good lord.

The room is silent except for the soft rustle of fabric, the faint collective gasp in his breath as your dress pools around your waist, leaving your bare skin kissed by the golden lamp light in the room. Jungkook is entranced, his pupils dark. He’s still propped up on his elbows, yet he’s barely keeping himself upright.

Your body is soft curves and slow movements, every roll of your hips against him smoother, more confident than the last, every movement calculated and precise .

His head tips back against the mattress, his long lashes fluttering, his cock throbbing beneath the confines of his pants. Just when he thinks he might combust, you lean down, your lips hovering near his ear, whispering something he doesn’t even hear properly through the haze in his mind. He doesn’t even know what language you’re speaking.

Every teasing shift of your body against his, every brush of bare skin against fabric is driving him to the brink of insanity.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Your hands trail up his chest, slowly undoing every button, nails barely scratching the heated skin beneath his shirt. Your jaw slightly drops as you let out a soft, needy whimper, a sound so devastating it makes his cock twitch beneath his slacks. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Jungkook’s resolve crumbles, and his hand flies up, fingers wrapping around your jaw. He tilts your face toward his, making sure you see him. His eyes are feral, his pupils so black and wide they nearly swallow you whole. “Want my cock in your mouth.”

The words send a bolt of heat straight to your core, your body clenching instinctively. There is a small part of you that’s not all that experienced, despite your past boyfriend and you having sexual experiences. It’s just.. different with Jungkook. You think he expects more, although he tells you he doesn’t. But you’ll do your best for him, like you always do.

He moves up, sitting against the headboard, and you wiggle down, your lips parting just slightly, like you’re already imagining how he’ll feel pushing past them, how he’ll taste on your tongue, which you 100% are.

Your fingers work slowly, methodically, undoing the zipper of his slacks with a deliberate precision that has Jungkook shaking beneath you.

The sound of the zipper unfurling is deafening in the quiet room, drowned only by the unsteady rhythm of his breath, the way it stutters every time your fingers brush against him, every time you shift or press a kiss just a little lower. The man is putty in your hands.

You slip his pants down his thighs, fabric pooling around his ankles, and you throw them somewhere in the room; it doesn’t even matter. What matters is beneath them, he is hard, aching, straining against the waistband of his boxers, the fabric doing nothing to hide just how much he needs you, letting you take control while he teeters on the edge of losing it completely.

Your lips press softly to the fabric, your breath warm, your hands gliding up his thighs, fingertips tracing the defined muscles there, feeling the way they tense under your touch, how they twitch with anticipation.

Jungkook watches you, his dark lashes heavy, his chest rising and falling too quickly. He gathers your hair for you gently, fingers running through the strands, pushing them away from your face, tucking them behind your ears, cradling the back of your head, making sure he can see you completely.

For the first time in a long time, you want to be seen.

You want him to watch as you shift, as you lean back, as you slowly kick off your dress, letting it slip down the length of your body, letting it pool onto the floor in a forgotten heap, leaving you bare and exposed.

The black lingerie set you had worn underneath is still intact, a stunning contrast against your skin, the delicate lace barely covering anything at all, making you feel utterly unbreakable under his gaze.

You finally pull his boxers down. His cock springs free, the thickness of it always making you gulp. It’s flushed an angry shade of red, the tip glistening with precum, leaking and throbbing.

You swallow, your mouth already watering, your thighs pressing together as you wrap your fingers around him, feeling the weight of him in your palm. “F-fuck, baby,” Jungkook gasps, his head tipping back against the headboard, his hands gripping your hair tightly.

You stroke him slowly, taking your time, watching every little reaction, fascinated by how his body responds to you, by how his hips barely lift off the bed, chasing your warmth, chasing more. There’s normally a slight hesitation from you, but between the mix of the champagne and how fucking good he looks, you lean in. The first kitten lick to his tip is tentative, barely a flick of your tongue, just a taste.

Jungkook groans, his body jerking, “Jesus fucking Christ,” he curses, his voice shaking, his grip trembling against your scalp.

You hum softly, the sound vibrating against him, your lips parting slightly, your tongue flattening against the tip this time, lapping up the bead of precum that had gathered there, savoring the salty, musky taste of him on your tongue.

“That’s it, baby, fuck, so good,” Jungkook moans, his thighs tensing, his abs clenching, eyes screwing shut, then flickering open again, desperate to watch you, desperate to see you taking him, loving him, making him fall apart in the most beautiful way possible.

His praise makes you braver, makes you bolder, makes you want to see him even more undone, even more at your mercy. You press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his tip, feeling him pulse beneath your lips, hearing the way he gasps sharply.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” He whispers, his voice awe-struck that you’re letting him have this piece of you.

His cock is heavy, filling your mouth so perfectly, stretching your lips as you slowly bob your head, taking in as much as you can. You feel the weight of him glide over your tongue, your throat relaxing, your jaw straining in the best way possible.

“Shit, baby,” Jungkook groans. You’ve always loved how vocal he gets for you.

You steal a glance up at him, and that’s when your eyes meet. His gaze is so dark, pupils blown out, his lips parted, damp. The moment he catches your heavy-lidded, pleading stare, something in him breaks like a live-wire.

“F-fuck,” He chokes out, his abs flexing as his breath breaks. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You get the urge to keep going, faster now, the wet, lewd sounds of your mouth working him filling the room. Your tongue flattens along the underside of his cock, the heat of your mouth searing, your hand wrapping around the length that won’t fit, pumping in time with your movements.

“So, so good, so fucking good,” He pants, voice cracking like a prepubescent boy, his self-control hanging by a thread.

You feel it when he starts to twitch on your tongue, when his hips stutter, when his grip tightens, when he pulls your hair just slightly, as if he’s trying to stop himself from spiraling completely.

“Shit, fuck, wait—” He pulls you off him suddenly, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva still connecting you. Your lips are swollen and glossy, your breath ragged as you look up at him, dazed and a tad cock-drunk.

“But…” You sigh, your voice small, your fingers still gripping his length, feeling the way he pulses in your palm. “I wanted to keep going.”

Jungkook groans, pulling you up onto his lap where he needs you most. His lips find your cheeks first, then your nose, your forehead, your jawline, kissing you everywhere, like he’s seconds away from breaking.

“I know, baby, I know,” He pants, barely coherent. Before you know it, he’s positioning you, guiding you to straddle him, to let him sink inside you where he belongs. “But I need you to sit on my cock, baby, please.”

His forehead presses against yours, his lips brushing against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “Need to feel you, need to be inside you.”

You whimper against him, the words sending a shudder through your body. Your core throbs and aches for him, whole body on fire like you’ll die if you don’t have him.

You align yourself, rolling your hips just slightly and letting his tip press against your folds. You glide it through your slick, coating him in you. It’s disgusting how aroused you are by him, but there’s comfort in knowing he feels the same way about you.

The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and your head tilts back, your mouth falling open, a soft, breathless moan slipping past your lips as the friction sparks along every nerve in your body.

Jungkook is completely gone, eyes glued to where your bodies meet, his jaw clenched so tight. He’s doing everything in his power to not completely lose control before he even gets inside you.

You sink down, slow, so slow, inch by inch, your walls stretching and molding to accommodate him.

The moment his thick length pushes inside, Jungkook groans, low and broken, while he holds you steady. The slide feels endless, like it always does, stretching you out like you’ve never taken him before, and he’s still struggling to ground himself, trying not to explode right then and there.

“Oh, f-fuck,” He hisses, his thighs tensing beneath you, his muscles coiling so tightly. He’s barely keeping himself from thrusting up into you, from taking what he wants, from losing himself in you completely.

You are getting split in half. Or, it feels like it. Your walls squeeze around him, your body shuddering.

“That’s it, baby,” he pants, his voice low, as his fingers trail up your spine. “Taking me so f-fucking well, feel so good, so tight.”

You only really sit comfortably when your clit presses against his pubic bone, when he is fully, completely inside you, when his cock is buried to the hilt, stretching you so perfectly, so devastatingly deep that it feels like he’s become a part of you.

“Oh my fucking god,” He chokes out, his grip on you bruising, completely lost in the feeling of you milking him already, pulling him in deeper, deeper, deeper. “I almost, fuck, I almost came just from that—”

The thought of it, the idea that you could make him cum just from sinking onto him, has your brain on autopilot.

You start to move, hips rolling in smooth undulations, dragging yourself up his length, feeling every ridge, every inch, before sinking down again. It’s a steady rhythm, one that has you both gasping for air.

But you don’t let him look away from you.

Nails pressing into his shoulder blades, you keep him anchored to you, your body flush against his. You tilt his face back up, your lips ghosting over his. The eye contact sends a shudder through him, his pupils blown wide, begging without words.

“You’re mine,” You murmur, your voice soft but firm, dripping with possession. Your hands trail up to cup his face, holding him there, making sure he hears you.

“Yeah?” he pants, his voice slightly slurred and drenched in adoration “Show me, baby. Let me feel it.”

Your walls squeeze him with every movement, every drag of your hips. And it’s all too much: his cock reaching even deeper, grazing that spot that paints stars in your vision.

“You’re so fucking good to me,” He groans, his voice choked, eyes desperate.

Your hands slide into his hair, tugging slightly, and he whimpers, his lips grazing over you, kissing wherever he can reach, mouthing at your skin. “All yours, baby, fuck. No one else, just you.”

Your heart swells, his jealousy from earlier feeling so distant, so insignificant, when he’s begging for you like this.

“Mine,” you whisper again, your lips ghosting over his ear, your hips picking up the pace, making him writhe beneath you.“Always fucking mine.”

Jungkook shudders, “Yours, baby.” And the words are just being repeated over and over like babbles, barely coherent to either of you as the feeling of being full by him overtakes all.

His hands lift you slightly, just enough for you to feel the drag of his cock leaving you, before he pulls you back down, filling you again in one smooth, deep motion. You cry out, your walls fluttering around him, the pace shifting from teasing to something more consuming, more needy.

“That’s it, baby,” he mumbles, his hips meeting yours now, pushing deeper, guiding you exactly how he wants you. “Just like that, ride me just like that.”

“Kook,” You whimper, nearly shaking, nearly crying from how good it feels, your hands sliding down to press against his chest.

You’re practically soaking him, your slick glistening at the base of his cock, collecting there, and he might need to be put in a mental institution after catching sight of it.

“Look at what you’re doing to me,” His eyes lock onto yours, hand slightly moving your face to avert your gaze elsewhere. You glance down, and fuck, he’s right. He’s glistening, his cock shiny with your arousal. Every time he pushes back inside, there’s more slick coating his length, dripping onto his thighs, pooling at the base of him like a sinful masterpiece.

“You feel that, baby?” he whines,“This is all yours.”

Everything becomes messier, sloppier, you’re not even sure where you are anymore. Jungkook is barely holding on, his thrusts erratic, his hands tight on your waist, slamming your hips down over and over again.

Your walls are fluttering, pulsing around him, the pleasure so intensethat you can barely even think or form any thought that isn’t jumbled.

“Jungkook, fuck,” You sob, your body jolting forward every time he drives into you, every time he hits that perfect spot inside you, over and over and over again.

“I got you, baby, fuck, I got you.” And then you really can’t take it anymore when he says things like that. Your hand flies between your legs, fingers pressing to your clit, rubbing furiously. You’re trying to tip yourself over the edge, trying to chase the orgasm that is so close, building like a wave, curling at the base of your spine, ready to crash over you at any second.

Jungkook watches, lips slightly parted. He can’t tear him away from the way you touch yourself, how you look so absolutely fucked out on top of him.

“You gonna cum for me, hmph? Hm, baby?” His words send a shockwave through you, his pace stuttering for just a second before he pounds up into you without a single ounce of restraint left.

“Fuck!” You cry out, your release inevitably waiting for you. Jungkook grins, knowing how close you are, already used to how you look when you finish.

The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in pure, white-hot ecstasy. Your entire body locks up, breaking apart as your orgasm rips through you with violent force.

“Oh, Jungkook,” Your walls are squeezing around him so tight it nearly forces him out, your head tipping back, mouth falling open, but no sound coming out. Your fingers slip from your clit as your body gives out, but Jungkook doesn’t stop. His hands are locked onto your waist, his hips still driving up into you, prolonging your orgasm, forcing you to ride it out until you’re whimpering.

“Holy fuck, squeezing me so tight,” He’s shaking with restraint, his muscles taut.

Watching you fall apart like this, feeling your walls clench around him like a vice, holding him, owning him, milking him—it’s a lot.

Jungkook grits his teeth, his grip on your waist turning bruising, his chest rising and falling in frantic, erratic pants as his orgasm hits him like a fucking wrecking ball.

“Fuck, mineminemine,” He gasps, and for the first time since you two started dating, he doesn’t ask for permission to finish inside of you. Doesn’t wait for your sweet little nod, your usual whispered “yes” into his ear.

No, not tonight. Tonight, he needs to claim you, needs to remind you, remind himself that no one else is going to have you.

Tonight, he slams you down onto his cock one final time, burying himself as deep as he can go, he spills inside you, filling you up.

“Take all of it, baby,” He gasps, his hips jerking up, riding out his high. Your bodies tremble together, both of you completely wrecked. Yet still, he stays inside you. Still buried to the hilt, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against his sweaty body. His lips press lazy, open-mouthed kisses to your temple, your collarbone.

The room bathes in the warm afterglow of post-sex air. Your limbs are tangled with his as you lay with your head sprawled across his chest, his heartbeat still hammering beneath your ear. For a long moment, neither of you speak. Just deep, ragged breaths. The faint hum of the city outside. The lingering warmth of his hands tracing slow, absentminded patterns across your bare back.

“So… still wanna deny how jealous you were tonight?” You laugh, the words muffled slightly against his skin.

Jungkook groans, his arms tightening around you instinctively. “Don’t start.”

You grin, tilting your head slightly to catch the faint pink creeping up his ears.

“No, but really,” you hum, your fingers lazily tracing the chain around his neck, feeling invincible. “You almost lost your mind over a five-minute conversation. Kind of insane, actually.”

Jungkook lets out a low, gravelly laugh, the sound vibrating through your ears. “You don’t understand how fucking attractive you are. Seriously.”

“Jungkook—”

“No, really,” he kisses your forehead, watching you so intently you feel like he’s seeing right through you. “You walk into a room and I lose my goddamn mind. Every single time. You could have anyone, and yet… you chose me.”

He exhales slowly, lips brushing against your forehead in a way that feels so domestic. You don’t know what to say to that, so you sit with the words for a minute, let them reverberate through your chest. And it almost feels like your chest can’t contain it, like the pressure is building too fast, too much, like your ribs might crack beneath the weight of it. Behind them, your heart swells, expanding at least three sizes larger than its usual.

You pull him back down, lips curving into a soft smile as you kiss him again. “Always gonna choose you, Kook.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

#jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts #bts army #bts jungkook #bts x reader #bts x you #jungkook fanfic

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waitforyrlove · 5 months ago

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tw. oral ( male receiving ), cursing and rafe getting high.

p link. ( not exactly but for reference )

the low hum of a playlist filled the dimly lit room, a haze of smoke curling lazily in the air as Rafe lounged back on the leather couch.

a half-burned joint dangled between his fingers, the ash threatening to fall, but he didn’t care. His head was tipped back and his sharp jawline was clenched as he let the high sink in, blurring the edges of reality.

“Rafe,” you said softly, standing a few feet away.

he didn’t even look at you at first, just took another slow drag of the joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke that curled around his face.

when his eyes finally flicked to yours, they were hooded, hazy with the high but still sharp enough to make your breath hitch.

“What?” he drawled, his lips curling into that trademark smirk that made it impossible to tell whether he was mocking you or inviting you closer.

you shifted on your feet, watching the way his legs spread lazily, his body stretched out like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You’ve been ignoring me all night,” you said, crossing your arms, trying to keep your voice steady.

Rafe’s smirk widened as he sat up slightly, the joint dangling from his lips. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his sharp blue eyes locking on yours. “You’re still here, aren’t you?” he teased, his voice low and rough.

you rolled your eyes, but something in the way he was looking at you made your skin heat up. It was always like this with Rafe—push and pull, frustration and want tangled together until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

“C’mere,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

your breath caught, but you didn’t argue. Slowly, you stepped toward him, his gaze never leaving yours. When you were close enough, Rafe reached out, grabbing your wrist and tugging you down onto your knees between his legs.

“See?” he murmured, his hand brushing your cheek, his thumb tracing your jawline. “I knew you’d listen.”

“You’re an asshole,” you muttered, but your voice was softer now, your resolve cracking under the intensity of his gaze.

“Right,” as his smirk returning as he leaned back again, spreading his legs wider, the joint now forgotten on the edge of the ashtray.

his hands settled on your face, his thumb brushing your lips as his eyes darkened. “C’mon, baby,” he said, his voice low and coaxing. “Show me how sorry you are for doubting me.”

your stomach flipped at his words, your heart racing as you leaned forward, your hands resting on his thighs for balance. His cockiness should’ve infuriated you, but instead, it sent a thrill through you, your body responding to the power he exuded.

you dragged his pants down slowly, savoring the moment as your fingers brushed against the taut muscle of his thighs. Rafe shifted impatiently, his hips lifting off the couch to help you shove the fabric away, his movements eager and unrestrained.

the sight before you was sinful—his boxers stretched tight, barely containing the evidence of his need. The outline was unmistakable, and his cock twitched beneath the fabric as if desperate for release.

Rafe caught the way your eyes lingered, his lips curling into a cocky smirk. “Quit starin’, and do somethin’,” he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance, but his tone was thick with want, betraying his usual composure.

you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down just enough to reveal him fully, the fabric catching slightly before you slid it down his thighs. His cock sprang free, flushed and heavy, the sheer size and intensity of the moment making your breath catch in your throat.

Rafe let out a shaky exhale, his head tipping back slightly, but his eyes stayed locked on you, half-lidded and dark with desire. “Don’t get shy now,” he teased, though his voice was rough.

you ignored his remark, your focus entirely on him. Slowly, deliberately, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling the weight and warmth in your palm. His body jerked slightly at the contact, a low groan slipping past his lips as his hips bucked instinctively into your touch.

“Fuuuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hand reaching out to tangle in your hair. His fingers gripped lightly, but the unspoken dominance was clear, a reminder of how much control he usually held over everything.

you leaned in, your lips ghosting over the tip, your breath hot against his skin. His thighs tensed under your hands, his grip in your hair tightening as he struggled to keep himself from pushing you further.

“Stop teasing,” he rasped, his voice raw and demanding.

“I thought you liked when I took my time,” you said, your tone soft but teasing, your hand stroking him slowly, just enough to make his jaw clench.

“Not tonight,” Rafe growled, his voice thick with frustration and need.

the desperation in his tone sent a thrill through you, and you finally gave in, leaning forward to take him into your mouth. The first contact was electric, his body tensing as a deep groan rumbled from his chest.

you moved slowly at first, your tongue swirling against his tip, exploring every inch of him with deliberate care. His breaths grew heavier, his chest rising and falling as his hands guided your movements, his grip firm but never too rough.

“Jesus,” he muttered, his voice almost a whisper. “You’re too fuckin’ good at this.”

the praise sent heat pooling low in your stomach, and you hollowed your cheeks, taking his thick cock deeper.

his reaction was immediate—a low curse followed by his hips jerking up, pushing himself further into your mouth.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice strained but filled with that signature arrogance. “takin’ me so fuuckin’ well.”

you glanced up at him, your gaze locking on his as you continued, the intensity in his eyes making your pulse race.

Rafe’s hand tightened in your hair as he leaned forward slightly, his lips parted, sweat glistening on his forehead. “Don’t stop,” he muttered, his voice almost desperate. “I swear, if you dare to fuckin’ stop—”

you didn’t. Instead, you quickened your pace, your hand working in tandem with your mouth, gagging sounds escaping you as he was too much to fit inside your mouth, but you’d still do anything, anything to pleasure him, drawing more ragged sounds from him with every movement. His control was slipping—his composure shattered as you pushed him closer to the edge.

“Fuck, I’m—” His voice broke off into a groan, his body tensing as his grip on you tightened.

he tipped his head back, his breath hitching as he finally let go, his release hitting you as he moaned your name like it was the only thing he could remember.

you pulled back slightly, catching your breath as you looked up at him. His chest was heaving, his head tipped back against the couch, and his usual cocky smirk slowly returned as he looked down at you.

“We ain’t done here, sweetheart,” he said, his voice still rough and uneven.

taglist: @secretlocket @pearlzier @et6rnalsun @mattscoquette @carvedtits @sirenedeslily @mattslolita @flouvela @bella-loveschris @lovingregulusblack @sarosfilms @annsx03 @eliana-4200 @wakeupitschrizz @emely9274 @sturniolossss @sturnslutz @sturnlsstuff @sweetcowboycollection @sturnioloangell @xoxoshanelle-blog @marrykisskilled @wastelandzella

˙ . ꒷ 🪽 notes from author ˙— guess who’s back..

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year ago

Text

Today's Lesson: Don't Catch Feelings // James Potter x Fem!Reader

PART 1 (Dry Hump) // PART 3

Summary: It was meant to be a one-time moment. A friend helping another friend who'd never been kissed before. So now, when your best friend finally gets the girl he's wanted to impress, why are you filled with such jealousy.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, jealousy, friends w/benefits, can be interpreted as cheating but there's no official relationship, kinda love triangle, sex education, fingering, mutual pining, arguing, regret, kissing, drinking, fake orgasm (w/ other m character), dry humping, voyeurism, loss of virginity (James), praise kink, creampie, riding, cliff hanger! -- sorry if I've forgotten any tags

Words: 6.4k

Tags list: @bellathethirstybitch, @kenqkii, @ghostlycrystobalove, @anehkael, @1-800-ididurmum, @imdoingbetternow ~ Y'all asked to be tagged in the comments. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write a part 2! Thanks for your support.

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

"Move your thumb to the right. Yes, that's it! Right there - fuck James, don't stop! Yes! Yes! Oh-!" Even with the silencing charm around the room, you were sure the entirety of Hogwarts could hear you cumming hard around James' fingers curling inside your cunt as his thumb - now in the right place - circled your throbbing clit.

The tips of your fingers ached with how firmly you were digging them into his muscularly toned shoulders, probably bruising him, but he never commented on this. The messy-haired man just continued to listen to your instructions, putting more enthusiasm into these moments than in any lesson here at Hogwarts.

Even as your walls clenched tightly around his digits, he didn't stop. However, you were now quietened as he sloppily made out with you, swallowing your cries of euphoria until there was nothing left to give, and your moans turned into a laugh.

James groaned as you pulled away from his swollen lips, gently tugging on his wrist to ease his fingers out of you. "Woah there, Tiger, that was plenty good enough. Any more and I'll probably collapse", laughing as he pouted with his lower lip, his hazel eyes half-lidded and pupils blown in a clear display of arousal.

"So it was good?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, not moving his face away from hovering over yours.

"It was more than good, Potter. You're very good at listening to instructions, and your skills are improving with each orgasm, that's for sure", you praise whilst pushing his glasses up his nose as he smirks handsomely in response. James turned to kiss the tip of your fingers as you couldn't help but giggle once more at the action, your feet hooking around the backs of his knees as you tried to pull him closer to the edge of the desk.

But, like everything perfect in your life, you became your own worst enemy as you couldn't help as the words slipped out, "You'll have Lily orgasming before her underwear's off". It was meant to be a joke, but it only reminded you why you were even in this situation.

The smile faltered for a split second on James' face as he dipped his head to look at the floor, his hair now curtaining your view of him. "That's the plan", he chuckles as he begins to casually suck on his still-soaked fingers as your jaw drops at the sight.

"James!" you exclaim as he returns his gaze to you. His look of innocence for the act only added to the desiring pulse in your core.

"What? Sirius said that there's nothing more tasty than a pretty girl. Seems he was right", he casually remarked with a shrug of his shoulders. All air seemed to rush from your lungs at the compliment that quickened your heart's beat and warmed your cheeks' skin.

You were once more captivated by his eyes as he inched closer, and the hardness still contained in his trousers poked your inner thigh. "Need some help?" you asked curiously, teasingly, reaching between your bodies to palm him.

James' eyes lowered to focus on your lips as he licked his own, wetting them, and all you wanted to do was taste him, but then he took a step back, your legs and hand stopping away from his warmth.

"Nah, I'll sort it later, don't worry", he explains whilst beginning to smooth the uncontrollable mop of black hair on his head.

A heavy sinking feeling settled in your chest as you realised you'd probably overstepped the thin line between what the two of you had been doing for the last couple of weeks.

James Potter, your best friend, had been since the first year at Hogwarts. Both were thick as thieves and when he'd previously admitted to never having kissed someone before and had finally convinced his long-time crush to date, he needed the practice as the fear of Lily turning him away for any bad kissing skills. As the good friend that you were, you offered to teach him how to kiss, which promptly ended with you both dry-humping to orgasms.

After, James had been on his date and returned, particularly thanking you on his knees as his kiss with Lily had been everything he had ever wanted. However, after this, it was like a drug you both couldn't get enough of. One lesson turned into another and another. How to touch a girl with and without clothes, t the right way to touch and kiss breasts, and now how to use his fingers.

Nothing penetrative yet, and it had all been about teaching him about pleasing girls, so you'd yet to touch him because that would mean you were both hooking up for satisfaction rather than education.

You were unsure where the lines were becoming blurred in your heart and mind. James had always just been your goofy best friend. Mr Popular at Hogwarts would go above and beyond to make you laugh or protect those he cares for, and he continued to be like this for you. However, the rooms felt too small when you were both in them. You spent way too much time fantasising about the feel of his hands or the taste of his lips that you'd yet to look at any other man since that first kiss in the Shrieking Shack.

Then, there came the added complication of Lily. Lily was also a close friend, and even though James and her were not officially boyfriend or girlfriend yet, the way he pined for her and the more dates they went on, the more you were filled with dread. It felt as if you were betraying her with your want for James. Even with the lessons, you knew if ever caught; it was almost impossible to explain that it was all for Lily's benefit in a fucked up sort of way.

You were essentially teaching the man you were falling in love with how to pleasure your friend for their future. All the while, you were becoming more emotionally involved than you'd ever meant to be. I mean, you had casually slept with numerous people during the last year at Hogwarts; sex and feelings were two things you were able to separate.

So now, you were unsure what had changed for you to fall for the man who was so evidently in love with someone else.

"Are you coming?"

His deep voice drew you out of your spiralling thoughts as you blinked at him in confusion. "Coming?"

"Yeah, to class?" he asked, picking up his bag and pulling the strap over his shoulder.

"Oh, yes, I just need a minute. You go without me anyway; we haven't got the same class next", you say whilst standing and trying not to wince at the dampness between your legs that had spread your thighs.

"You sure? I don't mind walking you", James ensured as he pulled on the tight area of his trousers around his crotch, but then gave up and covered his erection with his bag.

"I'm sure we're on opposite ends of Hogwarts anyway. I'll catch you later, Potter", you confirm whilst straightening your tie and shirt.

"Alright then, Sweetheart, catch you later".

With one more beautiful grin', he's off. Then you're by yourself and left to slump back onto the desk and rethink your life. However, you couldn't dwell on it as the clock tower bell began to ring, indicating the start of lessons. As you cursed to yourself, picking up your wand from your bag and waving it over your body, your clothes instantly corrected yourself, and the wet mess between your legs vanished.

You were utterly breathless by the time you'd arrived at potions, and it took a great deal of effort to ignore the lingering ache in your pussy as you attempted to sneak into the room.

"Ah, at last. Welcome miss! Please take a seat; we haven't started without you, dear," Professor Slughorn declared as he held his hand out toward your usual classroom seat as everyone stared at you.

Trying to ignore everyone's eyes, you rush to your seat beside Lily, that heavy, unwelcomed feeling returned to your stomach as she smiles at you, leaning close to whisper, "I told him you were in the bathroom, so he said he'd wait for you before starting the lesson".

You return her smile, however forced as you thanked her and turned your gaze back to the professor. Before long, Lily's sweet perfume drifted into your senses as she leaned in closer once more to ask, "Who's the lucky guy?"

A sharp pain shot through your neck with the speed with which you looked at her, "I don't know what you mean; I was actually using the bathroom".

She tilts her head to the side with an all-knowing look. "Mmm hmm, sure, sure. So why is your lipstick smudged then, huh?"

Your fingers quickly moved to the corner of your lips, frantically wiping away any residual lipstick when it dawned on you that you'd not put any make-up on this morning and had fallen for her trick.

Glaring at her, Lily gave you a brilliant smile whilst moving some of her luscious red hair behind her shoulder, declaring, "I can read you like a book; don't forget that".

Rolling your eyes, you playfully nudge your shoulder against hers, deciding to ignore the previous question. For some reason, unbeknown to yourself, you couldn't help but ask, "So how's it going with Potter?"

Internally, you were criticising yourself for even asking and showing interest in it, already knowing that the answer was something you honestly didn't wish to know.

Lily's grin softened until her lips pursed, and she began to write down the instructions from Professor Slughorn in the book on her desk. "It's going ok; I mean, he's definitely more of a gentleman than I thought he was ever capable of. I also think the exams are getting to him a little; he seems distracted at the moment".

This piqued your interest as you began arranging your ingredients before you, chopping whatever was closest to you without the slightest attention as you asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, we were on head boy and girl duty two nights ago, and he always used to joke that he wanted a quiet corner away with me in a classroom or something, but now that you know, I'm more open to that. He seems distracted. He still holds my hands and gives me compliments and a kiss or two that makes me want more, but by the end of the duty, he will either find his friends or go to bed".

You swallow thickly, asking, "Oh really? So you guys haven't - I mean, you haven't done anything other than kissing?"

Lily's cheek blossomed with colour as she continued her prep for the potion before her. "No, not yet; I mean, I want to; he's a great kiss, but nothing so far. It still feels strange not to be cursing at him to get out of my sight, like I never pictured myself to be in this position, and maybe it's also taking him some time to get used to".

You were only half listening to what your friend was saying as your thoughts screamed at the fact he was only a good kisser because he'd practised with you. Also, the tiny part of you that was cheering her heart out at the fact that you were the only girl he'd touched intimately, for now.

"Psst. Oi! Goldie! Pea! Turn around. I know you can hear me", came the annoying whisper as you and Lily both glanced over your shoulders to Sirius, who was leaning across his desk, grinning from ear to ear, his shoulder-length hair tied at the nape of his neck.

You huffed, glaring at Sirius as you reminded him, "I've told you a thousand times not to call me that!"

The Marauder sarcastically sticks out his bottom lip, "But it's an endearing name, Pea!"

"No, it's not! It's bullying!" you remind him, turning further towards where he and Remus sat, the latter politely declining the conversation to continue with his work.

"It's not my fault you vomited peas in second year", Sirius pointed out with a cocky smirk.

Thankfully, Lily cut off your retort as she snapped, "Stop reminding her of that. I've told you that my hair is red and not gold!"

"Meh, semantics", he shrugs and appears eager again. "What are you both doing after this? We were thinking of getting a group of us together and heading down to Hogsmeade. Do you both wanna join? I'm sure James would want you there".

That nauseous sensation returned as you knew he wasn't referring to you as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively towards Lily. One part of you desperately begged not to go, not wishing to see Lily and James acting all lovey-dovey in public, and another part of you knew it would look suspicious if you weren't to attend. Who else were you expected to hang out with on a Friday evening other than your best friend, James?

Lily answered for you as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, "Of course, we'll both be there, but not to hang out with you; we don't need boys to have a good time".

You smile at her, forgetting all of your woes for a moment, watching as she adds a sprig of Rosemary into your potion and watching it change from the awful shade of red to a soft caramel colour to match hers.

"What would I do without you?" you say with admiration.

"I don't know, crash and burn?" she jokes, pulling a genuine smile from yourself.

Later in the evening, the two of you were true to Lily's word as you made your way there, joined with Marlene, and, not wanting to go with the boys, gave yourself some time to dress in something other than school clothes, opting for jeans and a warm jumper.

The three of you wandered through Hogsmeade, stopping in Honeydukes for a sweet treat before deciding to rest in the Three Broomsticks; however, you found what seemed to be the rest of your school year in the same place. There was hardly a free seat as the three of you pushed through the crowd to the bar.

"Evans! Over here!" James' voice shouted above the noise of everyone else from the corner of the room. Lily giggled as she waved over at him, and you tried not to wince with jealousy as you pushed her and Marlene in his direction.

"Go over there, I'll get the drinks". Thankfully, they didn't need much convincing before making their way over to the other Gryffindor. "Three butterbeers, please. Oh, and a large fire whiskey as well", you say, slipping the barmaid Rosmerta an extra galleon so she wouldn't question your age. You were old enough to drink, but there was a swift ban on students at Hogwarts being sold alcohol, but an extra galleon here and there, and no questions were asked.

As you waited for your drinks to be poured, you observed your surroundings and noticed a certain Ravenclaw watching you over the rim of his glass, a smirk flirting on his lips. You smiled back, holding his eye contact briefly before looking away from Quirinus. He was in Ravenclaw and relatively bright, if not a bit of a nervous nelly if he didn't have any alcohol in his system, which, by the looks of things, he was a few drinks deep and clearly in a flirtatious mood.

You were ready to make bad decisions when a hand on your lower back snapped your attention. The touch burned through your clothes to your skin as James appeared by your side. His face lowered so that he whispered into your ear as he questioned, "Is it bad that I can still smell you on my fingers?"

You swallow harshly, fighting to keep your face neutral as you couldn't help but quip back, "I'm sure your girlfriend would love to hear you say that".

James leans away to study your face, a frown adorning his expression, "She's not my girlfriend".

"Yeah, sure", you retort, turning away from him to nod at Rosmerta as she placed the drinks in front of you at the bar.

"Well, if she were my girlfriend, my fingers definitely wouldn't be smelling of you now, would they?"

The fire of jealousy that was being stoked in your heart was only being fueled further by his words. "I'm sure she could teach you a thing or two, Potter. You don't need me to taint your fingers".

"Maybe I do", he quickly responds but then corrects himself, "I mean, I don't think she has much experience. Anyway, you didn't mind it earlier when you were begging for more".

You turn to him with a glare that had him relaxing his stance as he realised he was on the threshold of overstepping. "Don't be so sure of yourself, James, and with the lack of experience you both have, wouldn't it be better for you both to be inexperienced together?"

Picking up the fire whiskey, you began to take heaving glugs of it, savouring the painful burn as it slipped down your throat. James eyed the drink as he leaned closer once more, his body half crowding around yours as he harshly whispered, "Where the fuck is this all coming from? I thought you were ok with what we were doing. It's nothing serious, just one single friend teaching another single friend, right?"

Yes, you answer in your thoughts, having not taken the fire whiskey away from your mouth, but then he's grabbing the glass and trying to take it away from you as he demands, "Hey, slow down, alright? You'll be pissed with the hour".

Giving him a shove with your shoulder, you spitefully say, "You aren't my boyfriend, Potter; stop telling me what to do. I want to drink, so get lost".

The concern in his hazel eyes drops as he looks at the two butterbeer, asking, "Are these McKenna and Evans? I'll take them and leave you to calm down".

"Thank fucking Merlin", you exclaimed with one final glare before he stormed off with the two drinks in hand.

You blew a long breath through your mouth, trying to ignore the overwhelming urge to scream, cry, or storm out. However, a brush of an arm against yours stole your attention as Quirinus now stood next to you at the bar, his Ravenclaw-coloured jumper vibrant in the candlelight.

"Fancy another firewhiskey?" he asked, and you nodded, not trusting yourself to be able to talk without crying.

The drinks came at a steady pace, and before long, you were feeling the effects, the anxiety that had hit you like the Hogwarts Express train from your argument with James had fizzled into anger. It only made matters worse when you would glance over the Ravenclaw's shoulder to see James wrapped his arm around Lily's shoulder, the two of them whispering to one another without a care.

A lump formed in your throat as the world tilted for a second. Quirinus noticed your glare as he, too, looked over his shoulder and assumed you'd prefer to sit with your friends as he offhandedly mentioned, "If you'd rather go and sit with them, I wouldn't be offended, you know".

"What?" you say, snapping out of your staring contest as you realise James is now staring right back at you with just as deep a frown behind his glasses. Giving your attention back to the man at your side, you quickly grabbed his arm, not wishing to be left alone, "Sorry, Quirrel, I really do want to stay with you. In fact, why don't we find somewhere a bit more quiet?"

The alcohol was definitely speaking on your behalf as his eyes lit up, his teeth nipping at his lower lip as he stood to his full height. "Ye-Yeah, I want to do that", he stammers enthusiastically as you grab his arm and head towards the back of the pub and climb the stairs, ensuring no one is following.

Sneaking past the bathrooms, you ascended even further into the depths of the pub until you found a spare living room with a sofa in front of the fire as you claimed, "This will do perfectly".

Turning around and before you could ponder any further on the man you really wished was here and deciding you needed to have some fun of your own, you grabbed the collar of Quirrel jumper and pulled him in for an eager kiss. However, the door barges open as you both spring apart.

You release a nervous laugh as you see no one is there, quickly rushing over to it and shutting the door, locking it properly with a wave of your wand. "Oops, must not have locked it".

Turning back towards Quirrel, he eagerly eyed you up and down. Not giving yourself time to regret the decision, you ran over to him, your arms moving around his neck as you pulled him into a quick snog. It was sloppy and distracting as he kissed you back with just as much eagerness.

It seemed Quirrell wasn't in the mood to wait as he soon fumbled with the button to your jeans. You silently have to give him some credit if he was going straight to the good without even touching your tits or kissing your neck. You wanted a distraction, and the fingers slipping into your underwear were definitely a distraction.

Especially as he began to vigorously rub your left labia rather than your clit. Attempting to shift your hips in your favour, he kept his fingers in the same dry spot, assuming your hip movements were a sign that he was doing a good job.

