#WEREWOLVES . SUPERNATURAL STUFF | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skzdarlings · 8 months ago

Text

everything ; skz ; werewolf!felix x reader

requested by @yongbbokkie: if possible, can I have Sunshine!Felix with the prompt/s: ❛ i'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜ and ❛ do whatever you want with me, i'm yours. ❜

((maybe it's a pining from afar situation and something puts them in close quarters and Felix just can't help himself anymore))

read on ao3

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: werewolf!au. friends2lovers. miscommunication and misunderstandings followed by resolution and smut. mentions of reader being in a past abusive relationship though the circumstances are not detailed. not omegaverse just werewolves but mentions of rut cycles and slightly different physiology.

this is, um, the wettest thing i've ever written. there is no other word for it. so much come, masturbating (reader walks in on felix), pervy masturbating using reader's stuff lol, massive breeding kink, multiple rounds, scenting, possessiveness, throat-grabbing, biting, pussy eating, squirting, dirty talk. did i mention come.

word count: 15800 words. (hope it makes up for the delay hehe)

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy <3

For a few moments, Felix is yours. There is no awkwardness, no reluctance, just dancing, just friendship.

The club is packed so tightly, the lights and music as roaring as lightning and thunder. The extra stimulation overwhelms the senses, even werewolf senses. He doesn’t think and neither do you. You just dance, finding each other in the bouncing circle of your half-drunk friend group. He smiles and you take his hand, letting him pull you across the dance floor and into his arms.

You’ve missed this smile. You’ve missed these arms.

Sure, Felix is still your best friend and he is never truly far. The distance is not literal, just emotional, and that is so much worse.

Ever since his werewolf genes kicked in, ever since a pack took him in, things have just been… different.

Right now, you can pretend nothing has changed. You are far away from ivory moons waning over woodlands, of werewolf packs and supernatural powers. His senses are diluted here, overpowered by so many moving bodies and so much wild noise.

Felix smiles, that wonderful big smile that crinkles his eyes so sweetly. Lights flash over him, his blonde hair nearly glowing, his freckles like stars. He’s your best friend again. All yours for a few precious moments.

He’s bigger than he was, you think, with a bit of a flush, as you dance closer to him, his arms circling your body. Or maybe I just never noticed before.

Felix is not very tall, but he is not small either, lean and athletic and confident in every inch of his body. It feels like he is everywhere. Every time a strobe light flashes over him, he seems a little closer. You breathe in his cologne, subtler than it used to be because his sense of smell is so powerful now, but still recognizable.

You are definitely not a werewolf, but you are captivated by that smell. Something oak, woodsy, masculine but pretty. So very Felix. You want to bathe in that smell, luxuriate in him. You spent so many nights curled into his side, sharing his bed, wearing one of his hoodies, that you associate that scent with everything good, safe, and home.

His hands dance up your sides very softly, his breath puffing across your cheek as you dance and dance. One song pours into the next. You lose track of time. In forgetting the world, you forget yourself. You slide your arms around his shoulders and press close to him.

You used to hug him like this so easily, but you have hardly touched him at all the last few months. Felix could never be cruel to anyone so he has not outright rejected your usual closeness, but it is obvious that your touch now makes him uncomfortable. The last thing you ever, ever want to do is hurt Felix. So you have followed his lead. Every time he accidentally pulls a face – a displeased twitch of his nose, an upset furrow of his brow – you have backed away.

It’s just the werewolf senses, you keep telling yourself. He’s more sensitive now, that’s all.

He still hugs the others. The werewolf boys love rough-housing, in fact, tumbling all over each other constantly.

That’s different. Yes, very different than this, right here, right now, his hands sliding down your sides – slowly, like he is memorizing the shape of your waist. He squeezes your hips and it fills you with heat. His hot face touches yours, cheek to cheek. The music is pounding, a frantic sound, but you are slow dancing, keeping to the rhythm of your heartbeats where they beat against each other.

You slide a hand up the back of his neck, into his long blonde hair. You feel the shudder move through his whole body. It makes your legs feel weak, realizing the effect you have on him. It seems impossible, especially with how much he has pushed you away, but there is no way he is shivering for any other reason. He cannot possibly be cold. The club is packed and, besides, he is not human. He runs hot.

So hot. He radiates it, burning where your bodies press together. Felix has always been the sunshine that keeps you warm, but this is a different heat. You know better than to succumb to it, knowing this moment will pass, but right now it is so easy to cling to him, to breathe him in, to feel like the world is just you and him.

The real world soon returns. It’s getting late so your friends call it a night.

“We’ll drop you off, yeah?” Chan says to you. Felix lives with him and the other wolves now. They all have their own apartments but they live in the same high-rise. You live a few blocks down, close, but not quite belonging.

“I don’t mind walking,” you say.

You do not want to intrude and you do not want to make Felix uncomfortable. He doesn’t even know Chan is offering you a ride because he standing so far away.

Felix is looking at his phone, slouched against the car while everyone organizes themselves. He is wearing a leather jacket, a white shirt, blue jeans, his long hair falling into his face. You want to brush it back, feel it between your fingers. You want to lift his face and see his smile.

But he doesn’t look at you. Now that you are outside, now that the heat has dissipated and the cold breeze carries your bland, dull, human scent, now that he can remember you are not special and not like him – now, he is someone else, and you are too, and it is cold and dreary and miserable.

“What?” Chan says. He is such a good pack leader and a good friend, but it makes him utterly oblivious to little dramas like this. “You’re not walking by yourself this late at night, don’t be crazy. Come on.”

The pack leader does not take no for an answer. Even though you are not in the pack, being human, there is no refusing Bang Chan. He grabs you by the wrist and drags you to his car.

Jeongin is in the front seat. Seungmin takes a back corner before Felix can lift his head, before he even knows you will be in the car too.

Felix looks tense when realizes he is trapped with you. Whether he takes the middle seat or the other corner, you will be beside him. If standing together outside is so intolerable, then being in a car is going to be torturous.

“I can walk,” you say to him.

“What?” He shakes his head. When he smiles, it is not his usual smile, not something real. You know the difference. His proper smile brightens you but this smile makes your heart sink. “Of course not,” he says. “C’mon. It’s late. Let’s get home, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, but he is already gone, taking all sense of home with him.

You take the middle seat. Felix rolls his window down and leans towards it. His eyes are closed the entire journey, the wind blowing across his tired face.

Seungmin is also a werewolf but he does not seem bothered by your human scent. Jeongin and Chan, the other packmates, likewise seem indifferent, chatting about everything and nothing, totally unperturbed. And you must cross paths with many werewolves during the day, but no one ever seems bothered by you.

Felix is the only werewolf who seems to have a problem with your scent. You do not know what it is that affects him so deeply. You have tried changing soaps and shampoos but nothing seems to help. It must be something natural to your human body. Humans do not smell like werewolves in general. Werewolves release pheromones that humans cannot smell, and it is important in forging interpersonal dynamics. That includes romance. Werewolves mate for life. You know they find their true mates through smell as much as the other senses. They are biologically wired to pursue their perfect match based on all those senses.

You are not a werewolf. You can never be his true mate. In the few months since he fully and rapidly developed his werewolf senses, Felix has withdrawn from you even though he promised it would never separate you.

You used to talk about what would happen if his werewolf genes activated. He comes from a family of werewolves but the gene lays dormant in certain carriers. Most werewolves develop in puberty if they develop at all. Some people never develop their wolven senses or powers. A minority, like Felix, are triggered by something in adulthood and succumb all at once.

It was always a possibility, however minute, but he promised things would stay the same. He said you were his person, that best friend did not even suffice as a word to describe your love.

You’re my world, you know, he said one night, speaking with the sort of earnest sincerity that only Felix could, his deep voice rumbling in your ear as you cuddled into him.

You wanted to say it back but you were hurting at the time. You ended a bad relationship a year earlier. It took your tender heart far too long to realize how badly your ex-boyfriend was treating you. When Felix found out the details, he was furious, though he kept it down around you. You had never seen your best friend so emotional. He became even more protective in the aftermath.

He showed you, time and time again, what real love is supposed to be. It doesn’t rush or demand, it doesn’t manipulate or coerce, and it doesn’t ask you to be small. He would hold you all night if that’s what you needed. He would make you laugh and let you cry.

You slowly realized true love had been in front of you, all this time, begging to be seen.

At least, you thought so. After such a bad relationship, you were taking it slow, and Felix never rushed you. You thought, maybe, one day…

But just when you were ready, everything changed. The werewolf gene unexpectedly activated. Felix was admitted to a wolven hospital and underwent his first transformation under a full moon. When he came home, he was different. Sure, he was still Felix, with his long dyed hair and his many freckles and his sun-kissed skin, but his brown eyes were so very different when he looked at you.

If he looked at you, which he avoids these days.

“Home sweet home,” Chan says, parking the car outside your apartment building.

Felix wastes no time getting out of the vehicle, practically spilling onto the sidewalk in his haste. He holds the door for you but averts his gaze.

You thank Chan, say good night to the other boys, then you shuffle across the seat and step out of the car. Felix still does not look at you, pretending he is distracted with something across the street.

You are a little tipsy, your emotions easily riled. You want to say good night so it will finally prompt him to look at you, but you are suddenly very choked up. Thoughtlessly, you touch his arm instead.

He flinches. It feels worse than a slap.

You do not look at him again, hurrying to the building before he can see the tears in your eyes.

Miraculously, you hold them in until you reach your apartment. You are one foot in the doorway when the tears spill, all the emotions you’ve suppressed over the last few months finally flooding free. The door falls closed with a slam and the whole world collapses under you.

You drop right there, knees pulled up to your chest and face buried in your hands.

You spent so many nights like this, crying all alone until you worked up the courage to tell Felix about your bad relationship. He was immediately understanding. It was so foolish to fear he would ever judge you. He put an arm around you and held you all night.

He is the person you want to call when you are hurting. It is agonizing to be without him. He is the one person you need and the one person you cannot call right now.

You let yourself feel sorry and miserable. When the tears have subsided and you are slouched against your door, empty and tired, you make a decision to end this. You have spent too much of your life collapsed on the floor and crying on your lonesome. You refuse to do it again.

As horrible as it is, you need to distance yourself from Felix. This slow deterioration of your relationship is excruciating. If he decides to reach out, you will be there, but you simply cannot continue to compromise yourself.

You somehow manage to wash up and get in bed. You sleep through the morning and rise late, delaying the inevitable a little longer by scrolling on your phone. Felix used to be the first text of the day but there is nothing from him. You would usually message anyway but today you put your phone aside and get out of bed.

So much of Felix is in your apartment. Borrowed hoodies, games, books, and so much more. Items are littered everywhere from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen and back. It takes an hour and you are not sure you find everything because he is so inextricably woven into your living space. You do not even see it anymore because it – because he – is always there.

You fill a cardboard box. Your plan is to walk the couple blocks to the high-rise and return it with a vague explanation. You are not sure what to say. Perhaps it is best to opt for brevity. After all, this is not a break-up because you are not a couple.

No, you think, staring at the full box with watery eyes, this is worse.

You make it a few steps out your door before you drop the box. It is way, way too heavy for you to carry two feet, never mind two city blocks. Already panting with exertion, you stare at the box taking up a huge slab of the narrow corridor.

You really don’t want to ask him to come get it, nor do you want to make multiple trips. You are scared that if you give him the opportunity, he will try and reassure you that nothing is wrong and you don’t need to do this. You’ll believe him in the moment, but then it will start all over again.

Like ripping off a bandage, it has to go all at once. It’s time to heal.

You push the box, budging it down the corridor inch by slow inch. You reach the elevator and press the call button. You calculate the logistics of pushing and shoving the box for two blocks, mostly concerned the cardboard will rip if it snags on something outside.

Lost in thought, you don’t see a person in the elevator and accidentally shove the box at him. He yelps, a loud cry of surprise as he jumps aside. It makes you leap out of your skin, shooting upright to look at him.

Some of your despondency leaves at the friendly face of your neighbour.

“Changbin!” you say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you there.”

“Hey now,” he says, winking, his handsome face plastered with a grin, “I’m not that short.”

“No, of course not,” you say, laughing along with him.

Changbin is a werewolf as well. There are a lot of packs on this side of town because the large national park is nearby. The wolves like to use the expansive forest when the full moon cycle swings around.

“Moving out?” he asks with an eyebrow quirk.

“Ah,” you say. “Not quite.”

You explain your predicament, that the box belongs to a friend and you need to somehow reach his apartment building two blocks away. Changbin, ever the charmer and ever the helper, immediately offers his aid.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” you start, but he has already swung the big box into his arms.

Werewolves do have supernatural strength. Changbin looks strong, with big biceps and a stocky frame, never mind the supernatural enhancement. He doesn’t even break a sweat. The box might as well be empty for all the difference it makes to him.

He is kind enough to walk two blocks to the high-rise. You chat on the way and find the conversation flows easily. You also can’t help but notice he has no problem with your scent. It really is just Felix who seems so repulsed.

You ring the buzzer for Felix’s apartment but there is no answer. You try a couple more times, embarrassed because Changbin is waiting. Fortunately, he is very non-plussed, humming to himself while you ring the buzzer.

After a few tries, you ring Chan instead. He answers promptly and you explain the bare bones of the situation, that you have a box for Felix and you would appreciate if he could pass it along. Chan agrees, of course.

Maybe it is for the best. You can leave the box with Chan and not even have to confront Felix at all.

Chan buzzes you into the building. Changbin walks you to the elevator where he puts the box down. You thank him profusely but he waves it off and states he was happy to help.

It looks like he wants to say something more, looking at you while he rubs the back of his neck. In the end, he says he will see you around and departs.

You exhale. The worst of your nerves have dissipated since Felix is not even home. You have been the one instigating your interactions the last few months so you figure if you just quietly step back, he won’t even notice.

It pains you to admit it, that you could disappear from his life and he would just… not care. You stuff those feelings down, down, down for now. You prepare a friendly smile for Chan so he doesn’t ask too many questions.

When you reach the pack floor, you give the box a good shove into the corridor. Chan lives directly across from the elevator so you don’t have far to go.

Except there are voices in the corridor. You turn towards the sound.

An awful chill freezes in your blood, your whole body going rigid at what you see.

Felix is home. He is standing in his open doorway, half-dressed in a pair of jeans and nothing more. His long hair looks more dishevelled than usual, like someone has been running their fingers through it.

Someone. He is talking to a young woman. You don’t know her too well, simply that she is the only female werewolf in Chan’s small pack. She is wearing more clothes than Felix but still very casual in shorts and a t-shirt, barefoot like this is her home. You suppose it is, much more her home than yours.

She belongs. You do not.

Her and Felix are standing close while they converse. So close. They speak to each other in hushed tones, her expression tender and sympathetic while Felix winces in seeming pain. The details of their conversation are inarticulate at a distance but their voices are nonetheless audible.

Your scent reaches Felix first. He straightens so fast it would be comical under any other circumstances.

Nothing is funny right now. You feel like a complete and utter fool, standing in his corridor with a box of his things like he cares about them at all. He has already moved on. You were in denial, a stupid little human girl still clinging desperately to old memories.

“I better go,” the woman says. She leans up and kisses Felix on the cheek, gives him a little wink and mumbles something only he can hear. She turns and walks into the apartment next door, giving you a genuinely friendly wave. She has always been polite to you and you have no reason to dislike her. You can only wave back pathetically.

Your hand slaps your side when she disappears into her apartment. You and Felix look at each other.

He looks guilty. Sweat dots his hairline, streaks his bare chest, and his face is flushed. It is very obvious what he has been doing all morning.

The thought of such a fantasy was once tantalizing. The sight of him, like this, would make you dizzy. You remember the last time he casually took off his shirt, the swoop of desire that moved inside you, a sensation you did not even know you could still feel after your bad relationship.

Now that swoop is just nausea. There is no pleasure in it at all.

You are completely mortified.

“Hey,” Felix says. His deep voice breaks on a high-pitched twinge. He clears his throat. “Um,” he says. He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it even more. He can’t seem to bring himself to meet your gaze, eyes darting all over the corridor but never you.

You curl your fingers, nails pressing hard into your palm.

“Look,” he says, clearing his throat again. “We need to talk about—”

You don’t want to hear it. You can’t hear it. You are hurt and embarrassed and devastated. Why couldn’t he just tell you he wanted to pursue a werewolf? It makes sense, biologically, and you can hardly fault him for the desire. Honesty would have hurt but not like this. Now you have to suffer the rejection of the only man you ever truly loved and suffer the fact you were not even worth a conversation.