Great, you thought. Your love life was now just as dry and useless as your friend's life. Just fantastic.

Deciding there was still some hope left, your fingers moved into your jeans, your hand cupping the back of his fingers and moving them to finally circle your clit. However, the dryness and eagerness that he was moving made you feel overstimulated and ready for it to be over as fake moans began to spill from your lips.

"Fuck, you're so pretty", Quirinus moaned against your lips as he suddenly pulled back, but only so he could turn you on the spot and lean you awkwardly against the back of the sofa. Two things then started. One, his fingers shifted again back to the poor labia and away from your clit and two, he began to hump into your arse like a dog in heat.

Your eyes closed as you continued to fake the moans as his lips found the side of your neck as he nuzzled into you and continued with his pleasurable humps. You knew you could push him aside at any time, but for now, he was distracting you, even if you weren't finding any pleasure in it.

"Fuck you're so wet. Do you like that?" he asked, biting your neck like a vampire as you refrained from rolling your eyes.

Instead, you faked your seductive voice as you moaned, "Mmm yes, feels so good", even though you were pretty sure the wetness he was feeling was just sweat, as there was no way you were wet for this guy.

Matching the eagerness of his moans, you pretended to be close to orgasm just as his thrusts increased in speed, and your thighs began to ache as he pushed you harder and harder into the back of the sofa.

"Fuck!!" he cursed loudly into your ear as he came, and you two pretended to also orgasm, breathing heavily whilst bending over slightly to put some room between the two of you. As his fingers removed from your underwear, he proclaimed, "That was so good, wow. Hey, do you want to go on a date or something-".

His abrupt stop in the sentence has you turning with a questioning gaze but stopping short, seeing his face turn a pasty shade of green.

"Are you ok- Shit!" you quickly move out of his way as his hand covers his mouth, eyes bulge in panic, and he runs towards the door, wordlessly waving his wand and dashing out of the door with the promise of going to vomit.

You're unsure whether to be worried for his well-being and sudden turn or offended that he had suddenly become so unwell. Either way, you were well and truly finished with the day. Buttoning up your jeans, you began to move towards the open door and back down to the loud mass of students downstairs, but the door slamming in your face and audibly locking had you halting.

"What the fuck?" you question under your breath, rushing towards the door and twisting the handle, but it was thoroughly locked. "Alohamora" with a wave of your wand, you'd expected the door to unlock, but even this didn't work as panic slowly began to set in as you started to wonder if this was some trap in the room for people who sneak in. "Shit! Please open, please, please, please!" you repeat with more urgency as you continue to try and spell the door open, but then a low behind you in the empty room has you screaming and turning until your back is pressed against the door.

"He didn't make you cum”, James stated with venom laced in his words as he revealed himself from underneath his invisibility cloak.

"James?! What the fuck- have you been there the entire time?!" you hissed in rage, your body becoming hot all over as realisation dawned on you.

"Why did you fake an orgasm with him?" he asked, repeating the same subject as before as he stepped closer to you from where he was leaning against the desk at the opposite end of the room.

"You can't just follow me around, James! That's so fucking creepy, and wait - did you hex Quirrell? Is that why he was sick?"

"He fucking deserved it for not making you cum”, he declares as his body trembles with the restrained anger flowing through his veins, the vein in his throat bulging as he takes a step towards you.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you begin to pace in front of the fire, rubbing your hands over your face as you go through about every emotion humanly possible. "I don't understand you whatsoever! Who are you to judge who and how I spend my time? You never cared before, so why now?" Turning to face him, you see the anger that seems to have disappeared from his body as he slowly steps towards you, his eyes unblinking as they bore into yours, full of rich emotion that you were too frightened to name.

You felt breathless as he stepped into your personal space. The fire crackled to your side and illuminated half of his handsome face, reflecting off the glasses already beginning to slide down his nose as he peered down at you, and you had to clench your fist to stop yourself from pushing them back up again.

James was still wearing his school uniform, you noticed, giving yourself the slightest distraction from the anger and confusion pulsing through your body.

Your mouth suddenly felt dry as you asked quietly, "How did you know I was faking it?"

James breathed in through his nose as his eyes scoured your face. "There were a few obvious signs". You became utterly captivated with every word he had to say as he lifted his fingers, gently held your chin, and began to tilt your face further up to his as he lowered his own so there was only a breath width between the tips of your noses.

"One, you always hold your breath just as you're tipping over the edge. Two, your eyes were open; you usually close them as you become lost in the moment", he numbered off whilst gently kissing the corner of your lips and like every other time recently, your body reacted instantly to the touches, pulsing and begging for more but then he listed the final sign. You truly became wholly lost to James Potter. "And third, the reason I know you didn't orgasm was because you weren't saying my name".

A soft moan escaped your parted lips as he had you hypnotised and, blaming it once more entirely on the alcohol, closed the gap between both of your mouths.

The kiss was everything you could have ever wanted for a first romantic kiss with someone you had a crush on. However, it meant so much more. Barriers were being broken, friendships snapped for potentially a lifetime, and yet it was what you needed—more than the air in your lungs, than the heat blazing from the fire. You needed James, and he evidently needed you.

The gentle and tentative touch of your lips lasted for a single breath, and then all restraint keeping you back was released as both of you gripped each other fiercely. Your fingers wove through his soft hair, pulling him down firmly as his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you until both of your chests were pushed together.

Where you'd once been overheating with rage, now you were ablaze with lust. The clothes were too tight and claustrophobic against your skin as you needed to touch his. Thankfully James had the same idea, as both of your faces tilted, the kiss deepening with longing strokes of tongues and swapping of saliva, just like you'd taught him those weeks ago, his hands began to move beneath your clothes frantically.

Before long, your jumper was carelessly dropped to the floor, the same with his tie and shirt. Your fingers explored his toned chest and stomach, enjoying the little hitches of breath that he moaned. However, it was your turn as he moved your bra straps off your shoulders as his nimble fingers unhooked the band at the back with a simple flick, another trick you had taught him last week.

Before you could compliment him, his lips were trailing down your neck, sucking and licking on the sensitive areas until you were mewling with need. However, he didn't stop lowering his face until his lips were wrapped around your nipple, pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth and pressing the flat of his tongue against it.

"James!" you keened, rising to the tips of your toes to press your chest harder into his face, and he loved it from the deep groan he released, his fingers flexing on your lower back.

The Marauder moved from one breast to the next, teasing and nibbling until you were a desperate mess. Gripping onto his hair, you tugged on it, forcing his face away from your tits so that you could go back to kissing him deeply whilst also pulling on his shoulders towards the direction of the sofa.

Catching onto the direction he was being pulled in, James took over the lead as he sat down and pulled you into his lap, where you straddled his thighs. You couldn't help but contemplate how the position mirrored the one that started this entire situation, except now you weren't teaching. He was more leading and dominating the situation.

The hand on your lower back pressed more pressure until your crotch was flush against his. It felt somewhat wrong to have your chests both naked and pressed together, but the rest was still covered with jeans and trousers. However, it didn't stop the moans from escaping either of you as his hands moved your hips so you were grinding on his cock.

"Sweetheart, I need these off. Right fucking now before I combust", James pleaded as he undid the button of your jeans.

"You two then, Potter, off!". Once more, the clothes were off of your body within the blink of an eye until you were both only in underwear. Returning to finding your pussy against his cock, now you could genuinely find some real pleasure as the fabric of your underwear and the shape of his erection pressed against your clit, causing your insides to clench with the need to be filled.

James began to chuckle as his lips wandered down your throat, causing you to sit back and ask, "What's so funny?"

Moving his face closer to yours, he confidently stated, "I can feel how wet you are, even through my boxers". The two of you looked down to see a wet patch had formed over the grey material of his underwear where you'd been rubbing yourself as you realised you'd soaked through your lace material. The smile soon drained from your face as you both looked at one another.

"I need you", you dared to whisper as your hands moved from his shoulders to cup his cheeks, skimming the edge of the metal frames of his glasses.

The Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he repeated the words with just as much passion, "I need you too".

It was almost like an out-of-body experience, your lust and arousal dictating your movements as you both held eye contact as you raised on your knees, pulling aside your underwear as James pushed the waistband of his underwear down to the mid-thigh.

Nothing separated the two of you now, and you could have cried as you positioned the head of his cock at your entrance. His arms moved around your body, hugging you close as he rested his forehead against yours.

"Oh Sweetheart, you feel - holy shit - you feel so good", James gasped as you lowered yourself to his length.

You were shaking with the overwhelming sensations pouring through your body, making just as pleading praises to the man currently stretching your cunt. For once, it wasn't about teaching him anything but just following instincts and responding to each other's bodies. You both took a second to adjust to the new sensations and then you couldn't wait another moment before rolling your hips, easing your body up and down.

The room echoed with the fire crackling and the sound of your drenched cunt being filled with James' cock over and over as he began to find more confidence, meeting your hips midway with his own thrust.

"Yes! Just like that!" you praise, tipping your head back and allowing him to move with his vigour as he fucked into you desperately.

"I- I feel like we're made for each other", he grunts as he looks down at where your bodies meet.

"Me too! James, please don't stop!" You could feel it, that tightening in your core that gave you such pleasure. You felt as if it was too much as it continued to build in the moment, as all you could do was cling to the man beneath you.

"That's it, Sweetheart, I want you to cum for me, say my name and cum”, he demanded as he fucked you as hard as he could, holding onto your shoulder to keep you in position. All air escaped your lungs as your eyes closed, and the tightness in your pleasure exploded in a flurry of clenches as you squeezed his cock through your orgasm, screaming his name like it was the only thing that mattered.

Through your overwhelming pleasure, you were half aware of the shivers and grunts coming from James as he couldn't contain himself any further and came with his shaft buried entirely within you. The thick seed spilt into you, mixing with your own juices and pooling into his lap as it began to slip out as his cock softened.

Heavy breaths and the stink of sex suffocated the small room as you both clung to the tendrils of hope that had bloomed from giving in to temptation.

But like most things, the happiness had to end as his grip loosened on you and the reality of the situation dawned on the both of you.

No more kisses were shared, no more longing looks as you clambered off of his lap, and the two of you began to dress, ignoring the fact that both of your underwear were now coated in bodily fluids.

Just as you pulled your jumper above your head and turned towards the door, James' hand circled yours. "Please don't shut me out, you're my best friend, I can't lose you". You don't say anything, and the emotions that had been threatening to spill all day finally surfaced as tears lined your eyes and your nose became stuffy. James looked devastated by your reaction as he stepped closer, his hands cupping either side of your face. "Did I hurt you? Please tell me you don't regret this".

"I should regret this", you begin to explain, letting the tears slip free, but James' thumb was there to swipe them all away. "But I don't, never with you. The only thing I regret is that this was your first time in this shitty little room and-. And your virginity wasn't meant for me".

James frowns at your words as he kisses your temple for a long second, "I'm pretty sure it's my virginity, and I can do whatever the fuck I want with it and give it to whoever I like. Also, side note, speaking about my virginity like this makes me sound like some virgin sacrifice".

You laugh tearily, leaning into his touch for a moment before stepping out of his grip and moving towards the door, turning the handle but finding it still locked. You couldn't turn around to face him, knowing it would break you to see the sadness in his eyes.

"Please don't go", James pleaded.

"Let me go, James", you whispered, meaning the sentence in more ways than one.

"I can't, Sweetheart", he admits, sounding almost broken.

"You have to. I don't want to be your bit on the side".

"You aren't my bit on the side; I mean, I can't do that to Lily; that's why I haven't asked her to be my girlfriend yet because of what we were doing".

Your heart sank at his words even though you knew he wasn't necessarily saying it to be cruel. "You can't do that to Lily, but you could do that to me? Please, James, please just let me go".

You were greeted with pure silence, and just as you're about to turn around and ask again, the door unlocks, and you're out the door in less than a second, rushing down the staircase and away from what you'd done but not before you're out of earshot as James screams the word "Fuck!" like a broken man.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter smut #james potter one shot #hp smut #hp one shot #mine*

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junnieverse · 4 months ago

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SLEEPY HEAD ➳ M. JAEHYUN

➙ synopsis: how spending a relaxing morning in with your boyfriend is, completely engulfed in his embrace

pairing: myung jaehyun x gn!reader

genre: fluff (it’s so cute I can’t) and like one suggestive line

word count: 0.6k

warnings: not proofread, may contain small typos as well, clingy myungjae hehe

a/n: this is my first time writing for bonedo and I wanted to pick up on the reception of this post before deciding if I would potentially start writing for them too so pls lmk what you all think? :)

a/n (2): who’s your boynextdoor bias(es)? Mine are Jaehyun and Taesan ^~^ (reblogs highly appreciated!)

Mornings were simply one of your least favourite times of the day.

Having to wake up and plan out your day and get your mental planner ready for whatever it is you had to do.

Whereas some others woke up and let the day go by spontaneously not having much planned but you liked to atleast have some idea of how your day would go.

It's one thing planning out your day and it's another having to actually get up to be productive.

To say the least, you were far from being a morning person.

But boy did you love waking up next to your boyfriend, Myung Jaehyun.

This morning was no different as you rolled over to the side as you let out a soft huff feeling the light slip through from the curtain hitting your face.

You wanted to do nothing more than sleep longer but it was quite difficult for you to do that when the sun was out and bright.

Closing your eyes for a few seconds longer, silently letting your brain regenerate, you finally muster up the strength to try and get up before a pair of arms around your waist tugs you to stop.

"Mhmm" the male beside you groans as his cheeks puffed out and his lips formed a little pout tempting you to kiss him but you hold yourself back from doing so.

"Where are you going?" he asked softly, his eyes still shut trying to pull you down back into his embrace to which you couldn't help but softly giggle to finding his clingy antics adorable.

You fall back letting your head hit the pillow as you come face to face to Jaehyun.

Nothing said as you both quietly look into each others eyes, a gradual smile creeping onto your face slowly as your cheeks slightly heated up from feeling shy.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you proceed to tease him with a shy smile as he leans in closer to you.

"You just look really pretty." he responds matching your smile before he closes the gap between you two in a soft kiss.

Letting your hands do their own thing, they start off laying on his chest before slowly going up to rest to cup his cheeks as you both smile pulling away from each other.

You both spent another few minutes simply in each other's company, no words exchanged between the both of you as you gently brushed a strand of hair away from his face.

He placed his hand atop yours as he linked your fingers with his before moving it away from his hair to place a soft kiss in your palm making your heart flutter.

"We should be getting up soon so we can get started for the day. What do you want for breakfast?" you ask him lifting your upper body up as you stretch yourself groaning in relief.

"You." Jaehyun remarks cheekily as he chuckles lowly before you hit his arm playfully.

"I'm kidding baby. We can eat later, there's plenty of time." he adds on quickly.

Pulling your arm as you weakly cave, letting your head hit the pillow again, only this time you were faced away from him as the little spoon and your boyfriend wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

His head rested between the crook of your neck, his soft breathing tickling you making you smile at the gentle feeling.

He wasn't completely wrong about that either, sometimes you didn't need to intensively plan out your day when you could just let the day unfold itself.

Or in other words do pretty much nothing productive intentionally which could still be a well spent day.

Maybe a few more minutes wouldn't hurt you thought to yourself snuggling in closer into your boyfriend's arms as you closed your eyes letting the sleep take over.

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makeyoumine69 · 1 year ago

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Euphoria (Memory Reboot x2)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After wrestling with the lingering thoughts of Bateman, you finally found yourself open to Paul Allen's offer — a life-changing opportunity. But despite your resolve, you couldn't shake the need for closure. Determined, you sought one last encounter with Patrick, intent on resolving the unsaid and the undone before the cityscape of New York faded into your past.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, pegging, sex toys, face riding, penetrative sex, rimming (Patrick receiving), oral sex (69, blowjobs), edging, biting, spanking, cum shot, masturbating, praise kink, body worship, drug usage, pet names, dirty talk, needy Patrick, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation.

WORDS: 8.7k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Euphoria

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm sorry it took me quite long to write this, I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

The clock’s ticking was the only sound in the opulent meeting room of Pierce & Pierce office. Your heart seemed to beat to the rhyme of ticking, while you were nervously spinning the thin cigarette in your hands but never really trying to actually smoke; the glass ashtray in front of you would probably be left empty till the end of the day. It was even funny how drastically things changed after that…moment of privacy you shared with Bateman. Starting from that, you couldn’t really get him out of your head, even though it has already been several weeks of your pretending game of “nothing had happened” between you and Patrick. It was a matter of time, when your colleagues would start to notice your strange behavior whenever you and Bateman were in one room.

Squeezing the cigarette between your shaky fingers, you turned around in the leather chair to look at the New York skyline through the wide window. ‘That it is not an exit,’ echoed in your ears and you tried to shake the nervousness off from your tense shoulders, but the more you were being alone, the more surrounding space was weighing on you as if you were on the very bottom of the Pacific ocean.

The moment the door swung open and Timothy Bryce entered the meeting room, you were more in control of yourself. “Hey, Tim. Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Sorry, (y/n). Had a business call with some delusional prick.” Bryce snarled and took a seat across from you.

“Delusional prick?”

"Yeah, you know...delusional," he chuckled and glanced at the cigarette in your hand, which was still more like an accessory. "The guy thought I gave a fuck about his life and his wife, who used to be a whore, by the way."

With a soft snicker, you made yourself more comfortable in your chair, throwing one leg over another. “Wanna smoke?”

“Yep,” he leaned over the table to take the cigarette, your fingers touched for a moment but none of you paid attention. “So, what happened? Why did you want to see me?”

Confused, you took a moment to think about your answer. You worried a lot about picking the right words, but now you were even more anxious. ‘I just need to tell him the truth and that’s all,’ you reassured yourself before turning to face Tim. “Well, the thing is - I’m quitting P & P.”

Tim’s face remained unchanged for a second, but then the man furrowed his brows, tilting his head and rubbing his ear as if he didn’t hear. “You're what? Quitting?”

"Right," you gave him a half-smile and continued. "Recently, I received a very... very good offer from one company in Chicago."

“Jesus Christ. Chicago? Really?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Bryce lit the cigarette and leaned back in his chair. “Who the fuck even gave you this idea? And why so sudden? You have such a good job here, with a good salary and…” He paused and blew a few rings of smoke. “Do those bastards pay well?”

Laughing heartily, you crossed your arms over your chest and watched the smoke dividing the room in two with a white veil. “So many questions. Are you interested in leaving Pierce & Pierce too?” That was not a serious question, since you knew that Bryce was more than satisfied with his job. “If I say who recommended that place to me, will you keep it a secret?” Tim nodded even before you could say something else. “I was at one P&P party, that one you decided to skip a week ago. So, there I met Paul Allen and we talked a bit and he mentioned that he just came back from his business trip from Chicago…we had a long conversation, but as a result he proposed to me to think about the option to change my current job.”

All the time while you were speaking, Tim was glancing at you with wide open eyes, his prominent brows curling up and down whenever you mentioned Paul Allen’s name. It was always funny for you to watch Bateman & Co getting so frustrated and annoyed whenever Allen was around or whenever someone discussed his success with having the Fisher account. To say the least, his ability to get a reservation at Dorsia. ‘I’m not gonna tell any of them that Allen offered me dinner in Dorsia after that party.’

“So you were unsatisfied with your job all this time and didn’t say anything? That sucks, (y/n). Didn’t expect that to come, not gonna lie,” Bryce made a low sound which was very similar to growling, but at the same time it also sounded like a scoff. “But, if that really is what you want, then who am I to judge you? We have only one life to fulfill all our needs, right?”

Timothy’s statement was like a balm to your soul, that was exactly what you hoped he would tell you and when he did, you felt some kind of relief washing over you like a breeze of fresh air.

“Thank you, Tim,” you finally grinned and put your elbows on the table. “Glad you didn’t start to read me notations.”

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Him?” You squinted and tilted your head; your intuition was screaming that something was so damn wrong.

“Bateman,” with a sly smile, Bryce put the cigarette out in a glass ashtray; his glance was eloquent but you never really managed to read it. “I bet he will be upset. Very upset.”

“Bryce ” you rolled your eyes. ‘Is he lying or…?’ That question remained unspoken. “Leave these cheesy jabs to yourself, okay?”

Tim only laughed at your weak attempt to threaten him and stood up from the table. “You know, I saw him with Jean in Arcadia last night…” Now this information could come in handy… “I think they had some kind of date or something, huh,” he chuckled again and fixed his tie, giving the picture on the opposite wall a scrutinizing glance. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but something is definitely happening. In my opinion, you should tell him about your…unexpecting leaving, you know.”

Before you could respond, Timothy Bryce looked at you one last time and left the meeting room. Now, you were left alone but not really alone as the weight of the newfound information lay on your shoulders like two massive dumbbells. ‘If everything is too obvious for Bryce, what other things might the others think about me and Bateman?’ That was a rhetorical question mostly, but still you couldn’t even get up from the chair, sensing the strange, chilling fear inside your chest—what if you were mistaken with accepting the offer of a new job?

Gritting your teeth, you snarled and almost kicked the table from beneath, your palms were clenching and unclenching, thankfully no one could see you like this. Swiftly but nervously, you finally stood up and headed out from the meeting room, striving to avoid any of your soon-to-be-ex colleagues on your way to Bateman’s office.

How many times have you rehearsed the words you were going to say while you were walking up there? Countless. But still, when you entered Patrick's office and saw his lovely secretary, everything inside you froze - words, emotions, even your breath.

“Hi, Jean,” you mumbled, with a half-smile on your slightly tensed face. “Looking good.”

“Uh, thank you,” the blonde woman replied and fixed the stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

As soon as you heard the echo of Patrick's voice through the office door, a lump formed in your throat and you had to cough several times because of the unpleasant dryness.

“Well,” you paused and glanced at the closed door with a nameplate ‘Patrick Bateman’ on it. “You would help me a lot if you let me have a private conversation with your boss.”

“Patrick is,” her voice suddenly wavered, implying that something was wrong. “He’s busy right now.”

“Oh,” you stepped back involuntarily. “Okay, I can come later.”

“No,” Jean replied curtly. “I’m sorry, but today is not an option at all.”

‘Is that some kind of joke?’ You hummed to yourself, already regretting coming here in the first place. “All right then. Have a nice day, Jean.” Turning around you already stepped out from the office when you head her voice:

“(Y/n), wait. Oh, I hope I pronounced your name correctly.” She blushed once you came back inside. “I think I can tell him about your visit, when he will be less busy.”

That offer was not something you would expect. “Actually, that would be nice,” you clicked on your tongue, considering your next steps. “Tell him that I have a reservation at Dorsia at eight o’clock–”

“Today?” Her question cut off your bluffing. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

You just grinned politely in return. “Yep, today. Tell him…that I need to talk with him about business and stuff. And, that it would be probably the last chance for him to catch up with me.” Jean’s eyes widened for a moment, but you reassured her instantly. “No drama, just changing my job.”

“Uh, that was probably a tough decision?”

“Not really,” you winked at her and crossed your arms over the chest. “But don’t tell him about that, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” She tried to hide her confusion behind a warm smile but failed. “I’ll tell him that you will be waiting for him at Dorsia tonight and that this conversation is very important.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed and for a moment just stood there, looking at the closed office door. “Thank you, darling. For everything.”

You made a special accent on the word ‘darling’, purposely embarrassing her and leaving no room for any questions and other stuff that would make a current situation even more fucked up.

After you left Bateman’s office you had to find Allen as only half of what you told Jean was actually bluffing—you knew that Paul had a reservation at Dorsia tonight, considering he was inviting you for dinner. Allen’s strange interest in you wasn’t your top priority at that moment but using it for your sake was something you couldn’t deny at such a situation. So when you finally found Paul in one of the meeting rooms, you persuaded him to give you that reservation, explaining that you wanted to show one of your colleagues Dorsia before you would leave New York and move to Chicago. And even though everyone would find out that that colleague was Patrick Bateman, you wouldn't’ care since you would be far away from here.

A few hours later, the melodious voice of Whitney Houston reverberated off the walls of the opulent living room in Bateman's apartment, the lyrics of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody," which Patrick knew perfectly, striking a chord in his chest every time the song came on.

But today everything was different.

Everything, except some random blonde bimbo who was on her knees between Bateman’s spread legs, sucking his thick cock but not actually giving him any pleasure. Frustrated, the man tugged on her hair without any compassion, bringing her closer, so her nose was almost brushing against his hairy pubis. But almost immediately, the woman began to whimper and claw at the perfect skin of his hips, and he didn't like it.

“What? Already tired?” Bateman sneered and fixated the blonde’s head in one place for a moment by her neck. “Or is that your first time? Then, I’m so fucking honored!"

As soon as the man let the blonde go, she pushed him away and sat back on her ass, breathing heavily. “Are you crazy?” the bimbo inquired and pressed a hand to her half-exposed breasts, her whole appearance looked messy. “I was about…t-to choke on your fucking dick!”

Sighing, Bateman rolled his eyes and just stretched out on the couch, lazily stroking his half-hard shaft. "So, this is your first time?" The woman hesitated to answer, which only made Patrick mock her even more. "Did you tell me that you have a boyfriend? And he works at P&P, right?"

Wiping her mouth with undisguised contempt, the blonde started to get up, but Patrick stepped on the hem of her dress and she almost fell. "Marcus! Stop it!"

"Uh, look at you," the man chuckled, watching her feeble attempts to get up. "Such a pathetic little bitch, pathetic and greedy," the man added, giggling. "Ready to give head to every vice president at Pierce & Pierce! Your boyfriend should be so proud of you."

The woman was on the verge of tears when Bateman finally allowed her to get up and collect her things. She had been in such a hurry that she had left her panties on the glass coffee table. All this gave Patrick much more pleasure than the blonde's inexperienced blowjob.

"Ask your boyfriend to teach you how to suck dicks," he blurted out as the woman rushed into the hallway, rifling through her purse looking for something. "Since he's probably a pro at that sort of thing."

But the girl was already gone. So the man could only laugh to himself, so proud of his cheeky jabs, if only he didn't feel like a schoolboy dreading his upcoming meeting with his teacher. With a heavy sigh, Bateman closed his eyes for a second, his cock was already soft, but his sac were still tense and full of his cum; he felt too unsatisfied with himself, which only made things worse.

What was it even for?

The man could just take some coke, lie down on his bed, close his eyes and think of you—that was enough for him to cum so hard that he had to go to the laundry almost every day because he ran out of sheets. But today was different, considering that Patrick was going to meet you, and not just anywhere, but in fucking Dorsia. It seemed that everyone in this town could get a res there, but not him.

Biting his lower lip, the man looked down at the throbbing cock in his hand - the mere thought of you was making him horny as hell. "Shit…" If only he could reboot his memory and get rid of that scene in the Tunnel. If only. Meanwhile, the Whitney Houston tape continued to play the song "Where Do Broken Hearts Go". Bateman doubted he would be able to masturbate, he was too nervous and stressed out, even imagining you while that bitch was giving him head didn't work. Although it usually did. "Dorsia, huh," the man giggled nervously and checked his Rolex - he still had plenty of time. As if spellbound, Patrick slid to the floor and kicked off his leather shoes, his red tie already loosened and his pants hiked down. Leaning against the couch, Bateman threw his head back and began to jack off, recalling the forbidden, sinful sensations of your hand sliding along his hot flesh. "Mmm-fuck," he moaned and shivered, his free hand already gripping the edge of the white couch, several beads of sweat running down his tense temples. What if today he finally found the courage to confess? Confess that all these days had been a fucking torture for him, that he was ready to crawl on the walls from how much he longed for you, not even physically, but mentally. Maybe, just maybe, your reassurance that everything was not over for him, that maybe he still had a chance to have some normalcy in this cruel world—could change everything?

"Fuck, f-fuck!" Patrick cursed, sensing that his impending orgasm was slipping away from him just by reflecting on the things that were happening between the two of you. Jerking off and thinking about your sexy voice, your hot body and your cheeky smile was one thing, it always turned him on better than anything else, but thinking about the complexity of your relationship… that was not a turn-on for him. Not at all. Cursing to himself, Patrick slicked back his auburn hair and quickly got up to stagger to the bathroom, where he nervously opened the cabinet behind the mirror and found a small white jar of pills. Xanax was his only stress reliever so far. Taking a deep, almost desperate breath, Bateman looked at his reflection, his bloodshot eyes full of tears that threatened to cascade down like a waterfall. "This is not an exit." Patrick told his reflection, but opened the jar anyway and took a handful of pills. Frustrated, unsatisfied, he didn't know how he was going to survive dinner with you, and Dorsia was the last thing on his mind. "Because I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared."

Luckily, the marble walls of his bathroom were the only witnesses to his downfall.

Dawn came to New York faster than you could imagine. All the way to Dorsia you were nervous, but still confident in the plan you had made earlier that day. Even though you had failed in your previous attempt to dot the T's at the Tunnel, today would be different, you were sure of it. ‘I don't even know why, though,’ you chuckled to yourself, and the taxi driver gave you a concerned glance, but you just shrugged it off, signaling him to concentrate on the road.

In the restaurant everything looked the same as when you were here with Paul Allen, but this time you were not the one who was invited, but the one who invited another person—named Patrick Bateman—and speaking of whom, was late and that made you quite anxious. ‘What if he just doesn’t come?’ This thought made you fidget in the chair, your hands fumbling with the napkin on your knees and after telling the waiter for the second time that you were expecting someone else to come, your fingers became cold as if they were frozen.

“Maybe I can bring you some drinks?” The waiter didn’t give up, spurring you to order at least something to drink.

Quickly running a hand across your strained face, you exhaled loudly and nodded. “Yeah, drinks,” you stummered when you looked past the waiter, noticing the familiar elegant silhouette coming close to your table. “Can you…bring…some water?”

Confused, the waiter glanced down at the full glass of water next to you. “Uh, more water?”

“(Y/n),” Bateman’s voice echoed across the space. “I hope I didn't make you wait for so long,” he chuckled and took a seat at the table. “Had some important business affairs.” The moment he noticed the confused waiter, Patrick gave him his most sassy smile and checked his Rolex for no reason, probably just to show them out. “Can you please bring me a glass of J&B and some fresh salad to your taste.”

‘A salad, really?’ You almost snickered, but instead your face turned into a neutral expression. "Business, huh?"

Bateman rested more comfortably in his chair after the waiter finally left. "You know, some affairs with blonde hair and long legs, big tits and an amazing ass."

That came out of nowhere.

Still calm, you watched the man across from you smile, surely proud of himself and so damn bossy it was almost absurd. "You mean someone in particular, don't you?"

“Oh, yeah,” Patrick put his both elbows on the table, clasping his hands, revealing his gold Rolex once again. “Her name is Stephany, if I’m not mistaken, she’s a girlfriend of one of our accountants,” the man paused before snickering. “That one who makes monthly reports, you know him. So, I’m a bit late because I couldn't leave such a lovely girl without a treat she deserved.”

Right now, you didn't care if it was true or not—his well-framed—confidence was something you found very interesting and even amusing, as it was proof that he was preparing for this dinner just like you were.

"And that's when I thought vice presidents actually worked at Pierce & Pierce." With a slight grin, you joked and finally took a sip of water, feeling your throat suddenly go dry, just like when you were talking to Jean earlier.

Bateman's sudden laugh rang out like shattered glass. "'C'mon, (y/n), don't pretend you don't know that-"

"I know that your father owns almost half of the company," you interrupted him abruptly, and he wasn't happy about it. "And that gives you certain privileges."

"Don't be envious. It doesn't suit you."

"Envious?" You set the glass of water aside. "I think it was me who invited you here so that you could finally visit Dorsia… at least once."

The air between the two of you was thick with venom and something even more poisonous. Nevertheless, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't think Bateman was acting like the jerk he undoubtedly was. But, to be honest, you expected him to act a little less smug.

"I still think this place is overrated," Patrick hissed through clenched teeth right as the waiter brought him his whiskey and salad with sliced vegetables and some cheese, which he didn't even touch, taking a big gulp of his drink. "So, uh, Jean told me you wanted to talk to me about something important. What is it?"

The waiter didn't even try to offer to check the menu again and retreated, but he would definitely come back later with the same request, since you hadn't ordered anything yet.

"Well, it doesn't seem to matter anymore," you suddenly declared, crumpling the paper napkin before dropping it on the finest tablecloth. "The thing is—I'm quitting P&P and moving to Chicago. That's it. Nothing special, really."

The moment of silence washed over them both like a tidal wave. Visibly shocked, Bateman just sat there, then nervously straightened his tie and looked around as if to call for help. 'Not so ballsy anymore, Patty?' There was something about the way he was humiliated, something that stirred a burning flame in your gut that came dangerously close to burning you alive from the inside. And again, you would be lying to yourself if you pretended you could control it.

"Chicago?" Patrick repeated as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"Why do both you and Bryce react as if Chicago were a desert island?"

"Heh," Bateman rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair. "So Bryce knows everything. Why am I not surprised?"

"I'd tell you more," that was the moment you'd been waiting for so long—the moment of his vulnerability, and you couldn't stop yourself like a shark who sensed blood in the water. "Paul Allen was the one who actually recommended this job to me."

Patrick's jaw clenched at the mention of Paul Allen. "Really?"

"Yes," you continued to corner him. "One day we were having dinner, here, in Dorsia," you grinned, catching every little change in Bateman's no longer confident face. "He said one of his buddies was starting a new company, and they were looking for specialists… like me."

"Well," he began, sliding his hand across the table's surface as if to calm down. "Good for you, (y/n). Congratulations!" That was the most fake 'congratulations' you ever heard, even though you were expecting a slightly different reaction. "But I don't understand. Why didn't you talk to me before? Before you made your decision."

This question almost made you choke. 'Did he really say that?' And just as you were about to answer, the waiter came across the table again, choosing the perfect moment. Before he could offer to check the menu, you raised your hand in an irritating gesture. "Bring me a vodka and orange juice," Patrick's eyebrows arched almost immediately. "Double vodka, please."

"Yes, s-sure." The waiter stuttered before taking the crumpled napkin and walking away, very stressed.

Without giving yourself time to think, you leaned against the table and muttered. "Why should I? We are not friends."

"Of course not," Bateman scowled, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the black pinstriped suit outlining his physique perfectly. "Not after you gave me a decent handjob in the Tunnel bathrooms."

Patrick caught you off guard by injecting this argument so blatantly into the conversation. "Decent? It was fucking amazing." You growled and quickly turned around to see if anyone was paying attention to your table, and when you were sure there was nothing to worry about, you faced Patrick again. "Too amazing, considering you seem to be thinking about it all the time."

"W-what? I… I didn't…"

Sneering, you tapped your fingers on the table in nervous anticipation of your drinks, even though you hadn't planned on drinking any alcohol, wanting to keep yourself as sober as possible for the dinner and everything that might or might not happen afterwards.

"Relax, Bateman," you rested your chin on your clasped hands, finally allowing yourself to examine his handsome appearance, including the way his cheeks were tinged with a red hue. "You've said too much already."

And from that moment on, you began to feel relaxed, even pleased with all the things Patrick revealed to you, accidentally or not, you would use every little detail to your own advantage when the time came.

A little later, when the waiter finally brought your cocktail, you finished it too quickly, so you asked for it to be repeated under the attentive hazel eyes of the man sitting on the other side of the table. The more drunk you got, the more topics you discussed, but when you mentioned Paul Allen again, you noticed that Patrick's good mood was fading.

"Wait a minute!" You held out a hand to stop him from jumping from one topic to another. "Can you tell me why the mere mention of Paul Allen triggers you so much? Is there something between you two?"

Bateman couldn't hold back a loud, hearty laugh. "That joke's too tasteless even for Bryce," he finished his whiskey, the salad still untouched on the table in front of him. "Allen…he's…not the person he tries to pretend to be."

"Oh?"

"I think he's part of that Yale thing."

You narrowed your eyes and leaned in closer. "Yale thing? What do you mean?"

Patrick quickly licked his lips, not expecting you to delve further into the subject. "Well, I think he's probably a closeted homosexual who likes to do a lot of coke and have orgies with male hookers."

At first you just giggled out loud, not caring that some people were looking at you, but then your face suddenly became serious. "How do you know about that? Did he tell you or…" you smiled playfully. "Did he do something… that made you think so," you bit your lower lip and drank the last drop of your cocktail with unabashed thirst. "That sounds strange…very strange."

"You're drunk, (y/n)," Bateman murmured, tilting his hand as if thinking about something. "Too drunk, which gives me the impression that you're as much of an amateur at drinking as you are at doing coke."

"Uh, s-shut up."

"See? Can't even speak words."

"Maybe...maybe I am drunk, now what? Are you gonna be a fucking gentleman like you always try to be and offer me a ride? Or maybe," you fixed your hair nonchalantly, your vision slightly blurred. "Would you be brave enough to show me your apartment?"

As soon as those words came out of your mouth, you knew there was no turning back, and your inner voice, which usually kept you from doing shit you would regret, seemed to fall asleep from the high level of alcohol in your system.

The man across from you straightened up at your bold suggestion, reading the subtext with ease. "Is that what you want? For me to take you to my place?"

His question hung in the air for a moment before you managed to come up with an answer, but you didn't know how to get out of this situation and turn it into a joke, as you usually did. Maybe you just didn't want to get out of it? Just like you didn't want to let him go when he helped you get up from the table after he'd paid for dinner and the two of you were in a cab. Not to mention when you almost fell down and the man caught you in his arms, but there was still a barrier between the two of you—an invisible wall—the only line that kept you apart. The line that was too dangerous to cross, but too tempting not to think about what lay behind it.

By the time the cab pulled up at the American Gardens Building, you were half asleep on Bateman's shoulder, his Lancome cologne not helping at all, making your mind even more cloudy. But you did your best to get out of the car without his help, letting the cool fresh air bring you some relief and clarity.