It is too late to talk.

“It’s fine, Felix,” you say. All your messy, menial scripts crumble in your mind. Emotion takes over, bitterness and pain and irritation. “I brought you your things,” you say, pointing to the box. His eyes dart there for the first time, brow furrowing. “If I find anymore, I’ll give them to Chan. He’ll pass them along.”

“Um, what?” He looks from the box to you.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you say, blinking back tears. Your feelings come out in fragments, word after word with little coherency. “After everything I went through last year – I just – this is too much. The werewolf thing – I just – I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t have you in my life like this. Thank you for your friendship. The memories will always be important to me. But it’s for the best we don’t see each other again.”

You had not planned on so much finality, but that was before. Now you need to leave. If you stay here another second, you are going to fall apart.

“Good luck with everything,” you say.

You turn to leave but he says your name. You suck in a breath, wait a beat, and slowly turn back around.

Felix walks partway down the hallway, his whole face screwed up with pain and confusion. His mouth is moving but no words are coming out. Finally he closes his eyes and shakes his head, slamming a hand into his hair.

“Hold on,” he says. “Hold on, I – what are you talking about? You – you don’t want to be friends? How can – You can’t—” That deep voice breaks again, fracturing with emotion.

A part of you knows that you are being too harsh, letting your own emotions dominate your words. Another part of you is too heartbroken to care.

“It’s for the best,” you say weakly, your voice barely more than a breath of a sound. “Really.”

“For the best?” he asks, voice pitching up again. He has not looked at you so intensely for so long. “How can you say that to me?”

Much to your horror, he starts crying first. His tears seem to catch him by surprise too, his expression puckering as he tries to stop it. A hand flies up, covering his eyes. He shakes his head rapidly.

“Felix,” you whisper.

“For the best?” he repeats. He drops his hand and takes a shuddering breath.

You avert your gaze. You can’t stand to look at his eyes so full of tears, his face so strained with hurt.

“Did something happen?” he asks, taking a few more steps towards you. “Was it – was it me? You said – the werewolf thing – Did I do something? Please, please tell me.”

He doesn’t even realize how much he has withdrawn from you. He is bad at controlling his face, as evidenced now, so he probably has no idea how blatant his repulsion has been. Maybe he thought he was being subtle. Maybe he thought you wouldn’t care, that you were just his friend and you would be content to relegate yourself to the sidelines of his life. Maybe that is all your fault after all.

If you were a better friend, you would have coped with his new feelings. You would have been happy for him. If you were a better friend, maybe he would have told you sooner.

“You deserve a better friend than me,” you say.

He looks at you like you are completely crazy, his head tilted, his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks. “Where is this coming from? Please, I don’t understand. You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.”

“I already told you,” you say, as calmly as you can. “I just can’t do this anymore. Our lives are heading in different directions and I – I – I just need to go. I want to go. Please.”

You have known Felix all your life. You were children together, hapless youths on a playground that immediately loved each other with the easy, thoughtless affection of childhood.

He reminds you of that child now, innocently standing in the corridor with his arms hanging limp at his sides and so much bewilderment on his freckled face.

“You want to go?” he repeats, voice low, soft.

You nod. After a second, he nods back, bottom lip still quivering. A fresh stream of tears spill over his eyes. He hiccups on a sob, turning away and covering his face.

“Fine,” he says, speaking between shaky breaths. “Go. I can’t – I can’t keep you here if you want to go.”

“Thank you,” you say softly. The elevator is still waiting when you press the call button. You step onto it and say, “Good bye, Felix.”

As the doors close, you hear another choking sob. You name is lost in the sound.

The door closes.

The regret is instantaneous. You stare at your phone for hours and even debate returning to his apartment, but in the end you do nothing.

You replay every moment, from seeing him with the other werewolf to his confusion and your departure. It was a long, long walk home, tears streaming down your face as your mind went back even further, remembering every moment of your friendship.

How could this have happened? You and Felix have always been open with each other. He was the first person you confided in about your bad relationship and he immediately did everything to save you from it. But when it was the other way around, when the werewolf gene activated, he turned away from your friendship. You poured your heart out to him, trusting he would catch it and keep it safe, but he did not feel the same way.

Secrets, confusion, heartbreak. It plays on a loop in your mind.

It is the middle of the night when you get a text. He has not messaged in a while, not in a substantial way. If you scroll back on your phone, you can see the disintegration of communication, the days when he would send message after message with any and every thought slowly petering down to brief replies and a vague acknowledgement at the very best.

This message is more. You can hear his voice when you read it, can picture those dark eyes.

Tell me this isn’t real. Please.

You feel sick. You are angry at him for being the one to withdraw only to suddenly turn on his heel. You are angry at yourself for reacting so drastically and immaturely. Mostly, you are just sad.

If I did something, I’m sorry, he writes. I’ll never stop being sorry. I’ll fix it. I’ll keep my distance. Just don’t say I can never see you again.

You type a reply, then delete it, then repeat.

You say nothing. Every time you try, you see him and her in that corridor, you see him flinching from your touch, you see him recoiling at your scent. It twists and tangles with memories of warm nights and tender smiles. You wipe your tears and remember when he did it for you, his thumb so gently sweeping your cheek. He used to touch you like you were precious to him. Now he flinches from your touch.

He does not text the next day, or the day after, or the day after that. You are not sure if it is better or worse.

After about a week, he messages again, stating, I miss you.

You are at your work desk but he immediately seizes your full attention, as he always has.

You stare at your phone. You take a breath. You have had a few days to decompress, to let the wound bleed. It is still sore to the touch.

You write, I miss you too.

You do not check your phone for a while, listening to the relentless buzz as he sends eager message after eager message. It feels like the old days for a minute, but slows to a stop when you do not reply. You read them back later, his pleading, his sweetness. It makes you spiral, on the one hand wanting to take it all back, but on the other hand picturing his flinch, his disgust, knowing it is only a matter of time before your heart breaks again.

You do not reply. He takes the hint and gives you a few more days, then he messages, I still have your stuff in my place too, you know?

I know, is all you say. I have more of your stuff too.

As predicted, you have been finding his things all over the apartment. Even things which are technically yours are still stamped with his memory. He helped you move into this place after the break-up. He took you shopping and paid for so many things to get you back on your feet. Everything from blankets to cushions to plates make you think of him. This was just a room before he made it a home. Without him, it is just a room again.

There are a couple days of silence, then some of his packmates start messaging you. You don’t think he is sending them after you, as Felix would never manipulate or coerce you like that. They reach out of their own volition, curious because they have not seen you in a while. But it is all so overwhelming, so you throw your phone under a pillow and go for a walk.

That is when you run into Changbin again. His smile is charming as ever when he strikes up a friendly conversation.

“I was wondering,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, not-so-inadvertently flexing his big bicep when he does, “I was going to ask a couple weeks ago, when I helped you with that box – ah, I was kicking myself after because I didn’t see you for a while. But – I thought we had a nice conversation. Maybe you and me could do something.”

“Do something,” you repeat. It sounds like he is asking you out which is a little perplexing, because he is a werewolf and you are a human. Surely nothing serious can come of it. You used to think it was possible, as there are plenty of movies and romance novels to prove it, but your personal experience has led you to other conclusions.

“A date,” he clarifies, grinning that handsome smile. “You and me. My treat. No pressure. I just think you’re clever and, ah, very beautiful, and I want to know you better.”

A polite rejection is on the tip of your tongue. You are not in any emotional state to try dating someone right now. But you think of Felix and that woman in the corridor, and you think of your phone buzzing, and you think of another long, lonely night stewing in it all.

Changbin must be looking for something casual anyway. A werewolf would not truly settle down with a human. Maybe this is a good opportunity to put yourself out there.

“Sure,” you say. “I’d like that.”

Changbin takes you out a few days later. You actually do enjoy yourself. He is very charming and it is easy to talk to him, plus the date itself is very fun. He takes you out for food then to an arcade, flopping at every game in a hilarious spectacle.

“I’m a werewolf,” he complains later. “I’m strong! Those games were rigged.”

You giggle, wrapping yourself up in the jacket he leant you. You are walking back to the apartment building, the warm evening giving way to a cool night as you make the trek. It is enjoyable until you reach the building, at which point you start to panic. Does he expect to be invited into your apartment? Does he expect… more? The thought leaves you dizzy and not in a good way. Changbin is so very handsome and so very likable. Going out with him showed you that you can enjoy yourself without the crutch of a lifelong friendship.