In the elevator, Patrick began to mumble about his musical preferences, but you didn't really pay attention because your brain was overworked trying to come up with a plan B in case things went too far. 'As if they hadn't gone too far already,' your inner voice suddenly tried to break through the thick layers of alcohol, affection and uncontrollable desire.

Bateman's apartment looked exactly as you had imagined—opulent, stylish, and very minimalist. Everything seemed to be in its place, including you, standing next to the tall window in his living room.

"Not a bad view," you admitted, taking off the jacket of your suit. "Not Central Park, but not bad at all."

"Central Park?" Patrick asked, hiding in the kitchen, which was perfectly connected to the living room, but you couldn't see him behind the wall as he examined the large number of different kitchen knives.

"Yeah, you know, Paul Allen's apartment faces Central Park, looks really fancy," you didn't mean to hurt Bateman's feelings, but the moment you turned around and saw him, it was obvious that your words had reached him. "But, I really prefer your place...it's more modern for my taste."

Puzzled, Patrick didn't hurry to join you in the living room, his thin fingers never ceasing to slide up and down the sharp blade in his hand, but at the very last moment, the man put the knife back in its place. With deliberate steps, he walked out of the kitchen and approached his stereo system.

"Really?" He asked in disbelief, as if his life depended on your answer.

Such a reaction from him was oddly appealing, the vulnerability, the desperation in his brown eyes. This was a level of satisfaction that no drug could ever match. Meanwhile, Bateman turned on the music, the charming voice of Phil Collins filling the room as "Invisible Touch" began to play.

The man was examining the tape in his hands when you slowly approached and gently cupped his face, inducing him to look at you. "Yes, I do," you confirmed your previous words, and when Patrick didn't flinch from your touch, you decided to go on, tracing your finger along his sensual lips, fighting the urge to kiss them here and now. "Speaking of preferences," you removed your hand only to place it on the lapel of his suit. "Would you be a good boy and give me a full tour of your apartment, including the bedroom?"

In any other situation, you would probably die from shame at saying something like that, but not now. Not with him, because no sooner had your question escaped your lips than you noticed that his hands were shaking, and the CD was about to fall out of them, so you had to gently grab it and pull it out of his hands. Bateman reminded you of a man struggling with addiction, every twitch of his plump lips, every furrow of his perfect eyebrows spoke volumes about the undeniable affection between the two of you, an affection you were both too exhausted to fight and hide.

Without further ado, you placed the CD on top of the stereo and pressed Patrick against the nearest wall, holding the lapels of his Valentino suit and sealing his hot mouth with yours, opening it wider with your tongue, so eager to taste him again after such a long wait.

"Mmhm," he purred into the kiss, his hands desperately wrapped around your waist, then going lower to cradle your hips, groping and squeezing a little too hard so that you had to bite his lip to make him stop, but the man just growled and pushed you closer, your groins rubbing against each other in the most lewd way possible. "Bedroom...go to the bedroom...and wait for me there."

Bateman's words right after the kiss sounded like nonsense, which you found oddly arousing. With a foxy smile, you licked his cheek, then his neck, almost biting the artery and sucking on the reading mark. "No, no, no, Bateman," you shook your head, grabbing his neck slightly to kiss him again, but he did it first. Even now Patrick was trying to take the lead, your tongues fighting for control like two snakes entwining around each other. "I'm in no mood for games or waiting."

The moment you said it, Bateman lifted you with practiced ease as if you weighed nothing, and you didn't even have a chance to protest as he began to move toward the closed room behind his white couch. In his arms, you finally felt complete, even if you let him take the lead for a while. Noticing the pair of panties on the glass coffee table, you wrapped your legs around him and buried your fingers in his silky hair, ruffling them and letting them fall on his forehead, making him look even hotter.

Jesus, you were on the verge of an explosion just from the foreplay alone.

Bateman's bedroom greeted you with stark white walls, the brightness of which was almost painful to look at as he turned on the light holding you with one arm, and the king-size bed on which he carefully placed you, but you didn't let him pull away, tugging at his tie and forcing him to lay on top of you.

"Fuck, look at you," Patrick grazed your earlobe before massaging your chest through your shirt and hovering over you. "So insatiable, aren't you? Running in circles like a trapped kitten."

Growling, you pulled him closer again to suck on his lower lip, letting your body rub against his so you could feel how hard he was, so painfully hard, considering the sound he made when you snaked your hand between his legs to cradle his bulge. "Are you gonna cum in your pants if I don't stop?"

With a determined persistence, you continued to massage his hard cock through the layers of his expensive clothes as you removed his jacket and then his suspenders, one by one. Bateman didn't interfere as he was also busy getting rid of your clothes without actually tearing them apart.

"Let me," you insisted as soon as you noticed him struggling to unbutton your shirt. "This is my favorite shirt, you know," you gasped, your own fingers trembling, making it difficult even for you to finally remove your shirt. "I don't want it to get torn."

When you finally got rid of the top part of your clothes, the sight of your exposed skin made Patrick grunt in hunger, and the next second the man was already sucking on your nipple, his muscular frame shaking on top of you from your teasing ministrations on his twitching dick and hard balls. Damn, you wanted to suck him dry as much as you wanted to ruin him until he forgot his own name.

"Don't like it anyway," Bateman muttered suddenly, holding your hands above your head. "You need to go to some... fashion shows... maybe you will have more free time in Chicago, considering Paul Allen offered you this job. I'm sure it would be some boring shit."

‘Good Lord, he mentioned him again…’ You rolled your eyes and turned away from his face, eliciting a low rumble from Patrick's massive chest. "What the fuck is wrong with Paul... are you... jealous of him or something?"

"Me?" he asked, confused and you took the opportunity to release your hands and roll over so that you were now on top of him. "I'm not the one bragging about having dinner with him in fucking Dorsia!"

Bateman sounded like a little boy who was upset that no one wanted to play with him, which made you giggle, but then you straddled him and opened his white shirt and removed his tie.

"The more you talk," you murmured as you ran your hands along the smooth skin of his torso, paying special attention to his toned pecs and abs. "The more you make me think you two had a history," you leaned down to teasingly lick his lips, your sneaky hands already working on the zipper of his pants. "But still, I don't care." In one swift motion, you pulled down his pants along with his boxers, watching his thick cock pop out, yearning for your attention. "Mhmm, the last time we were alone you worked me up really good, I wanna return the favor," your hands wrapped around the base of his beefy shaft, the small droplets of his pre-cum already covering its tip, forcing you to lick your lips in hunger. "If you have nothing else on your mind?"

Did you really care about his feelings since you asked him that question?

The man beneath you was definitely growing impatient, his hands gripping your hips as if he was about to imprint his fingerprints on your skin if you were not wearing your pants.

"Lie on your side," Bateman suggested suddenly. "Take off all your clothes and lie down here," he tapped the spot next to him and you stood up quickly, as if he had cast a spell on you. Never in your life did you get rid of your clothes faster than now. "Uh, what a cute ass you have, (y/n)."

You frowned at his words, giving him your dead stare as you slipped out of your underwear, giving him the full view—the glint in his hazel eyes was too much to ignore—so you turned around and presented yourself to him; Bateman couldn't help but lazily stroked himself, putting a hand under his head.

"Tell me, Bateman," you began, your hands slowly sliding down your bare skin. "Have you been thinking about me all this time?" You cupped your ass, bending over a little so he could see the spot right between your legs. "Or have you found a way to forget things you don't want to remember?"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a second. "I wish there was a way to forget." Patrick murmured and watched as you lay on your side in the 69 position, then he did the same, his hot breath scorching the soft flesh between your thighs.

You wrapped your hands around his hips and eagerly took his drooling dick in your mouth, while he was lapping at your crotch. "Mm-fuck," you jerked against his face, your fingers digging deeper into his skin as Bateman feasted on you like the most delicious meal. "Me too, Bateman, m-me too."

Having said that, you swirled your tongue around the swollen tip of his veiny cock, causing a muffled moan to erupt from his mouth, its vibration sending shivers down the base of your spine, only spurring you on to go further, pushing his dick deeper into your mouth. Soon the room was filled with the soft, wet sounds of your shared oral pleasure, punctuated by soft but powerful moans and groans as you both teetered on the edge of ecstasy. Gripping your ass, Bateman responded to your actions with the same passion, devouring every drop of your flavor and giving you no chance to escape, his strong arms like ropes around your body. After giving his cock the attention it deserved, you decided to tease his heavy balls with light lapping on them, before slipping a finger inside his tight ass, you expected him to protest but instead you heard him moan and the next moment his hips began to move towards your penetrating movements.

"Good boy," you praised him, rolling your eyes at the way the man was sucking on your most sensitive spot. "Taking my finger so well..."

The coil in your lower abdomen was about to snap at any moment, but you still wanted more, you wanted to feel that cock inside you, even if it was going to rip you a apart. Breathlessly, you didn't even remember asking him about condoms, and how you managed to get out of bed and go to the closet, where you found a little box Bateman was talking about—its contents almost made you gasp in awe, so you decided to take it with you.

"Well, well," you crooned as you stepped back into the bedroom. "Should I ask you what this is or are you going to tell me?"

With a wide grin, you held out a large purple dildo, Patrick's eyes twitched and he gulped, leaning on his elbows. "I... I use it with hookers," the man confessed, licking his glistening lips covered with your juices. "Why?"

"Hmmm, you like watching women play with it?" You asked as you reached the bed. "How about actually using it and not just watching?"

Damn, you could swear you saw his breath catch in his throat, his muscles tense and his dick throbbing just at the mention of using that sex toy on him. 'So he likes that idea, what a naughty boy,' you chuckled to yourself and took your place on the bed next to him. "This is going to feel so good, baby," you brought the dildo to his lips, suggesting that he lick it for lubrication, and when he did, you could barely keep yourself from cumming, just from the sight of his tongue flicking around the tip of the silicone sex toy. "Get on your knees and let me take care of you."

"Fuck," Bateman cursed, but it was too late to turn back. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, the man got down on all fours and gave you full access to his firm ass, which you immediately fondled, spreading his buttocks and biting them one by one. "Mmh-hmm, (y/n)."

"Relax," you stroked his hips, kissing the lower part of his back just above the dimples that were too sexy to ignore. "God, you have such a beautiful body," you decided to praise him, knowing the effect it would have on him. "I would worship it forever if I could," which was only half true, or maybe...it was not. Leisurely, you showered his soft skin with little peaks here and there, dotting it with your marks of love, not even realizing that you were giving all of yourself to the process.

As you pressed the tip of the dildo against his puckered muscle ring, Patrick tensed at your touch, gripping the sheets and closing his eyes, so overwhelmed and confused at the same time, but your reassuring hand on his trembling one encouraged him to look back at you as you hovered over him to kiss his lips, his neck, his shoulder.

"(Y/n)," Bateman suddenly huffed through his clenched teeth. "I want you to..." he gasped as you flickered your wet finger around his tight asshole. "...fuck."

"You want me to feast on that delicious ass of yours?" You finished the sentence for him, grinning in pure gratification at his complete submission. "Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, y-yes," he grasped the sheets and positioned himself more comfortably on all fours— a clear sign that he was not used to this position and you couldn't miss it. "I want to feel your tongue... all over me."

"Shit, Bateman, you're a real sweet talker." With that you put the dildo on the bed next to you and before you knew it you were spreading his ass cheeks wide open to make a flat lick along his tight hole. "I wanna hear you," you gently but insistently probed his ass with your warm tongue, giving him several slaps on the buttocks that drove the man wild as you felt his velvet walls tighten around your tongue. "Good boy, c'mon, spread it out for me."

Blushing, Patrick used both hands to spread himself for your eager ministrations as you fucked him with your tongue while your hands traveled all around his hips before you wrapped one of them around his pulsating cock, fuck, he was so close, you could tell by the way his balls tensed when you gave them a slight squeeze.

"Don't cum until I let you," you commented and the next moment you were already pushing the sleek sex toy into his ass and this time he accepted it gradually, taking it in with ease—the sight made you gasp but you focused on giving him pleasure. "Tell me, Bateman, how does it feel?"

The question remained unanswered for a brief moment as you began to slid the dildo in and out, stimulating his prostate and causing him to shake and whimper in pure bliss, but when you decided to add fuel to the fire by jerking him off and sucking on his strained sac, Patrick could barely contain himself, his legs about to give way at any moment.

"F-fuck, a-aahhh, mmhhmm," he murmured into the pillow, his hands finding their way to your messy hair, gripping them almost to the point of pain. "I...c-can't...hold...it any longer," Bateman's wailing bounced off the walls of his luxurious bedroom, which had never seen anything like it before. "I..."

Though you wanted him to last longer, you were too overwhelmed yourself, feeling the string in your belly ready to burst. "Let it go," your words were like a balm to his ears as, just a moment later, his cock pulsed in your grasp, spraying loads of his thick cum across the Chinese sheets that Patrick had always been so fond of. "That's it…" You didn't stop fucking him with a dildo, nor did you stop pumping his throbbing dick, milking it until the last drop of his seed. "Good boy, you're such a good boy."

Panting, you pulled out the sex toy, covered in his slick, and brought it to his trembling lips, inducing him to suck it before taking it into your mouth, feeling the mixture of tastes on the tip of your tongue. Then, Bateman rolled onto his back, desperately gasping for air, his cock still hard. That was fucking phenomenal, but you didn't comment, thinking about your own orgasm at last. Locking your eyes with Patrick's hazel ones, you touched yourself the moment he beckoned you over, and without words, you mounted his flushed, sweaty face, riding it as desperately as you could, using his tongue and lips without shame. Tilting your head back, you grabbed his head and almost clawed at his scalp, feeling your insides about to fucking explode from the tension. So when you peaked, your scream could be heard all over Bateman's apartment. The orgasms you had before were nothing compared to this. It took everything from you, it made you die and rise again.

The final chord of the parade of shameless lust was when you let him fuck you in a way you didn't even expect. Spooning you from behind after he put the condom on, the man lifted your leg and sheathed himself inside of you till the hilt, making you feel so full you had to wrinkle the fabric underneath, but that was just the beginning as Bateman pulled you closer, trapping you in his arms like a cocoon, his tongue sliding around your ear shell with undisguised affection,

"Mmhmm, fuck, you're...so perfect," the man whispered into your ear, setting up the pace and resting his hand between your legs for extra stimulation. "Holy fuck! I'm cumming again, omh-shit..."

"Fuck m-me, yeah, just...l-like that...a-ahhh," you coaxed him to fuck you harder as you suddenly found yourself on the verge of climaxing again. "Gimme everything, baby, a-awww...goshhhhhhhh," you were the first to fall over the principle of pleasure, twitching along his body as if you were hit by the electric shock, all your nerves were on fire. "Bateman, mmhm-fuck-fuck! Your dick feels s-so good.."

Your vivid orgasm became the last straw for his second release as you felt him bite at your neck, his buffed frame shaking in spasms of pure rapture, you even had to hold back a scream from how painfully Patrick's hands squeezed your hips, but it was pleasurable pain of being ruined, of being fucked into a wet mess. Barely breathing, you didn't even remember how you passed out from exhaustion and for the first time in the last few days you fell asleep completely satisfied and happy.

When the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds into Bateman's bedroom, you were already awake, as was he, but since you were lying with your back to his face, you didn't notice until the man kissed your shoulder, snuggled up against your neck, and made you roll over to face him.

As you did so, you dared to look directly into the brown eyes still clouded by the aftermath of your shared pleasure. "Hey." He muttered in a husky voice.

"Hey," you murmured back, hugging the pillow. "Did you sleep well?"

“Surprisingly—yes," the man stretched his arms, flexing his muscles and checking himself in the mirror on the other side of the room, which you hadn't even noticed. "(Y/n), I want you to go to the office and tell everyone that you're not going anywhere."

Shocked, you blinked several times, not knowing what to say as you hadn't expected anything like this.

With a nervous chuckle that turned into a hearty laugh, you rolled onto your back before sitting up on the bed. "Oh God, you're such a little Delulu, it's even funny," you looked at him—his face was nothing but a blank space without any visible emotions. "Did you really think that random sex would change my mind about changing jobs?" You chuckled again, louder this time. "I mean, the sex was really good, but... it's not like I'm going to give everything for this, you know?" With that, you got up from the bed and wrapped a blanket around yourself. "Can I take a shower?”

Trapped in the thought that only he could know, Patrick rolled onto his back, his eyes fixed on an invisible spot on the ceiling above him. "Yes," he murmured, barely audible. "Do whatever you want."

Walking towards the bathroom, you suddenly stopped and turned half around. "You better forget it," you said, savoring every word and finally returning the favor. "Maybe ask Paul Allen for advice," you grinned as you watched Bateman close his eyes in a feeble attempt to distance himself from everything that had happened. "Maybe he knows something about memory reboot machines that can help."

Without waiting for his answer, you continued on your way to the bathroom. Even though you were pleased with yourself, your revenge didn't taste sweet, but bitter, and its bitterness would remain on the tip of your tongue even after you washed yourself clean under the hot streams of water.

But the game was worth the candle, as they said.

Was it?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader #gn reader

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ateezscupid · 5 months ago

Text

─── FEB FILTH FEST: The Hills - HATE SEX ♡

SUMMARY / You tried to confront your ex, but neither of you could ignore the tension between you two.

warnings ✩ PORN LINK, SMUT, switch!yeosang, switch!reader, fem!reader, so much anger, so much hate, ANGST ANGST ANGST, unprotected sex, degradation (m & f), choking (m & f), literally at each others necks, both of you have cheated on each other

word count ✩ 2,89k

tags ✩ @desirehorizon @tangerineastronaut @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @bbdeongi @dawn-iscozy @xh01bri @mallielovssyou @clxssy1997 @soreberry @nopension @kitten4sannie @faeriehwas @lustfxq @ashistrashhhhhh

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST / FEB FILTH FEST

Knock knock!

You recognized that knock. He was here, finally. The air in your apartment seemed to thicken as Yeosang stepped inside, his eyes searching yours for any trace of the anger that had fueled your phone call earlier. You held his gaze, noticing the way his hair fell across his forehead, the same way it had that first night you met at the bar. You felt the heat rising in your cheeks, not from anger but from something else, something more primal.

"Come in." you say blankly, walking back to your cough and sitting down. The sound of the door closing echoed through the room, a stark reminder of the silence that had settled between you. Yeosang hovered in the doorway for a moment before crossing the threshold, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floorboards.

He sat down opposite you, the couch acting as a barrier that somehow didn't feel substantial enough to contain the electricity that arced through the space separating you. You both knew what this was about, the unspoken words hanging in the air thick as smoke. The tension was palpable, a living, breathing entity that seemed to pulse with every beat of your heart.

"So," he began. His voice was low, a rumble that seemed to resonate in the very walls of the room. "What did you want to talk about?"

You glare. "You know why I told you to come over here, Yeosang. I've had it with the games." Your voice is a tightrope, balancing between anger and something else—desire. You can feel it, the way your body tingles with every word.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and looks at you intently. "What games?" His tone is even, but you can see the muscles in his jaw clench. He's playing it cool, but you know he's just as affected as you are.

"Stop that." you gulp. "Every time I try to talk to you we end up fucking! I told you I wanted to get back together. I told you I wanted to try again and you agreed but never went through with it! Why?! Why can't you ever keep your fucking word?!"

Yeosang's eyes darken. "You act like I'm the reason we're not together anymore." he stands up. "I didn't come here trying to talk to you just so you could curse me out."

You stand as well, your own anger flaring. "You didn't come here to talk, either!" You accuse. "And yeah! You are! You fucking cheated on me!"

He takes a step closer, the heat between you growing, the air around you crackling with unspoken accusations and regrets. "You're not exactly innocent, are you?"

"…" You reply, your voice barely above a whisper. You know he's referring to the nights you spent with other men, trying to dull the pain he caused. But those moments of weakness don't compare to the betrayal he served you. You swallow hard, feeling your throat tighten.

"You did it first. You're not innocent either-"

"So because I did it, it's okay for you to do it?!" he screams, his voice echoing off the walls. Yeosang takes another step closer, his eyes blazing. You can see the hurt in them, the anger he's been holding onto since you first told him about your indiscretions.

"Well don't do some shit like that and then expect me to be okay with it!" You shout back, the room vibrating with your voice. The space between you is charged with anger, but also something else. Something you both refuse to acknowledge.

"I told you I was sorry! We were fucking drunk! You decided to be a fucking whore-"

SLAP!

Your hand connected with his cheek almost immediately, the sound of skin meeting skin reverberating through the room. Yeosang's head snapped to the side, and for a moment, you both just stand there, breathing heavily. You can feel the heat of your hand radiating off your cheek, and the taste of copper fills your mouth as your teeth cut into your bottom lip. You hadn't meant to do that—but the words had just slipped out, and you couldn't take them back.

Instinctively, he wrapped a hand around your neck and you fought with everything in you to not flinch. His grip was tight, but not painful. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between his anger and his desire. And then, just as suddenly as the fight had ignited, it changed. His gaze softened, and his other hand slid down to your shoulder, gripping the fabric of your shirt as he stepped closer, his body pressing into yours. You felt your heart race, the heat from his body searing through your clothes.

He pressed his lips against yours immediately, and you could taste the anger in his kiss, but also something else—desperation. Your body responded before your mind had a chance to catch up, and you found yourself kissing him back with the same intensity. It was messy, desperate, and full of the pain of the words that had been said between you, but it was also full of the passion that had once defined your relationship.

Your hands went to his chest, pushing him away, but your legs buckled, and you ended up pulling him closer instead. His hand slid up your neck to cradle the back of your head, angling your face so he could deepen the kiss. You could feel his tongue probing your mouth, claiming you once again, and a shiver of pleasure ran down your spine. You hated how good it felt, how much you had missed this.

He picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, his body following yours. You landed with a thud, but it was overshadowed by the thunderous beat of your hearts. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and his hands roamed down to your hips, gripping tightly as he ground his erection against you.

"I-I still hate you." you growl between kisses, but your body was telling a different story. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if you could absorb his very essence. Yeosang's hands slipped under your shirt, his calloused fingers tracing the line of your spine, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You arched into his touch, the fabric of your shirt riding up to expose your stomach to the cool air.

"Doesn't matter," Yeosang murmured, his voice thick with need. "I still want you." His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head, revealing your lacy black bra. His eyes raked over your body, taking in every inch of your bare skin, and you couldn't help the way your breath hitched in anticipation.

"D-Don't think this means we're-" you moan when he kisses your neck. "W-we're okay--it doesn't.."

Yeosang's chuckle was low and dark. "It doesn't have to mean anything." He unclasps your bra with a flick of his fingers, letting your breasts spill out. "It's just sex." His words were a lie, but the heat in his eyes was undeniable.

You started unbuttoning your jeans, sliding them down and letting him pull them off and discard them on the floor.

"You still love the way I fuck you," Yeosang murmured into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You gritted your teeth, trying to push aside the truth in his words. You didn't love him, not anymore. You hated him—right? But as his hand trailed down your body to cup your ass, squeezing tightly, your body responded with a betraying moan.

"I don't-" you stammer, but your words are lost as his mouth finds your nipple, teasing it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. You bite your lip to keep from crying out, the sensation too much to handle. Your panties are soaked, and you know he can feel it as he rubs against you, the rough fabric of his own pants a stark contrast to your softness.

He sits up and undoes his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. The sound of his zipper is like a gun cocking in the silent room, and you know what's coming next. You're torn between the anger and the lust, but your body is betraying you—wet and ready for him. Yeosang pulls his pants down, freeing his erection, which stands tall and proud. You can't help but stare, remembering how it felt inside of you.

"Sure you don't." he didn't even look at you. He pushed your panties to the side and lined himself up. You felt the head of his cock against your clit, and your body jerked in response. "But we both know your cunt's been begging for me." He slammed into you without warning, and you cried out, your nails digging into his back. It was rough, almost violent, but it felt so fucking good.

"You asshole," you spat, your eyes watering from the mix of pain and pleasure. "I-I hate you." But even as you said it, your hips rocked against his, urging him deeper. Yeosang's thrusts grew more punishing, each one a silent declaration of his anger and his need for you.

Your teeth gritted as Yeosang's hips piston into you. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, your nipples sensitive and erect, begging for his touch. You're so wet that the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a testament to the intense friction between you.

"You're such a slut," he groaned, his voice a mix of anger and arousal. "Spreading your legs for anyone that looks your way." His words were a knife, slicing through your soul, but your body responded with a tightening of your muscles, gripping his cock like a vise.

"A-And you put your dick in any girl that throws you a smile," you retorted, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. You could feel the orgasm building, your body a coil of tension ready to snap.

He wrapped his hand around your neck once again, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air as he slammed into you. "You're just a worthless whore," he hissed, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Why should I even care about your pathetic attempts to get me back?"

You clawed at his shoulders, feeling the fabric of his shirt tear beneath your nails. "You're nothing but a cheating bastard," you spat back, the taste of his skin on your tongue. "F-Fucking me won't change that!"

His hips stuttered. Your words were hitting him like a truck and you took advantage of that, pushing him away and onto his back, crawling on top of him, your thighs straddling his waist. You slammed down onto his cock, riding him with a ferocity that had him gasping for air, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Is that all you think of me?" you sneered, your voice a serrated whisper. "A whore to be used and thrown away?" With every bounce of your hips, you hammered the question into him, your teeth bared in a snarl.

"That's all you are," Yeosang managed to say through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he met your punishing rhythm. "Just a slut who can't keep your legs shut." His eyes blazed with fury, but his cock remained rock-hard, a stark contrast to the venom in his words.

You laen down, your forehead pressing against his. "Is that all you think of me?" you repeated, your voice a hoarse whisper. "After all we've been through?" You start to ride him harder, each movement punctuated by a snarled word. "Is that all I'm worth to you?"

He grabs your hips, trying to move his own in tandem with yours. "S-Shut up." He grunts through clenched teeth. "You're the one that wanted this."

"Oh, I want it," you admit, leaning down to bite his earlobe with your hand wrapping tightly around his neck. "But I want you to admit that you're just as much to blame for this mess as I am." You grind down harder, watching his eyes roll back in his head. "Say it," you demand.

"I-I'm to blame," Yeosang chokes out, his voice strained. "I'm to blame for fucking you when we both know we shouldn't." His hands grip your hips, pushing you down onto him with renewed vigor.

"Yeah," you moan. "You're to blame for making me want you like this." You lean down and whisper into his ear, "But I hate you for making me want you."

"I bet," he grips your hips and flips you over so you're on your back, his weight pressing you into the couch cushions. He doesn't bother with gentle caresses, instead he slams into you with a brutal force that has you seeing stars. "Doesn't matter. You know you're nothing but a hole for me to fill." he growls, each thrust punctuating his words. You can feel your anger rising to match his, your body moving with his in a dance of pure, unbridled passion and spite.

"You're nothing but a dick," you spit back, your voice hoarse from the pleasure and pain mixing within you. "A worthless piece of meat that thinks it can just fuck me when it wants!" You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, your teeth clenched as your nails dig into his back.

"Yeah?" he pants, failing to hold back his moans. "Well, your pussy loves my dick, doesn't it?" Yeosang's strokes grow faster, his breaths shallower, and you know he's close to the edge. You tighten your legs around him, using your core muscles to squeeze him, to keep him deep inside you as your body begs for release.

"Gonna fill you up so good." Yeosang's voice is a taunt, a challenge. "Show you who you really belong to." He drives into you with an aggression that borders on brutal, his hands bruising your hips. The pain is exquisite, and you hate how much your body responds to it. You want to scream, to claw his eyes out, but instead, you arch your back, offering yourself up to him, begging for more.

"S-Show me." you smile weakly, clawing into his skin. "Y-You're still fucking obsessed with my pussy. Still a fucking manwhore. Can't get enough of me, can you?" The words are acid on your tongue, but they're what he wants to hear. What you both need to hear.

Yeosang's eyes narrowed, the insults stoking the fire in his eyes. "You're just a desperate slut, aren't you?" he snarled, his grip on your hips tightening. "You'd let anyone fuck you to feel wanted again."

"Shut up." you cry out. "I'm so fucking close, shut up!" You can feel your orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure and anger that's about to crash over you like a tidal wave. Yeosang's words are like gasoline on the fire, and you want to hate him for it—but instead, they just make you wetter.

He smirks, his thrusts becoming erratic. "That's right," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal. "You love this. You love the way I treat you like a whore."

You want to argue, to scream in his face that you're not, that he's the one who's ruined everything. But the words die on your lips as his cock hits that perfect spot, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You grit your teeth, trying to hold back the moan that wants to escape.

"You love it when I talk dirty to you," Yeosang whispers, his voice a dark caress against your ear. "You're nothing but a whore, begging for more." His strokes grow harder, his hips slapping against yours with a sound that seems to echo through the room.

You want to scream, to tell him to stop, but all that comes out is a guttural moan as your orgasm crashes through you. "Yeosang," you whimper his name, your voice a plea for release.

He laughs, a harsh sound that sends shivers down your spine. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?" His voice is a mix of triumph and disdain.

"Y-Yeah," you moan. "Just don't stop-" You're so close, your vision swimming with the intensity of your climax.

"Worthless bitch," Yeosang grunts, his grip tightening, his strokes growing more punishing. "Fucking cumdump, yeah?" His voice is a snarl, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and lust. "Admit it."

You bite your bottom lip, feeling the tension in your body coil even tighter. "Asshole," you spit back, your eyes flashing. "I'd rather be a cumdump than a cheating prick like you." The words come out as a moan, your body betraying you as you climb closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm.

And finally, your climax crashes over you, a mix of pleasure and pain that leaves you trembling beneath him. "Yeosang," you moan, his name a curse on your lips as your body convulses around him. You hate the way his name sounds so good coming out of your mouth, especially when you're in the throes of passion.

He doesn't slow down, his own release building as he watches you come apart. "You're mine," he growls, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. The sting of pain is a sharp contrast to the pleasure that's still pulsing through you. "Always have been, always will be."

#february filth fest #ateez #ateez hard hours #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #yeosang smut #yeosang fluff #yeosang ateez #yeosang x reader #yeosang hard thoughts #yeosang hard hours #Spotify

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mercurycft · 1 year ago

Text

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 — 𝐊𝐌

## katie mccabe x reader !!

hi pookies!! once again i apologise for the lateness.. but i really hope you enjoy this.. my little tattoo-lover heart got a little carried away with this, but i love this concept so much and i hope you do too! its a little different than the original idea for the direction of this, but either way, i really enjoyed this!! happy reading! love always - RG! x

i would also like to say! this is inspired by a fic i saw on my feed about a tattoo artist x alexia (i think) and i loved it! if i find the account i will top the link to their fic here!

contains: tattoo artist reader! shameless flirting! angsty make up sex, cocky!katie, fight for dominance, oral - both receiving, rough grabbing, dirty talk, fingering, useless lesbians, top!katie and brat!reader, foul language.

r's masterlist - requests open!

4.6k words

CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE & CONTENT 18+

a knock at your door was a disruption to your night time routine - pyjamas already on, makeup off, hair tied back and your toothbrush hanging from your lips. you slipped on your slippers and headed down the stairs, still brushing your teeth when you pulled the door open to reveal a familiar face.

she was in a similar state. hair tied back messily, loungewear on and no makeup accept for her eyelash extensions. your eyes lifted from the floor to finally meet hers on the other side of the threshold

“katie..?”

“can i come in?”

3 months ago.

a notification past 7pm would usually be ignored.

and it was the first time, then the second, then the third. the fourth, however, was followed by a groan from your sprawled-out position on your sofa. although tempted to put your phone onto 'do not disturb' and continue the twilight marathon you started the previous night, you stretched across the empty space and patted around to locate your phone - simultaneously pausing the tv and shifting to sit with your back against the pillows for a change.

katie_mccabe11 liked your story.

katie_mccabe11 liked your post.

katie_mccabe11 started following you.

you have 1 new message.

"katie mccabe.." you whispered into the emptiness of your apartment, crossing your legs beneath you and clicking on the notification on your screen. "why do i know her.." you racked your brain, pursing your lips. you noted the football shirt in her profile picture alongside the blue verified tick beside her username and used your critical thinking skills to put two and two together, chuckling at the thought of your younger sister losing her mind at another footballer dming you.

you waited a few seconds before opening her message, reading it carefully and silently. "that's how i know her.." you replied to yourself, whilst alone.

last week you had beth mead in your seat at the shop, getting a small paw print behind her ear and chatting yours off in the process. you spoke about a lot of things, you're used to that though. sometimes people just need someone to talk to - and who better than their tattoo artist? you liked beth, she was lovely, easy to talk to. the kind of person you would be friends with. she wasn't with you for long, an hour tops and it flew by. at the end of the appointment you exchanged socials and she left with a 'i'll tell the girls about you!".

you didn't really watch football, but you knew enough - and you would be lying if the thought of your name being chucked around between a very attractive group of women didn't make your stomach twist.

you typed your reply to katie quickly. starting with your usual friendly opening, explaining your upcoming availability and then ending with a single kiss. you had no available appointment spaces for the next three weeks, but you hoped that beth really sold you and your passion enough that she would consider waiting. she read it almost immediately, making your eyes widen and quickly swipe away from the message in an effort to not seem like a total weirdo.

her reply flashed across the top of your screen a few seconds later.

'ill take it x'

—————————

appointment day.

it was appointment day and god were you a nervous wreck. you arrived at the shop an hour earlier than normal to open up and clean before she arrived - she was your first and only appointment of the day and you wanted to make a good first impression. you prepared what you would need, laying your tools out on the table beside you and making a coffee - which would no doubt be freezing cold by the time you actually got around to drinking it.

you connected your phone to the bluetooth speakers around the room and shuffled your playlist just as the doorbell rang from the front of the shop. 7:59. you didn't know much about katie, having restrained yourself from going full-on stalker mode over the last few weeks leading up to her appointment. but clearly she was punctual.

as you unlocked the door and smiled to her through the glass, you couldn't help but realise how strikingly attractive she was. her hair pulled into a tight and slick ponytail at the back of her head, a deep green tracksuit complimenting her tanned skin and bright eyes.

"good morning!" you greeted cheerfully, welcoming her in.

you watched as her eyes scanned around the room, studying the artwork on the walls before they landed back on you and a smile spread across her face to match yours.

"mornin' hope i've not been a fuss this early.." she joked as you embraced each other in one of those awkward-but-friendly-first-meeting hugs, causing you to laugh softly.

"oh it's no bother, serious." you waved her comment off, shutting the door behind you both and leading her over to your station at the back of the shop. you didn't expect her accent to be so thick, but the way her voice sat heavy in the space between you had you clenching your jaw.

the pair of you made small talk as she got situated and sat on the leather bed whilst you pulled up a stall and your phone to take another look at the pictures she had previously sent, grabbed a pen and then pulled a pad of paper onto your lap. laying the phone down so she could see as well.

you sat across from katie, discussing designs and what she would and wouldn't like. she was engrossed in the conversation, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as you shared ideas and suggestions. you found yourself doodling on the paper, absentmindedly drawing whatever came to mind as she chatted about the specifics of what she wanted. every now and then, your eyes would meet hers, and a playful smile would tug at the corners of your lips.

there was silence between you for a few beats as your pen etched across the paper and completed the first sketch of the possible design. when you finished you looked up and turned the paper towards her before you could ask how she felt about it she spoke up.

"how do you do that?"

"do what?" you replied playfully with a smile.

"how can you just listen and draw? it's so cool.." she sounded genuinely bewildered for a moment and you couldn't help but laugh lowly.

"honestly, it just happens. when someone describes what they want i see it in my head and just let my pen translate it." you explained with a shrug, looking at her again.

"well its sick, i won't lie!"

"thank you.. i'm a woman of many, many talents.." it came out a lot more suggestive sounding than intended, mental cursing yourself and begging internally that she wouldn't see the pink tint you could feel spreading across your cheeks. you looked back down at the page before she could notice, avoiding her eyes.

"oh i bet." she added, smirking across from you.

you both sat like that for another ten minutes, brainstorming ideas and katie watching you bring them to life like a magician until you both finally settled on a design. you couldn’t believe how natural the interaction was coming and conversation flowing. you embraced the shared banter between you and leant into her jokes.

the design she had settled on was small and intricate but you knew you could free-hand it, so decided against using a stencil for the work. “right, i am gonna wash my hands and get everything sterilised, you get comfy and have a think about where you want it. okay?” you said as you stood up and ripped out the page you were using, placing it beside your other supplies so it was easy to use as a reference. katie replied with a small “sounds good to me,” and you heard her shuffle around the bed and as you made your way to the sink you could feel her eyes on you, following you away.

when you returned to her, she was sat more comfortably and had discarded her hoodie. the ribbed vest she was hiding left little to your imagination, revealing her arms and more of that heavenly tanned skin to your prying eyes. you tried not to look, but were made too aware of yourself failing miserably when she caught your gaze and you watched her suppress a chuckle.

once you were situated on the stool again, you took a deep breath and turned towards her. “so where are you thinking?” she sat silently in response, deep in thought.

“either here,” she pointed to the inside of her bicep to punctuate her point “or here..” she added quietly as her thumb hooked into the waistband of her joggers and shimmied them down a couple of inches until you could see the skin at the bottom of her stomach- in line with her hip. perhaps you looked for a second too long, or she heard you gulp, or maybe your fears were real and she could in fact hear your heart rattling against the boney cage of your ribs in your heaving chest - but the way you heard her exhale a humorous breath and tense her stomach muscles snapped you back into reality.

“which one would you prefer?” you questioned, professionally.

“probably my hip.” you nodded in agreement, smiling and internally celebrating at her decision. “and as a bonus i get to watch you gawk at me for however long it takes,” she teased, earning a small smack to the upper thigh and an eye roll.

“i was absolutely not gawking!” you defended with a smile.

“oh yeah, alright then..”

you rolled your eyes again and stood to grab a small bottle of sanitiser and a disposable razor, placing them on the table - once you made sure she was comfortable you sat down again.

“i’m going to pull your joggers down a couple inches, is that okay?” you waited for her reply before making any moves closer to her.

“of course,”

“perfect.”

you got straight to work, dragging them down until the area she had pointed out was revealed again - only this time you could see the band of her underwear peaking out from beneath the fabric and it had you drawing in a careful breath. you circled the skin with your pinky finger lightly and showed her the length and width the ink would cover, double checking that was exactly where she wanted.

the tattoo itself took no longer than forty minutes to complete. once you were finished you sanitised and made sure it was exactly how she wanted before moving to discard any disposables used. she took it like a champ the entire time, only slightly flinching when the needle grazed a particularly tender spot.

you spoke to her about the aftercare and how to take care of it whilst it healed, then covered it with second skin and soothed the area - moving to wash your hands and stand against the counter. “any questions?”

you sat speaking for another hour, and you were sure at times she was stalling so she wouldn’t need to leave.

“when do you finish?”

“whenever you want to go,”

“why didn’t you say! i don’t want to hold you up, love..” she tutted and began collecting her stuff. you laughed at her huffing like a child and led her towards the front desk.

the petname made your stomach jump, twisting and twitching in your abdomen as you studied her. the way she moved and smiled, how her eyes pierced through you like she was reading your mind - how you were so sure she actually could see and read the filth behind your own eyes.

at the front she paid and thanked you another couple hundred times as you let her out the door. she stepped over the threshold and gave you another small hug. “thank you again, i really love it.”

“stop thanking me! i’m just glad i could do your vision justice..” you smiled and shrugged, “you’re welcome anytime, just pop me a message!”

“that’s just because you want to look at my stomach again..” she called, walking to her car and waving.

“shut up.” you rolled your eyes, laughing. “don’t be a stranger!”

—————————

during the appointment you and katie exchanged numbers and for days, weeks, months you texted each other everyday. you met for coffee, went to watch her and the team (who you got along with swimmingly) practice, you even went to watch all of their matches.

you had been inseparable since that first meeting, you shared things about each other previously unknown by anyone, spent evenings and nights at each others homes and got aquatinted with family and friends.

after spending so long together, the pair of you had become incredibly close - often sharing a bed, and clothes. you couldn’t help but feel things for her, for katie. your stomach became a harvest ground for butterflies and your heart rattled with longing for her.

you came close to telling her, to explaining how you felt - until one day, it just stopped.

the meetings stopped,

then the match invites,

then the messages,

everything stopped.

—————————

present day - 2 months later.

over the last months without talking to katie, you threw yourself into work and university in an attempt to distract yourself. you felt like you were going through a break up - could you even call it that? could you categorise this into the break up section? a friend break up? whatever it was, it hurt, and you found yourself still thinking about her.

friday nights felt weird now. usually sat on the sofa with a takeaway, katie sat on the other side with her food in her lap - laughing at some stupid program she had put on. now it was empty in the apartment, and you sat on the sofa alone with a cup of tea watching telly until it was time to get ready for bed.

you showered, careful to avoid putting soap the area of your newest tattoo addition on your wrist - letting the warm water run over the skin. when you were done, you made sure to moisturise and then cover it up again before getting dressed into your pjs.

you brushed your hair, and then began brushing your teeth - staring at yourself in the mirror and studying the ink that now littered your arms and chest.

you were deep in though when a a knock at your door disrupted your night time routine - still brushing your teeth when you pulled the door open to reveal a familiar face. your eyes lifted from the floor to finally meet hers on the other side of the threshold.

“katie..?

“can i come in?”

“uh, yeah- yeah- sure,” you stammered and stepped back to open the door wider for her, stepping away into the kitchen area to spit the froth from your toothpaste into the sink and quickly rinse before running back to shut the door behind her.

it was awkward. she stood in front of you in silence for a few beats, looking down at the ground as if she was figuring out what to say. you stood a few steps away, leant on the wall beside you with your arms crossed across your chest.

"why are you-"

"look i dont know why-"

you both spoke over eachother, breaking the silence that sat heavy between the walls. you shared a smile, it was brief, but it was there as you met her blues and waved your hand - gesturing for her to continue.

"look, i don't know why i'm here. i just got in my car and then i was on the drive and i just needed to speak to you. i just wanted to see you-"

"oh god you never shut up mccabe.." you whispered with an eye roll as you advanced towards her.

one step. what if she doesn't want this?

two steps. what if i've read this all wrong?

three steps. jesus her perfume..

every step you took was narrated by that voice in your head, you know, that one that tells you to shut up in uncomfortable situations and the one that speaks to you when you watch something brilliantly but so stupidly funny. you couldn't stop to think out loud, you couldn't stop full stop. point blank. period.

your feet were moving faster than your thoughts, and your thoughts were moving faster than your logic until you were so close you could feel her soft breath caressing the skin of your face.

"tell me not to, and i won't." you said softly

"god, you've always been too sweet for me."

there was no time to register what she said, her lips were on yours. they were everything you had thought of, they were soft but she kissed you with urgency. breathing heavily as her hands raised to either side of your face, pulling you closer than physically possible. your lips moved together sweetly, full of love.

you stayed like that for a few minutes, soaking each other in until she pulled away. lips swollen, taking a deep breath. there were no words exchanged between you, only eye contact - the sound of breathing shared. then you crashed together again, lips connected for a second time in the space of five minutes.

this time however, was harsher, and fast-paced. she was in control, gagging for it. hands grabbing at whatever fabric they could find on the opposing body, a small moan falling from your lips when her hands squeezed the skin of your waist and her lips broke from yours momentarily to grunt out a "jump." to which you gladly obliged, legs wrapping around her waist and her hands finding the skin at the top of your thighs - she held you like nothing, with no struggle as she passed through the hall and up the four steps to your bedroom.

when she placed you back down onto your feet you were quick to tug your top up and over your head, discarding it on the floor. before you could continue she grabbed your hand, finger tracing gently over the still-fresh tattoo across your wrist.

"this is new," katie whispered.

"i had a lot of time on my hands." you replied at the same volume, shrugging. she chuckled lightly, reading the words now littering the skin. "and you were always saying i was sweet.."

"aye, and you're yet to prove me wrong."

"don't start something you can't finish, katie."

"oh i'm very, very good at finishing, actually."

"shut up."

this time you had her, hands on the back of her neck as you pulled her in. grabbing the fabric that sat at the nape of her neck and pulling it over her head, only breaking the kiss until your path was cleared again. you span around, walking backwards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed causing her to lay down. you wasted no time in straddling the top of her thighs, arms on either side of her head.

"behave." she muttered, hands gripping your thighs and switching your positions on the bed, now towering over you, arms replacing yours on the bed. mouth moving to your neck, nipping at the skin beneath your ear. "stop acting like you don't want me to have my way with you."

"stop acting like you've got it in you." you quipped back, smirking when her teeth grazed your earlobe roughly. her hand raising to grip your jaw and forcefully turn your head to face her.

"is that a challenge? hm?" it was rhetorical, her eyebrows raised and voice low.

"prove it."

she didn't need further pushing, lifting herself off the bed and taking a few steps back. you propped yourself up onto your elbows to watch, head tilted when she stared at you blankly. eyes flicking to your shorts before back up to your face.

"take em' off."

"you take them off."

"take. them. off. i won't be asking again."

you gave in with a huff, rolling your eyes and lifting your hips to peel your shorts off. biting down a smirk as you lifted your legs back onto the bed - revealing yourself to her.

"awfully cocky there, love."

"as if you don't love it."

"do you always have such a smart mouth?"

"i have a very lovely mouth."

"oh i bet."

she was on her knees then, face level with you. eyes locked on your gleaming pussy, fingers gliding through your folds and collecting your slick before bringing her digits to slip between her lips - tasting you. she laid her fingers back against you, prints flat against your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure to make your head fall back on the bed behind you with a desperate moan.

she drew tight circles, watching you throb beneath her fingers. you moaned at the contact, your clit already sensitive. you didn't know how she managed it, but she had you falling apart from the pressure alone - and you could tell she loved every second of it with her lips drawn into a cocky smirk at the sight of your mouth falling agape when you began rutting up into hands as a plea for more.

“does that feel good darlin'?” she asked from between your thighs, her lips pressed against the soft skin of your leg, stopping their sloppy kisses for a second. you whimpered in response, nodding slowly. “use your words, love.”

“yes it feels good..” you whispered, licking your lips, your mouth increasingly dry.

“good girl..” she added, jaw clenched when she attached her lips to your thighs again. you savoured the feeling, the delicious feeling as she dragged her fingers roughly against you. the praise made your legs tense against her lips, sending a rush of pleasure down through the depths of your stomach.

“i want more. please.”

"hm? what was that?”

“i want your fingers..” you confessed, dragging your own teeth along the back of your hand which you were using to muffle the sultry sounds tumbling from your lips - biting down against the skin when you felt your face flush.

“please,” you begged, hips rising off the bed in a desperate act for more friction. she shut you down quickly, using her free hand to pin your hips back to the mattress.

“please what, darling..” she stalled, slowing down to an unbearable speed.

“i need you to fuck me,” your words made you squirm, eagerly waiting as you felt a single finger travel down and tease your hole before she pushed into you slowly. her own thighs clenching at the sound of you gasping as she added another finger, curling them methodically inside of you.

she stretched you out perfectly, her fingers moving at just the right speed to have you moaning with every thrust into you. her pace and pressure increased with the volume of your whimpers, back arched into her touch and face buried in your arms as her fingers pressed perfectly inside of you. she curled her fingers to press against your g-spot, mentally noting how perfect you sounded chanting her name. taking advantage of you being preoccupied by the pleasure, she moved to lay her tongue flat against your clit. fingers still moving inside you as she carefully flicked the bundle of nerves between her lips.

a moan rattled from the back of her throat as you coated her taste buds, the vibrations travelling straight to the fire now raging in the pit of your stomach and coursing through your legs - coaxing out a moan of your own.

she felt you tense and squeeze around her fingers, your clit throbbing against her mouth when she lifted her eyes to survey the scene above her. your eyes screwed shut and teeth gripping your bottom lip so tight it was sure to leave a mark. chest heaving and hands twisting in the sheets.

"you going to cum for me?"

“y-yes,” you stuttered, eyes rolling into the back of your head when her fingers curled a final time and she took your clit into her mouth with a pop.

“thats it. good girl.”

that was all it took for you, your orgasm crashing through your body and shaking through your limbs. legs shaking beside her head and cunt tensing around her fingers. back arched and screaming out her name.

katie let you ride it out, only stilling her fingers and withdrawing her tongue from you when your back finally laid against the bed again - catching your breath. she brought her fingers up to your mouth and slipped them past your lips for a second as she moved to straddle you, climbing up from the floor. her fingers dragged down the length of your chin and were replaced with her mouth, her tongue finding yours - allowing you to taste yourself from her mouth.

"wanna taste you," you managed to croak out through the kisses, gulping and lifting your hands to press against her chest. pushing her back and towards the pillows at the head of the bed until she was laid down. "my turn.." you whispered seductively in her ear, lips pursed and leaving small kisses in your path as you travelled down the length of her body.

her tracksuit bottoms were removed quickly and your fingers were hooked into the band of her underwear, pulling them down her tanned legs until they followed the rest of the clothes to reside on the floor. she was dripping, and the sight alone was enough to have you salivating below her.

the scrunchie in your hair had loosened after the previous events of the evening, and your hair was limp enough for her to slide her hand into the back of your locks. gripping tightly and pulling you closer to her pussy.

"go on, make me feel good."

you needed no further instruction, moving closer to her before she had even finished the sentence. you laid your tongue flat against her, lapping her up. she tasted almost as good as she looked. her eyes focused on you and her hand tight against your scalp, guiding you.

you couldn't look away, allowing her to take you as she wanted. moving your head against the rhythm of her hips - moaning your name when your eyes met hers innocently. her head fell against the headboard when you whimpered against her, her own noises mirroring yours as her legs started to close around your head.

"fuck, thats it. i'm gonna cum," she groaned, both hands on the back of your head as you drank her in. nodding eagerly between her thighs, silently begging for her to cum for you.

and she did. hard. crying your name out into the room around you, followed by a string of curses until she finally released your head from her hands and her legs laid limp beside her on the bed.

"jesus christ."

"nope, just me." you teased, now occupying the space beside her on the pillows. both of your bodies coated in a sheen layer of sweat and your eyes threatened to close with the sound of her steady breathing when her arms moved to embrace you.

"i didn't mean to just disappear how i did," she began, causing you to look at her again. "i just didn't want you to get caught up in the shit show that is my life,"

"katie, you could've just said you needed a bit of space,"

"but i don't think that's what i wanted, i just didn't to ruin what we were doing, and well, making.." she paused, taking one of your hands into her own and bringing her lips to press against the skin.

"you were just too sweet to me,"

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omartinyosef · 1 year ago

Text

ST5 POTENTIAL SPOILERS!!!

GUYS I FOUND THIS ON REDDIT AND ACTUALLY IT'S QUITE INTERESTING

ST5 Leaks/Fleaks

Gen Plot

Season picks up briefly where we left off in 1986 before jumping into either late 1987 or early 1988. The season is contained entirely in apocalyptic Hawkins. Things with the government are shaky. Owens doesn't appear in the beginning of the season and it's unclear if he's returning, but Ellen Stinson is the new Owens. Hawkins is like a combination of the UD and Kamchatka.

Labyrinths/Mazes being important to both the supernatural plot and the interpersonal relationships. They're inherently linked.

Two songs to be featured are 'Listen to Your Heart' and 'Alone,' both of which were apparently foreshadowed in a previous conversation between Hopper and Joyce, similar to how Hopper's "I'm the puppet, you're the master" to Joyce in S3 basically foreshadowed Eddie's 'Master of Puppets' in S4.

S1 and 2 scenes being referenced are "Nancy and Mike's conversation in the bathtub" and "Hopper + Lando Calrissian"

Lots of importance in COLOR CODING and blocking from the final shot of S4, and a good chunk is told in the costuming—like passing the torch from one character to another as their arcs overlap. For example, Hopper and Will share the "am I the curse and therefore putting my loved ones at risk by being near them?" sentiment for S5, therefore their wardrobe in the final shot of S4 is similar. Joyce/Jonathan and Nancy/Mike's costuming also similar for the same reason, whereas Eleven stands out because she's the first one coming into her own this season. The white for her represents shedding of false skins.

Character duos this season will be primarily dressed in colors of blue/green and yellow/red.

There's lots of symbolism and foreshadowing for every character in S5 from the moment Will touches his neck in the last sequence of S4.

S4 focused on themes of lies and miscommunication, and everyone is going to have to work through these lies before they can defeat Vecna.

Murray and Argyle are both back. Dimitri and Yuri don't seem to be in the beginning of the season.

One thing left unresolved with the Russian plot. Something important will happen involving the machine and the green liquid from the Starcourt bunker. Reference of Dustin vowing to die with Steve when they initially discovered it.

Hopper, Joyce, Mike, Will, and El had to be away from Hawkins, otherwise Vecna wouldn't have won.

An important death that they're nervous about given the reception to Eddie (not Joyce or Jonathan—see details below).

Eleven

We'll see her unlike we've seen her before. A badass who doesn't take shit from anyone. Not a Monster, not a Hero, Jane. Think: adult El could be headed for a Charles Xavier type role.

Erica, Lucas, and El will share scenes together.

El has significant blocking and development with many characters this season.

Max, Eleven & Max

The "kaleidoscope of colors" from a script the writers posted makes a feature in both the scene where young El remembers her mother's love in order to defeat Henry in the lab, as well as the scene where El revives Max. This is significant because it's the first time we see El using her powers on someone in a non-violent way.

El was able to revive Max because of she, herself, being revived in the bunker by Brenner and Co. It's a show, don't tell moment from the writers.

Max getting Vecna'd was foreshadowed in the beginning of 2x01.

Will, Henry/Vecna, The UD

Filming was supposed to commence mid-June, but Noah and Jamie were set to begin in May due to more complicated costuming. Will is going to require heavy prosthetics at some point.

Will's character design is blocked in three stages. The more the UD bleeds into Hawkins, the more connected to it he feels. The gates being open will physically influence him, especially when he's not as mentally strong.

He's kind of like "the card up Vecna's sleeve."

It appears they want to confuse the audience about Will.

Will wrestling with his own morality

Henry/Will mirrors. Will will sympathize with Henry because, unlike El, he knows how and what Henry thinks, and he can feel him.

Vecna and Will are very similar, but the difference is Will is made stronger by love not hate. They will play into that duality.

Vecna was nerfed in S4 compared to how we see him in S5. He'll be much stronger.

At the beginning, he'll be taking a hiatus while he plans how to divide and conquer now that everyone's back together in Hawkins.

Soteria will be the key to saving Will. If they want Will to be untraceable to Henry, they'll have to insert it into his neck and it'll be painful. Vecna not having access to Will fucks up his ability to leave the UD.

Byler/Mileven Triangle

Apparently, it's complicated and up in the air as of now.

Mike dealing with guilt this season. He feels guilty/responsibility for El. He feels stuck in a loop that keeps him from a truth he's scared to face.

Will and Mike to spend a good chunk of the season together based on character designs and blocking.

Will telling El that Mike won't like being lied to comes back with the painting. During a pre-time jump scene in 5x01, while everyone's together plotting how to defeat Vecna and brainstorming how to save Max, Mike brings up the painting El commissioned for a D&D analogy. Will has to pull Mike aside and confess he lied about El commissioning the painting. Mike gets angry, because he doesn't know about Will's feelings and feels embarrassed that Will thought he was that pathetic he needed to be given a pep talk. Their own version of a "fight you can't come back from." Immediately after their fight, we get the time skip.

Mike's character motivations are unclear and seem to be kept under wraps. After the time jump, he and El won't be talking as much because he's keeping the details about Will's painting from her. She's gonna ask what's wrong between him and Will, and he lies/is very vague.

Joyce, Hopper, Jopper

Joyce feels immense guilt/responsible over Bob's death since she's the one that asked him to help in S2, which is why she pushed Hopper away at first.

Hopper has a secret from S1 that was never addressed, and it comes back to haunt him.

Joyce sustains an injury in S5 that is reminiscent of the way someone was injured in S3, but it isn't critical and she'll be okay.

Jopper are the most established couple after the time jump. Lots of bickering still, but Hopper trusts Joyce more than he ever has.

Jonathan, Nancy, Jancy

So far, does not seem like a breakup is happening.

Jonathan's still lying about the college letter and distant because of it, and Nancy thinks he's not as into the relationship and that there might be someone else. She confronts him, which leads to a talk. She's touched by the lengths he would go to try and protect her and any of their future children even from himself.

A moment where we're led to believe Jonathan dies but doesn't, like Hopper in S3.

Hopper-Byers Family

These five characters slowly unraveling their arcs together and have always been closely linked. Their perfect endings are together.

We see the family combining, especially in relation to El.

Joyce gets to witness Hopper being paternal and tender towards the boys.

Scenes with Joyce, Jonathan, and Will

Hopper being back lifts a weight off Jonathan's shoulders.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, now time to shine.

''(...) sentiment for S5, therefore their wardrobe in the final shot of S4 is similar. Joyce/Jonathan and Nancy/Mike's costuming also similar for the same reason, (...)''

Okay. How did we see Nancy in S4? Confused. Confused with the love triangle between Jonathan, her and Steve. Jonathan is her actual boyfriend. And Steve is her posible love interest again.

So, putting this in byler language: Nancy = Mike Jonathan = Eleven Will = Steve

If Mike's and Nancy's character's clothing is important at this point of the time line and that means they feel similar feelings, this could mean that byler has a chance. BUT then we read this: ''(...) He (Mike) feels stuck in a loop that keeps him from a truth he's scared to face.'' And

''Mike's character motivations are unclear and seem to be kept under wraps.''

THIS LITERALLY MEANS BYLER. FOR REAL. Like byler could be endgame. Also, remember Eleven's injury in S3? Do you remember the leak of a shoe covered in blood?

It's Joyce. ALSO YOU CAN READ THAT WE'LL HAVE SCENES BEFORE THE TIME JUMP. And here it comes. Look at this freaking hair:

Does this look more like this

or this?

The season 4 bowl cut right? So maybe this is right in some part? I dont know. But that could make sense why Will is wearing Mike's pants, because his clothes were in California by that moment. But i really do think that the pic that was leaked a few days ago is before the time jump.

Im so late with this info haha :) but i kinda think some things here make sense. Even if this is too well explained to be a leak.

#stranger things s5 #st5 spoilers #stranger things 5 #st5 #stranger things #st5 speculation #st5 leaks #st5 production #will byers #stranger things season 5 #will byers is gay #byler tumblr #william byers #byler is endgame #byler endgame #byler nation #byler #mike wheeler is gay

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hanahanumana · 10 months ago

Text

From AnaMaria Abramovic on Fb

Paste magazine has done an article about Michael and how underrated he is in Good Omens and I found a transcript since it's behind a paywall. Here's the link if anyone wants to subscribe. 💙

https://www.pastemagazine.com/tv/amazon-prime-video/good-omens-michael-sheen-underrated-performance-explained-streaming

There’s so much to love about Prime Video’s Good Omens. A delightful adaptation of the popular Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett novel of the same name, the series is romantic, thoughtful, hilarious, and heartfelt by turns. The story of the almost-apocalypse and what comes afterward, it wrestles with big concepts like destiny, free will, and forgiveness, all framed through the lens of an unorthodox relationship between an angel and a demon whose love for one another is a key to saving the world.

As anyone who has watched Good Omens already knows, nothing about this series works without the pair of lead performances at its center. Stars David Tennant and Michael Sheen—who play the demon Crowley and the angel Aziraphale, respectively—have the kind of lighting-in-a-bottle chemistry that’s the stuff of legend, and their characters’ every interaction conveys both their deep affection for one another and the Earth they’ve made their home. Their romance is the emotional linchpin around which most of the series turns, and their heartbreaking separation in the Season 2 finale is so devastating precisely because we’ve seen how necessary the two are to each other’s lives.

But it’s Sheen’s performance in that final scene that really twists the knife. As Aziraphale’s face crumples following his and Crowley’s long-awaited kiss, the actor manages to convey what feels like every possible human emotion in the span of less than thirty seconds as the angel realizes what he has both had and just lost. The moment is emotionally brutal to watch, particularly after sitting through five and a half episodes of Aziraphale looking as lovestruck as the lead in any rom-com. Sheen makes it all look effortless, shifting from giddy joy to devastated longing and everything in between, and we really don’t talk enough about how powerful and underrated his work in this series truly is.

Though he’s half of the central duo that makes Good Omens tick, Sheen’s role often tends to get overshadowed by his co-star’s. It’s not difficult to see why, given that Tennant gets to spend most of the show swanning around in tight trousers looking like the Platonic ideal of the charming bad boy, complete with flaming red hair and dramatic eyewear. Tennant also benefits from Crowley’s much more sympathetic emotional arc. I mean, it’s hard not to love a cynical demon with a heart of gold who’s been pining after his angelic best friend for literal millennia even after being cast out from Heaven. Of course, viewers are drawn to that—likely a lot more easily than the story of an angel who’s simply trying the best he can to do the right thing as he wrestles with his role in God’s Ineffable Plan. Plus, let’s be real, Tennant’s sizeable Doctor Who fanbase certainly doesn’t hurt his character’s popularity.

As a performer, Sheen has a long history of playing both real people (Tony Blair, David Frost, Brian Clough) and offbeat villains (Prodigal Son’s Martin Whitly, Underworld’s Lucian, the Twilight Saga’s Aro). In some ways, the role of a fussy, bookish angel is playing more than a bit against type for him—Gaiman himself has said he originally intended for Sheen to be Crowley—but in his capable hands, Aziraphale becomes something much more than a simple avatar for the forces of Good (or even of God, for that matter). With a soft demeanor and a positively blinding smile, Sheen’s take on the character consistently radiates warmth and goodness, even as it contains surprisingly hidden depths. The former guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden who gifted a fleeing Adam and Eve his flaming sword and befriended the Serpent who caused their Fall, Azirphale isn’t a particularly conventional angel. He enjoys all-too-human indulgences like food and wine, runs a Hoarders-esque bookshop that never seems to sell anything, and spends most of his time making heart eyes at the being that’s meant to be his hereditary adversary.

Given the much more difficult task of playing the literal angel to Tennant’s charming devil, Sheen must find a way to make ideas like goodness and forgiveness as interesting and fun to watch as their darker counterparts. It’s a generally thankless task, but one that Sheen tackles with gusto, particularly in the series’ second season, as Good Omens explores Aziraphale’s slowly evolving idea of what he can and cannot accept in terms of being a soldier of Heaven. His growing understanding that the truth of creation is colored in shades of grey and compromise is often conveyed through little more than Sheen’s deftly shifting expressions and body language.

Our pop culture consistently struggles to portray the idea of goodness as something compelling or worth watching. Explicitly “good” characters, particularly those who are religiously coded, are frequently treated as the butt of some sort of unspoken joke they aren’t in on, used to underline the idea that faith is a form of naivety or that kindness is somehow a weakness. For a lot of people, the entire concept of turning the other cheek is a sucker’s bet, and believing in something greater than oneself, be it a higher power or a sense of purpose, is a waste of time. But Good Omens is a story grounded in the idea that faith, hope, and love—for one another, God, and the entire world—are active verbs. And nowhere is that more apparent than in Sheen’s characterization of the soft angel whose old-fashioned waistcoats mask a spine of steel and who refuses to give up—on Crowley, on humanity, or on the idea that Heaven is still something that can be saved.

Though he and Tennant have pretty much become a matched set at this point (both on and off-screen), Sheen’s performance has rarely gotten the critical accolades it deserves. (Tennant alone was nominated for a BAFTA for Season 2, and Sheen was categorized as a supporting actor when the series’ competed in the 2019 Saturn Awards.) But it is his quiet strength that holds up so much of the rest of the show around him, and Sheen deserves to be more frequently recognized for it. That he makes it look so easy is just another sign of how good his performance really is.

#good omens #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #michael sheen #aziracrow

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ldysmfrst · 7 months ago

Text

Incomplete (4) - 8 Makes 1 Team, But 9 Make...

Paring: Ateez OT8 x Plus-sized FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 3 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 14,942

Word count for Story: 33,808

Genre: Idol Soulmate AU

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This story will contain a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter contains panic attacks, the death of a non-main character, y/n having lots of negative emotions towards self, Protective San, and Shielded Jongho.

Story Summary: Ateez are soulmates who earned their way to Fame once they found each other. What happens when a new pull comes during their Towards The Light World Tour? Does 8 really make 1?

INCOMPLETE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

With their attention entirely on the oldest of the three ladies in the room, silence looms. There was a slight tension because they were finally learning something about you besides your name.

Seonghwa could feel your unease and– guilt?

Cindy looked at each of the bonded soulmates before stopping at Seonghwa and said, “Y/n… Y/n’s soulmate was murdered on June 15, 2016– on her 18th birthday.”

Ateez stared at Cindy wide-eyed and dropped chins because that wasn’t possible. Denial ran through the bonded group like a tide wave from everyone but Jongho, who still had minor reservations. As far as everyone they saw, all the signs were there that this woman sitting next to their oldest bonded mate was indeed another link in the bond.

They were your soulmates, not this other person, right?

“I know this may seem like a stupid question, but” Jongho breaks the silence, his mind diving back into the secure walls he always kept around his heart. Maybe his soulmates were wrong, and this is just another game.

“No, no. Let’s start with a non-stupid question… what do you mean Y/n has a soulmate already?” asks Wooyoung.

Another silent conversation happens between the three ladies before the younger friend speaks. God, what San wouldn’t give to gain mind reading as an ability instead of pinning. He doesn’t have to have Seonghwa’s ability to see your emotions, which are not in a good place right now, and it cuts his soul not to know how or why.

“Darren Donahue. Y/n and Darren were instant friends when she transferred to our school in the middle of 3rd grade. They were inseparable all through the rest of elementary school and into high school,” says Kat.

“After growing up with soulmates as parents,” Kat smiles gently at Cindy. “I had an innate understanding of how to spot soulbonds or possibilities. It was resoundingly clear that there was a potential bond between them. Darren was a year older than Y/n when he turned 18 and could finally connect with his soulmate if he had one… but he never even looked.”

“Darren had asked Y/n’s mom to take her out for her 18th birthday. By that time, he had told several of us that his heart knew she would be his,” added Cindy. “All of us were supportive because we all agreed. Sure, there was a chance that we were all wrong. Ever since… we kind have wished we were.”

The boys watched as you sunk more into yourself. Now more than ever, Seonghwa wants to stop the feeling of guilt coming off you in waves, but looking at Jongho’s stern face, he understands that, for some reason, his ability cannot get through to you.

“Y/n, how did you know that Darren was your soulmate? Did you bond?” questions Hongjoong, hoping to get a clearer picture of what has happened and, in turn, what is happening.

Looking at the Captain, you nod and show them a deep, still pink, rough scar carved into your arm. “He was with me at midnight when I turned 18. I gained my soulmate ability to feel emotions right away, but I don’t know what he was because we never got to...” your voice cuts as Ateez watches the tears fall.

Glancing over at Hongjoong with his firm jaw, Yeosang feels helpless. He can see that the other members are feeling similarly. San blinks his eyes rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. Wooyoung hasn’t looked up since you answered his question. Yunho and Mingi look like they want to go on a murder spree because none of them know what to do to help you.

They are useless to what their ladymate has gone through, and they don’t know what the future will hold since… well, since, according to popular belief, you only have one complete soulmate bond within a lifetime. The scar on your arm must be where your soulmate's mark formed when the bond was completed. Why it is a scar now will have to be discussed later.

Seonghwa watches your face as it silently contorts through what he can only think are memories and silently cries with you. If you and he had the same ability you gained once you bonded with this Darren… then you survived more than anyone will truly understand.

Jongho moves to stand behind the soulmate he can help and brings Hwa out of his small spiral of guilt for you for living with what happened. No one should have something so precious ripped from their hearts after such a short time.

“Maybe we are second chances,” comments Yunho. “They are practically unheard of and even rarer to be at the numbers we are.”

“Yeah, sure, Yunho,” scoffs Jongho. “If we were second-chance soulmates, then why would she not respond to all of our abilities? Where is our soulmate mark?”

The men are at a loss, and from the contemplative looks on your friend’s face, they see that they aren’t the only ones. None of them are well educated in the realm of soulmates and soul bonding. They don’t have answers for anyone, which doesn’t settle well with Hongjoong, Seonghwa, San, and Mingi. Is there anyone who they could talk to?

The sound of someone clearing their throat pulls everyone’s attention to their manager, which gains him some glaring from the demon line. “I hate to say this, but we need to leave for the BMO soon, Hongjoong-ssi,” he says nervously.

San stands up quickly. “We can’t leave her right now. It won’t be suitable for any of us. Things are already strained as they are.”

“San-hyung, we don’t understand what is happening. It could be stress and timing that is causing all of this,” comments Jongho with an almost dismissive attitude.

“Excuse me?!!?” challenges San, squaring off towards the group's youngest member.

“Go,” you firmly say. “You need to be there for Atiny tonight just like you were there for us last night. I cannot be the reason for anything that affects the show or makes you all late. You did fine without me before. It’s not like I will be any help now.”

“Things have changed, Y/n. You made contact with San-ah and Seonghwa-hyung, meaning the soul-bonding has started with the two of them and yourself,” interjects Yeosang.

Ignoring Jongho’s not-so-silent scoffing, Hongjoong adds, “Once a soul-bonding starts in a group, it is fragile until the rest of the group bonds. It doesn’t finalize until everyone accepts it though.”

“You mean she has to follow you around now? Until everyone accepts her and vice versa?” asks Kat. “How will that work and not end up all over Dispatch or TMZ?”

“I can help with that, Miss Kat,” a young man says, stepping up from the corner dressed like he should be attending a kind of Paramore concert. “I am Mathew and I have been assigned to you three as a personal bodyguard for the remainder of your trip.”

“Excuse me?” questions Kat, their eyes looking the man up and down with confusion.

“I will explain later, Kat, before we leave the hotel,” intervenes Cindy. “How can you help?”

Mathew looks to Hongjoong and Seonghwa and then turns to their manager. “Tonight, I was supposed to have the night to watch the concert from the crowd. If we could get tickets for the three of them seated with me, we could attend the concert and reduce the distance between them all.”

“She would have to be closer than she was last night since the bonding has started,” adds Mingi. “Since we cannot have her on stage with us and hiding her backstage will pull the three of us in the wrong direction, she will have to be practically stage side like the photographers or VVIP.”

Nodding, Hwa speaks up, “Y/n, I know that this is probably more than you ever thought you have to deal with, but after tonight’s concert, we don’t have to be at the next stop until Thursday morning. We could sleep on it and talk in the morning?”

Seonghwa’s eyes are imploring and sweet in their gaze, while Jongho’s gaze is cold and calculating behind him. They watch your eyes bounce between them, your hesitation clear as day on your face. Ultimately, you look away from them, which deflates Hwa’s heart.

“I'm sorry, but we really must leave,” their manager quietly says. “What do you ladies want to do?”

“We will go to the concert tonight,” decides Cindy. “I think it has been a lot and it has all happened a bit too fast.”

Looking to Hongjoong, Cindy continues, “Let us talk to her, just us, and we will see you at the concert or afterward. If you could have someone show us our room for tonight we could talk about things till you want us to go to the concert?”

“Mathew-ssi, please?” orders Captain but nods to Cindy. He was right that their new soulmate isn’t hearing anything right now, but then again, who would? Especially not after everything the new soulmate has been through.

Ateez remains quiet as they watch Mathew and a few other guards escort you, Cindy, and Kat out of the conference room.

“You have 10 minutes, then we have to leave,” says their manager before exiting to ensure everything is settled with the hotel.

Once the door is shut, all hell breaks loose among the members.

San is glaring and calling Jongho out for disregarding the new soulmate, to which Jongho defends that it doesn’t make sense, and Wooyoung is trying his best to keep them from actually getting into it.

Yunho tries to talk Mingi into staying in the room and not trying to start the bond before the concert, but Mingi swears it will help him concentrate better if he can connect through the bond with you.

Yeosang is watching everything fall apart at the seams as he holds on to each of his soulmate's mooring lines and your plaited silk line to ensure that none of them start to unravel. Tensions haven’t been this high for the eight-membered bond for a long time.

Hongjoong is lost in his own world, trying to figure out how this works. It’s clear to him that you are theirs. Your reactions to them in the parking garage were enough to dispel any thoughts of doubt from his mind.

As Captain, he knows Jongho has dealt with lies and broken promises the most out of them all, so it is no surprise that their little bear has his paws out and is swinging. However, right now is not the right time for his insecurities to come out, but who can control what they feel when it comes to stuff like this?

A broken hiccup is heard between all the voices, snapping everyone’s attention to Seonghwa, who has been sitting there motionless, staring at the door where you left.

“Hwa-hyung,” calls Jongho with heaviness as he realizes their intense emotions overwhelm the eldest soulmate. He was too caught up in his argument with San to help keep everyone more level-headed because he doesn’t feel very level-headed right now, either.

“She felt it,” Seonghwa says, his voice wrought with pain and helplessness. His hands grasp the bottom of his shirt, wringing it tightly as he tries to sort everything running through his mind and heart.

Wooyoung kneels in front of Hwa, using his sleeve to dry the tears that have covered the elder's cheeks, “Felt what, hyung?”

“Y/n,” he starts before glancing at each of his soulmates. “She felt him die.”

Deafening silence encompasses the room, soulmates, and the remaining bodyguards taken back by this fact. Pulling Hwa’s hands from their current destruction of the shirt, Wooyoung holds them tight with comfort. “Hyung, what do you mean?”

“She said that her ability was the same as mine. She feels emotions, which means if this Darren guy was her bonded soulmate and he was murdered as Cindy said, then Y/n would have felt it,” Seonghwa almost whispers, his eyes searching his imagination, trying to fathom what that would feel like or do to a person.

The feeling of a soulmate bond breaking from being rejected or denied feels like a permanent emptiness, but a bond breaking because of a death is heard to be like your body being engulfed in fire. It is well known that soulmates tend to pass away together because the loss of one is too much for the other to handle without permanent crippling damage.

The newer bonds are even more susceptible to extreme emotions. The mind and body must find a way to adjust to everything, and what is felt is already heightened, so distance between two bonding soulmates is not advised. But to have been granted the ability of your soulmate’s emotions, the immense or overwhelming feeling of the bond snapping into place, and then to feel the pain and life drain from that soulmate is beyond words.

“Maybe that explains why her bond mark looks so ragged,” San wonders aloud. “I always thought they were supposed to be pretty.”

Standing slowly, Hongjoong says, “We don’t know what she felt or didn’t feel, and it will be up to Y/n to tell us more if she wants to. I don’t think this is a topic that we should push for details unless we have to.”

The rest of the boys nod in agreement, even Jognho, as he avoids the looks he is still getting from San. “Joong-hyung, how are we supposed to perform tonight?”

“I say we do just as Y/n asked. We need to be there for Atiny. We are Idols for a reason,” Hongjoong says, with no room for a counter.

“Can we wear the dark knight costumes for the opening act? And maybe the purple velvet too?” asks Yeosang. “I think with what we learned tonight the black would be appropriate and the purple might bring a smile to Y/n’s face.”

A soft smile forms on Hongjoong as he agrees, “That would be a nice gesture and besides we can’t wear the same thing as yesterday anyways.”

The ride to BMO was another Ateez-sardine-packed van. No one wanted to be left alone, but for San and Seonghwa, it was the only way to get them to leave the hotel. The ride was short and quiet.