You don’t need Felix.

But you still want him.

You try to go back and find the moment it all went wrong, try to picture a different ending, but it feels impossible. A foolish fantasy from a girl still clinging to the dying dredges of hope and affection. There is a wonderful, handsome man at your side, a werewolf at that, and your mind is somewhere else.

Changbin remarks on it, politely but nonetheless curiously. He gives you a penetrating look, like he knows something is wrong and there is no use lying.

You sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I just… I recently broke-up with a friend.”

“With a friend?” he asks, eyebrows jumping with surprise. “What kind of friend?”

“A close one, very close,” you say. “We’ve known each other forever, you see. He’s the most wonderful person I have ever known. He’s good to everyone, open-hearted, kind, warm. I have truly never known a better man. He just makes every room a little brighter when he’s in it. You would like him, I think. Everyone does. He’s a werewolf but the transformation only happened for the first time this year. Since then…” You sniffle. “Things have been different. Werewolves are biologically wired to be with other werewolves and form packs… I think my human status just started affecting him negatively.”

“Biology,” Changbin says like it is a foreign word. He looks at you with a cocked eyebrow. “It exists, yeah, but werewolves still have hearts, you know? It’s nice finding other werewolves so you aren’t alone, but it isn’t necessary. Love is complicated.”

That does give you pause for a moment. A logical part of you knows it is true, that plenty of werewolves make relationships work with humans, but that is almost harder to accept. If it’s just biological, then it cannot be helped. But if it’s a choice—

“So he isn’t biologically wired to hate me now that he’s a werewolf,” you say miserably. “It’s just something he chose to do.”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” Changbin says. “But, if that is what happened, he’s an idiot. If you were that obviously in love with me, ah, I wouldn’t let you go that easy.”

“I’m not in love with him…” The lie tumbles without an ounce of confidence. Changbin just gives you an amused look. Embarrassed, you drop your gaze. “It doesn’t matter,” you say. “He doesn’t feel the same way. Believe me, I know how he’s been looking at me, or how he won’t. That’s why I walked away. I was holding onto a friendship that once was and a fantasy that will never be. It’s time to be reasonable.”

“Ah, I don’t think love is very reasonable,” he says. “But you should stay true to yourself and do what’s right. And, in the mean time, if you need a friend…”

You exchange smiles. A weight lifts off your shoulder as Changbin changes the subject to friendship between you.

“I would like a friend,” you say. “Thank you, Changbin.”

“Ah, it’s been fun. But give me back my jacket,” he teases. “Since we’re friends I don’t need to impress you. I’m cold.”

“I thought werewolves run hot,” you say, laughing. You shrug off the coat and hand it to him.

“Eh, a little bit, maybe more than humans. But the blood really only gets hot during a rut cycle,” he says.

It is a casual statement. He is too preoccupied with zipping up his jacket to notice you get a little flustered.

You know a bit about ruts, namely that werewolves have a cycle which span a few days every month. It’s a fertility and reproduction thing, pushing developed werewolves to find mates and, well, mate them. It is a common part of the werewolf lifestyle so it is fair for Changbin to so casually mention it.

It is not because of Changbin that you feel flustered. You are thinking about Felix that night at the club, how burning hot he was compared to everyone else. Now that you think of it, not even Chan felt so hot when he grabbed your wrist, nor Seungmin beside you in the car. Felix, though, was radiating heat. Was he starting a rut cycle? Perhaps that explains why he was so hot and sweaty the next day during your confrontation.

You remember the other werewolf in the corridor. Your heart sinks again. Was she helping him through his rut? Then again, she left the second you arrived. Why were they even in the hallway? If she was spending his rut with him, surely they would have been inside together, not yapping in the hallway...

“You look worried,” Changbin says.

You are gnawing your bottom lip, eyes darting around as you contemplate that day. At his words, you blink to attention, doing your best to shake the anxiety.

“It’s nothing,” you say. “I’m just confused about so many things right now.”

“You know, if this guy really is so great and wonderful – and I think he is, if someone like you loves him so much – then he will probably be happy to answer your questions so you don’t feel so confused.”

“Ugh.” You slap a hand over your eyes and shake your head. “Why do you have to be so decent and mentally competent and right?”

“Jutdae,” he says, then flexes an arm and squeezes a bicep through the jacket. “And lots of protein.”

You laugh again. With a few more words of thanks and a promise to catch up again soon, you give him one final good night hug. He says he might meet up with some friends so you part ways, Changbin strolling while you head inside.

You look at your phone, considering his words as you ride the elevator to your floor. Changbin is right. Giving Felix the silent treatment is not helping you or him. Even though the conversation will probably be uncomfortable in so many ways, you should talk to him. It might not repair anything, but at least you will have closure. That wound cannot heal so long as it is still bleeding and festering.

You are drafting a text message in your head when you step off the elevator.

Then you lift your eyes and stumble to a stop.

Felix is sitting outside your apartment door. He is wearing jeans and a blue flannel, a denim jacket on top of that. A habitual joke is on the tip of your tongue, seeing him so decked out in his favourite colour. It disappears at the morose look on his face.

His long blonde hair is down around his shoulders, neglected black roots peeking at the crown of his head. He looks a little wan and very tired, his head lolled to the side.

He scents you before he sees you, eyes fluttering closed for a second, then he looks at you.

He really looks at you.

Felix always has such a softness in his gaze, but this look is searing. It moves through you, a forceful heat twining its way around your insides. It holds you in captivated thrall as he stands, one black boot thumping against the ground with the force of his push as he straightens himself out.

That piercing looks crinkles as more of your scent registers to him. His face twists with revulsion, except it is even more severe than usual. It is so disturbed that it makes you think his past expressions were not disgust at all, because this face is so terrorized by whatever he smells.

“Where were you?” he asks.

You have been staring at each other in silence for so long that his voice reverberates loudly in the corridor. It makes you jump as the smoothness of his deep voice pours into you. It’s only been a few weeks since you last heard him speak, but somehow you forgot how profoundly that voice could affect you, especially when he drops it so deliberately.

“Out,” you say. You are so flustered that your body goes into defense mode, your tone sharp when you say, “I don’t need your permission for that.”

That softens the slash of his gaze. He shakes his head.

“No,” he says softly. “Of course not. I’m sorry.”

His apology is so sincere, eyes searching yours for something beyond the surface. You feel like he is speaking to you without words, somehow conveying a lifetime of love in the way he looks at you, saying, it’s me.

You soften too, in every way, your voice and your posture, your heart and everything inside you. So soft and malleable, all that heat expanding in every direction until you can imagine yourself radiating it like he did. It feels so inappropriate to be aroused when there is so much drama between you, when a serious conversation needs to be had. But he is looking at you so intensely, colours of emotions playing across his face. A shaking breath draws your gaze to his lips.

He says your name. It feels like a touch. You feel dizzy again, this time in a very good way, despite yourself.

You hear his sharp intake of breath as you step a little closer. Your scent is affecting him. It makes him do a double-take, looking at you up and down without any subtlety. It is blatant, searching. For lack of a better word, predatory, a wolf on the prowl, scenting something it wants, maybe needs. Your skirt is long, sweeping past your knees, but you feel like he can see past it somehow.

His eyes, low on your body, flick up to your face. Your knees knock. That hungry look twists into something repulsed again, his brow furrowing. It darkens his whole face.

Of course. He is disgusted with you and your boring human scent and he always has been. You cannot give into hopeful delusions.

“What are you doing here?” you ask in your most casual tone, striding up to him like you are unaffected by his presence.

He steps to the side, staring while you fumble around in your purse for your keys.

“I wanted to talk,” he says.

You stare into your bag, rifling through mint wrappers and lipsticks and bus tickets. You can feel his eyes, practically burning a hole in the side of your head. You want to be chill, want to laugh and tell him he’s acting weird, to knock it off. You want to be indifferent, remind him there is a distance between you now and his staring is not appropriate.

Then he puts a hand on the door, near your head. He moves around you, undeniably scenting you as he goes. His other hand comes around the other side, caging you between him and the door. Your back is to him but you can still feel his gaze, shivering when he breathes you in.

You swallow, cringing at the wave of arousal that moves through you when his nose brushes the back of your neck.