At arrival, the touring staff knew something was off with Ateez, but no one had the guts to ask what had happened in the last 24 hours. They had been around the group long enough to know they kept tight-lipped regarding internal issues.

The wardrobe noonas were informed of the change requested for the costumes and quickly complied because the sad eyes and pouty faces of Yeosang and Seonghwa were not to be turned down.

To say Ateez was distracted would also be an understatement. The make-up noonas or stagehands often had to call the members multiple times before they would snap out of their haze. The disconnect from how Ateez was before even caused some questions from the BMO event staff, but the touring team quickly found ways to reassure the BMO event staff that everything was fine, even if they didn’t know if it was true themselves.

Once Hongjoong noticed his members' mental and emotional capacity for interaction was nonexistent, he tried to answer everything and guide the pre-show craziness away from his bonded soulmates. He knew there was a better time to unpack everything with each of them. There was only a short amount of time before Atiny was expecting them. It was his time to take his role as Captain seriously and stand strong for his soulmates, including you.

Seonghwa needed his makeup reapplied several times because he could not stop the tears from falling. The empathetic looks he got from the KQ team almost made it worse because they thought it was all for his grandfather when, in truth, it was for you.

Yunho felt a little lost in how to help. He agreed that you were a soulmate. He felt it in his bones that they were your second-chance soulmates. He also is abundantly aware of how much of a fairy-tale that sounds like, especially to Jongho. He also knows that he has heard of it happening, but he can’t remember who it happened with to save his life.

While Yeosang is typically the ‘baby girl’ and sunshine of Ateez, he also has the potential to be a member of the demon line, which is showing now. His face has taken on the resting bitch-face mode, not because he is mad at anyone but because he is concentrated on the soulmate lines. He is concerned about how his bonded soulmate's demeanor has changed and wants to know the moment you are nearby. He is unsettled because he can no longer feel the plaited silk line, and it is starting to feel like ants under his skin.

San is about to have his hyungs knock some sense into him because he acts more like a feral dog than a human at the moment. Out of all the bonded soulmates, San expresses emotions physically. It is one of the reasons why he took up working out and getting buff. He wanted to be able to protect his soulmates, but he also wanted to find ways to get out his aggression or libido without driving the loves of his life into the ground. Right now, he has decided to turn whatever he can find into a personal mini-gym in the guise of getting himself pumped up for a second night.

Unsurprisingly, the shorter of the two giants has secluded himself from everyone and everything. Mingi mentioned to his twin that he would be in the small room he found backstage to ‘settle himself,’ as he put it. In all actuality, Mingi was researching soulmate bonds, second-chance mates, bonding marks or scars, and one-sided soulmate bonds.

As an ESFJ, Wooyoung could see that his introverted Captain was stressing himself out, dealing with everything as if he was alone, and decided to help. Don’t get it wrong, Wooyoung was still processing everything but was good at multitasking. His ability to be social, talk someone’s ear off, and get things done while not breaking a sweat was something that most of the world found endearing. Right now, for him, it was emotionally draining when all he wanted to do was get San off the low-hanging rafter he was using like a pull-up bar and cuddle up until he could initiate the soul bonding with you.

Jongho focused on vocal warm-ups and paced anywhere that kept him away from San, Mingi, and, well, pretty much anyone else. He knew what he said in the conference room was wrong but didn’t want to get hurt again. Moreover, he doesn’t want his bonded soulmates to put too much into something that may end up causing damage in the long run. He is already beside himself because two of his hyungs have already started a soul bond with someone who hasn’t even once expressed that this is something that she wants.

“Soundcheck is in 5, then BE:FIRST is up,” the leading stage manager shouts.

Looking at his soulmates, Hongjoong needs to figure something out to get them out of their funk.

“She is here!” Yeosang exclaims, springing up from his seat with the biggest smile. “She came. I think they are pulling up because it’s moving too fast for her to walk.”

Seonghwa and San close their eyes and lean into the bond they started with you, which pulses ever so faintly. Both members smile softly, and the tension within their bodies melts. The bond the two have with you is more solid than ever. You may not have verbally agreed or accepted their bond yet, but whatever your friends discussed with you has kept you from at least rejecting it.

A few seconds later, Mingi swings open the door to his hiding room and jogs to the slowly forming group, “She is here and is in pain still. Are there seats with her ticket? Can she still see us if she sits?”

“Relax, Mingi-ah,” Seonghwa says, pulling the tall one into a hug. “I am sure Mathew-ssi and manager-nim have everything under control. We can look for her during soundcheck and if we see anything needs to be done, there is still time. Okay?”

Nodding, Mingi smiles at Yunho and glances at Jongho, noting that the youngest also has a half smile. Mingi’s heart squeezes slightly at the thought that Jongho is more on board with you being a soulmate than he is letting on.

“Ateez, it’s time,” says their manager, walking up to the circle they have naturally formed. Holding a hand up, he smiles and quietly says, “She is in the VVIP Section downstage right along the start of bridge with her companions, Mathew, Ji-ho, and Ha-Joon. They should find their seats soon. Now, please, I know it won’t be easy, but show her that she isn’t going to hinder your career but that you know she is there.”

Catching his arm before he walks away, San asks, “Did she say something, manager-nim?”

Looking around at the staff milling around, the manager leans in, “Mathew sent me a text while they were in their hotel room, mentioning that it seems to be one of the more prominent points of conflict for Y/n. She almost didn’t come.”

“She almost didn’t come?” Hwa asks again to double-check that he heard correctly.

The manager nods with a frown, but the next second, he smiles brightly when a stagehand comes up to mumble something in his ear. “Thank you,” he says to the stagehand before looking back at the group. “She is seated. Be yourselves. It’s soundcheck time.”

As the manager walks off, the soulmates look at each other. Hoongjoong steps toward the center, “We can do this. We can perform for Atiny. We can perform for Y/n. She is with us. Eight make 1 team, but nine make a family, and I have no intention of allowing Y/n to worry that she is anything but a blessing to our bond. Who is with me?”

Going on stage, the boys greet the Atinys, who are able to get special tickets for the show. It took everything for them not to make a beeline for the section you were in. They had discussed it as they walked to the stage to keep the same placements as the night before.

However, Seonghwa, San, and Mingi couldn’t help but look for you immediately. Their hearts beat fast as they searched the crowd of screaming fans, only to have it skip a beat or three when they finally found you.

You had dolled up a bit by adding some light makeup, put your hair up in a half-up, half-down style, and were wearing their tour hoodie from their Break The Wall Tour last year.

Mingi ended up pointing and waving to you, and the Atiny around you got excited at the idols' attention to their section. They smiled when they saw you shy away from their attention as you looked around momentarily before joining in the smiles and waves.

Hongjoong pulls the members forward to greet Atiny with their step out, asks some basic questions to engage the fans, and then gets the soundcheck on the road. Since this is their second show, the sound check is just for Atiny, as nothing needs to be adjusted. They start by running through Dreamy Day and Work. The members aren’t doing the full-out choreography, but each member can’t seem to go through a whole song without dancing some part of it.

When it comes time for the last soundcheck song, Hongjoong has noticed that you know some of the moves to the songs but are doing them more or less to yourself because everyone else around you is focused on singing or recording them. Wanting to give you a chance to dance, Hongjoong pulls out his Captain’s card.

“Wow,” he exclaimed. One thing I have noticed is we have a lot of good singers out here, but do you all know how to dance?” The crowd went wild as usual. Glancing over at you, Hongjoong and Yeosang noticed you were screaming along with them.

“Let’s see… Seonghwa,” the captain pulls the eldest soulmate’s attention, “Do you think you can show a little move of the next song?”

Smiling, Hwa moves forward a bit, saying, “I think Atiny really loves this move.” Rolling his hips with an outward fist, he pulls off the most basic version of the driving dance from Say My Name, causing all of Atinies present to go even wilder. As he turns, moving back to his space, his eyes land on you and note that you are moving along with him, making him smile even more.

Mingi, Yunho, and Wooyoung look slightly irritated at the Captain for asking Atiny to dance because they are concerned that if you knew the song's moves, you would aggravate your injured ankle. Yunho turns in time to catch you moving along with Seonghwa and shakes his head.

San has decided that avoiding the side of the stage you are on is best and looks the other way. He tries to keep Atiny happy and clueless about their internal struggles as they fall into their Idol mindset.

The rest of Ateez do their best to fill in the gaps, moving around the stage and ensuring that all of Atiny gets attention. Yeosang still finds time to sneak you a smile or a wink, while Jongho mostly sticks to the middle of the stage. His internal excuse is his need to focus on the notes when he is actually trying to control his fear of showing because he knows there will be so many uploads of this to YouTube before the show even starts.

Once the song starts, the bonded soulmates kick in gear and dance to it at about 50% energy because it is just a soundcheck. Mingi is the least active of all the members as he goes through the motions but doesn’t change his level or hit extensions for several reasons. He is still feeling your pain, and he is too busy watching you under his sunglasses to ensure you don’t overdo it.

By the song's end, the eight members have pumped themselves up as much as possible for the show. Pulling some last-minute screams and cheers from the crowd, the boys do one more step up and head backstage to prepare for the opening song.

Each member, even Jongho, finds you in the crowd before they leave the stage to let you know that they are aware you are here and satisfy their worries about you enjoying a second night at their show.

When Seonghwa can peel his eyes off of your form in the multitude of Atiny, he jogs down the ramp and right to his makeup chair because he knows that he will be the quickest to fix since his skin is naturally smooth and doesn’t need much attention. His mind is right; he is focused on this performance being for you, showing you that he can simultaneously be an idol and your soulmate.

Mingi, however, was the first off-stage and immediately went to their manager. “Manager-nim?” he interrupts. “Can you send something to her and her friends for me?

The manager’s face has a sly smile as he teases, “Let me guess Mingi bias merch package.”

Grinning with the tips of his ears turning red, he says, “She has San stuff on her bag, and I don’t know what she might have gotten yesterday other than our tour sleeveless tank, but I noticed she wasn’t wearing our tour sweater.”

“Yeah, she was wearing one from last year,” Jongho comments.

“So you do notice her!” Yeosang says, poking the youngest’s side, which earns him a glare before Jongho moves to the wardrobe area. Turning back to Mingi, Yeo asks, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I am asking manager-nim if he can send a merch package to Y/n,” answers the giant.

“Mingi-ssi and Yeosang-ssi, the VIP sections already will be getting a clear drawstring bag, postcard set, portable charger with flashlight, fan, and deck of gold-embossed playing cards. What else would she need from you?” asks their manager.

“A newer sweater? She had on last year's tour sweater on. I hope she wasn’t at one of the shows last year,” answers Yeosang, causing the manager to look confused.

Tilting his head like the answer is clear as day, Yeosangs explains, “If she was at an earlier show and we didn’t feel her at that show…”

“Then it is going to be that much harder to convince her that she is really ours at this show,” says San, finishing Yeosang’s thoughts and seeing the understanding come to the manager.

“That… she had to have gotten it from a store. There is no way we wouldn’t have felt her before now, especially Hyung,” Mingi says with deep determination. Turning back to the manager, he says, “Add a beanie and a sweater to the VIP bag, please?”

The manager nods, pulling out his phone to text the request to the merch handlers to bring over before he gets a tap on his shoulder. Looking back at Mingi with a questioning face, Mingi’s ears get redder as he leans closer to whisper his request, “umm… can you add my picket so she knows who it’s from?”

Shaking his head, the manager adds the Mingi picket to the request list and shows it to the blushing Ateez member before he sends it over. “Mingi-ssi, Mathew will let me know when she gets it. I will also make sure her two friends get the VIP bag so she doesn’t stand out too much.”

“Oh, smart thinking. Maybe send a beanie to them, too. It’s supposed to be a cold night, and those two are important to Y/n, which means they are important to us,” smiles Mingi.

“Got it, now go! You have only five minutes before you have to be in position,” playfully scolds the manager. The sounds of BE:First, they finally reach Mingi’s ears, and off he goes to get ready to show the world that he is ready for everything the world has to throw at him—including you.

Making it through the concert's start was just like any other concert. Atiny was screaming, singing, dancing, and bringing enough energy to light up the whole city from BMO alone. Even the BBTRIPPIN members seemed extra sharp and high-voltage for tonight’s show.

Seonghwa and San could feel your bond thrum to the music as you got lost in being at the concert. After the first few songs, the two shared a look as they went backstage during a scene change.

“Do you feel that?” asked San.

Smiling, Seonghwa answered, “So it wasn’t just me. You can feel it when she changes with each song right?”

San nods while Seonghwa hops in place. “This means we can learn which songs she likes the most. This feeling was stronger during Say My Name and Work, right?”

“What was stronger?” asks Mingi with his hands on his hips, trying to figure out why they are so happy.

“Y/n, with the bond, we can tell which songs she reacts to,” explains Hwa. “We felt it during the soundcheck and again with Guerrilla. I think it’s when she knows or likes the songs.”

Looking at San, Mingi asks, “You can feel it, too?”

“Yeah, but it isn’t enough to distract us or anything,” answers San. “I wonder which song will be her favorite?”

Hearing their cue with the pop-locking music for their traveling dance crew, the three find their positions for the next series of songs. Yeo, Woo, Captain, and Yunho are already waiting with the makeup noonas fussing over minor makeup corrections. San barely makes it in time for his solo dance entrance as the rest ready their capes.

When it comes time for the opening-ments, they each greet Atiny like they did the night before, but when they mention the night before or being happy for a second night, the soulmates can’t help but look your way because, to them, you are the deciding factor of just how great this stop will be. The only downside is none of them can see you past the glaring lights shining on them. Seonghwa and San are the only ones who have any indication that you are enjoying the show.

The show goes smoothly without any hiccups.

Mingi sees you waving his picket during his solo rap, letting him know his little care package was received. The smile on your face and the lack of pain he feels is the only evidence he has that you are in a good place right now.

Yeosang feels an extra pull from you at the start of It’s You, which makes him almost break character and laugh. He is well aware of how much Atiny enjoys that song, and it certainly isn’t for the melody. The lyrics and how they can now relate to you make him want to laugh. At that point, he decides to sing this song for you, to you, and about you.

Yunho, Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and Jongho are doing their best to be present. Keep their minds from wandering about how you are doing, what you talked about with your friends, and what will happen tomorrow.

It’s about halfway through the show when Jongho is singing his solo, and he somehow sees you in the crowd. Your eyes are drilling into him. Knowing that he can sing this song in his sleep, he closes his eyes and reaches out to you with his ability, testing the waters to see if he can feel anything from you.

It’s like a water spout comes, throwing him into a whirlwind of emotions as his ability pulls them into himself. The ability to absorb is devouring the confusion, shame, anxiety, uncertainty, and heartache coming from you. Walking down the stairs at the end of his song, he can’t help but find you again as his heart flutters, and he can no longer fight against it– you are his ladymate.

Walking backstage, Jungho collapses into Seonghwa’s awaiting arms. The suddenness pulls them both to the ground, causing everyone but Wooyoung to run to their side. Kneeling around the youngest, they hear him mumbling something as he gasps deep, uneven breaths.

“San, get his wardrobe change. Joong-ah and Mingi-ah get everyone not bonded away. Yun, he needs an anchor,” Seonghwa calls out directions. Looking directly at Wooyoung, Hwa nods slowly, saying, “He will be fine. Go out for your solo; we will be there on time.”

Leaning down into Jongho’s face, Hwa can see that he isn’t crying but is within himself. Passing him to Yunho, Hwa steps back, looks toward Hongjoong with a frown, and says, “I think he may have finally found his connection to her but it isn’t a happy one.”

A few more seconds pass as the soulmates watch their big bear bring their little bear back into the present. Jongho’s breathing stabilizes, and the mumbled words stop before he looks around and finds San.

Standing up and rushing to the older soulmate, Jongho hugs him and says, “I am so sorry, Hyung. I wanted to keep us safe. I didn’t want to fight with you, but she was empty. It was like she was hollow, and now I know why. She has walls, so many walls.”

Hearing the music change, they all jump as the time between sets runs out, and Hongjoong steps forward, asking, “Are you okay with continuing?”

“Yeah,” answers the youngest soulmate. “I got this. If she can live with that for who knows how long, I can live with it for the rest of tonight. Yunnie-hyung’s anchor helped.”

The rest of the show becomes a blur, as always. Heightened emotions, the heartfelt ending-ments, and the encore all come too fast as the second night in LA comes to a close. However, the night isn’t over for Ateez as they still have to go through their send-off, head back to the hotel, and see where the night takes them.

Jongho is peering through the cracks that give him the slighted view of where you would have to pass to be seated for the send-off when the manager's voice comes from behind, “She won’t be there.”

Spinning around, Jongho exclaims, “What do you mean?! She left?!” Jongho’s voice carried enough to draw the attention of the others, who were now approaching the two with variations of concern.

“No, she didn’t leave. I can still feel her line, she has to be close,” answers Yeosang. “Where is she going though?”

“For her safety, she is going to one of the vans with her friends and their security team,” informs the manager.

Ease falls over the bonded soulmates, each loving you just a little more for your desire to be fair and considerate to others you don’t know. Hongjoong says, “Then let us not keep our Atiny waiting and get through the send-off like we always do. Once we are done, we will go back to the hotel. San, Seonghwa, and Jongho should ride with Y/n and her friends. The rest of us will go in the other van, and security can take their regular positions.”

Making their way through the send-off feels like the longest part of the night but is, in all truth, shorter than the soundcheck. Atiny are smiling, laughing, snapping pictures, and getting autographs from their bias. Unknown to them, their bias is only focused on the Atiny soulmate in the van at the end of the long line of endless people.

Hongjoong, Mingi, Yunho, Wooyoung, and Yeosang enter the first van. Their energies are still bubbling with the adrenaline of another completed show. Are they exhausted? Yes, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t buzzing.

“How do you think she liked the show tonight?” asked Mingi. “I know people follow us like roadies on tours, but she hadn’t planned on going to both shows.”

Running his hand along Mingi’s arm, Yunho teasingly says, “She was enjoying herself. I could see her waving your face around like she was trying to extinguish a fire.” A warm blush graces Mingi’s face.

“She did seem to enjoy her care package, Mingi,” adds Hongjoong. His mind is trying to find a way to see into the van behind them. He wants to know where you are at now. Have you started to accept them? All of them?

Is that why Jongho was able to collect your emotions? Is that why Hwa and San were mumbling about your reactions to songs? Is that why you decided to come tonight?

Curling into his soulmate’s side, Wooyoung whispers into Yeosang’s ear, “Hyung, did you see her smile during your dance? She couldn’t take her eyes off you. She practically ignored me and San during ‘It's You’.”

Woo knows how easily flustered Yeo can get despite his on-stage persona. However, all the bonded soulmates know how passionate he can get behind closed doors. Placing a soft kiss at the dip behind Yeosang’s ear, Wooyoung comments, “May be she would enjoy a private dance?”

Blushing and biting his bottom lip, Yeosang nods. The thought of you accepting them and allowing for moments like that spike his emotions. The plaited silk rope tugged his chest the more he thought about giving you that private dance. He is happy that you are not in the same van right now. He is known for his control, but at the same time, he knows that soulmates with fated birthing dates have a unique bond, and he cannot wait to explore where that leads the two of you.

A soft growl is heard as Hongjoong’s eyes close with his deep breath. “Yeo, baby, your scent is warming. As much as we are all on an energy high, we can’t do that right now. We have more pressing matters.”

Jabbing Wooyoung in the ribs and muttering playful threats, Yeosang apologizes to his leader, “I am sorry, hyung. I will be good. I don’t want to mess any of this up.”

“Speaking of messing things up,” interrupts Yunho. “Do you think Jongho is okay now? Will the two of them be able to work things through now? He is on board now, right?”

“I hope so. It’s one of the reasons why I had him go in her van. It will give them time to talk or feel each other out,” explains Hongjoong. “I just hope it’s not too late.”

When they arrived, the hotel garage was practically empty; however, that was not the case, and they were now a skeleton crew of makeup, wardrobe, and sound team running around. While parking, Wooyoung received a text from San telling him to bring everyone to the ballroom.

Spotting San pacing near a side entry, Hongjoong all but stormed over to him, “What is going on?”

“She didn’t get to see her favorite song,” answered San, like that explained everything.

Watching the controlled chaos around them, over half of Ateez was still lost. Soon, the door behind San opened, and Seonghwa and Jongho, dressed in purple costumes, and their manager came out. Confusion still graced Wooyoung and Mingi’s faces as the light of realization dawned on Hongjoong, Yunho, and Yeosang.

“Are we changing in there? Where is she?” asked Yeosang, already moving into the small impromptu green room.

“She is in her room. Her young friend Kat knows Korean, apparently, and helped us plan this. We don’t have much time,” answers Hwa, pushing the rest of his soulmates to get ready. “We have a show to perform.”

Letting out a laugh, Wooyoung rushes after Yeosang, yelling, “Hey, you might get to do that private dance afterall!”

“Is this a good idea?” asks Mingi.

Pulling his gentle giant along, Hongjoong says, “We won’t know until the end. Until then, she should see that being our soulmate means that while we are Idols who perform for the world to see, our eyes are only on her.”

“Gag. That was gag-worthy, and we still need to sing, hyung,” Jongho says, rolling his eyes at the producer. “Now, please, go get ready.”

Getting ready, the tour team kept their lips sealed and didn’t outwardly ask why they were doing this sudden mini-show, but then again, their contracts have a very detailed NDA that came with a hefty bonus when something soulmate-related happened.

Seonghwa, San, and Jongho explained that they found out you had missed seeing them perform one of your favorite songs both nights in a row, and you were sad that there was a song they didn’t perform. It was Jongho’s idea to do the mini-show for you so that you would be content and happy when you went to sleep.

They had a set list ready and would sing to their instrumental or acapella. The boys are ready and waiting in the darkened ballroom with nerves stronger than anything they have felt in a long time. It’s a good thing; they have all agreed because they want you to be theirs more than anything else.

“Ready on stage,” whisper, shouts their temporary stage manager.

It’s maybe ten seconds later that the ballroom door opens, and the sound of your laughter spills in as you walk in, looking behind you, saying, “You would have thought Yunho was doing more than dancing on the stage with how loudly she was losing her shit over him standing there.”

When you face the front, you freeze at seeing the single chair in the ballroom lit by a spotlight. The bonded soulmates can see you try to squint to see in the darkness before you turn back to see your two friends and their manager standing just inside the door.

“Remember everything we talk about in the hotel room,” smiles Cindy. “Dave completes me. You deserve to be complete, too.”

Your friend Kat walks forward, taking you by the hand, and they guide you to the chair. “Eight of them can be overwhelming, but I believe each holds a piece of your soul that you lost when it shattered.”

“I have known these boys for more than anyone else, and I have never seen a more dedicated soulmate group in my life, Miss Y/n,” their manager adds. “Listen with your heart to what they have planned.”

With that, the three left the ballroom. The lights went out, and it was time for the boys to convey their longing for you to accept their bond and give them a chance.

Stepping to his microphone stand, Mingi starts singing an acapella version of Star 1117 as the floor lights come up. He focuses his eyes on you as he pours his soul into his words. Hongjoong and he know they wrote the song for Atiny. The title lends to the day the name Atiny was picked out and focuses on looking to the stars for love. It’s Ateez’s wish that they can look to you as their star in love and you can trust them to protect you forever as their star.

The next song starts sounding through the ballroom speakers as the members pull their microphones off and gather closer to you. Seonghwa takes the middle with Jongho as they serenade you with Light. Jongho, who wasn’t on board in the first place, uses this song to express he finally has realized that the nine of you are meant to be one.

By this time, the boys can see you are fighting back tears. Seonghwa and San feel the energy flowing through your partial bond with them, making it harder for them to finish the song without crying. Yeosang can feel your plaited silk rope pull and release as you sway to the song. He has felt it before, but now it’s almost as if he can see it linking the two of you.

Quick steps are made as the eight Idols find their place before an upbeat synthesizer starts. Yunho starts the song with a smile when he sees your eyes light up. They haven’t performed this song in a while, but the bonded soulmates wanted to perform their song Promise because it is their promise never to leave you alone. It made their hearts light when they would notice you mouthing along with the words, doing the hand choreography, or wiping a straying teardrop from your cheek.

It was time for the final song, and the squeal you let out once they got into their starting positions made Wooyoung and Hongjoong chuckle. It was a song that Atiny took many different ways, but for the situation between the nine of you, it was about having you get out of the cold and darkness of being alone in the world and allowing Ateez to become your warmth and light.

The moment your friend announced the day your life came to a screeching halt was the first time since they found you in the garage that you finally had no eyes on you. While it gave you a chance to breathe, it also felt odd.

Taking the chance to look around, you notice the shock on their faces as they stare at Cindy like she has grown another head. Clearly, the news of your past was not what they expected to hear. It’s rare to hear of someone having a dead soulmate and living to tell the tale.

“I know this may seem like a stupid question, but” Jongho starts to speak before he is interrupted by Wooyoung.

“No, no. Let’s start with a non-stupid question… what do you mean Y/n has a soulmate already?” asks the worldwide playboy.

Looking at Cindy and Kat, you beg them with your eyes not to be the one to explain what happened. A wave of guilt, heartache, and failure is starting to crush your chest. It had been a while since you had thought about the events of that day.

It’s Kat who finally starts telling the beginning of your devastating story. You resign to an understanding that the eight men around you will change their thoughts of being your soulmates if they know all the details.

Your mind supplements Kat’s regaling with images of Darren with his natural blonde hair in a cut like Jonathan Taylor Thomas from Home Improvement. His almond-shaped crystal-blue eyes always held his emotions clearer than the night sky. He was always shorter than you, but that was his appeal to you. He was pocket-sized, and although short, he held a strength that could rival anyone, especially if you were in danger. Unfortunately, that determination was his ultimate weakness.

“After growing up with soulmates as parents,” Kat continues. “I had an innate understanding of how to spot soulbonds or possibilities. It was resoundingly clear that there was a potential bond between them. Darren was a year older than Y/n when he turned 18 and could finally connect with his soulmate if he had one… but he never even looked.”

“Darren had asked Y/n’s mom to take her out for her 18th birthday. By that time, he had told several of us that his heart knew she would be his,” said Cindy as she squeezed your thigh. “All of us were supportive because we all agreed. Sure, there was a chance that we were all wrong. Ever since… we kind have wished we were.”

All you could do was shrink under the weight of the words Cindy left unsaid. You can remember happily agreeing to dinner at Caza De Pizza and catching ‘Now You See Me 2’ afterward. The movie was set to be over right around midnight. You were so excited to see if you and your family were correct in thinking that Darren was your soulmate. Now you wish you had waited to find out at school on Wednesday morning.

Your dark thoughts are interrupted when Hongjoong calls your name, asking, “Y/n, how did you know that Darren was your soulmate? Did you bond?”

Nodding, you put up your arm and rest it on the table to show a long, lightening-like, ragged scar running along your inner elbow from the middle of your forearm to just above your elbow. “He was with me at midnight when I turned 18. I gained my soulmate ability to feel emotions right away, but I don’t know what he was because we never got to...” your voice cuts out as the ghost of his death engulfs your body.

It wasn’t just the pain of his death that haunted you but the joy of seeing your soulmate mark form on your arm as proof that you were his. The avalanche of love, devotion, passion, and pride came with it, and you quickly realized it wasn’t just your emotions but also Darren’s.

However, those happy feelings lasted for about five seconds before you were shoved to the side, and a piercing pain tore through your chest that caused you to look up from the mark to watch as blood pooled from his chest. Your memories of that night are always silent, never hearing the gunfire, the screams of you and the witnesses, and the lost words mumbling from Darren’s lips as the burn of a soulmate dying floods your system at his last breath.

San's rapid movement brings you back to the present as he practically growls at his manager, “We can’t leave her right now. It won’t be suitable for any of us. Things are already strained as they are.”

With an epic side eye given to you from Jongho, he says, “San-hyung, we don’t understand what is happening. It could be stress and timing that is causing all of this.”

It didn’t surprise you that one of them was already against you, adding to their well-rounded soulmate bond after it had been formed for years. What shocks you is that San looks like he is about to start a round of fisticuffs with his already-bonded soulmate.

“Excuse me?!!?” demands San, turning his attention to Jongho.

This isn’t good. Fighting isn’t good for bonds, much less for a world-famous K-pop band that must leave to perform for thousands of fans like they did last night. “Go,” you say with as much strength as you can.

Looking briefly at San as he stares down the youngest member, you try to explain, “You need to be there for Atiny tonight just like you were there for us last night. I cannot be the reason for anything that affects the show or makes you all late. You did fine without me before. It’s not like I will be any help now.”

A slight tug on your chest comes before Yeosang says, “Things have changed, Y/n. You made contact with San-ah and Seonghwa-hyung, meaning the soul-bonding has started with the two of them and yourself.”

Jongho scoffs at Yeosang’s explanation of how the bond is forming. Hongjoong adds, “Once a soul-bonding starts in a group, it is fragile until the rest of the group bonds. It doesn’t finalize until everyone accepts it, though.”

“You mean she has to follow you around now? Until everyone accepts her and vice versa?” asks Kat. “How will that work and not end up all over Dispatch or TMZ?”

“I can help with that, Miss Kat,” a young man says, stepping up from the corner dressed like he got caught up in the group and doesn’t belong in this meeting. “I am Mathew and I have been assigned to you three as a personal bodyguard for the remainder of your trip.”

“Excuse me?” exclaims Kat. This new guy has already made the mistake of calling Kat a miss, but the question is, why would we need security?

“I will explain later, Kat, before we leave the hotel,” intervenes Cindy, always the mediator. “How can you help?”

Watching the young man as he thinks, you can’t help but notice how much presence he does have. His clothes may make him look like the Emo Guy USA 2024 winner, but you think it is a perfect disguise for someone to be undercover at a concert.

“Tonight, I was supposed to have the night to watch the concert from the crowd,” the non-security-security guy starts. “If we could get tickets for the three of them seated with me, we could attend the concert and reduce the distance between them all.”

“She would have to be closer than she was last night since the bonding has started,” Mingi says. “Since we cannot have her on stage with us and hiding her backstage will pull the three of us in the wrong direction, she will have to be practically stage side like the photographers or VVIP.”

This is going to be too much. You can’t suddenly have VVIP tickets. Those are limited to the number of seats available. You are about to say something when Seonghwa says, “Y/n, I know that this is probably more than you ever thought you have to deal with, but after tonight’s concert, we don’t have to be at the next stop until Thursday morning. We could sleep on it and talk in the morning?”

Seonghwa’s boba eyes look hopeful and endearing as he waits for your answer, but the ice shooting from Jongho's death stare behind him keeps any words from making it past your throat. Understanding the need to answer your elders, you want to answer. However, the desire to not cause more conflict between the bonded soulmates causes you to turn away from the two.

“I'm sorry, but we really must leave,” their manager quietly says. “What do you ladies want to do?”

“We will go to the concert tonight. I think it has been a lot, and it has all happened a bit too fast,” Cindy answers for the three of you. “Let us talk to her, just us, and we will see you at the concert or afterward. If you could have someone show us our room for tonight, we could talk about things until you want us to go to the concert.”

“Mathew-ssi, please?” orders Hongjoong.

As Ateez remains quiet and in the room, Mathew, plus a few other guards, escort you, Cindy, and Kat out of the conference room. A few moments later, their manager joins the small gathered group.

“If you would follow me,” he asks, guiding you to the lobby. “The boys are all on the same floor, the tour entourage is on the floor below, and the security detail is roomed throughout both floors. The floor the boys are on is completely bought out so we will get you keys to one of those rooms.”

Tugging on Cindy’s sleeve, you shake your head to get her to stop this nonsense. She, however, smiles and turns to the manager. “That would be great! I think we can make do with one room as long as there are two beds.”

“Cindy!” you hiss. Kat takes your arm and pulls you along to the elevator, humming some song with a look of contentment.

How can Kat look like that when you are going through this!? Why is Cindy letting this go on?! The three of you know this will end badly. They will learn you are damaged goods and realize you are too much to deal with.

“We will wait for you outside,” says the emo boy as he shuts a door.

Looking around, you noticed you had lost track of time and movement again. You were inside a huge room. It had two queen-sized beds on one side, a walk-in closet, a kitchenette, and a door that you could only assume led to a bathroom that would put yours to shame.

“Earth to Y/n,” Cindy calls as she sits on one of the couches off to the side with a large TV screen. “What’s going on with that head of yours?”

Making your way to the other couch, you take a moment because where were you? You wanted to run away in the garage but ended up in the conference room. You got lost in what happened all those years ago, and now you were supposed to see night two at BMO stadium with eight Korean Idols claiming to be your soulmate… well, seven.

“I… I don’t know,” you finally answer.

Kat sits beside Cindy before saying, “This isn’t going to be easy, Y/n. Having second-chance soulmates is nearly impossible, but this is a chance for you to be happy again. It’s been eight years since it happened.”

“Yeah, eight years since someone murdered my soulmate instead of me,” you cut in. “Eight years since Darren got shot because they thought it would be a good idea for an initiation. It… it..”

“It also has been eight years since you survived, Y/n,” adds Cindy. “You had the bond, mark, and death of your soulmate happen in less than a minute. It takes a strong person to live through that. It is also a strong person that would be able to handle a bond with eight other people, especially as their focus.”

The thought of being the focus of a bonded soulmate group didn’t even cross your mind. Being a focus was more than just being another soulmate in a bond. The point of a focus was to keep the bond together. If something happened to a group bond’s focus, then…

“Don’t go to the bad things first, Y/n,” Cindy interrupts your spiraling thoughts. “Being a focus isn’t a bad thing. In a typical bond, like Dave and I, we complete each other. What Ateez has is like a ship without a sail; they have all the parts to float and keep their heads above the water, but they need their focus soulmate, you, to set sail and discover what the world has waiting for them.”

“But I am a tattered sail,” you mumble. “I would only flap in the wind like a flag instead of giving them strength to ride the waves. Like, going to the concert tonight… why are we going? If this whole thing is true won’t they be too distracted by the pull to perform right?”

A knock on the wall brings your attention to the personal security guard emo guy. “We have secured your tickets. We will enter with the soundcheck VVIPs for security purposes but leave before the send-off. I took the liberty of obtaining some basic cosmetics and other toiletries if you wanted to be more concert-like. My sister always says concert wear and day wear are two different animals.”

Kat stands up and retrieves the bag from the guy, saying, “Thank you, Mathew. How much time do we have before we have to leave?”

“About an hour,” he responds before nodding and leaving.

Pawing through the bag, Kat hums in approval. “Well, I think you have men ready to accept fate with arms wide open. This is a chance for you to live how you were supposed to live all those years ago. Besides,” Kat pulls out a pallet of eyeshadows, “if getting Cle de Peau Beaute is considered basic makeup then sign me up in your place. PLLLEEEAAASSSEEE”

You laugh at Kat’s love for expensive things, but it does catch your attention. You may only sometimes be on point with knowing most couture designers, but you were the go-to among your friends and coworkers when it came to makeup, and Cle de Peau Beaute lipstick alone can run over $100.

The following 45 minutes are spent looking up the prices of what was in the bag, trying not to gag at the $270 1 oz foundation that matched your skin tone, and accepting that you would be treated like something precious.

When the three of you were in yet another van, you didn’t look like you were crying just a few hours ago, and you felt like someone who could afford the VVIP tickets you were being gifted. Mathew, the emo guy, went over some safety things– like he was a friend of Kat’s, but Ji-ho and Ha-Joon were friends of Mathew’s, and no one was supposed to leave the group alone.

Arriving at BMO was strange because you were brought in what you learned was the artist entry and taken to your seats just as the other VVIPs were being let in for the soundcheck. To the surprise of the three of you, you had excellent front-row seats at the bridge area off the other side of where you were last night. This meant you wouldn’t have to deal with people blocking your view but also that you didn’t have anyone to hide behind.

“Stop your thinking and enjoy,” scolds Cindy. “They are big boys. They know the difference between work and play. Right now, it’s time for them to work. You’ll see.”

The next moment, you become deaf as the girl behind you cuts loose a scream like she was getting eaten by a shark. Following her line of sight, the boys take the stage, and the world around you narrows to just them.

First out is the flirt master Wooyoung, in black jeans and a black tank top. San looks like a professor with his dress pants and white button-up. Yeosang follows with blue jeans and a tucked-in tour sleeveless shirt to show off his tiny waist and muscular physique without trying too hard. Jongho looks like he is going to the mall with his dark pants and jean oversized shirt with straps hanging everywhere. Hongjoong is the epitome of the Beverly Hills dad in the world with his cuffed jeans and black and white Art Deco flowered shirt. Yunho went boyfriend-coded with what looks like a Michigan State jacket and baggy pants. Mingi makes your jaw drop in his black-on-black with silver jewelry and looks like the complete fuck boi. Last comes Seonghwa, with his effortless black tee shirt and sand-washed jeans and his hair in a pony, as if he didn’t spend 30 minutes with someone making sure each hair was in the right place.

The boys go to the bridge and greet the Atinys for the soundcheck. You noticed that Seonghwa, San, and Mingi found you as they went to their places. Only Mingi waved, and the Atiny around you got excited like he just threw money at them. You couldn’t help but blush at his attention because outside of you, Cindy, Kat, Mathew, Ha-Joon, and Ji-ho, no one else knew it was meant for you.

The soundcheck ended up different from what you expected. They wandered almost aimlessly around, singing songs and waving to the crowd. The choreography wasn’t consistently done. None of the men on the stage could help but move out of muscle memory or get the crowd riled up occasionally. You couldn’t help but sing along to the parts you knew and dance with Kat, your resident K-pop Dance challenge master.

When the eight gathered again, you figured it was over, and it was time to take your seat. However, Hongjoong seems to have other ideas. “Wow,” he exclaimed. “One thing I have noticed is we have a lot of good singers out here, but do you all know how to dance?”

The crowd went wild as usual, including you and Kat. You were hoping the next song was one you could dance to without looking like a newborn deer or a lost child.

“Let’s see… Seonghwa,” the captain calls the eldest soulmate out of the lineup, “Do you think you can show a little move of the next song?”

The other six members' reactions confuse you because they all look like this wasn’t part of the original plan. The stage crew is talking rapidly into walkie-talkies, as Hwa says, “I think Atiny really loves this move.”

The moment Seonghwa pulls the most stilted version of the driving dance, all of Atiny's present goes even wilder, and the crew starts running around like chickens with no heads. You and Kat move along with him as you try to remember the song's name to which it goes.

Over the screams, Kat leans into and says, “It’s from Say My Name. Mathew says Captain is going off script by adding this song, which isn’t unusual.” You nod to let Kat know you hear them, and the two of you dance to the song as much as you can since it is one of your favorites.

When it comes to an end, it is a simple see you later from the boys as they go backstage to get ready for the night. Taking your seat, you look around at how some other Atiny have dressed this time. You are happy that you are at least wearing a tour sweater and got a chance to spruce yourself up. Part of you wished that the boy could have seen you in your pirate-themed outfit from yesterday, but at the same time, you were glad they didn’t.

“Excuse me, are you Miss Y/n?” A man approaches you and is abruptly cut off by Ha-Joon. Stepping back, the man looks at you and Ha-Joon before continuing, “I was informed that some of our VVIPs didn’t get their exclusive merch bags. Two regular and one special.”

Taking the bags, Ha-Joon has a smirk on his face when he turns around. He hands the two clear bags that match the rest of the VIPs around you to Cindy and Kat, then hands you another that doesn’t match. Kat and Cindy start pulling out tiny things from their bags. The first thing you must pull out of the bag is a new tour hoodie, followed by a matching beanie. Dropping the bag on your seat, you immediately pull off the hoodie you got from Facebook Marketplace and put on the new one.

“Hey, ours didn’t come with those,” teases Kat, pointing at the sweater before she reaches into the bag and pulls out a Mingi picket. “Huh, Seonghwa had better watch his place as your bias because Mr. Song here seems to be starting with the spoiling part.”

You blush at the thought. Sitting down, you take the picket and look at the image of Mingi, remembering his determination during the meeting to keep you close to the eight of them. He hasn’t even touched you to initiate the soulmate bond, but he looks and reacts as if the bond is already complete. Is this what it means to have a soulmate and to be their focus?

You were happy that Be:First opened for Ateez again so you could see them this time. You loved their collaboration. It was a unique way of blending the two groups while keeping them as their own. You didn’t know any of their other songs, so you sat through their set and enjoyed the ebb and flow.

BBTRIPPIN came out and started the show. Because BMO screwed up, you had missed seeing their dance sequence, but it was not surprising how good they were. What surprised you was the Dark Knight costumes the boys wore as they entered the stage. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter at how the color accented their skin tone and made them look like a force to be reckoned with.

When Crazy Form kicked off, the three of you were on your feet, moving, grooving, and badly singing in Korean. The thoughts of these eight men began to fade into the background. Having the other Atiny with you and seeing how engrossed the bonded group was with their performances, opening-ments, and each other let you remain a fan in the crowd.

You missed the lingering glances, the minor angle changes, and the special words the boys had meant for you and you alone. You focused more on enjoying the complementary waters and snacks in the bottom of your bags. Luckily, Mathew had also thought ahead and brought you some pain medications.

What you didn’t miss was the look from the Atiny who saw the extra things in your bag, the teasing smirks from your friends, or the great view of Ateez’s asses during Halazia. While the view was ass-tronomical, you were happiest seeing the musicality flow through their being.

It’s about halfway through the show when Jongho is singing his solo. You knew his voice was beautiful and underrated by so many before Hongjoong stole him away. Listening to the youngest member of the bonded soulmates' serenade made you think about how hard you cried when you looked up the English translation. You ended up playing it on a loop for days, thinking of how Darren was supposed to be your everything and what you wouldn’t give to see him just once more.

You couldn't look away as Jongho sang the song from the top of the staircase, expecting the tears to fall again and the darkness to take over. As you watched him, it felt like every negative feeling was being taken away. The turbulence and apprehension from today, the internal ridicule, agony, and disgrace of your past, were just gone.

Watching Jongho walk down the stairs at the end of his song, you know he can see you in the crowd. The look in his eyes isn’t one you have seen from him before. Only Seonghwa, San, and Mingi have looked at you like this, and it makes you want to follow him backstage to learn what it means. Your heart skips a beat as he holds your gaze just a second longer before he turns away.

The stage lights change and the music starts for Wooyoung’s piece, drawing everyone's attention to the island at the end of the bridge. You, however, are left with a calm sense of emptiness as you watch the stage door. The sounds of the concert are gone, and all that is left is the sound of your heartbeat. It’s the first time that you start to believe that maybe, just maybe– they were right.

You attempt to enjoy the rest of the show, but you can’t help but study the eight men on the stage. How well they complement each other shows that they must have polarizing abilities. The light in their eyes allows anyone, Atiny or not, to know they are living their dream and not being forced on stage.

So, where would you fit in as the odd woman out?

“Excuse me, Miss? We have to go to the van now,” Ji-Ho instructs as Atiny starts to make their way out of the stadium. You nod and follow. Kat and Cindy have already figured something must have happened as they can see the wheels turning in your head.

Mathew comes up to the front with you and explains that for safety reasons, the three of you will not be at the send-off, but due to the strain of having you separate from the already bonding soulmates, you will be traveling together. He leads you through what feels like a maze of metal under the stage and behind some fake walls before coming out a side door and to the vans. You can tell you are close to the send-off because of the deafening screams, and the pull on your chest seems lighter.

Inside the van, you notice two rows of bench seats, one slightly shorter than the other, and two captain’s chairs in the back, causing you to pause. “Umm, where should we sit?” you ask.

“I didn’t know you could get vans with… seven seats in the back,” comments Kat before she jumps in and heads to the far back bench.

You go to follow, only to have Cindy push your butt onto the short bench. “Nope,” she says, wagging her finger when you scowl at her. “You have at least two joining us, and you need to sit with them.”

You are about to reply when a single scream of “MINGI MARRY ME” hits a new level you never thought possible. The three of you burst out laughing as you watched the newly propositioned Idol run out of the stadium and into the first van, followed by Hongjoong, Yunho, Wooyoung, and Yeosang.

Mathew silently laughs as he sits with Cindy and Kat in the back row, leaving the bench seat with you and the two captain chairs for San, Seonghwa, and Jongho. The three of them walk to the van, to you, at a more measured pace, and they pin you in your seat with their eyes.

You scoot to the far side of the bench seat, making room for San to take the seat next to you as he was the one who reached the door first, but to your surprise, he sat in the captain’s chair in front of you. Seonghwa took the other captain’s chair. Leaving Jongho to sit next to you, his eyes never leaving yours as you looked at the two bonding soulmates.

You can hear a ‘hmph’ from behind you and know you weren’t the only one taken back by the seating choice. However, that is the only sound made as the door shuts and the van returns to the hotel. You can feel that someone is looking at you, but you can feel the tension more than ever.

“Miss Y/n, did you enjoy the show?” asks Jongho, breaking the silence.

Looking at him, you suck in a breath, thinking of an answer. His eyes search yours as if he is asking about something more than the show. “Mr. Choi,” you start, then blanch, looking at San, who is also a Mr. Choi. “Ahh.. Younger Mr. Choi..”

“Jongho, please. Jongho is fine, please,” the younger man says with a smile. Nodding, you glance at Seonghwa to see him smiling softly as well.

“Jongho-ssi, I enjoyed the show, it was different and I never thought I would ever see a concert that close in my life,” you admit.

“Different, how?” prods San. “We did the same songs.”

“That’s true, but you wore different clothes.” You can’t help but glance at Seonghwa again with a blush as you remember his leather strap shirt and purple velvet outfit.

Smirking, Hwa leaned forward, pointed at your clear purse bag, and said, “We agreed to wear the purple because you seem to like that color. Yeosang thought the Dark Knight costumes to open would be appropriate as well.”

Giggling can be heard from the backseat before Kat says, “Oh, that was a great decision. You should reward him for that. Y/n’s favorite color is purple and black, not to mention she has a thing for leather.”

Turning around, you swat at your friend and say through gritted teeth, “Shut! Up!” However, it has the opposite effect, and the two start laughing so much that the rest of the van joins in as you feel your face heat up.

“I see how it is,” you glare, turning back to Seonghwa. “Mr. Park,” you grin. “If Hongjoong or Yeosang ever need fancams from this weekend, they can reach out to Kat and Cindy respectively.”

“Hey! Why am I getting dragged into this?” exclaims Cindy, which brings in even more laughter and breaks all the tension.

“To be honest, I want to say thank you for letting us attend again and not shove us in a green room somewhere,” you say after catching your breath. “I was.. I was excited that I could see you all even once.”

“We are glad you could see us too,” adds San. “But why do I feel like there is something else?”

Your eyes widen slightly at the fact he could tell. Looking between the three of them, you finally say, “I wanted to see you sing Star 1117. Well that and I missed seeing you guys dance Halazia last night and then tonight you guys were facing away when you danced it so…yeah..”

The bonded mates look at each other and start muttering in Korean, leaving you out of the loop. They don’t seem particularly upset by their expressions, but they aren’t happy either. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything; keep your mouth shut and not complain. They have been doing this for years, and it isn’t your place to say anything anyway.

It isn’t until Mathew and Kat jump in that you feel really lost. Glancing back at Cindy, she shrugs at you before leaning forward, “Maybe you should sign up for lessons.”

“Lessons?” Jongho asks, catching what Cindy said.

Your eyes widen as Cindy says, “If she is going to be your focus, then she needs to learn to communicate with you all.” That catches Seonghwa and San’s attention as the van goes silent.

“You don’t know Korean?” inquires San.

Shaking your head, you answer, “Nope. I only know the typical K-drama watcher quotes. I… ahh, I am new to Korean stuff in general. These two dragged me into K-pop after they realized how bad things got after…”

“So, you are a baby Atiny? That’s awesome! We can teach you so much,” San says with a smile. “Most of us know enough English to get by, but don’t worry, we are all taking lessons, and either we can get you into lessons or teach you ourselves.”

“Hongjoong and San are the best at English,” adds Seonghwa. “If you need help you can always talk to one of them.”

You simply nod. The implications of them already planning a future with you are causing conflict for you. Their explicit acceptance of having another soulmate is a blessing, but accepting that acceptance when you had given up on ever being whole again is hard.

The rest of the car ride is filled with small conversations, half in English and half in Korean. You tried to participate but just left it to everyone else. Once back at the hotel, you excused yourself quickly to your room with some flimsy excuse of needing the bathroom before the bonded soulmates could get out of the van.

Cindy and Kat caught up with you in the lobby and picked up their manager along the way. The manager was talking with Cindy about logistics for tomorrow and getting them to their flight, so his presence didn’t bother you. The four of you went to the room you got ready in.

You did find yourself in the bathroom splashing your face with water. The day's weight was on your shoulders, but since Jongho’s song, it hasn’t crushed you like it was in the conference room. Sitting on the toilet, you pull out your phone and look up group soul bonds.

+ Group soul bonds are believed to be formed because one or more of the soulmates within the group have experienced a trauma or injury to their soul, which causes fractures. The science behind this splintering of the soul is still being researched. + Group soul bonds are bonds between multiple soulmates. It is believed that a group bond can consist of 3 to 25 soulmates. Groups over nine tend to have a looping soul connecting one bonded group to another. + Group soul bonds consisting of more than four soulmates must have a focus for the group to be considered complete; without the focus, a soulmate group will face mental and emotional damage over time. It is typically the passive ability-enabled soulmates that will fall to these damages sooner rather than later. + Group soul bond’s focus is considered a central point for bonded soulmates. The name focus is used synonymously with core and heart. The other bonded soulmates must pay close attention to the soulmate who becomes the focus and maintain a consistent or relative closeness. Disconnections or distance from the focus over time will become more tolerable, but it is not recommended to maintain them for extended periods.

Knock knock knock

“Yo! I am hungry. Get out here and come with us to raid the hotel convenience store,” yelled Kat.

Closing your phone and tucking it away, you open the door, “You always are hungry. You literally ate like half the snacks from my bag. How can you eat more?” you tease them.

Grabbing your hand, Kat whines, “That was all like sugar stuff that has burnt off by now. You know I can’t sleep well with an empty stomach. Come on, I am sure they will have some kind of protein bar or fruit.”

Rolling your eyes, you take your hand back and start heading to the door. “Fine, but I am not paying, and you owe me coffee in the morning!” you call back, not waiting for anyone to follow you. You don’t see the sneaky smiles on Cindy, Kat, and Ateez’s manager’s face as they quickly follow you.

The elevator conversion is easy as it returns to the concert and all the Atiny outfits, reactions to the boys, and song choices. Their manager is a nice guy, funny too. You wouldn’t think someone with his sense of humor would be an Idol Manager instead of a comedian, but you guess he likes to stay behind the scenes.

Finally arriving on the correct floor, you follow the manager down the hall to the store. As Cindy makes an impression of one of the Atiny who practically lost her voice from screaming during the encore, you nod thanks to the man holding the door. Walking in, you glance back at her, laughing and saying, “You would have thought Yunho was doing more than dancing on the stage with how loudly she was losing her shit over him standing there.”

When you face the front, you finally notice how dark the room is except for the single spotlit chair. You stop dead in your tracks as you wonder what the hell is going on.

When you look back and see them standing at the door, Cindy breaks the silence, saying, “Remember everything we talked about in the hotel room. Dave completes me. You deserve to be complete, too.”

Taking your hand and pulling you to the only chair in the room, Kat says, “Eight of them can be overwhelming, but I believe each holds a piece of your soul that you lost when it shattered.”

From behind you, their manager adds, “I have known these boys for more than anyone else, and I have never seen a more dedicated soulmate group in my life, Miss Y/n. Listen with your heart to what they have planned.”

With that, the three left the ballroom.

As the lights went on, you sat straight in the chair, your heart beating a million miles a minute. Could you listen with your heart? Were you willing to allow these eight men to try and complete you? Would you be able to handle being their focus? Their heart of the bond?

Soft steps are all you hear before Mingi's unmistakable, rough but soulful voice starts singing without any music, and the floor lights come up. Here they are, all eight of them dressed in your favorite costumes from the shows. You knew they had to be tired after going back-to-back with shows. All you could see was longing, hope, tenderness, and willingness.

Mingi’s eyes never leave you as he sings one of the most meaningful songs he and Hongjoong have ever written for Atiny. You recognized it immediately as it was one of the first Ateez ballads you had heard. You knew what the song meant from interviews. It was a song about finding love in the stars, finding their destiny, and protecting it– protecting you.

As Star 1117 ends, music fills as the men get closer to you. You brace for the feeling of being cornered to take over you that never comes. The most accepting and closed-off members stand right before you and begin singing a song you had only heard a few times because they performed it on a couple of shows. You don’t know the name, but you can remember words and phrases as they sing: Who are you? We were meant to be one, and the dark knight is shining; we’re shining in it. It takes you back at how honestly Jongho sings his parts; maybe he isn’t closed off at the idea of you anymore.

Tilting your head back, you try to keep the tears from falling. You may not know Korean, but your heart, mind, body, and soul don’t seem to have the same language barrier. Their energies fill you as they move around you. While you cannot understand what you are feeling, you know the mix of deep emotions is not just emotions of your own. Closing your eyes for just a moment, you remember what your friends said to you – maybe it is time to be complete.

When you finally look back at the soulmates, they are standing in a formation you haven’t seen in a long time as one of their older songs starts pumping you up and bringing a smile to your face. The song Promise was one of your favorite early songs of the band. When you first heard it, you thought either Hongjoong or Mingi had met their soulmate, and this was a song they wrote in dedication to them. Now you know, while that may have very much been true, they are singing it now to make a promise to you.

Emotions overwhelm you as you do your best to mouth the words along with them, not wanting to ruin their harmonization with your botched Korean. Happy tears start to fall as you lean into the song and the pressure in your chest, no longer completely frightened by what you think is where the bond will hold to you.

Thinking the mini-show is over, you watch them all gather in front of you and mill around. It isn’t until they all stop and you notice their positions that you let out a very embarrassing squawk, which turned into a series of ‘oh my god’s and clapping when you heard your absolute favorite song from the show, that you had complained about not seeing well, was about to be danced less than two feet from you.

It was one of their songs that you knew every word, every move, and you couldn’t believe they would be doing this song for you. This song was the song that pulled you out of your depression after Darren was murdered. The song caught your heart with its words, your eye with their stunning visuals, and your soul with the timber of their voices.

Midway through the song, you realize what these songs mean to the eight soulmates looking for you to be their focus and their heart, but your mind still has the dark voice telling you that someone like you cannot be strong enough for them.

However, your soul starts whispering to you, telling you to find guidance with Hongjoong and home in Seonghwa, make Yunho a pillar and Mingi your solace, seek safety from San and security beside Wooyoung, and obtain tranquility through Yeosang and foundation with Jongho.

Maybe you don’t have to be strong enough for them…they have to be strong enough for you.

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outlaw-apologist · 9 months ago

Text

Meant To Be {Logan x Reader}

A/N: I got stood up last night so here is a comfort story about Logan saving the reader from heartbreak after getting stood up. lol Contains: Fem!Reader. fluff. Reader is part of the X-Men AO3 Link ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Standing in front of your mirror, your heart swelling with excitement as you admired your reflection. The green dress you had chosen hugged your figure perfectly, its color making your eyes stand out even more. Your hair cascaded in soft waves down your shoulders, and your makeup was flawless. Tonight, you felt beautiful, maybe even radiant—something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in a long time. A sense of anticipation buzzed through you as you gave yourself one last twirl.

"Not bad," you whispered with a small, hopeful smile. You had spent all week looking forward to this date, letting yourself believe, just for once, that things could go right. After all the heartache, the disappointments, the feeling that you were always waiting for something better—tonight felt like it could finally be different. Maybe someone could love you. Maybe there was something more to life than the loneliness you’ve harbored for all these years.

Checking your phone, your smile faltered as you realized the time. He was late. Not terribly so, but late enough to plant the first seed of doubt. Maybe he got stuck in traffic, you thought, trying to stay positive. Or maybe he was just as nervous as you had been while getting ready.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you fiddled with the hem of your dress, your eyes flicking to your phone every few minutes. The excitement that had filled you earlier was slowly being replaced by a sinking feeling in your chest. Minutes dragged on, and with every passing moment, that small hope you had nurtured began to wither. The messages you sent stayed unread. The minutes turned into an hour. Your heart tightened as the realization settled in—you had been stood up.

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not yet. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you stood up and moved to the window, staring blankly out into the city lights. They shimmered in the distance, indifferent to the turmoil bubbling inside you. You hugged yourself tightly, trying to fight the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. All the effort you’d put into tonight, all the hope you had dared to feel—it suddenly felt so foolish, so humiliating.

But the tears came anyway. Silent and slow, they streaked down your cheeks, each one heavier than the last. You wiped them away hastily, trying to regain control, when a knock on the door startled you.

"Y/N? You in there?"

Logan’s gruff voice cut through the quiet, his tone softer than usual. You froze, heart skipping a beat. Of all people, Logan was the last person you wanted to see you like this—vulnerable, broken. You hesitated for a moment, contemplating pretending you weren’t there, but something about the sound of his voice made you want to let him in.

"Yeah... I’m here," you finally called out, your voice shakier than you intended.

The door opened slowly, and Logan stepped in, his eyes immediately taking in the sight of you standing by the window in your dress, eyes red and puffy from crying. His expression darkened, concern etched across his rugged features.

"You okay, kid?" he asked, his voice gentle, as if he already knew the answer.

You forced a weak smile, trying to brush away the vulnerability that clung to you. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just... waiting on someone."

Logan’s eyes flicked to the bed, the phone on the bedside table, and then back to you. He crossed his arms, his expression softening but not losing its edge of skepticism. "Doesn’t look like it’s goin’ too well."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping away another tear that had slipped down your cheek. "No. Not really."

There was a silence between you, heavy and full of unspoken understanding. Logan could read you too well—he didn’t need you to say anything. His eyes, usually so hard and guarded, softened as they met yours.

"He didn’t show, did he?" Logan asked quietly, a trace of anger lacing his words. It wasn’t aimed at you, but at the guy who had dared to hurt you.

You shook your head, feeling the tears threaten to spill again. "No... he didn’t."

Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you saw his hands clench into fists. But when he looked back at you, his expression was filled with something else—something protective. "That guy’s a damn fool."

His bluntness caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help but chuckle through the tears. It was a sad, tired laugh, but it felt good to let it out. "I just... I thought maybe this time would be different, you know? That maybe I could have one good night. Guess I was wrong."

Logan stepped forward, placing a strong but gentle hand on your shoulder. His touch was grounding, and for the first time that night, you didn’t feel quite so alone. "Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin’ somethin’ good, kid. But don’t let some jackass make you feel like you’re not enough."

You sniffed, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "I just feel so stupid... getting all dressed up for someone who couldn’t even bother to show."

Logan’s hand lingered on your shoulder before falling away. He looked you over, taking in the effort you had put into the night, and something in his expression softened even more. "You look beautiful, Y/N. Any guy who can’t see that isn’t worth your time."

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache in a different way, a warmth spreading through your chest. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and for a split second, you saw something deeper in his eyes. It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared, but it left a mark.

"Come on," Logan said, nodding toward the door. "We’re gettin’ outta here."

You blinked, confused. "What? Where are we going?"

"Anywhere but here," he smirked. "Not lettin’ you waste a perfectly good outfit sittin’ around cryin’ over some loser."

You blinked again, surprised by the sudden turn of events, but the warmth in your chest grew. A smile tugged at your lips despite the lingering sadness. "Okay... but only if you promise not to let me mope all night."

Logan chuckled, already heading for the door. "Deal. Now grab your jacket. It’s cold out."

Logan’s sweet words caused your heart to shake with happiness in your rib-cage. It was endearing how he didn’t want you to be cold… Didn’t want you to cry… Though he had his moments, he was often quite sweet, you thought. You couldn’t help but smile as you followed Logan down the hallway, your earlier tears drying in the warmth of his presence. The night had taken an unexpected turn, but somehow, it felt like the kind of evening you needed after all. Logan had a way of grounding you, reminding you that even when things didn’t go as planned, there was always a way to turn it around.

"Where are we going?" you asked, pulling on your jacket as you stepped outside into the cool night air.

Logan glanced over his shoulder, that familiar, ever-calm expression on his face. "You’ll see."

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound being the occasional crunch of gravel beneath your boots and the soft hum of the night. You tried not to dwell on your disappointment, instead focusing on the peacefulness of the moment. With Logan, you didn’t feel the pressure to fill the silence. He wasn’t one for small talk, but there was something reassuring in his presence.

After a short walk, you stopped in front of a small, cozy diner tucked away from the busier parts of town. The neon sign above the entrance flickered, casting a warm glow over the entrance. You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the choice.

"A diner?" you asked, your smile teasing. "You sure know how to impress a girl, Logan."

He shrugged, smirking in that way that only Logan could. "Best coffee in town. Besides, I wasn’t gonna let you sit around hungry all night."

You laughed softly, following him inside. The interior was simple, with red vinyl booths and the smell of fresh coffee and pie filling the air. It wasn’t fancy, but it had a charm that felt right. You slid into a booth by the window, and you couldn’t help but notice how relaxed you felt. You didn’t have to impress anyone here. Not Logan, not yourself. You could just… be.

A waitress appeared shortly after, smiling warmly at you both as she handed over the menus. "What can I get you two?"

"Coffee," Logan said gruffly, barely glancing at the menu.

You took a little longer, feeling a bit more cheerful now that you were settled in. "I’ll take a hot chocolate. And... maybe a slice of pie?" Comfort food was definitely needed after the night you were having.

Logan’s gaze flicked toward you, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Go on, you deserve it. Get two."

You grinned, leaning back in your seat. "If I got two, you’d have to wheel me out of here. I think I’d go into a coma." You laughed, causing Logan to snort in response. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I’ll just sling you over my shoulders.” “Like a sack of potatoes.” You didn’t miss the little smirk that crossed Logan’s face. “And they say romance is dead.”

Once the waitress had gone, you found yourself relaxing more with each passing minute. Logan was sitting across from you, and though he didn’t say much, his presence alone was enough to make you feel better. The disappointment of earlier was starting to fade, replaced by something lighter—something hopeful.

"So," Logan said after a while, breaking the silence. "This guy you were supposed to meet... how’d you even come across him?"

You chuckled, tracing the rim of your hot chocolate mug. "Online, believe it or not. He seemed nice at first, but I guess I was wrong about that. You live and learn, right?"

Logan grunted, taking a sip of his coffee. "Ain’t nothin’ wrong with puttin’ yourself out there, but… next time, make sure he’s got some guts before you waste your time."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Noted. I’ll make sure to ask if they can handle a mutant before agreeing to dinner."

Logan’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "Good plan."

You sat in comfortable silence after that, your conversation punctuated only by the arrival of the pie. Logan ate with his usual no-nonsense approach, while you savored each bite, the warmth of the dessert matching the cozy atmosphere of the diner.

"You know," you began, tapping your fork against the plate, "I never expected tonight to turn out like this. But I think I like this version better."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said, your voice soft but sure. "I don’t know, it just feels… real. No pressure. No trying to impress someone who doesn’t care. Just good company and good food."

Logan’s expression softened, though he tried to hide it. "Guess that’s what you deserve, then."

You looked at him, your heart swelling a little at his words. There was a sincerity in the way he said it, like he really believed you deserved better than what you’d been given. It was the kind of affirmation you hadn’t realized you needed. And hearing it from him—someone you admired, someone you felt a deep connection to—meant more than you could say.

"You know," you said, feeling bold, "you’re not so bad at this date thing."

Logan snorted, leaning back in the booth. "Wasn’t tryin’ to be. Just figured you needed to get outta your own head for a while."

"Mission accomplished," you teased, taking another sip of your hot chocolate. "But seriously, Logan… thanks. For being here tonight."

He gave a small nod, looking down at his cup. "You don’t gotta thank me for that."

"But I want to," you insisted gently. "I know you’re not the type to get all sentimental, but it means a lot to me that you stepped in when you did. I don’t… I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise."

Logan didn’t respond right away, but when he finally spoke, his voice was low and gruff, yet filled with something warmer than you’d expected. "Just didn’t want to see you hurtin’, is all."

Your heart fluttered at the honesty behind his words. You smiled, feeling a deep sense of appreciation for him—not just for saving your night, but for always being there, in his own quiet, steadfast way.

You spent the rest of the night talking in that cozy little diner, exchanging stories and moments of comfortable silence, until eventually, the conversation slowed, and the world outside seemed to grow quieter.

When you finally stepped outside, the cool night air greeted you once more, and you found yourself standing close to Logan, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

"Not the worst night after all," you said softly, glancing up at him.

Logan grunted in agreement, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. "Could’ve been worse."

You chuckled, shaking your head as you began walking back toward the mansion. "You know, for someone who’s not trying to be romantic, you’re pretty good at it."

He smirked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "Don’t get used to it."

You grinned, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked side by side. "No promises."

As you walked beside Logan through the quiet night, a swirl of emotions tugged at you. His presence was like a beacon in the dark, grounding you in a way that was both comforting and unnerving. The sadness from earlier still lingered, but being near him seemed to dull the edges of that pain. For the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone.

You stole a glance at him, the dim streetlights casting shadows over his rugged, sharp features. He didn’t say much—he never did—but his actions spoke volumes. When everything had crumbled tonight, he was there, pulling you from the depths of your hurt without a second thought. His quiet strength, that gruff tenderness, was something you had grown to depend on more than you cared to admit. And with every step you took, you could feel something building, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

You swallowed hard as the mansion’s gates loomed ahead, your heart beating louder in your chest. This was more than just a walk back to the mansion; it felt like a moment suspended in time. The air between you was thick with unsaid words and unacknowledged feelings. You stopped when Logan did, standing together in the quiet. The silence was heavy now, the weight of what you wanted to say pressing on your chest.

“Logan…” Your voice came out softer than you intended, thick with the emotions you were struggling to contain.

He looked down at you, his eyes steady but unreadable. “What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

You hesitated, feeling the lump in your throat tighten. Every instinct screamed to hold back, to keep your feelings buried like you always had. But you couldn’t. Not now. Not after tonight. You took a small step toward him, your heart hammering in your chest. "I just…"

Logan’s gaze softened, as if sensing your inner turmoil. “What is it?”

The words failed you, your pulse quickening as you stood on the edge of a choice you couldn’t undo. Instead of answering, you raised your hand, your fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheek. The contact was electric, sending a shock of warmth through you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

The kiss was hesitant at first, almost uncertain. You could feel the rapid thumping of your heart, afraid he might pull away. But he didn’t. Instead, his hand found its way to your lower back, warm and firm, drawing you closer. The kiss deepened, a restrained intensity simmering beneath the surface. It was as though he’d been holding back just as much as you had, and now, everything was pouring out in this stolen moment.

When you finally pulled away, your breaths came in shallow gasps, your heart racing faster than ever before. You blinked up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and wonder. You had kissed him. Logan. And he had kissed you back.

For a heartbeat, neither of you spoke, the weight of what had just happened hanging thickly in the air. You could feel your cheeks flushing, heat creeping up your neck as the gravity of the moment settled over you.

Logan’s voice, low and gravelly, cut through the quiet. "Y/N…”

You braced yourself, waiting for him to say something that would make sense of the chaos swirling inside you. But instead, he stepped closer, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. His chin came to rest on the top of your head, and in that moment, everything else fell away. The world around you disappeared, leaving just the two of you standing in the cool night air.

You melted against his chest, your arms winding around his waist as you let out a shaky breath. His hold was firm, grounding, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek. He didn’t need to say much—he never did—but in this embrace, you felt more than words could ever express.

"I didn’t mean to…" you started, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. But Logan’s grip tightened slightly, silencing your nervous explanation.

“You don’t gotta explain,” he murmured, his voice a quiet rumble in the night. “I get it.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but they weren’t born of sadness. They came from the overwhelming sense of relief, of belonging, that washed over you. Logan had always been a constant in your life, someone you admired deeply. But now, as he held you, it became clear that your feelings went beyond admiration. They had always run deeper, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for a moment like this.

“Logan…” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Is this… okay?”

His thumb brushed your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. His eyes, softer than you had ever seen them, locked onto yours. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough with sincerity. “It’s more than okay.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, the tension from the night lifting like a weight off your chest. You stood on your toes, pressing your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering closed as you let the quiet comfort of the moment wrap around you.

The night hadn’t gone the way you expected. You had been stood up, hurt, left feeling vulnerable in a way you hadn’t in a long time. But none of that seemed to matter anymore. Not here. Not with Logan. In his arms, everything else faded away, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the quiet understanding that, somehow, you had found exactly where you were meant to be. ______ Next Logan Story (Smut)

#wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #x men #x men x reader #reader insert #marvel x reader #fluff #my writing

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tinietaehyun · 10 months ago

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Join Me, Won’t You?

[MarchHare!Hueningkai x Lost!Reader] [One-Shot] [Wondrous Tales Series]

Pairing: MarchHare!Hueningkai x Lost!reader

Genre(s): Fantasy, dark fantasy, supernatural, dark romance, action.

Contains: Profanity, manipulation, coercion, mentions/implications of death or injury, sedation, binding, possessive behaviour, suggestive themes, dialogue-heavy.

Links: Masterlist || Wondrous Tales Masterlist

Note: Thanks for the patient wait! <3

Summary: Gasping and panting raggedly for breath, you seemed to have done good by sliding down the fluorescent tunnel as a last resort! The King’s guards almost caught you!

What a maniac he was! How could someone be so obsessive? Your heart rate slows as you peer around, huh, this area seemed secluded. You deem it should be safe to take some rest here. Right? Goodness, you couldn’t trust this place at all! Little by little you feel your sanity tearing away.

“Oh? Who’s wandered into my little grove? Another guest for my tea party?” Your head snaps up seeing a tall man, with a coy grin as he clicks his tongue, walking towards you, “Oh you must be the pretty little guest I’ve heard so much about…oh then, join me, won’t you? For my little tea party?”

You had a feeling you couldn’t refuse even if you wanted to.

Coughing and spluttering as you clamber through the tunnel like your life depends on it, you finally spot a halo of light towards the surface. With a rush of adrenaline surging through your veins, you make your way upwards and heave yourself above just as you hear the final chunks of soil crumble and fall sealing off the burrow.

Fuck. You sit on the fluffy purple grass panting heavily as though you had run a marathon. Sweat drips down your forehead to which you wipe off with your arm and you grimace feeling your lungs burn and legs ache; you look at your arms and legs seeing the scratches and dirt.

That was terrifying! You almost got buried alive! After a few minutes, you compose yourself and stand up wearily attempting to make sense of your new wacky surroundings. Muttering, you begin to walk around, “The fuck am I going to get into this time?”

Your eyes are drawn to a bright yellow arrow on a sign board. Several actually, of numerous colours all pointing in one direction. You gaze below seeing haphazardly hanging bunting and old party decorations which seemed to be decaying into the ground. Broken tea cups, paper plates, napkins.

Goodness… A shudder goes through you. Surely…you hadn’t truly ended up at the Hatter, did you? You wanted to avoid that madman at all costs from what you heard about him!

You eye the arrows again, it was perhaps best to never follow them, after all in Wonderland, nothing is as it seems. You peer at the bright pink bushes and grimace, maybe you could stray off the path a little. Pushing through the bushes, you begin to make your own way through this new space.

You weren’t exactly sure if this was a good idea or whether you were just getting yourself even more lost. But anything was better than Yeonjun! What a maniac he was! How could someone be so obsessive? After a few minutes, your eyes widen seeing an opening in the foliage and you push your way through with a glimmer of hope. You once again spot the sun stuck in the same spot in the sky, painting the opening with an oddly comforting golden hue.

Your heart rate slows as you peer around, huh, this area seems to be secluded. You deem it should be safe to take some rest here. Right? Goodness, you couldn’t trust this place at all! Little by little you feel your sanity tearing away.

You regard a mossy boulder beside a broken sign which seems to read “This Way!” Your heart drops. Another sign? Even though you strayed off the path…? This place was horrid!

Your legs were beginning to hurt even more; just a little break, that’s all you wanted. You decide to settle on the boulder with an exasperated sigh; your hand rests on your forehead as you pitifully attempt to relax in the godforsaken place.

After a mere moment of silence, a bright voice destroys your peace, “Oh? Who’s wandered into my little grove? Another guest for my tea party?” Your head snaps up seeing a tall man, with a coy grin as he clicks his tongue, walking towards you, “Oh, you must be the pretty little guest I’ve heard so much about…oh then, join me, won’t you? For my little tea party?”

Regarding him with a blank gaze, you remain silent and stiff. He tilts his head before letting out a cackle which startles you. His eyes…they twinkle with mischief, his wide smile. His umber hair sprawls haphazardly over his forehead, sharp, chiseled features which had your heart fluttering. A red diamond on his left cheekbone catches your eye. His jawline dangerously sharp with thin lips that always seemed to be in a permanent coy smile. Who was he?

The vibrant grass bristles as he takes a large step forward. You note his formal attire, indeed suitable for a tea party. A white satin shirt and beige waistcoat with brown rabbit ears embroidered below one of the breast pockets. A rabbit? Another one? A small black iron key, tiny in fact, hangs like a charm on his necklace.

The mysterious man seems to enjoy your expression of confusion as you regard him intently as he grins, “Does my appearance, please you so, precious?” He skips on over and your eyes widen as he brazenly looks you over, walking around you and observing you from all angles as if you were some museum exhibit.

“Mm,” he hums, intrigued and your breath hitches as his gloved hand grips your chin tilting it up. Goodness, he was comically tall, even from where you were sitting or were you just incredibly short? You stand up instinctively and grimace, seeing his towering height.

The male smirks, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as his eyes gleam flirtatiously, “Hm, well, aren’t you a pretty thing? A sight for sore eyes even, the last one was so dreary to look at, you know? I’m glad there’s still pretty ones like you that still stumble in here.”

You pry his hand off, shoving it away with a glare, “Who are you and what do you want?” A blatantly loud cackle escapes his lips and his eyes widen manically, “Oh come on! It’s always the same question with you guests! Lighten up! Why always think so pessimistically, precious?”

Snapping, you respond, “Oh I don’t know, maybe getting hunted down by the King of Hearts? Seeing someone innocent get dragged away to be beheaded? Not knowing any way out of this deranged place?”

He goes momentarily silent placing an almost sympathetic hand on your shoulder, leaning down with a frown and you wearily lean back before he startles you with a loud guffaw. You turn around with a grumbling mutter; you weren’t going to waste your time.

A yelp escapes you as a hand grips your shoulder and abruptly spins you around. You crash into a firm chest, your nostrils filled with sweet scent, hints of ginger, peppermint, maybe caramel?

You tilt your head upwards to see him with a bright smile unfazed by your attitude. His fingers slide down your arm before interlocking with yours, “Oh precious, don’t be like that. It hurts my delicate feelings, you know? Don’t tell me you plan to leave without attending my tea party.”

He sighs dramatically, “It’s been ages since I’ve had anyone but the Hatter attend my tea party and the Mice of course. I think even once the Caterpillar did, only once. He didn’t really like the pranks I played, but that’s besides the point.”

Before you could respond to the barrage of words that made absolutely no sense to you, he interrupts with wide eyes and a gasp, grabbing your wrist and dragging you with him.