Werewolf instincts, you remind yourself, trying to find the resolve to snap him out of it, except that’s not what you want. You want him to press right against you and put his mouth on your neck, to taste everything he is scenting.

Until you remember he hates the scent. So much so, he makes a guttural noise that sounds like a growl, rumbling at the base of his throat.

You expect him to flinch and move away. You imagine him shaking his head as he abandons his efforts to reconcile because you’re just not worth it.

You are not expecting him to say, “Why do you smell like another werewolf?”

“What?” you say. “I – I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” he says, taking another deep breath. “It’s all over you. Who is he?”

Oh, you have been wearing Changbin’s jacket for the last half-hour. You did not notice any smell but you are not a werewolf. To Felix, you must be utterly smothered in it. You wonder if it smells like a sex pheromone, given Changbin was taking you on a date, maybe permeating a desire your human senses did not notice.

Whatever it is, it has Felix riled in a way you have never seen before. He has been very careful to hold himself in check around you. The worst of his werewolf symptoms have been hidden from the start. It is part of why you are so hurt, that he would not trust you with it.

Now it overrides his good sense. His nose swipes the back of your neck again, his fingers curling against the door where his hands sit.

“He’s just a friend,” you say.

“A friend,” he repeats. “He doesn’t smell like a friend.”

“Well, he is,” you say. All your desire, heartbreak, and desperation swell inside you, bursting like a firework, hot and crackling. With a pounding heart, you turn around to face him, intent on confrontation when you snap, “Why would that even matter to you?”

You look into his eyes. He is so close, arms around you, that woodsy scent enveloping you. It feels like coming home, falling into his gaze, letting the heat wash over you as he stares back. There is something animalistic about his intensity, a predator with its hackles raised, sights set and hunger striking.

“Felix,” you whisper, voice heavy with a thousand questions that never manifest.

One hand leaves the door. He grabs the back of your neck, not roughly, not cruelly, but with an undoubted and irrevocable command. It makes another firework burst inside you. You gasp.

That gasp is interrupted when he dives in without any hesitation, his mouth thoroughly claiming yours in a hot, desperate kiss.

Whenever you dared to fantasize a kiss with Felix, it was always soft, a little brief, giving it time to grow. You never imagined so much heat overwhelming you all at once, that his mouth would be so ravishing. You didn’t even know a kiss could move through your whole body, that when he puts his tongue in your mouth it would feel like he is already fucking you, your body throbbing with want.

It is not just werewolf instinct because you react too. You drop your purse on the floor and put your hands on him, one on his chest and the other his neck, clinging to him like he clings to you. He takes it as invitation, his other hand leaving the door to hold your waist. His grip is powerful, but despite the supernatural strength it does not hurt. No, Felix would never hurt you. Oh, it was so stupid to think he ever would.

He makes a sound that has you whimpering in turn, the low grunt pressing at your most vulnerable places. The kiss is open-mouthed, hot and wet and messy.

He walks you back that final step, pressing you to the door. He cups the back of your head so you don’t hit it.

You grab the collar of his denim jacket and yank on it, pulling him even closer. You are completely delirious with him. Everything that has happened and everything that will happen is wholly unimportant as he slots his whole body along yours.

His leg pushes between your thighs, his hips pinning you to the door. The thought would have you terrified a year ago, but now it just feels right. Of course it feels right, because this is Felix, who has seen you at your most vulnerable and healed you, who has caught you every time you fall. He will always fix what hurts. He will always take care of you.

Your body knows it, begging for him, hips rearing towards him. It presses his thigh against the juncture between your legs, makes it so your flimsy skirt doesn’t matter at all. You are not thinking when you start to rock against him.

You forgot your body could feel so much pleasure.

“Oh, fuck—” he says, his already deep voice somehow even lower as he curses.

You squeak as he holds you against the door, deliberately rocking his thigh between yours with more pressure and speed than you could manage. It makes a torrent of mortifying sounds spill past your lips, but he gathers them all up lovingly, tastes them on his tongue as he chases down your gasping breath. Every little mewl, every breath, every squeaking hiccup is swallowed up by him.

“Come for me, please,” he whispers, roughly. It sounds like begging despite how much physical power he has over you. It would scare if it was someone else, but that supernatural strength doesn’t matter because it bends to you, waiting for your permission.

You just barely remember you are in the corridor. You hope no one chooses now to step out of their apartment. You wonder if the other werewolves on the floor can scent whatever pheromones Felix must be giving off.

It doesn’t matter. You’re hurtling towards an orgasm and you can’t stop it. You’re going to come on him, just like this, fully clothed but so wet that you can feel it gushing as he grinds his thigh against you.

You grab onto his belt, feeling the curve of his bulge just below your palm. It makes his breath stutter and it makes you surrender. Your body seizes and your pussy throbs as you come, a strangled cry in your throat while rocking desperately against him.

It settles slowly, the world coming back in increments. You are breathing hard, clinging to each other, bodies still pressed so tightly together. You can feel his heart beating hard and fast. It keeps rhythm with the lingering thrum below.

So much for conversation. Grinding all over Felix in a semi-public space was not in the plan at all.

“Oh my god,” you say, voice breaking as you are hit with realization. You push at him and he goes obediently.

“Fuck,” he says, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. He runs his hands through his hair, shakes out the length of it while breathing erratically.

Your heart is still pounding. You put your hand over your chest like that will calm it down.

Felix looks at you.

You recognize this look.

This look – this is the face you have been mistaking for disgust. Now that you have seen him truly reviled, snarling at Changbin’s scent on your body, you realize it is not disgust, not at all. It’s pain, a wincing, cringing desperation as he fights to keep everything inside him.

It is barely contained right now, his chest still heaving, his fly still bulging, hands shaking at his sides as he stares at you with open need.

“Oh my god,” you say again. You lean against the door for support, closing your eyes to try and make sense of the world. You see the events of the last month play out, the months before that, going back further and further until you shake your head to clear your mind. “I just—” You open your eyes, meet his anxious gaze. “Just give me some time,” you say. “I – I need to think – I’m so—”

“It’s okay,” he says, hands out to placate you, but careful not to touch you. He forces himself to smile despite his own emotional tumult. Sweat breaks out on his hairline. “Take your time, I – I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to—I just wanted to talk—I—”

“I know,” you say. “I know.”

He nods sharply, clearing his throat as he turns awkwardly to the side. He points vaguely behind him, stutters something like, “I’ll go, um, I’ll just—”

He turns on his heel and walks away, taking the corner to the stairwell so fast that you blink and he is gone.

You can hear him bounding down the stairs. You stand there, listening until he is too far to hear.

With every limb shaking, you pick up your purse and finally fish out your keys. You manage to turn the key in the lock and step inside before you crumple to your knees.

This time your thoughts are a very different whirlwind, just as confused and just as emotional, but so conquered by sensation that you find yourself just sitting there, touching your lips, thinking of him.

There is a lot to think about.

You realize you have been wrong about so many things. You and Felix should have spoken a long time ago. You have both been skirting each other, tentatively regarding the other, worried you might hurt them. It resulted in you both getting hurt anyway.

You are so, so scared of making that hurt worse. It makes you hesitate.

A day goes by. Felix respects your space. On the second day, when you contemplate reaching out for a conversation – a real conversation – your phone buzzes.

You are surprised to see that it is Bang Chan.

Hey, he writes. I need to talk to you right now. It’s about Felix.

Your heart-rate shoots through the roof, terror obliterating every other emotion.

Is he okay? you write. What happened??

Look, I’m just gonna say it, Chan writes. Felix is in rut. You know what that is?

Yes, you say.

At first, you are relieved he is not hurt and it is something so mundane. Then you are flustered as you recall the other night. You remember the heat between you, the way you came on his body and the way he begged for it. Even now, you are more aroused than embarrassed, shivering as you remember the way he looked at you.

Right, Chan says. Look I promise I’m not asking you to sleep with him or something. I wouldn’t do that. You have no responsibility for anything. But you also gotta know that dumb kid is in love with you, right? Like… insane in love. Like… won’t let anyone else see him or help him even though he’s a new werewolf, hasn’t had that many ruts, and it hasn’t even been a whole month since the last one.

You watch as each text appears, your adrenaline building with every word. The phone shakes in your tight grip.

Didn’t someone help him with his last rut? You ask. I saw her at his apartment.

What??? Chan answers quickly. No. I sent her over to see if he needed anything, because he kept telling me to fuck off because I was telling him to call you. I’m telling him again but he still won’t listen. You know he thinks he’s a monster right?