“Hey-!“ you struggle helplessly, your feet skidding and stumbling in the grass. His grip is unforgivably tight and he seems to overpower you with ease as he resumes, “How so, so, so, rude of me! I never even introduced myself to you precious, goodness it’s been so long since I’ve entertained a guest, I’ve apparently forgotten my manners! Forgive me.”

You grit out, “I don’t care- let me go!” He releases a delightful chuckle, ignoring your struggle and plea with a blissful expression, “In Wonderland I am the March Hare, or more personally, Kai.” Briefly, he peers over his shoulder to see you still pulling and tugging against his hand and he snickers, “You’re quite adorable when you struggle like that, you must have really gained the King’s fervour.”

You stiffen, heart racing, how did he know? Kai smiles widely, “Oh don’t panic, you’ve come to the right place, that pompous ruler of ours never attends my tea parties no matter how many invites I send him. Hmph, perhaps he prefers the Hatter’s more grand-scale tea parties. Huh, or maybe it’s my games he doesn’t like. Whatever, I don’t really care for his presence.”’

“Now that I think about it, it really has been a long time since I’ve had a guest. The King is so, so, selfish! He kills those he doesn’t like? Why not just send them my way? I’m not mean like him, so you don’t need to worry.” His words begin to blur out as you try to register the onslaught of information.

A giggle escapes his lips, “I’m just a lonely Hare, always having tea alone with occasional mice and egregious Hatter. How boring, you’d think I’d have gone insane?” Kai bursts out laughing, startling you.

Wasn’t he already insane? Goodness if this is supposed to be sane here, then what was considered insane here? You grimace and your eyes widen as you take in the new surroundings.

A shriek escapes your lips as you see several clothed mice scurry past your legs and you stumble into Kai’s back. He chuckles, “Oh it seems you’ve spooked the mice. Or, they’ve spooked you,” another crazed little laugh leaves his lips. Kai picks one up by the tail shoving it in front of your face making you scream and stumble back. What the actual fuck?

He cackles at your reaction, “Not a fan of mice? What a shame. Imagine how I feel then?” He carelessly tosses it down with a squeak and you flinch. Oh god, what have you gotten yourself into?

Kai leans down with a deep gaze, “But it’s okay, I’ve got you now, to entertain and not these pipsqueaks I call guests! You, you, you, are much better, aren’t you, precious?” A wave of unease and fear runs through your body. You had to get out of here. Surely, nothing could be as bad as the King of Hearts?

With a grand spin and skip, he snaps his fingers and as if by magic, several twinkling lights and little lanterns (with unfortunate fireflies trapped inside) begin illuminating, giving the area a warm glow. Your eyes process the tea party set up.

There was a long mismatched table set, beneath a whimsical tree with vibrant, oversized flowers, wrapped with various string lights and colourful bunting. The tablecloth is a patchwork of different colours and patterns which clash. The tea cups are an assortment of shapes and sizes with a grand teapot with its spout shaped and painted like a purple elephant’s trunk. What the hell?

The chairs are quirky, unstable, some that wobble and the legs twist into weird shapes. There’s an eclectic mix of wacky treats, most notably the enormous scones, cakes with impossible layers and…giant sandwiches? Fucking hell, you’d believe you were on drugs if it weren’t for everything that happened earlier!

“Like it?” Kai asks, over-excited. You grimace, “It’s certainly…something.” Rolling his eyes, he grabs your arm, dragging you towards one of the chairs and you hiss, “Wait-!”

He pulls out a chair and gestures with a tilt of his head to sit. You huff, “No way.” Kai grins at you, placing his hands on both of your shoulders, “I’m all for playing hard to get, I can work with you, precious.” You yelp as he shoves you down onto the seat and pushes the chair with you on it against the table roughly, rattling everything on it making the remaining mice scatter.

Kai pushes several plates of food and some cutlery towards you and brightly hums, “Eat, eat, up! You need energy.” Looking at the food, your stomach doesn’t rumble, in fact, you feel sick.

“Oh precious, are you worried I poisoned it? I get it, your fears are justified. The King likes to do that doesn’t he? Remember I'm not cruel like the king?” His assurance doesn’t seem to alleviate your anxiety at all.

You murmur nervously, “Really, I’m not hungry.” He takes one of the cupcakes on the table, peeling off the striped wrapper and takes a massive bite; the chocolate smearing on his lips. After swallowing, he wipes his lips with a pink napkin, “See? Nothing happened to me? Tastes really good, precious.”

You gaze down at one of the plates presented and see a slice of chocolate cake and some biscuits on another plate. Meanwhile, Kai takes the liberty to pour you some tea in a comically large cup. This all feels disorienting to you. He urges once more, “Go on, don’t be shy, eat away, to your heart's content. Come on! Don’t make me say it thrice!”

With shaky hands you pick up the cake slice, you bring it to your lips. Kai watches you with great anticipation and you bite down. A burst of rich, creamy chocolate flavour bursts in your mouth brimming with ecstasy. Fuck, it tastes so good! What the hell?

Kai’s lips form a sly smile, “Oh? I saw that twinkle in your eyes. You like it, don’t you?” You shake your head, your mouth still full with cake. This damn cake!

A grin forms, “Oh? Are you embarrassed? I’ll have you know, this cake was once the favourite of the King. But he stole my recipe and now makes it at the palace,” Kai huffs.

You take another bite and he coos, “Just like that, you have no idea how happy it makes me to spoil my dearest, pretty guests.” If there was poison in this, no doubt it tasted good. Well, if there was one way to go out, this would be it. But oddly enough, as you continue to eat, nothing happens. So you take more, a biscuit there, a bite of a scone here, a touch of cream, a cupcake, some toffee and a sip of tea.

Your stomach feels full, incredibly so. In fact you hadn’t eaten since you arrived. How was everything on this wild table so good? Kai had helped himself to his own food alongside you, talking on and on, badmouthing the king, the Hatter and the mice.

Yawning, you sigh, feeling tired. Perhaps you’d gotten carried away with your food fest. Shit…did you over indulge yourself? It had been awhile… and it tasted so good. It’s not so wrong is it?

“And then I said to him..” Kai’s voice becomes muffled and your vision darkens as your eyes flutter shut. Just… a little nap.

Kai stops talking and peers at you fondly. “What a pretty sleeping face, it touches my heart.” He walks over cupping your cheek and he snickers seeing the slight smear of frosting on your lips and he wipes it off with his thumb. “How endearing, indeed. I could just eat you up, precious.” He takes another moment to gaze over your features, lingering a little longer on your parted lips, before shaking his head with a smile.

How quaint indeed…

A warm fuzzy feeling envelops you and you smile at ease. Was this all just a horrific nightmare? Were you finally going to wake up back in your bed at home?

With a croaky groan, your eyes flutter open, light filling your gaze. You peer around and go to move when you feel a constraint against your wrists, they’re bound together. A shriek escapes your lips, “What the fuck? What’s this-?” You regard the pink silk ribbon tied around your wrists with delicate care with a pretty bow on top.

It may not have been poison but it was a sedative! Shit. Your head pounds as you see double of everything, as if one wasn’t enough for your overstimulated brain!

A laugh reverberates and you turn your head to see the March Hare in all his glory with a gleaming, illustrious smile, as he tugs at the hem of his gloves. “Ah, you’ve awoken, precious. How soundly you slept, I could get used to seeing such a sight daily.”

You snarl, “You maniac! What have you done?” He snickers, “Oh? What’s with the sour mood? Woke up on the wrong side of bed?” You snap, “Oh fuck off! Release me, I’ve indulged you haven’t I? I ate your fucking cake and desserts, what have I done to deserve this?”

Kai pouts at the use of your profanity, “Ah, ah, ah, no improper words at my tea party, this is a place of decorum after all. Only the Hatter’s Parties are so frivolous!”

You sneer, “Oh tying your guests hands together is considered decorum now, is it?” Kai snickers leaning down behind your chair, his lips close to your ear, “Be thankful I didn’t tie your legs together too. But hm, you raise a point. One that I won’t take into account, because,” he walks to the left of you with an extravagant wave of his hands, “My party, my rules!”

You seethe and he coos, “Oh don’t look at me like that, you’ll make me like you even more! How cute you look when you’re so frustrated!” His words send a tornado of anger surging through you. The sheer audacity of this man!

Rolling his eyes, he teeters as he walks around the table, “Anyway,” he snickers, “I didn’t kill you did I? Poison you? Stab you? You should be thanking me actually! If I were the Hatter, I’d have you hanging upside down on that tree over there gagged and swinging like a pendulum on a grandfather clock.”

You shiver at the thought, holy shit. This was insane! He hums, crossing his arms, “After all, I like my share of fun. What makes you think I’d just be content at seeing my little guest eat away? Sure that’s enlightening, but I want,” he approaches you once more, leaning down, placing his hands on either side of the armrests of the chair, caging you in, “…some real fun.”

His eyes beam into yours sending a dark shudder through you as his lips morph into a manic, just a little too-wide of a grin, “You can give me that can’t you? You’ve been good for me so far, haven’t you? You won’t die. None of my guests die! Well, unless they try to leave and break the rules I set, then let’s just say, I… put them out of commission for a while!”

Out of commission? Break the rules? Leave? What the fuck! Oh, he was deranged in his own twisted way. You definitely had to get out here!

Kai frowns, stepping back with a huff, “You don’t get it do you! Everyone always tries to leave! So that’s why I’ve bound your wrists! I give my guests so much freedom and it always backfires!” His eyes widen immensely as he grasps your shoulders shaking you with ferocity, “You can’t blame a Hare for becoming lonely? I just want someone to have tea and play with!”

For the first time you see hesitation, panic, anxiety in his brown eyes, causing your breath to hitch. “You’re different right? I can just tell, you’re not like the other pathetic losers that come here! You made it past THE Red King of Hearts, you’re definitely special!” His rambling makes your head spin.

“You liked the desserts and food right? I can make more. The fun will never end! We can play all my games, and it won’t even have any dire consequences, I just want someone to entertain me. I know you might be a little angry…but I'm sure you’ll calm down soon enough, won’t you?” He splutters with a manic gaze, shaking you further and you yell, “Stop!”

Kai freezes, breaking out of his rambling and manic muttering to peer into your frightened gaze and he coos softly, “Goodness, look at me rambling again, my apologies, I do this quite often with those I’m comfortable with. I- I- promise I’ll try to keep it in check.” He laughs brokenly, “Ah, you’ll have to get used to that. Don’t want you getting sick of me, would we?”

Too late for that, you think. Wait…get used to it? You stiffen. He wouldn’t let you leave. Like forever?

“…So I can’t leave your tea party?” You stammer. His brows furrow and he smiles, “Why would you? I’ve got everything here? And who knows when the next guest will arrive? The King probably wouldn’t even let them come here. Or they’d be stupid, and die on the way. Why take my chances when I have you already?” He speaks as though none of his words were deranged.

Shakily, you utter, “But…my home? I don’t belong here. I picked up that invitation by accident!” You splutter further, panic running through your system, “T-Think about it, always having the same guest, you’ll get bored of me, like you got bored of the Mice and the Hatter!”

Kai remains silent for a moment and a smirk appears on his lips as he suddenly cups your jaw, “Aw, are you trying the king’s method of reverse psychology? How adorable.”

Your face pales and lips quiver, “K-Kai, please. You have a heart, you’re sane right? You’re better than the King in all respects, you’ve treated me well and haven’t hurt me so far? Please,” you plead in desperation.

He clicks his tongue, “Tsk, tsk, none of that from you. Keep those pretty lips sealed, won’t you? I’ve finally got the one thing I’ve been wanting for a long time and you think your meager pleas will melt my heart and I’ll just let you go so I can be in solitude once more? Please!” Kai lets out a crazed laugh throwing his head back and clutching his stomach.

“Oh precious, no one’s really like you at all! Here you are, legs unbound yet you’re asking me so politely to leave instead of bolting off with tied wrists!” Kai cackles. Your shoulders droop and you frown.

You weren’t stupid, you knew you could run. But you didn’t want to find out the horrendous consequences of such an action. After all, he said he doesn’t like breaking the rules.

“I’ve got so much in store for you, if you managed to surpass the King, then your brain up there must surely be big, hm?” Kai grins, pressing the tip of his index finger to the center of your forehead and you flinch.

Muttering under your breath, you say, “I just want to go home.” Kai freezes and a dark expression crosses his face, “Home? Don’t be daft. This is your home now. Why in Wonderland would you return to that dismal place you call home? Tell me does your home have Giant Tulips and Neon Roses? Games galore?”

You snap, “I’ve had enough!” Your voice cracks, “I’m exhausted.” He groans dramatically, “Oh don’t be like that, you just woke up! I’ve worked so hard to set up some games for you. Well, that’s the one thing I can be better at than the Hatter at.”

“Games?” You sigh with a shriveled expression. You didn’t want to play his stupid games. With a mighty clap of his hands, he starts, “So! Let’s play!” Your mind whirrs, you had to get out of here, otherwise you’d be perpetually stuck here! Think, think, think Y/n! He resumes over-excited, “The first game is Shrink Maze!”

All of a sudden, dozens of dressed-up mice climb the table and push all the cutlery, napkins, holders, plates and dishes into what seems to be a maze. What did you just witness?

“Well done little ladies and gents,” Kai titters. Reaching into his pocket, he brings out a tiny vial filled with purple liquid. “Drink this nifty little thing and you’ll become the size of a mouse. Convenient right? I always did like becoming a tiny, put the entire world into a new perspect-“

You had it! All games had prizes! You just had to beat his games and make sure he had no way of refusing you! Your eyes scan around as he rambles on. There was a small iron gate with a faded red arrow. Through the foliage you see the billowing checkered valleys that lay ahead. That had to be your way out! It had to be, either way it was a chance you were willing to take!

Kai’s eyes narrow as he sees your line of sight and he leans down with a smirk, “Ah, ah, ah, looking to escape are we? That’s the Hatter’s territory precious, I don’t think your mind will handle his insanity.”

Oh whatever, yes, yes, you got the drill by now. Who said you actually had to meet the Hatter? You’d take your chances; you made it this far haven’t you? But you had confirmed one thing. That gate was indeed the exit out of the Hare’s Tea Party Grove.

He hums amused, “Even if you somehow staggered over there without me seeing, you’d only find it locked and the key is only in one place that only I know. So…too bad!” He lets out a wavering guffaw making you flinch.

You hum defiantly, “Your games. I’ll play. On one condition. A winner’s reward.” Kai tilts his head intrigued by your proposition, “Oh? Feeling cocky are we? What makes you think I’d agree to such terms then, precious?”

“You like games, and I’m sure after this long and many guests. You like winning them. Outsmarting your guests. Outwitting them. Seeing them struggle,” you firmly speak, gazing into his eyes with a racing heart.

“Huh,” he muses, folding his arms, eyes twinkling in amusement, “Very astute of you to observe such a thing. I do. I do like winning. I do like seeing my guests fumble about and lose.” With a shaky breath, you proclaim, “If I lose, I’ll stay. I’ll stay with you. Forever. We’ll have tea forever. If I win..”

He sharply interrupts you, “Which you won’t-“ you interrupt him back, “If I do, then you’ll grant me freedom. The key to that gate over there.” Kai throws his head back laughing; his fist slams on the table making the mice squeak as he finds your words the funniest someone has ever uttered.

“You’re bold, you know that? No wonder you made it past the King.” Your jaw clenches and your hands become clammy. Bite the bait! Kai utters with a sly grin, “Fine, I suppose I do love to win. I’ll bite,” he leans down startling you, “The bait I mean, not you. Unless…” “No-“ you sharply utter with a glare making him cackle.

“I do look forward to seeing you fumble and flap about.” You scoff, “As if.” With a leap behind you, he pulls you up, “Up, up, up, I’m getting bored from all this talking. As I was saying, Shrink Maze! See this lovely maze my mice friends have set up for you. You have to make it through to the exit.”

You glance at the maze. Seemed easy enough, you already had found the way out, simple. You could win this easily. All of a sudden, he grabs your jaw and presses the vial to your lips, “Spit it out and I’ll dislocate your jaw open into a permanent laugh,” he warns.

Your eyes widen, body tensing as the sickeningly sweet liquid slides down your throat. A tingle appears in your fingers and soon spreads like wildfire across your body. All of a sudden you feel lightweight and you find yourself tiny falling towards the now ginormous table, screaming.

Kai cackles, catching you in his hand and you tremble seeing his sheer size and dark gaze, “How cute you are, I could just crush you in the palm of my hand. Smoosh.” He drops you down onto the table and the monstrously sized cups, plates and decorations tower over you. You couldn’t see shit now! You didn’t even memorise the maze, fuck!

With a twisted smile, “Go on now, make your way through the maze.” With shaking limbs, you walk into the maze. Okay… you do recall having to take the first right and then one left, but that’s about it. So, you do just that. As you’re at a junction, you freeze hearing a terrifyingly loud squeak.

Kai’s voice resounds, “Oh sorry, I forgot to mention, the mice will be playing too. I did tell them that they’d get a nice chunk of cheese if they caught you, so I do apologise if they are tad aggressive, precious.” Thudding footsteps resound and you release a piercing shriek as you see a furry enemy turn the corner towards you sniffing and squeaking.

Fuck this! You hiss seeing your bound wrists, it made running so much harder! With your utmost you go straight, take a left, another left and another right. You had no fucking clue where you were heading? Another set of footsteps vibrate the table and tears brim your eyes.

Kai grins, “Oh dear, seems you’re at a dead end. Should I point them in the right direction, they’re only a wall away from you precious?” You snarl pint-sized, “Shut up!” Another squeak resounds.

You had to be quiet, they hadn’t found you here yet. You wrack your brains viciously. You peer up seeing the gargantuan decorations and chairs, back at Huening Kai. Hm, if you took into account their positions. Kai was East, you were the closest to him, so you were on the East of the maze. The exit was near the third chair of the table. Yes, yes! Maybe you could do this!

With your body and mind working overtime, you use the position of the humongous furniture, items and surroundings to help locate yourself and find your way through.

A shrewd shriek echoes and you scream seeing another mouse charging towards you from the right and your eyes flick around. You were this close, you were not going to let some furry nuisance ruin that! You couldn’t lose no matter what! The billowing napkin catches your eye and with speed, you grab it and hoist it above you charging towards it, the cloth flapping and puffing under the wind. The mice adorning an apron squeaks, eyes widened with confusion and fear and scurries off. Despite its size, it was still a skittish mouse!

A disapproving click of the tongue is heard from above - Kai. You let out a delirious laugh, your idea was stupid, stupid enough to work in this dreadful place!

“Ugh, how dreadful. Stupid mice,” he mutters with an irritated glare. Running, you take another right; the third chair now towering over you. It was right there! You grin widely seeing the path only turn right and with all your might you sprint.

The exit appears and you rush past with a foolishly wide grin as you peer up at him panting and sweat-ridden, “Done!” Your heart slams against your ribcage, legs burning and lungs on fire.

With a roll of his eyes, he picks up a green-rimmed tea cup and your eyes widen as he hovers it over you and a few drops fall on you causing you to shriek. A familiar tingling sensation appears and in the blink of an eye you find yourself back to normal size. Kai snarks, “A growing potion brings things back to regular size. Sorry, I suppose you are a bit soaked. Not many have made it past, so huh, good job.”

You grumble and he muses suddenly cupping your jaw to face him, “Though the sight of you soaked isn’t too bad either.” Glaring, you mutter, “I won. Next game.”

Kai grins, “Eager are we? You truly are different from the other guests. It really does make me want to just keep you all to myself, I bet we’d have so, so, so much fun together!” He pushes you to sit down with an excited flurry and Kai smiles at you, “Let’s talk.” You deadpan. “No, I mean, that’s the game, precious. Come on keep that pretty head of yours up to speed!”

You scoff at his remark and he grins sitting down opposite you, “What is the colour of the wind?” Your brows furrow. The fuck? He snickers at the bamboozlement on your visage.

“Give me an answer that satisfies my two questions and we’ll progress to the next game!” Kai chuckles loudly before he groans, exasperatedly, placing a dramatic hand on his forehead, “Give me a boring one and I’ll just consider that you lose.”

“That isn’t fair! You just won’t let me win!” You grit your teeth, this game wasn’t objective at all! You could be however creative you wanted and he could deny you all he wanted! This sly bastard!

“My Grove, my rules, precious, now stop pouting and start thinking!” He giggles. He really was determined to get you to stay; you gaze into his eyes, a spark of hesitance. Ah, ha! He didn’t like the fact you traversed the maze. That you won. That you had the possibility to escape. You’d sown the seed of doubt in his mind.

The gate. You just needed the key to the gate. If you could just find it. “Tick-tock!” You snap, “You didn’t mention a time limit?” Kai smiles mischievously, “Did I not? Whoops, well there is now, I’m sorry precious.” You glower at him, “Secondly, there is no time here!” He pouts, “Don’t ruin the experience, precious, here I’ll count then. Twenty, nineteen..”

You release a frustrated groan. The key. Fuck! You needed to keep him occupied. An answer he likes, something nonsensical, not logical perhaps?

“Uh…” you pick your brains. “Ten, nine..” he grins. You splutter, “The c-colour of the wind..” you eye the fluffy marshmallows on one cupcake, “is a thousand fluffy marshmallows and- and, forgotten rain..bows?” You finish unsurely.

Kai registers your answers before cackling maniacally, “Oh my goodness!” He shakes your tied hands over-excited, “Wonderful, wonderful!” His eyes meet yours with a twisted pleasure, “You are perfect to play with. Perfect. You just get me!” Remaining silent, you give him a glare making him laugh once more.

He leans forward gripping your wrists more tightly, “Mm, I did adore that nonsensical answer but you already won once right, so? Mm, no. You could have been even more nonsensical.” You snarl, “You-! This is unfair, completely unfair! How can I win then?”

He shrugs, his fingers reaching up to nonchalantly fiddle with his shirt collar, “Not my problem precious. Why would I help you leave?” You sneer, “I think you’re just afraid that I’ll escape.”

Kai painfully tugs at your bindings with a manic gaze and tilt of his head as he grits out, “One loss is already too many in my head. I don’t like, don’t like it at all. Also, I’d prefer to not let my pretty little guest win her prize of freedom. So, suck it up, precious and do what so say, when I say it, or I’ll just make you play for eternity.”

Kai’s fingers move up to fiddle unbothered with his necklace, the tiny key swiveling between his fingertips with ease. Wait. Your heart drops to your stomach as realisation fills your senses. The key! The only key here you’d seen was that key around his neck. Or were you just thinking a little too outside the box? Maybe you didn’t have to go through all this horseplay, no, you could just take a shortcut!

Gears in your mind grind and rattle. He did not underestimate you, that much was clear. He had changed his games up so much so that there was no way to win! You had to grab that key, and make a run for it! Huh…but the key was tiny. How could it fit in that gate’s keyhole?

“Hello?” Kai’s voice and sudden hand on your jaw breaks you out of your trance, “I’m waiting, don’t tell me I’ve melted that pretty head of yours into mush already?” You scoff shaking his hand off, “No. Hit me with the next question.” You just had to keep him occupied as you think of a way to get that key.

Kai grins widely, “Hmm…If a teapot…could sing, let’s say, opera. What genre would it perform?” As if to mock your predicament, he grabs the teapot and tilts it into his cup pouring more tea. What the type of question was that?

You snap, “You’re insane.” He giggles frantically sipping his tea, “Why thank you. Everyone always calls the Hatter insane, but sorely underestimate my abilities!” You seethe at his irritatingly charming smile.

“Just- Just give me more than twenty seconds this time, please,” you plead, feigning desperation. He tilts his head and coos, “Aw, that’s cute, I like the tone you get when you plead, fine, I shall allow it.” You have to refrain from sneering - he only allowed it because he was going to reject whatever nonsensical answer you came up with!

Your gaze flickers over the assortment of items on the table, lingering on the sharp knife beside the cake. The very cake that sedated you. Shit, you couldn’t even get him to eat it, he wasn’t stupid. Your eyes settle on the green-rimmed teacup, the growing elixir. Your eyes widen, the key- you could grow it back to original size (well, if your hypothesis was correct!)

It made the most sense, what place was more safe to keep the key than next to his own neck, shrunken down inconspicuously? You smile extra wide and he raises a brow, “What’s gotten you so happy, precious?”

“I’ve found an answer that I think you’ll like a lot,” you stand up. A sly smirk lines his lips, “Oh really? I have terribly high expectations, you know. Do enlighten me then.”

You brush past him with a calm gaze as you walk towards the teacup with the elixir. “The genre it would perform would be teatime tragedy.” Kai’s smile falters and he grimaces in disgust, “That’s your answer? How boring.”

You shrug, “Really?” Despite your bound wrists, you hook your finger into the handle of the teacup and raise it precariously. “It’s about the dramatic tales of an evening tea party that goes terribly,” you throw the teacup at him and his eyes widen as the liquid splashes across his face and torso. You finish, “Wrong.” With a bright hum, you gleam, “Like that.” Kai’s eyes snap to meet yours infuriated, “H-How dare you, such insolence! At my tea party? I’m the host!” You snap, “And I’m the guest!”

“Following my rules,” he argues flagrantly, “I did. I answered your question,” you grit out. He snarls displeased by your sudden defiance and your eyes sparkle as you see the key on his neck grow slowly. You had to make sure he didn’t notice!

With a rough tug, his fingers wrap around your neck and your lips part in surprise, hands against his chest. “Don’t test my patience precious, no matter how much you play, I won’t ever, ever let you win. Got that? Get that drilled into your lovely little skull.”

Your gaze meets his, breaths tumbling out. His body heat seeps through your clothes. His face was even prettier this close. His sharp nose, infuriated eyes, high cheekbones, a man sculpted by the gods themselves. Too bad he was a maniac, you’d have fawned over him in the real world. You see his eyes flicker to your lips back to your gaze, “There’s just something about you. I don’t like. At the same time, I don’t hate.”

So close. The key was so close. You almost flinch when his other hand moves a stray strand of your hair out of your face and delicately cups your cheek, “Such a pretty face, pretty eyes, cute nose,” his thumb tugs down at your lower lip making your breath hitch. Kai takes notice, smirking, “Such irresistible lips, that spew such irritable nonsense.”

“And you don’t?” You counter back breathless. Kai chuckles, “I do, but it’s better when you do it.” You lean closer, “Really? Do I win then? Could you just let me have this second win?” You plead. Kai clicks his tongue with a condescending grin, “Mm, you know I can’t do that, even when you beg so pretty, precious.”

Well, who needed his permission anyway? With a sudden jump, your hands clamp over the key and with a rough tug, you run past him. He screeches in agony, the friction of the necklace against his skin and the sound of it snapping from the sheer force of you pulling it off his neck. You peer down, the key was indeed large enough!

“You-!” The March Hare snarls enraged as he sees the key. He lets out a deranged laugh, “You clever, clever, little thing! So you figured it out all this time huh? You never planned to indulge me at all!” He lunged forward with an arm outstretched. You shriek, kicking one of the chairs in his direction to hold him back a little longer. You could NOT afford to drop this key!

Bolting towards the gate, you pant madly, you could do it! You were so close, so close- your fumble with the key inserting into the keyhole trembling. Quick, quick, quick!

“You misbehaving brat, after all that hospitality-“ you scream as you feel his hand on your shoulder and you twist yourself around head butting him in the face making him groan. Blood drips to the ground from his nose, sliding down his lips and chin as he coughs.

Tremoring, you twist the key, it doesn’t open, “Fuck!” You scream. You twist it the other way and you hear a rusty click followed by a groan as the worn gate slowly swings open. As you go to sprint, Kai’s hand grips the back of your shirt with frightening strength. Fear envelopes your gaze, adrenaline pulsates through you.

So you do the one thing that comes to mind, with your leg, you kick the gate backwards to a close and a painful string of curses leaves his lips as the heavy gate slams onto his arm with a sickening crunch, releasing you. Kai bellows in agony, falling to his knees; the surge of pain bearing too much for him, perhaps even a fracture of his arm.

He sneers, panting like a rabid dog, “That cursed little-“ Kai’s lips form an eerily wide grin as he yells out, “It’s a death s-sentence for you now precious! Oh I hope the Hatter treats you even better than I did!” A deranged laugh leaves his body as he clutches his arm, throwing his head back as tears run down his face.

Indeed the March Hare would spiral further into the abyss of insanity and isolation once more it would seem.

If only your hands weren’t tied together, it would have made this entire thing easier. You sprint, your calves searing and beginning to seize up, fuck, you couldn’t afford to look back. What if he was still chasing you? You shudder, powering through. You needed to find a way to cut this ribbon off, it was beginning to hurt your skin!

After what seemed like forever, you finally slow down into a jog and then finally a walk. Your limbs tremble from exhaustion. The foliage around you seems to morph and you begin seeing various trinkets scattered around the blue and purple plants. Where was this absurd place? Surely you couldn’t have ran into the Hatter already?

Walking cautiously, you peer around. All of a sudden a raspy voice startles you and you spin around trying to locate it, “Well, well, what’s this? A new guest? It’s been so long, dear.” It chuckles, “Up here.”

You tilt your head up and your eyes narrow as you finally see a large bluish-purple caterpillar lounging in the trees, with a lazy smile and hookah in one hand. It was incredibly camouflaged - holy shit!

“What’s with the bound wrists? Asking for a death sentence? If the Hatter finds you like this, he’ll have a real jolly time with you.” You feel nauseous at the thought and you awkwardly ask, “Ah, you wouldn’t mind untying me, cutting this off would you?” It heartily laughs, taking another breath from its hookah.

“I don’t know, why should I?” It muses, its many arms moving. You sigh exhausted, “Please, please don’t make my life anymore difficult than it is. You know what, never mind, I’ll find a sharp rock or branch or something.”

Before you walk off, it scuttles down making you grimace and reaches around in the messy foliage bringing out a small blade, with a swift slice, the ribbon comes undone and your hands are free to move. Eyes wide, you thank him, “Why? You just said-“

“I know, I know, yes, yes,” it rolls its eyes and you cough as it blows the purple fumes into your face. “I can’t help but feel pitiful for the poor souls that end up here. Far too much effort really, to survive here,” It groans, stretching. You inquire, “Well, uh thanks anyway. You…wouldn’t happen to know an exit by any chance?”

The plump caterpillar snickers, “An exit? In Wonderland? Oh dear, that’s not easy to find.” You deadpan, “So you know where it is, and the fact it does exist.” It muses grinning, “Well observed dear. Indeed, it’s in Cheshire’s Forest. On the outskirts, though, only one person’s made it that far.”

You frown, “One person?” It nods, “The others well, let’s just say Cheshire doesn’t make it easy. He knows everything about Wonderland. But no one knows anything about him.” You shiver. What an enigmatic figure…

“Though, you could say he’s the sanest of the lunatic bunch here. Oddly. After all, in a land where madness reigns, only the sane can ordain,” it utters and you blink. You think your brain has quite literally fried beyond comprehension.

“Uh, well anyway, thanks I guess. I’ll be going,” you mutter. You’d probably rest somewhere first, then try to head to the forest. The caterpillar hums quizzically regarding your retreating figure, “Follow the path where the shadows dance, and you’ll find the Mad Hatter’s chance.”

You scoff with a smirk - yeah well, you’d avoid it then. No way.

Too bad you didn’t catch the rest of the line, oh well, the caterpillar didn’t really care enough to stop you. You’d die of insanity by the Hatter’s hand or Cheshire - it didn’t matter.

“Avoid the path with all your might, and you’ll find yourself with quite the fright,” it muses, completing the line, “Oh dear, well they made it this far, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Taglist: [open]

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tinyshyteacup · 2 months ago

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Taglist: @kellynickelsgirl00 @dixonsbridexx @yikes-myguy @blackwidownat2814 @euqsia @lliteratii @imadisneyprincessiswear @satata @smashleywow @misspendragonsworld @captain-shannon-becker @i-doutt-it @bookies16

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TW: cussing, early seasons Daryl, angst, descriptions of walkers (Zombies) , firearms, Shane is creepy, mentions of hunting, mentions of dealing with hunted animals.

Part 8

Dead Weight - Part 9

The endless winter had finally given way to spring, though you hardly noticed the changing seasons anymore. Life had become a blur of running, hiding, and surviving since the farm fell. Eight months of nomadic existence had worn everyone down to their bones.

You could see it in the hollows of their cheeks, the way clothes hung loose on once-fuller frames, the perpetual dark circles that made everyone's eyes seem sunken and haunted.

Today's oppressive Georgia heat wasn't helping matters. Sweat trickled down your spine as you trudged behind Carol, both of you keeping watch on the perimeter while the others hunted through yet another abandoned house.

Your throat felt like sandpaper, water rations having been cut back three days ago when the last creek you'd found had been too contaminated to risk drinking from.

When Rick's low whistle signaled the all-clear, you followed Carol inside, hoping against hope for something—anything—that might have been overlooked by previous scavengers.

The house had been picked clean, like all the others. A few empty cans scattered across dusty linoleum floors. Cabinets hanging open like gaping mouths. The lingering scent of decay that never quite faded, no matter how long the dead had been gone.

"Nothing," T-Dog confirmed, emerging from the back rooms with empty hands and a grim expression.

Rick nodded, the motion jerky with fatigue. His beard had grown wild, matching the barely contained desperation in his eyes. "We'll move on. There's got to be something out there."

The first time you see the prison, it’s a bleak silhouette against a burning-orange sunset. The tall watchtowers loom like sentries, motionless and watching.

Chain-link fences wrap around it like it's own twisted crown, and the yard between the outer and inner barriers is scattered with the dead—some still moving.

Your breath catches, not just because of the sight, but because of the hope that grips your chest and won’t let go.

“Looks secure,” Daryl mutters dryly, stepping up beside you with his crossbow slung lazily over one shoulder.

You glance up at him. He doesn’t look at you, eyes scanning the perimeter with practiced eyes.

He squints against the sun and adds, "If you're into barbed wire and piss-stained concrete."

You half-smile. “We could make it home”

That gets his attention.

Just for a second.

He looks at you sideways, one brow raised like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking or just that soft hearted.

But he doesn’t say anything more—just huffs quietly and walks toward Rick.

That night, as the group prepares to clear the outer yard, Daryl is a blur of precise movement, loosing bolts into skulls, dragging bodies, barking short, clipped instructions.

He doesn’t waste words, but he glances toward the fence where you stand—more than once.

You're behind the mesh, knuckles white on the chain-link, your eyes following his every step. At one point, he stops to yank a walker’s boot from where it’s caught in the gravel—and you catch the faintest twitch of a grin when he hears you flinch at the squelch.

“Y'gotta get used to that sound, Woman,” he mutters, half to himself.

The last walker had fallen with a thud that echoed in the hard-packed dirt. The scent of blood clung to the air like smoke, heavy and metallic. The group stood there for a moment, breathless, surrounded by silence so thick it pressed against your skin.

For the first time in weeks, the threat wasn’t immediate.

The yard was yours.

They set up a rough camp within the inner fence, huddled around a small fire made from scrap wood scavenged from the outskirts.

The flames crackled low, casting flickering shadows across the yard and barbed wire above.

No tents.

No beds.

Just the ground beneath and the open sky above.

Everyone was tired.

Bone-deep, soul-tired.

You sat a little apart from the main group, arms wrapped around your knees, eyes distant.

The prison felt like safety, but up close it still looked like a cage.

You watched the way Carol gently leaned into Lori, how Glen rubbed Maggie’s back with slow, absentminded motions.

Quiet murmurs filled the space between exhaustion.

From the darkness near the fence line, you heard a rough grunt.

"Hey.” Daryl’s voice—low, gruff, like gravel being ground under boot.

You looked up to find him approaching. His silhouette moved through the night—silent, wary, but with purpose.

He crouched beside you, holding something wrapped in a stained bit of cloth. A strip of meat—charred black at the edges, still steaming.

He didn’t meet your gaze as he held it out.

“Ain’t gourmet, but it’ll keep your legs from givin’ out.”

You blinked, startled by another offering. “Oh… thank you.”

You hesitated—then took it, you picked at the meat, trying not to make a face at the texture. It was wild and unfamiliar.

Earthy.

Gamey.

“Y'eatin’ or just makin’ faces at it?” Daryl asked, sitting on his haunches beside you, crossbow resting against his knee.

You managed a weak laugh. “I’m not used to… I didn’t eat much meat back home.”

He looked sideways at you, then back at the fire. “Well. This ain’t home.”

You nodded, your gaze dropping. “No. It’s not, but ... Thank you.”

There was a long pause.

Daryl shifted, picking a rock out from under his boot and tossing it toward the fence. It clinked against the wire.

“You holdin’ up okay?” he asked abruptly. His voice was rough, like he didn’t want to ask—but needed to.

You turned to look at him, surprised. He didn’t glance at you, just stared off into the darkness like the question had nothing to do with you at all.

“You know,” he added quickly, “after all the runnin’. The killin’. The lookin’ over your damn shoulder every five seconds thing.”

You swallowed. The meat sat heavy in your mouth. “I’m… trying. I don’t think I’ve really had a moment to stop since the farm.”

“Ain’t that the truth” Daryl grunted just loud enough for you to hear.

You sat in silence for a few moments. He didn’t move away. He didn’t say much else. Just stayed close.

The sun rises sluggishly, casting long shadows across the yard. The grass is dying in patches, the soil hardened and dust-dry beneath your feet. You and the others—Carol, Beth, Hershel, and Lori—wait behind the safety of the inner gates while the clearing team heads inside.

"Hey! Over here!" Carol called, rattling the fence with one hand while the other gripped a hunting knife, ready for any walkers that might approach your position.

You joined in, banging a rock against a metal fence post, the sound ringing out sharply across the yard.

Daryl moves like a ghost—stealthy, deliberate, every movement calculated. You watch from behind the fence, eyes locked on the dark shape of him disappearing through steel doors.

"They're too far in," Beth whispered beside you her own knife tight in her grip, her voice taut with worry.

"We can't help them from here."

She was right. The fence-banging strategy was useless now, with the team too distant for the noise to draw walkers away effectively. All you could do was watch and wait, heart in your throat, as they fought their way forward.

Lori's sharp intake of breath drew your attention. She was leaning heavily against the fence, one hand pressed against the small of her back, her face contorted in a grimace.

"Lori?" You moved to her side immediately, one hand hovering near her elbow. "Is it the baby?"

She shook her head, forcing a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Just a twinge. I'm fine." But the way she clutched at the fence, knuckles white with tension, told a different story.

"You should sit down," Carol suggested, her maternal instincts taking over as she guided Lori toward a fallen log several yards back from the fence line.

You hesitated, torn between staying with Lori and keeping watch on the clearing operation.

Carl made the decision for you, his young voice surprisingly authoritative as he said, "I'll stay with Mom. You watch Dad and the others."

You nod, arms folded tight across your chest. You don’t say it, but your stomach clenched the moment they went inside.

Inside, Daryl’s voice echoes faintly through the halls.

He covers Rick’s flank, bolts flying with perfect precision.

When Maggie almost slips on a wet patch of gore, he grabs her elbow—quick, firm—and lets go just as fast.

But when they return—faces streaked with sweat and grime, exhaustion in their shoulders—Daryl’s eyes scan the yard the moment the gate closes behind them.

He doesn’t call your name. Doesn’t even step toward you.

But his gaze finds yours. Holds for a beat.

You smile softly—relieved, awkward, unsure if you’re allowed to feel the way you do.

He rolls his eyes and mutters, mostly to himself, “Ain’t like I died in there.”

But you catch the small shift in his jaw. Like your worry meant something.

Later, while the others sort weapons and food supplies inside, Daryl kneels by the doorway, adjusting a loose strap on his crossbow. You walk over, lingering just far enough to give him space—but he doesn’t wave you off.

“You did good in there,” you say quietly.

He doesn’t look up. “Yeah, well. Ain’t my first day.”

You offer a nervous whisper. “Glad you came back.”

At that, he pauses. Looks up. Squints at you like he can’t tell if you’re playing some game he doesn’t know the rules to.

“Y'sayin’ that ‘cause I’m useful? Or ‘cause you give a damn?”

The question catches you off guard. You blink. “I… both?”

Daryl makes a rough noise in his throat, stands, and brushes past you with a shake of his head.

But as he walks off, you don't catch—the tiniest upturn at the corner of his mouth.

The sound of rusted hinges groaning echoes down the empty hallways as the group moves into Cell Block C. The cells are lined in two tiers, peeling numbers on each one, open doors that don't sway.

Dust hangs thick in the stale air. The overhead lights are out, electricity was a luxury no one was afforded now.

What little daylight filters through narrow, barred windows feels almost reluctant to touch the place.

“Ain’t stayin’ in no damned cage,” Daryl mutters low under his breath, his voice gritty with disdain.

He lingers at the entrance of the block, crossbow in hand, eyes scanning the cells like they’re lined with landmines. His shoulders are stiff, defensive.

You’ve seen that posture before—at the farm, when Shane got too close and Daryl stepped in. It’s his don’t-push-me stance.

You pause beside him, your own bag slung over one shoulder, trying not to cough on the dust.

“It’s just for sleep,” you say gently.

He flicks a glance your way, not saying anything. But you can feel the weight of that look—it’s not sharp like before. It lingers.

Rick walks past, nodding toward a few lower-tier cells. “Pick one. We’ll rotate night watches.”

Daryl snorts. “I'll take the perch.”

He follows. Not because he wants to—but because he sees you hesitate in front of an empty upper level cell, peering inside like you expect it to bite.

“This one’s got a bit of light,” you murmur, more to yourself.

“Means it’s got a crack,” Daryl grumbles behind you, nibbling the inside of his lip. “You want light or you want safety?”

You move to the next cell opposite the landing at the stairs, shrugging off your pack. “Safety. I guess.”

He eyes the cell beside yours, the one you moved away from—tucked into a corner, bars that don’t quite close flush. He sighs through his nose, jaw working.

Then—grudgingly—he steps in, grabs the thin matress and drags it to the landing. Slinging his bag to the floor next to it. Stares up at the ceiling like it personally offended him.

“Don’t snore, Woman” he mutters as he kicks a loose stone from the concrete.

The cell block is too quiet.

The moans of distant walkers echo faintly through thick concrete walls, but otherwise, it’s an unnatural stillness.

No crickets. No wind. No leaves rustling.

You lie on your side, curled beneath a threadbare blanket, eyes wide in the dark.

You can’t sleep. Not with the weight of everything pressing in.

“Y'still breathin’ over there?” Daryl’s voice cuts through the dark, rough but quiet.

You jump slightly, then offer a soft, almost embarrassed reply. “I… yeah. Just… not used to walls anymore.”

A pause.

“Hmph. Thought you’d like the quiet.”

You let the silence stretch a moment. “It’s not quiet. It’s empty.”

There’s a soft rustle of his mattress as he shifts. Proping himself up on both elbows, as he looks into the darkness of your cell from under his fringe.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ empty,” he says.

You wish you had something smart to say, something deep. But all you can offer is.

“I don’t think I was made for empty.”

And in the dark, you hear him sigh. A long one. The kind that scrapes something raw in his chest.

“Yeah… me either.”

Sunlight filters in hazy through the high, grimy windows of the cell block. Dust floats like ash in the stale air, and you sit cross-legged on a stairs outside your cell, fidgeting with a loose thread on your sleeve.

Carol’s beside you, folding some of the sheets Lori had cleaned that morning, her movements automatic.

Her eyes keep flicking toward the door that leads deeper into the prison.

“They’ve been gone a while,” you murmur, voice low, uncertain.

Carol gives you a sideways glance, offering a small, strained smile. “That’s usually a good sign. Less screaming.”

You manage a breathy laugh. It doesn’t last long.

Your eyes drift toward the door that goes deeper into the prison, the one they all disappeared through hours ago—Rick, Maggie, Glenn, T-Dog, and Daryl.

“He doesn’t like it in here,” you say suddenly, not even meaning to.

Carol doesn’t look up, but her brow lifts.

“Who? Daryl?”

You nod.

She hums softly. “That man doesn’t like much of anything.”

You open your mouth, then close it.

Because she’s not wrong.

Before you can reply, a crash echoes down the corridor. Metal slams against concrete, followed by shouting—Rick’s voice, loud and panicked.

Then Maggie.

Then Glen.

Something bad.

Carol’s already on her feet, dropping the folded sheet. You’re slower, heart pounding in your ears, legs trembling as you push yourself up.

Then you see them—Glen first, pale, supporting the blood-soaked weight of Hershel Greene. Lori and Carl race forward, and Carol gasps beside you.

“Oh my god—”

Rick’s shirt is slick with blood, Maggie sobbing as they lower Hershel onto a mattress someone drags from a cell. His leg is gone. Torn away above the knee, the stump wrapped hastily in a belt. His skin is already grey.

You backpedal, mouth open but silent. It’s like your brain can’t decide whether to freeze or run. You grab the metal bars beside you to steady yourself, knuckles whitening.

Over the chaos, you hear another voice—deeper, more hostile.

“You people just cut off his damn leg?!”

You inch toward the barred divider, peering into the smaller entry space just past the bloodied mattress.

Daryl stands like a wolf on a chain, blocking five men who’ve just appeared through a the hallway. They’re all filthy, wide-eyed—still dressed in prison gear.

Your breath catches.

Survivors.

But not just any kind. The cuffs hanging off one of them, their uniforms, the way one of them twitches like he’s used to violence... and prepared to use it… something about them makes your stomach churn.

Daryl stands just in front of them, crossbow raised and aimed, body rigid, angled sideways like he’s shielding the rest of the group.

"Today's y'lucky day, fellas. Y'been pardoned by the state of Georgia. Yer free to go." He growls, voice low and fierce.

The lead prisoner—a taller man with greasy hair and intense eyes—raises both hands mockingly. “We don’t want trouble. This was our home first.”

“Yeah?” Daryl spits. “Looks like y’all didn’t do such a good job keepin’ it clean.”

One of the others steps forward.

Daryl’s jaw tightens, and you see his thumb twitch over the trigger.

Not pulling.

Just ready.

141 notes · View notes

flowerbetweenfangs · 1 year ago

Text

Cream Filling: Chapter One

Warning: Use of drugs and dubcon.

(MC is dosed with an aphrodisiac and is all too willing... But you know)

This was originally posted on A03 and is my most popular work, so I thought I'd put it here.

I hope you enjoy.

Lightning flashed overhead, lighting up pitch black streets for an instant. Elle Shepard nearly slipped on a horribly placed patch of mud. Windmilling, she caught a streetlight and came to a stop. A crack of thunder made her let go. Another bolt struck, enveloping the buildings and pavement in a brightness that was almost blinding, before a loud boom shook the windows.

Finally, she came upon a neon sign, showing a drink being shaken, then poured into a martini glass. The glass then changed to a coffee mug, the shaker into a pitcher. The words read: Ramses Brew, Bar and Café.

Pushing open the door, Elle stepped inside and pulled down the hood of her raincoat. Closing her umbrella, she stuck it in the container with the rest. Music played, pool balls cracked, conversations blurred together in one continuous hum. A bartender passed out drinks, moving with inhuman speed.

Walking up to the bar, Elle took a seat on the stool near the end. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a stack of papers and set them on the polished wood.

“What will it-” The bartender flinched at her, their nostrils flaring. Their voice sounded like many people talking at once.

“Oh, you’re the human.” They reached into their pocket and pulled out a phone. Tapping on the screen, they sent a quick message and put it away. They dropped their voice and leaned in closer to her. “Sorry, our drinks are a little too strong for your kind.”

They were most likely a demon, with horizontal lined pupils and a pair of antlers. Their sunken face showed a skeletal structure that was more deer than human, with a slight brown fuzz instead of fur. Their hands were coal black, their fingers tapering off to a clawed end.

“Can I just have water?” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, her heart fluttering. Focus! The job was more important than a one night stand.

“Of course.” They bowed their head, before going to a new arrival at the bar.

Sighing, Elle debated pulling her hood back up when she felt the eyes on her. No, she’d have to get used to the stares if she wanted to get this job. A human woman, with dark hair and hazel eyes, wearing dress pants and a button up peach blouse. No horns, fangs, scales, or a tail. Not even markings that would signal she was a mage or tied to someone with magic.

Swinging her leg back and forth, Elle sipped at her water, looking around the bar. There was a pair of trolls playing pool. A pair of drow were in the corner, looking like they were discussing more… Intimate plans. A human looking man sat on the couch, a cane between his legs. A spread of cards were on the table in front of him, small black wisps curling around them. He seemed to be the shortest occupant, he was probably a head and shoulders taller than her.

“Ms. Elodie Shepard?” The voice made her turn.

An angular face stared at her. It was human in appearance, but black scales appeared like freckles, shimmering in the low light. A pair of ram horns curled around cheeks, the ends sharpened and looking ready to puncture anything that got near them. He was dressed in a white button up shirt and a red vest, with a black tie. He was young, appearing to only be in his early to mid 30s.

“Yes!” Elle held out her hand. The speaker took it in shimmering black hands that were very large compared to his body. They left a residue on her skin that she tried to discreetly wipe off when he turned around, looking at the loft above. "But please, call me Elle."

“Let’s go talk more privately.” He walked to the bottom of the stairs, unclipping a chain that indicated the area was closed until the morning.

Elle nodded and followed him. Stepping aside, he allowed her to go first and clipped the sign back in place. Once the links were formed, a small bit of magic rumbled through the floor, making Elle’s knees weak. Gripping the handrail, she kept herself from falling and quickly climbed up.

Once they were in the loft, Ramses clapped his hands and a few candles lit. The light was warm and calming. There were a few couches set up, with a coffee table between each pair facing one another.

Taking a seat, Elle set her papers on the table and cleared her throat. Even with the water, there was still a tickle in her throat.

“Alright,” The man sat down. “So, as you may know, this is my business. Ramses Sesbrun.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I appreciate you coming out so late, but since demons don’t do so well in sunlight…” He shook his hand back and forth like he was tipping a scale. “I still have a limited staff, so I don’t have much of a day shift.”

Elle nodded. “It’s fine. I’ve got this.” She reached into her shirt and pulled out a silver chain, with wire wrapped around an obsidian stone.

Ramses flinched at the charm, before clearing his throat. Elle quickly stuffed it into her shirt and shuffled her papers.

“Alright. So as you may have noticed, we have a bit of a uniform.” He gestured to his attire. “It doesn’t matter if you prefer skirts or pants, just make sure it’s got a white button up shirt under your apron and a tie or scarf.” Inhaling sharply, he adjusted his glasses again. “We have a very diverse staff. If you do get the job, expect to work with all kinds of people.”

Elle simply nodded. “I know it is probably a strange thing, getting a human to apply.” The thought of being around so many demons and patrons of the “other side”, it was somewhat exhilarating.

“A little. But your safety is promised here,” Ramses insisted. “I’ll do what I can to make sure that you and your fellow employees are comfortable in this environment. Everyone here is just looking for a place to unwind.” He smiled at her, showing his teeth were fangs.

Shifting uncomfortably, Elle gave a smile. Those fangs looked like they could leave some decent hickeys. Wait, no, she had to remain professional. “Erm, not to sound too forward, but the job posting mentioned pay?” Right. Stay professional.

“Oh, right.” Ramses picked up a staff of his own papers from a table next to the couch. Flipping through the stack, he left small black thumbprints on each page. No wonder he needed help with the kitchen and other places. He probably couldn’t even touch the food he served his customers.

Finally, he stopped at what he was looking for. “I know the pay is high, but that means I’ll be expecting more from you. But if what I’ve heard about humans is correct…” His cheeks flushed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to rely on stereotypes, but I know humans are known for getting things done faster.” He clicked his mouth closed, not wanting to insert his foot into his mouth.

“Then you’ll be happy to know I fall into that!” Elle said quickly, hoping her tone didn’t sound too desperate. “I promise I’ll be fast and get the work done!” She clasped her hands together. “I just really… Need a job.” A job that seemed to offer a lot of eye candy...

Ramses nodded, taking her papers and flipping through them. “I’ve already read what you sent me, but I just want to make sure…”

He made a couple more noises of affirmation, before setting the now spotted pile down. “I don’t know if you’ll have a uniform on standby, but I think we might have something in your size. If you are willing to come in tomorrow, then I can have Wrecks and Horac show you the ropes.” Tapping a finger to his lips, Ramses’ brows knit together. “You don’t have Arachnophobia, do you?”

*** “Welcome to Ramses!” Elle called out, bowing her head. When she straightened, she ignored the look of befuddlement from the new arrivals. “Just two?”

After seating the pair, she bid farewell to some patrons as they left. They acknowledged her, but seemed more confused than anything else in her presence. When the door closed behind them, she went to quickly clean their table.

Despite looking bulky, the maid outfit they had provided her was light and cool, with a long skirt, deep pockets in the apron. She’d brought her own tights and comfortable shoes. Her hair was tied into a pair of buns to keep it out of her face.

The morning rush was a surprise. Most demons were supposed to be unable to walk in sunlight, but that didn’t stop the clientele from coming in, carrying parasols, charms to protect them, and even wrapping themselves in bandages.

The newly arrived pair were dragonborn, who had quickly fallen into an in depth discussion about maidens and maids. When she approached them with her notepad, pencil to the paper, they quickly quieted.

“Can I recommend one of our Ashburnt Scones?” She asked. “They’ve got an arsenic glaze!”

After taking down their order, Elle quickly scampered to the kitchen and placed the paper on the counter.

“A pair of Coalpressed Muffins with Ashen Dustings!” She called out.

The Drider at the stove nodded, pulling out some blood red pancakes with a tar like topping that he set on plates, the two smaller legs at his waist doing small clean up details. A pair of triple lens spectacles balanced on his nose, which he was constantly adjusting to allow a different pair of eyes to see. Despite his name being “Wrecks” he actually seemed rather dexterous and nimble.

The second was the boarman, Horac, who was frying several cuts of meat and eggs. He seemed immune to the open flames, casually reaching across them to turn over a large slice of ham. Elle tried to not think too hard about the implications.

“Breakfast rush is almost over, rookie.” He said, his voice barely audible over the chaos of the kitchen.

“Thanks!” She took the plates and lined them up on trays, before rushing back out to the main room with the orders.

“I can’t believe a real life human is here,” A goat headed man said as she passed.

“I know. And so fast, too.” Their companion appeared human, but their teeth were too sharp. Enough to pass the line from sexy to frightening.

Just smiling, Elle passed over their food, which they quickly began to ravenously tear into. The remarks, while strange, seemed mostly positive.

By the time the morning rush was over, Elle’s feet were killing her. She collapsed into a chair once the last customer left.

“Elle, can you tell Ram I’m coming in late tomorrow?” Horac said, not giving further details as he went out the back. The bell chimed as he left.

“Sure.” She merely lifted her hand to give a wave he wouldn’t see.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Wrecks said, his voice jolting through her. He hadn’t spoken all morning, only cooked and passed the orders to Elle. The dishes and counters were clean, so she wasn’t going to complain.

Once the ache had mostly gone, she got up and went to change the menus over. The bell chimed again when her back was turned, and she quickly turned back around.

The newcomer had silvery hair, a pair of fox ears twitching on his head. His eyes were closed, his mouth pulled into a vulpine grin.

“Welcome to Ramses!” She tried to pour in the sugary sweetness that customers loved. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.” Hopefully, Wrecks wouldn’t mind serving up breakfast still. “So, he did have a human on his payroll.” The new patron muttered to himself. “How quaint.” A bushy silver tail waved behind him.

Elle felt herself blushing. “Can I get you anything? Our Blasterjelly rolls are a customer favorite, along with our Hadesfire Pomegranate Tea.” She reached for a menu to shove in his hands. His gaze seemed focused on her, despite his eyes being closed.

“No,” He held up his hand. “Thank you. You served my friend earlier.” Reaching into his sash, he pulled out a box about the length of his hand, the width of two put together. “He’s too shy to show his gratitude in person, so he sent me in his stead.”

Setting the box on the podium, he turned on his heel and gave a backward wave, the bell chiming as he left.

Frowning, Elle used her pen to open the corner of the box. Inside, she saw a small flat pastry, the side of one showing a beet colored paste. Picking it up, she realized they were covered with powdered sugar. Setting it back down, she closed the box and stuffed it under the podium. How odd she’d been given a human friendly dessert.

“Ready for round two?” Wrecks asked when he came back in, wiping his hands on a towel.

“You know it!” She brushed back her hair, pushing the fox man out of her mind.

The bell chimed, a trio of trolls coming through, looking like they’d gotten off a construction job. A goat headed woman burst through the door behind them, looking frazzled. By the end of the second shift, Elle was nearly laying on the table. Her feet and back ached, her hair was a mess, and the uniform was rumpled.

“And my favorite part of the day…” Wrecks said, flipping the sign to indicate they were closed until the bar opened. He laughed to himself as he went to tally up the totals.

“Count this for me to make sure my math is right.” Taking the cash from the drawer, Wrecks slid it to her. He poured himself a sludge looking coffee, enough steam and heat coming off it to fog up his spectacles. Sweat trickled down his brow.

Elle’s stomach growled, and she found herself blushing. While his lower half made her nervous, his upper half was certainly handsome.

Right. Focus.

“Oh, right.” Wrecks paused. “You can’t…” He struggled to find the words. “Eat anything on our menu, can you?”

“Not without getting violently ill,” Elle admitted, before remembering the podium. “Oh! Right!” Rushing to it, she pulled out the box. “I was going to pack my lunch, but I woke up late!” She’d actually slept in her car because she was terrified of missing her first shift. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for her at home. And driving nearly half an hour both ways seemed like a poor use of her time.

Sitting next to the money, she took out one of the cakes and took a bite. Powdered sugar flew around her in a cloud, sending residue all over the uniform.

Keeping the cake in her mouth, she nursed at the paste and counted out the cash, keeping notes. Once she finished, she paused over the calculations and finished eating. Then, she quickly ate a second, barely tasting it as it went down.

“Get some actual food,” Wrecks chided. “I can smell the sweetness from here. Where did you get that if you didn’t pack your lunch?”

“Apparently one of the customers really liked my service and gave me a gift.” Elle shrugged. She looked down at her tips for the day, her breath catching in her throat. How much money did this damned clientele have!? Pulling out her wallet, she quickly signed off on the amount and collected it. Looking down at her uniform, she excused herself to the bathroom.

There was no way she was going to risk getting it dirty and looking unprofessional. If she was going to be making money like this every day, she was going to take this job seriously. Going to the restroom, she did what she could to clean up her uniform. No way was she going to take a dock in her pay to pay for the outfit.

Her face felt hot. Slipping off the apron, she unbuttoned her blouse and splashed water on herself. Looking in the mirror, she saw her cheeks and neck were crimson. The blush spread even further, hidden by her shirt.

Slipping off her blouse, she stared at the sleeveless shirt, which only showed off more of her flushed skin. It was still hot, but more bearable. And she was NOT undressing more. Splashing her face again, she got her hair damp. Slicking back her loose bangs, Elle took in a deep breath.

When she walked out, she saw Wrecks looking at the cakes. Holding one between his thumb and forefinger, he squeezed it. The paste oozed out, dripping onto his fingers. He had his phone to his ear, waiting for someone to answer.

Elle was about to complain he’d ruined part of her gift, but his expression was serious. It sent a twinge of worry through her, followed by another hot flash. This one made her head spin, and she quickly sat down.

“Where did you get these?” His voice was sharp.

“Some guy dropped them off. Um… Foxy.” She started to recall his face, but all it did was cloud her mind with other details she’d overlooked. The way his collar bone peeked out over his robe. How veiny and strong his hands looked. His lips, perfectly glossy, the fangs peeking out with his grin.

“Shepard?” Wrecks asked.

“Hmm?” She smacked her cheeks to try and refocus. “Where was I again?”

Before Wrecks could answer, the person on the other end picked up.

“Yeah.” Wrecks tossed her a damp towel.

Wiping it across her sweaty skin, Elle began to inhale deeply. She felt hot all over, her body starting to shake. Every fiber of her clothing brushed against her, scraping her raw.

“I’m sure it was him,” Wrecks’ voice sounded like it was coming from the other end of a tunnel. “Bet my first born on it. I could smell fuckery on the box.” He looked over to Elle, licking his lips nervously. “She seems fine now, but I don’t want to touch her, could you get a hold of a human doctor?” He paused, nodding along with the speaker, small grunts escaping his mouth.

“Alright.” He hung up, inching closer to Elle.

“That was Ramses. He’s on his way.” He pulled another towel off the counter and soaked it in icy water, before passing it to Elle. “Those cakes were laced with… Something.” He frowned, brows coming together.

“I guess it was Tanpopo’s way of saying hello…”

“Who?” Although Elle was sure she had a good idea who the Drider spoke of. Her insides twitched, needing to be filled. Sweat trickled down her neck and back. Slowly, she laid down in the booth, her legs facing the wall.

“An asshole who runs the bakery down the road.” Wrecks jerked his thumb behind him. “He thought it would be funny to “prank,” He added air quotes. “Some of our staff last year by spiking some cakes and tea with Hellfire Mint.” Three pairs of eyes watered at the memory. “Most of them were fine, but one of our hosts got sent into early labor and had to go to the hospital.”

Fanning herself with a menu, Elle panted. “I wish I’d been warned.”

“Well, there hadn’t been any problems since then,” Wrecks explained. “Horac was a pretty decent deterrent.”

Elle’s mouth was suddenly dry. The heat was becoming unbearable. Her legs refused to budge, each breath making another flash of arousal go through her. “I’ll get you some water.” Wrecks excused himself, quickly coming back with a glass. He passed it to her. “Now, I’m not sure how long this is supposed to last, but Ramses seemed pretty sure he knew what it was.”

Their hands touched. Elle let out a cry, dropping the glass. She shook, nearly convulsing as the need seized her.

Wrecks jumped back, his legs skittering across the floor, unable to gain traction.

Elle was on her feet, grabbing the front of his vest and pulling him to her. Their lips nearly brushed.

“No no no no no no!” He said rapidly, using his front legs and arms to push her away. “It’s flattering, but you are in no condition to be initiating this!”

His skin was scalding hot against hers. She grabbed his clothing so tight she thought it would rip. Pulling him close again, she ignored the impact of his front legs against her skirt.

“I’m terribly sorry, Shepard.” Wrecks said, before she suddenly couldn’t move.

Looking down, she saw she was covered with white bindings. Webbing kept her still, binding her legs together below the knees, and her arms below the elbows. He then pushed her back into the booth.

The bell chimed. Nostrils flaring, Elle thrashed around to try and sit up as the scent of Demon hit her.

“Oh, thank Arachne.” Wrecks backed away. “You made good time.”

“Of course.” Ramses' voice thundered in her ears. Elle’s lips parted slightly as she continued to wriggle around, trying to get free of her bindings. “Leave us. This is easier if there’s only one target.”

Wrecks didn’t have to be told twice. He picked up his scant belongings and quickly scampered out the door.

Ramses stood in front of the booth, his crotch the perfect height for-

And he was gone.

The door locked.

Then, he was back.

“You’ve ingested Asmodeus Fruit,” He explained, pulling out a knife. “Better known as Lustberries.” Looking at the blade, he set it down on the table. “Hold still.” His visible skin was wrapped in bandages. To protect him from the sun?

The order made Elle still, the only movement was her shaking with desire.

“I’m going to cut you loose. But you have to promise me you’re not going to jump on me. Okay?”

Despite the words barely registering, Elle nodded, her body still trembling.

Ramses cut the bindings, his bandaged hands brushing against her. Unlike with Wrecks, it didn’t send a jolt through her. But his scent, the way he panted with exertion… She found herself leaning forward.

“KNIFE!” He yelled, shoving her back. His hand hit her protective charm, and both of them went flying back. She hit the wall hard, and he slid into the front counter in front of the kitchen. Wincing, he slowly got back up, rubbing the back of his head.

“Are you okay?” Her legs were still bound. She started to climb out of the booth.

“Stay!” He commanded, getting up.

Elle’s legs became weak, and she nearly face planted on the floor. Catching herself, Elle held onto the corner of the table. Her charm hung low.

Ramses rushed over, cutting her legs free.

“Now. Listen.” He shook his finger in her face.

Nodding, Elle leaned forward.

“Go to the loft.”

She rose up, the charm snagging on the corner of the table, the wire wrapping coming undone and the stone falling to the ground, sliding under the booth.

Her feet slapped against the floor, she nearly tripped over the chained sign as she ran. But she was up the stairs, lungs and chest heaving. Collapsing onto the couch, she felt the heat rolling over again, almost unbearable. Clothes continued to rake against her skin so roughly she thought it would make her bleed. Her hands went to her top, trying to pull it off.

“Okay, Elle. I need you to listen to me.” Ramses said, coming up in the loft. “Normally this stuff wears off after a few hours. But it’s demon fruit, so humans suffer-” He let out a surprised noise as Elle rushed over to him.

When her hands touched his shirt, she realized he wasn’t wrapped under his clothes. Working her fingers through the gaps between his buttons, she touched her fingertips to his bare chest. The heat of his skin made her shudder.

Dropping to her knees, she started to unbuckle his belt.

“Elle!” He said sharply. “Hold on!” Grabbing one of her buns, he held her head in place. Lips parted, she looked up. Panting, she reached for him. Despite denying her advances, his erection was growing quickly.

“Here.” He pulled out a vial, a white liquid inside. “Drink this first. I know it’ll be nasty, but-” As he spoke, the white liquid suddenly yellowed and seemed to become crusty.

She grimaced.

“I know. But the other cure is… Not ideal.” He offered her the vial. Uncorking the top, he pressed the glass to her lips.

Slowly, he tilted it. Once the liquid touched Elle’s lips, foul gelatinous sludge tried to worm its way into her mouth. Pulling back, she sputtered and coughed. Eyes watering, she shook her head.

There was glass breaking, and the liquid spilled all over the floor. The fog was gone, but Elle suddenly felt so hot she started to claw at her clothes.

“You’re going to hurt yourself!” Ramses grabbed her arms, straddling her. His erection dug into her as he pinned her to the floor.

“Elle, listen to me.” His breath was warm against her skin, caressing skin, the wetness from it sliding down her body.

Closing her eyes, Elle thrust against him. Ramses let out a distressed yelp, before gripping her tighter.

“Fuck me…” She moaned, rubbing against him. A wet spot was left on Ramses pants, although she wasn’t sure if it was from him or her.

It was getting so hot she felt like she was going to pass out, black spots filling her vision. Her clothes felt like they were tearing large chunks of her skin off.

“I’m… So sorry.” Ramses picked her up off the floor, setting her down on the couch.

“For what?” She grabbed his shirt, pulling him down. Their lips almost touched, but he turned his face so she kissed his horn.

“You’re in no state of mind…” He knelt between her legs. “Just let me try something.” Taking her tights, he clumsily pulled them down. Catching the waist of Elle’s panties, Ramses left her completely bare. At the sight, averting his eyes, Ramses cheeks turned crimson.

“Yep…” He struggled to find the words. “That’s certainly Asmodeus fruit.”

Elle touched herself, spreading the soaking lips wide. Grinding against the couch, she felt herself drenching the fabric.

“Okay.” Ramses draped her legs over his shoulders. “I’m going to try something. If it doesn’t work, then we have one option left.”

Elle nodded, but her mind was buzzing. Grabbing Ramses by the hair, she shoved him into her drenched folds. Whatever response he had was muffled, making her shiver.

His tongue began to trace her lower lips, before he slipped it inside. Ellen held his head in place, biting her lips as he continued to lick. Reaching up, he seized her thighs and spread her legs wider. His breath made her tingle.

Closing her eyes, Elle focused on the sensation, the heat now concentrating in her lower half. Ramses’ head bobbed back and forth, the sounds of licking and sucking so loud in the empty loft. She let out several moans, trying to lock her legs around his head.

Keeping her legs open, Ramses continued to lick, before exposing her clit and swirling his tongue around it. Elle moaned, releasing his hair and grinding against his face. “Come for me, Elle.” He groaned into her, his breath so warm. “Come for me, please.”

Letting her head lull back, Elle moaned and grabbed the couch tight enough to feel the fabric start to rip. She felt the orgasm start to build, each lick eliciting another cry from her. Eyes watering, she nearly screamed when Ramses plunged his tongue inside.

But before she could release, it was like slamming into a brick wall. White filled her vision as the heat became a searing pain. A scream escaped her and she shuddered, falling to the side.

“S-stop…” She panted, tears streaming down her face. “It… It hurts.”

Ramses pulled back, his bandages around the lower half of his face now loose. They were soaked with Elle. Small bits of skin were visible. Despite the pain in her lower half, Elle grabbed Ramses by the shirt. She then climbed on top of him, rubbing her aching groin over his crotch.

“Fuck me, please.” She begged, continuing to grind against his hardness.

“Hold on.” Ramses pushed the table to the other couch, his glasses askew. Picking Elle up, he placed her on the couch. Unzipping his pants, he let them fall to the ground. His fully erect cock came forth, beads of precum dripping from the tip. Elle leaned forward, wrapping her lips around it.

Ramses let out a surprised moan, knees nearly giving out as Elle sucked. Once the few drops of precum were swallowed, the heat drastically reduced. Panting, Elle pulled back and let her tongue swirl around the tip.

Then, she felt herself blushing. The reality of the situation began to crash around her. Pulling her head back, she quickly let go of Ramses cock and put her hands at her side.

“Um…” The wetness between her legs was almost unbearable. “I’m… Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Ramses panted, sitting down on the table. “It wasn’t your fault. I understand if you want to leave now.”

Elle stared at his cock, swallowing hard. It was glistening with her saliva. She should leave. This was not only inappropriate, but they were both in a bad spot. But her body was literally hurting with need.

“Ramses.” Her face was probably tomato red. What had she just done? Ramses probably thought… “This wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. But I should have warned you.” He was attempting to put his dick back in his pants, which seemed to be a challenge.

“Erm…” She prodded her forefingers against one another, biting her lower lip. “This is super inappropriate. But is the antidote for this fruit…” Her voice trailed off as she became more flustered. “You know, demon semen?”

Mutely, Ramses nodded. “I didn’t want you to either get too excited or too disgusted.” He looked up at her when she stood over him. “Because I’ve been told it can be rather potent.”

“So, are you sure you gave me enough of a dose?” She lifted her skirt, showing him her wetness. “Because I would, uh, prefer not to go back to how I was.” Her legs shook, the blush filled her entire body.

Ramses’ eyes went wide, and he took off his glasses, setting them down on the table. “I’m not sure. It’s not an exact science. But…” He was cut off when Elle kissed him, straddling his lap.

“Oh.” He kissed her back, looping his hands around her waist.

“Elle,” He said, his voice muffled by her mouth. His pupils dilated slightly, the blood vessels thickening.

“Hm?” She pulled back, her arms around his neck.

“If you want to wait, the lust will wear off.”

Elle thought about it, but shook her head, “I want to do this.” She nibbled at his exposed skin, hands running up and down the nape of his neck.

“Very well.” He stood, keeping her legs wrapped around his waist.

Setting her back onto the couch, Ramses straddled her, pinning her arms above her head against the armrest.

“Are you still hot?”

She nodded.

Taking Elle’s shirt, he slid it off and let it fall to the floor, leaving her in only her skirt.

“Aren’t you?”

“Sunlight.” He gestured to the windows.

“Oh.”

“Consider this… Paid overtime.” Nudging her legs open, Ramses lined himself up, prodding against her slit. Each touch made Elle gasp, grinding against him.

Then, he slid inside. Elle gasped, instantly clenching around him. Ramses gripped the back of the couch, letting out a surprised whimper. Leaning down, he wrapped his arms around her and began to thrust. Once her arms were free, she let her hands explore him.

The touch seemed to encourage him further and he hilted himself.

Elle screamed in pleasure, digging her nails into Ramses’ shirt. Covering her mouth with his, Ramses began to pound into her, each thrust making her see a flash of color.

“God,” He said between thrusts. “You’re so tight.” His breath was warm against her face and neck. Leaning down, he nibbled her neck. “I…” The blush returned to his face.

Elle pulled him back, their lips meeting again. Pushing her tongue into his mouth, she let them dance as he found his rhythm and continued to pump back and forth. Each moan encouraged him, and he went harder.

As the thrusts went deeper, Elle cried out, her back arching. She ran her hands down Ramses shirt and vest, the fabric chafing against her skin. Unlike her own clothing, it pushed her closer to the edge, but she felt herself hitting the wall again.

Her breasts began to bounce, and Ramses groaned, his legs and buttock suddenly clenching.

“Please!” She begged, squeezing him tightly. “Finish inside me!”

“Fuck!” Ramses yelped, before he released, the fluid spilling out of Elle. Panting, he shuddered, placing his hands on either side of her head. Sweat trickled down his face. Clenching, he thrust against her as he emptied everything inside.

The orgasm finally came, and Elle clenched, wrapping her legs around his and pulling Ramses close. Shivering, she panted and closed her eyes.

“I think… That’s enough.” He slipped out of her and sat up on the couch, his softening cock still shimmering with her wetness.

Elle shuddered, then slowly sat up, rescuing her shirt from the floor and holding it up to her chest. She was covered with the strange black residue from his hands.

“I am very sorry about that.” Ramses zipped his pants up and buckled his belt. “I completely understand if you want to quit.”

“Umm…” Elle worried at her lower lip. “You see, I didn’t exactly dislike it and I really need this job.” She couldn’t even look at him without blushing.

“I could tell.” Ramses eyes went wide and he put his glasses back on. “Although I’m not sure how much of that was me or the Fruit.” He rubbed his face. “I’m going to kill that fox the next time I see him.”

Elle swallowed hard, thinking of the cakes. “Um, before you get all worked up, shouldn’t you get ready to open the bar?”

Ramses rubbed his face with a sigh. “I’ve got some time.” He looked her over. “I know you live farther away, but do you want to get cleaned up at my place? Er, not that I’m inviting you back over for...” He let the silence hang in the air.

Sighing, Elle nodded. “One thing at a time. I need to get this ‘antidote’ off me before it leaves a stink.” The scent of sex was already making her dizzy and flushed.

Helping her up, Ramses helped her dress and helped her back down to the main gathering area, collecting the charm from the floor. Stopping at the umbrella holder, he pulled out a parasol and opened it. When he took a few steps outside, he suddenly staggered.

Wrapping his arm around her, Elle helped him walk.

“It’s not too far," Ramses explained. “Erm, so, about what happened.”

“My lips are sealed,” Elle mimed locking her lips and throwing away a key. “As long as you don’t tell the others about me trying to blow you. And everything else.”

Ramses stifled a noise and looked away. “It’s fine. Just erm… Expect a bonus on your first check.”

“A bonus?” Now she was starting to feel like it was some sort of hush money.

“I take… Very good care of my employees.” Ramses frowned. “It’s hard to keep them on.” Swallowing hard, he sighed. “Elle, what I did back there, I promise I’m not normally like that. I know demons have a reputation for being sinners, but I don’t want you to feel I took advantage.”

“Too bad, I had a lot of fun.” Elle blushed at her words. “Sorry, was that too much?”

Ramses bit at his lip. “No, but I am your boss. I don’t want rumors to spread.”

“I understand.” She felt the rest of the heat finally leave her body, leaving her head clear. “But don’t… ever be afraid to ask. I um, headed after this job for a reason. Not just for the pay.”

Ramses hid his face and nodded.

If every day was going to be like this, then this new job was going to be interesting. She’d have to apologize to Wrecks tomorrow.

At least there was hazard pay.

(You can read part 02 here!)

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