You are still reeling from the revelation that he and the girl were not an item at all, that they were truly just having a conversation. He was flushed and sweaty because he was in rut, not because he spent all morning with her. You were the one racing to conclusions, not even giving him a chance to explain. You remember him stepping towards you, asking to speak, but you cut him off before he could. You assumed he just wanted to reject you.

Chan says Felix is in love you. Is it possible that after a conversation with another wolf, he was gathering the courage to tell you, only for you to say you never wanted to see him again?

Now you read the last message and your heart sinks, a painfully heavy weight in your gut.

A monster? you write. What do you mean?

That doesn’t even make sense. Felix is the kindest, most loving man you know. Assuming werewolves are monstrous is such a medieval thought that it never occurred to you for a second that he would feel that way.

Yeah, Chan says. Look, he never told me the details because he said it wasn’t his story to tell, but he told me that you went through something really hard and that was why he didn’t want to stress you out with the werewolf thing. It can be pretty intense, especially at the start, and especially when you’re already an adult. He spent his whole life thinking he was one thing only for everything to change really quickly. He was really scared of coming on too strong and losing you because of it.

You made his worst fears come true, you realize, numb as you stare at the screen.

You know Felix, Chan writes, He’d rather just suffer alone than have someone else feel it too. I told him to trust you more, that you would want to help, but there’s no getting through to him when he’s like that. I love the guy but he can be kinda stubborn.

You both have a stubborn streak. The last month of drama attests to that.

What do you want me to do? you ask. You have more answers but you feel just as lost as before, maybe even more.

Can you just talk to him please? Chan says. He holed himself up in his apartment and he won’t let anyone in. He stopped answering my messages too. Ruts are a Molotov cocktail of hormones. They’re intense even if you’re experienced and he isn’t. I just don’t want him to get hurt and not do anything about it because he doesn’t want to bother anyone.

You remember Felix in that corridor, arms hanging limp at his sides, looking at you with so much hurt and sorrow. Despite that, he didn’t pressure you to stay. He listened. He let you go because he thought you wanted that. He stood by himself in that corridor, crying over a box of his things that he thought had a home with you.

Tears blur your vision. You have to rub your eyes before answering Chan.

I’ll go to him, you write. I don’t want him hurt either.

I know you don’t, Chan says. You have a spare key to his place?

Yes.

Good, Chan says. He’s not answering his door so you’re gonna need it. Give the guy a smack for me, hey?

His joke makes you laugh, though it is strained. You give yourself a second to compose yourself then you are on your feet. You are in a loose house dress and tights, face bare and hair undone, but you do not waste another second. You know you can be yourself around Felix no matter what. You wish he understood the feeling was reciprocated.

This time, instead of running away, you run to him. This time, you will make him understand.

The two city blocks pass in a blur. You have never moved so fast in all your life, bumping into slow stragglers as you barrel down the street.

By the time you step off the elevator on his floor, you are warm and out of breath. You wipe a little perspiration off your forehead as you approach.

You were so frantic in your determination to arrive, there was no time for nerves to materialize. They strike all at once, twisting anxiously as you knock. You wait a minute but he doesn’t answer, just like Chan predicted.

You take a steadying breath and put the key in the lock. Hand over your heart, you push open the door and step into the apartment.

It does not look any different from the last time you were here. Even your slippers are still by the door. You disregard them now, stepping out of your shoes and venturing forward with a nervous little patter.

If you were a werewolf, maybe you would have scented a change in the air, but it smells and feels familiar. The apartment is very still, maybe a little warmer than usual, sunlight streaming through the windows.

You finally hear a sound. You leave the small foyer and make a very clumsy entrance into the room.

You can hardly blame yourself for stumbling. Felix is sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of jeans. It looks like the same blue jeans from the other night. Yes, in fact, you are sure they are because you can see the faintest streak on his thigh. You were embarrassed to find you were so wet that it came through your panties and skirt. You wondered if it got on him.

You certainly have an answer now.

Felix is touching himself. He is slouched back on the couch, his bare chest damp with sweat, his knees spread apart. His jeans are pulled open and it looks roughly torn, the zipper snapped off the fly. His hand is wrapped around his cock. One of your t-shirts is clutched tightly in the other hand. He is holding it against his face, covering his eyes, mouth, and nose. He is clearly chasing the scent, knuckles whitening with how tightly he grips it.

His abdomen clenches as he approaches a climax. You watch as he quickly wraps the t-shirt around his cock, fucking the material. His eyes are closed, head thrown back.

You snap to the realization that he has no idea you’re here, so overwhelmed with your scent from the shirt.

You quickly cover your eyes with both hands and yelp his name.

His reply is a startled yelp as well. You peek at him through your fingers, watching as he frantically stuffs the t-shirt between the couch cushions. He tries to stand at the same time, fighting to close his pants over an uncooperative erection that does not seem to be going down.

“Fuck, sorry, I – hold on, fuck – I can explain—” he stammers.

“Um, me too,” you say.

He can’t get his pants closed but he gets himself tucked back inside. He keeps a grip on the fly with one hand, the other running through his long hair.

Then he is standing there, flushed and out of breath. You slowly lower your fingers from your face.

There is a moment of silence, both of you startled. After a bit of staring, he cracks a nervous smile. You tentatively return it.

His brow smooths out, his dimple poking into his cheek. He chuckles first, then you laugh, then you are laughing together. It feels good, letting out all the ridiculous tension.

“Why, uhh, why are you here?” he finally asks.

“Um, Chan texted,” you say.

“Oh, for the love of—” He cuts off his own tirade, shaking his head and exhaling heavily.

You twist your hands together, fingers budging in a nervous fidget.

“Um, he told me… he told me…” You forget your precise words because Felix meets your eyes, holding your gaze in his. You lose yourself in the depth of his dark eyes. You think your heart is beating loud enough to hear.

You look away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare. Your eyes stray to the couch, to your t-shirt poking out between the cushions. You are startled by a jolt between your legs, like a lightning bolt of arousal, the previous scene suddenly resonating with clarity.

“I—” You almost choke on your words, so much nervousness, so much fear, so much need in your voice. You meet his searching eyes, stepping forward as if compelled by them. “I thought my scent disgusted you.”

He blinks back at you, your words taking a moment to settle. Then he furrows his brow and tilts his head. A bit of hair falls forward and he tucks it back.

“Uhhhh, what?” he asks. “Dis—disgusted me? You thought—” He looks back at the couch too. He is very flushed, his rut no doubt keeping him suspended on a perpetual edge, and his ears darken with a richer tinge of red. “Um. No.” He laughs at the ridiculousness, looking at you with wide, blinking eyes. “I, uh, I definitely don’t – I think you – I mean—”

“Um, yes,” you say, clasping your hands together again. You rock a little on the balls of your feet. “Yes. I can see that, um, I think you’re not disgusted.”

“No,” it comes out on a breath. His eyes drop from your face down your body. You look so simple, but he looks at you like no one has ever been more beautiful. “No, I’m not disgusted. Why did you think that?”

“You, um, you make faces sometimes,” you say. It sounds so petty and silly to say out loud, but it’s time to get it all out there. “And you’ve been so distant, Felix. I thought that maybe, now that you’re a werewolf, you didn’t want anything more to do with me.”

His face scrunches up with bewilderment.

“Nothing – nothing to do with you?” he asks, voice breaking where it pitches up. It would usually make you laugh, but now is not the time as you stare back, all your insecurities and vulnerabilities on display. He does not laugh at them either, taking a small step towards you with a tender look on his face. “I could never feel that way,” he says. “You’re my whole world. I – I’ve told you that. You’re my – you’re my person.”

“Chan said you felt like a monster,” you say softly. “I wish you would have told me how you felt. I could have told you that you aren’t a monster, not at all. You’re my person too, you know.”

He exhales, shoulders deflating. He rubs the bridge of his nose, thinking of something to say. Eventually he shakes his head and drops his hand.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” he says. “You’ve been through so much. I couldn’t – I couldn’t ask you to take care of me too.”

“Felix,” you say, throat cloying with emotion. You take a step closer as well. “Felix, you’re not a burden. I wanted so badly to take care of you. I – I love you.”

The word love resonates like thunder. It pierces the air, leaves a ringing aftermath.

“You – you love me,” Felix says, like the words are incomprehensible. “As a – as a friend – or?” He tries to look disinterested but completely fails, staring at you with all that intensity again.

You combat the instinct to make yourself small, to hide your vulnerabilities, to retreat into denial and just smile prettily. You hold his gaze. When you smile, it is honest and affectionate.

“I love you, Felix,” you say. “As more than a friend. As everything.”

“Oh,” he says. His hand goes back into his hair, untucking it from behind his ear just to tuck it back again. His eyes dart everywhere like he is replaying the scene and scanning it for answers. He blinks at you. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say, with a small laugh.

“But you – you never wanted to see me again,” he says, then lifts his brows, expression all at once understanding. “Because you thought I didn’t want you. Oh my god. I’m such an idiot.”

“I’m not the brightest either,” you tease.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, closing the distance yet again with another step. He forgets the state of his clothes and lets go of his pants, too wrapped up in his words to notice the startled drop of your eyes. Not much is exposed, just the shape of his hips and a stubborn bulge, but it still leaves you sweating.

“Look,” he says. “I – I can’t just say I love you.” Before your heart can sink, he continues frantically, “Because it’s not enough. I do, I do love you. The werewolf gene activated for you. The doctors asked if I had been in any dangerous situations that might have triggered it and I said no. They – they said it sometimes activates in peril, when you feel the need to protect yourself. That’s what happened to me. Except it wasn’t because I wanted to protect myself. I wanted to protect you.”

“Me?” you say in a small voice, like you can hardly believe it.

“Yes,” he says, smiling, both hands moving as he talks. “I felt so helpless, watching the way you were hurting. I wanted to protect you. I never wanted to see you suffering again. I tried to be calm around you but pushing it down just made the feeling more desperate. My wolf, it’s like my heart. It’s just an animal, you know? And it only understands loyalty and love. And the first time I changed, I didn’t think like a person, no, but I thought of you all the same. They could barely keep me contained in that hospital. I just wanted to run to you. I wanted to protect you. I wanted to keep you safe. Staying away from you… it’s been killing me.”

“Me too,” you say, so filled to brim with emotion you think you might burst. “Oh, Felix, me too.”

A laugh spills out of him, more of a release than humour. You take another step towards each other, this time close enough to clasp hands between you.

“I wish you would have told me,” you say. “But it’s my fault too. I know I’m still recovering in some ways. I’m quick to think little of myself. But I shouldn’t put you in the role of the mean voices in my head. I’m sorry too. So, so sorry.”

“How could you think I’d ever be disgusted with you?” he asks in a low voice.

When he cups your cheek, a shiver moves down your spine. You straighten, leaning into his touch, looking at him with wanting eyes. He swallows hard, staring back.

“It was silly,” you say. “I even thought you were seeing someone else. That werewolf lady in your pack. I thought maybe you wanted a werewolf mate and I wouldn’t be enough.”

“That’s crazy,” he says. “You’re my everything.”

“And you’re mine,” you say.

You touch his arm, just the lightest caress of your fingertips. His skin is so hot it makes you gasp. Your cool fingers must be a balm because his eyes close and a little sigh parts his lips.

“Uh,” he breathes, eyes still closed. “Sorry for what you, uh, saw, coming in— I promise I don’t usually – ruts are just—”

You step a little closer. You can feel his breath on your cheek when he breathes in and out.

His hands drop to his sides as you lean in and kiss his neck. It is just a chaste touch but it makes his eyes fly open. He looks at you and you swear his eyes have never been so dark.

“You want me,” he says. When you nod, he releases another deep breath, a massive exhale of relief. “Ruts are… intense,” he says.

“Mm,” is your gentle reply. Your eyes run down his bare skin, fingers itching to touch. You meet his gaze. “But it’s you, right?”

Some romances depict ruts as an out of control haze. Though Felix is certainly more intense, it is your best friend’s familiar eyes locked on yours. You realize it actually makes him the vulnerable one, all his desires so blatant, his needs on the surface, unable to hide them for a second. You understand why he held back, especially while you were in recovery. There is so much of him.

But that is what you love. You can never have enough.

“Yes,” he says.

His deep voice is so rough that it makes you whimper. His hand jumps at the sound, settles on the back of your neck like it did yesterday. Anticipation tingles from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, every inch of your body aware of him, desperate for him.

“Yes,” he says again, staring at your mouth. “Yes, it’s me.”

Your breath catches when he squeezes your nape. In the back of your mind, you recall all those little courtship rituals of werewolves, the instincts that manifest between them and their mate. A gentle squeeze of the nape is a request for your submission, for you to put your trust in his strength and his affection.

You do, utterly. You rest your hands on his waist, your cool palms against his hot skin, making his eyes flash with hunger.

“What are you waiting for?” you ask, his mouth so close, kissing a tantalizing promise.

He smiles that real smile, eyes crinkling sweetly, sunshine radiating with all that heat.

“I told you, ruts can be intense,” he says. “I’m waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you.”

“You have it,” you say. Your eyes drop to his chest and you run your hand from his collarbone all the way down to his abdomen, watching the muscles tense under the caress of your fingers.

You smile at him, swiping at his hot skin with your fingertips as you step back. He lets you go, hands dropping to his sides. He moves when you do, like his whole body is tethered to yours, magnetized to your core. Each step you take, he follows with a fixated prowl.

“Do whatever you want with me,” you say, peeling down a strap of your dress. “I’m yours.”

His steps gain speed, his smile brightening. In a matter of seconds, he is chasing you into his bedroom, laughing behind your trail of giggles as you scamper ahead of him.

He catches you around the waist inside the bedroom, pulling your backside into his front. The straps of your dress are both lowered and you hold it to your chest with your hand, heart pounding from excitement and the little chase.

You make a sweet sound when his nose swipes your neck. You tip your head, offering more skin. It is a good thing his grip is so strong, because you tremble when he exhales, breath caressing your skin. He gathers your dress in his hands, plucking the fabric out of your grip. He pushes it down your body and it puddles on the floor.

“Felix,” you say on a sigh when he kisses the back of your neck while working his fingers under your bra. You help remove it, dropping it onto the floor. You rock back against him when he touches you. He uses both hands to cup your breasts and squeeze.

“Can’t believe you thought I was disgusted,” he says. “Like I didn’t spend my whole last rut in here thinking about you.”

“Y-you did?” you ask, with a little whimper, because his open jeans are not doing much to shield him and you can feel how hard he is against you.

“Yes,” he says, a hand coming up to circle your throat, gripping it possessively as he puts his teeth in your neck. It makes you jump in his arms, body shaking.

He holds you tight against him, the denim of his pants rough through the thin fabric of your tights.

“I’m sorry for all that,” you rasp. “I must have made it so hard for you.”

“Mm,” he says, grinning against your neck. “You made it very hard.”

“Pfft.” You slap a hand over your mouth when laughing. “That was a terrible joke.”

“Mm. True though.”

You squeak when he nudges you forward, so close to the bed that you stumble right onto it. He climbs up behind you, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back.

“At first, I was just sad,” he says.

He leans back to grab something off his bedside table. You admire the length of his body as he does, the low-slung jeans, the sheen of sweat across his chest, and his subtle, slender musculature.

You meet his gaze when he comes back. He is kneeling over you, a cocky grin on his face. He gathers his hair and ties it with the band he just grabbed.

“Then I really thought about it,” he says. “Mm, yeah, thought about hunting you down.” He straddles your thigh, his hands planting on either side of your head. “I’d find you and I’d remind where you belong.” He leans down, kissing along your jaw. “With me. Under me. Moaning my name. Forgetting about everything else.”

“Did you—” You start but gasp, his mouth on your throat, biting, sucking, licking. You arch your back, leaning into his mouth as he works his way down your body. “Did you… like with my shirt… when I saw you before…”

“What? Did I get off to your scent?” he asks. “Yes.” His hand follows his mouth, fingers curling into the band of your tights. “I told myself I shouldn’t. The last few ruts I managed. It wasn’t fun, mostly too hot, but I got by. But – you weren’t coming back, were you? You left so many pretty things here that made me think of you…”

He abruptly kneels upright. He uses both hands to grab the waistband of your tights.

“Found one of your cardigans,” he says. “Soft, like you. Put it on my pillow and fucked my hand like I wanted to fuck you.”

He rips your tights open with little effort, tearing right down to the thigh.

“Put it on my face,” he says. “Tasted it. Like I wanted to taste you.”

You moan for him, threading your fingers through his hair as he gets between your legs and opens his mouth on your pussy. He licks right through the material of your panties, like he doesn’t care at all, tormenting you with the obstruction until it is soaked through. You say his name over and over, your thighs already shaking just from warming up.

“Mmm.” He pushes himself up again, his mouth wet, tongue sweeping over his lips. He grabs your panties by the waistband and tugs them down.

By now, his jeans have slid down his hips. He is so hard, beading at the tip, as wet for you as you are for him. You watch as he uses your panties to quickly jerk his cock, gathering the wetness at the tip, then tossing them over his shoulder.

He falls back on top of you, face between your legs, licking you with nothing in his way.

“Wanted to find you,” he says between teasing kitten licks, looking up at you, smirking with the flick of his tongue. “Wanted to make you come so hard – mm, fuck you so good…” He slips two fingers inside you. Even though it has been some time, they move with no hindrance, your pussy so wet that he sinks right in.

“Yeah,” he says, momentarily going cross-eyed with his face so close to your pussy, watching his fingers move in and out of you. He grins when you clench around him. “Show you we were meant to be,” he says. “Just like this.” He licks you again, fingers moving so quickly that it sounds as obscenely wet as it feels. “Wolf or not. Knew you were mine. Was gonna make sure you know too.”

“Ohh,” you say, tugging at the blankets beneath you. “Who are you and what have you done with my sunshine Felix?”

He laughs, a low chuckle, the vibrations moving in your pussy.

“Mm, I’m right here, sweetheart,” he says. “Right… here…”

Then his mouth is occupied, little licks replaced with broad strokes of his tongue, then a repeating pattern that has you swelling and gushing on his tongue. You come so hard that it makes you dizzy, head thrown back as you squirt all over his thrusting fingers.

“That’s it,” he says, kissing your wet thighs.

While you are recovering, he grabs you and moves you. He arranges you neatly in the middle of the bed, making sure you are comfortable. Then he lets down his hair and removes his jeans.

“Felix,” you say, though it is generous to describe your voice as anything but a needy whimper.

He runs his hands up and down your trembling thighs, coaxing you open with murmurs of sweet nothings. You let him in, stringing your arms around his neck as he fits his hips between your legs and leans over you. You feel the head of his cock against your pussy, still throbbing with aftershocks. You are clenching around nothing, needing him, so ready you could scream.

You don’t scream, but sigh, like you are relieved when he gets inside you, like this is what you have been missing all along.

He takes his time despite the fever of his rut. Maybe because of it. His senses are so heightened, the pleasure felt so strongly. He groans, eyes closed, putting his face in your neck and breathing deeply as he slowly rocks into you.

“What were you thinking,” he murmurs, lips moving on your throat, “Trying to run away from me?”

“I’m – I’m sorry,” you say, interrupted with a hiccupping little uh-uh when he rolls his hips and you feel him deeper, harder, faster.

“You thought I wanted someone else?” he asks. “Impossible.”

Your eyes are closed, head thrown back. He grabs your chin and pulls your face to him, says, “Look at me. Right now.”

You do, blinking your eyes open. His thumb rubs your bottom lip and you open your mouth. You don’t even need to think, instantly accepting the intrusion of the digit, sucking on it while holding his gaze.

It would have terrified you a year ago, with anyone else, losing yourself to instinct like that, opening yourself up so willingly. With Felix, it feels right, it feels good.

“It’s you and me,” he says. “You understand that?”

You nod, humming affirmatively around his thumb. It rubs over your tongue, opens your mouth a little more. You want to close your eyes with every rolling thrust into you, but he tugs your face back to him when you try.

“You’re my mate,” he says. “Just you. It’s always – always been you.” He groans on the second always, picking up some speed, making you whine against his fingers.

He is so hot, clearly in the grips of his rut fever, but you cling to him, accepting everything he has to offer.

“Gonna be mine,” he says. “That’s right, yeah?” You nod frantically. “Yeah. Gonna put a ring on your finger. You’re gonna be so good to me, aren’t you? Gonna let me take care of you. Gonna be my mate. Gonna have my children. You and me. Home. Oh, yes, sweetheart, that’s it—”

You clench so tightly at the mention of children. It catches you off guard, your body’s visceral and immediate response, faster than your brain compute can why. You have told Felix you want children one day, in the future, back when you were just friends and it was an abstract thought. Thinking of a home with him, having his children, making a whole life together, being bound so completely …

“Fuck,” you say, his thumb sliding out of your mouth. He cups your face to keep it locked on him, your lips brushing each other.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

You do, though you are so close that you barely see him. It feels like he is everywhere, everything, around you and inside you. You melt when he kisses you, stealing your breath as he claims you so completely. You kiss back, messy and haphazard, all heat and wetness, but it feels good.

“C-can’t get pregnant,” you say with a pout, a bit delirious from getting fucked, letting the words roll thoughtlessly off your tongue. “B-birth control.”

“I know,” he says. He moves a little, gets up so he can hold your hips and pull you onto his cock with every thrust. “I’m stronger,” he says, just as deliriously, watching where his cock moves inside you. “Yeah. Gonna fill you up so much, it’ll happen anyway. It can’t stop me.”

He holds your hips, keeps you in place. He thrusts into you deeply and says, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and comes inside you.

It is not quite like all the werewolf pornography, with exaggerated knots on preposterously sized cocks, but werewolf physiology is still a little different than human. That difference is exacerbated on a rut. You feel it as he comes, the way he swells and gets harder, just enough that you feel your fullest as he releases. Pushing at you walls, stretching you around him, making you his without question.

He doesn’t really soften after, the rut sustaining him, but the swelling goes down. Even then, not entirely, as you feel a sharper burn when he pulls out of you. The flicker of pain is oddly tantalizing, a biting sensation on top of so many others. It ripples through you, makes you moan.

Your whole body is twitching, eyes closed as you come back to yourself.

You look up at Felix. His eyes are between your legs, his hand running up your thigh. You feel his thumb spread your pussy open, feel his release spilling out of you. That is the other different element; with a werewolf, there is a lot more of everything.

Though you know your birth control will function regardless, when you feel all that inside you… for a moment, you believe he might be strong enough to overpower it.

It makes you giddy, pleasure moving through your body. He smiles at you, all sunshine and sweetness. Then he takes control of your hips and puts himself back inside you. The refractory period on a rut is virtually nonexistent on the peak day, which is usually the second day, which is today.

“You okay?” he asks, rocking into you slowly even though he fits so easily now, your body made to take him.

You nod, sliding your hands over his shoulders. You scratch across his back then up in his hair, making him grunt and close his eyes. He leans down and kisses you, continuing to fuck you until you are making all those sweet sounds again.

“Good?” he asks, kissing your jaw, your neck.

“Good,” you say.

“Not too much?” he checks.

“Mm, no,” you say. You give him a teasing smile. “Not enough actually.”

“Oh, really?” He laughs, eyes big with playful incredulity. “Should I growl and bite more?” He makes a playful snarl like the werewolves in all the erotica.

It makes you laugh. You can’t remember the last time you laughed while having sex, but it feels so good, just as good as all the hot, desperate stuff.

“Hmm, maybe not,” he says, laughing too. “Maybe all the making-a-bitch stuff is a bit much, hm?”

It seems you will learn more about yourself than him over this rut, because that also makes you clench involuntarily. He blinks with surprise, mouth in a soft ‘o’ as he looks down at you. He laughs just a little at the look on your face, a low chuckle as his grin widens.

You cover your mouth, blinking innocently up at him.

“Oh shit,” he says. “I see.”

You pout when he pulls out of you, but there is little time to feel bereft because he flips you over onto your front. Your face lands in the pillows, then he yanks you down the bed.

Oh, it feels filthy suddenly, because the new angle opens you up and you can feel come dripping out of you. It catches his eye too, because he puts his fingers there and stuffs it back inside you.

With little effort, he gets you back under him, pushes down your shoulders and lifts up your hips. You feel him at your entrance again, pushing the tip past the rim.

“Is that it?” he asks, dropping his voice so low yet sounding so sweet. “You want me to make you my bitch, baby?”

He slams home, holding your hips up while pounding into you with relentless measure. You grab a pillow to hold, yelping and whining into it as he fucks you with wild abandon.

For a few seconds, you succumb to that single-minded animalistic pursuit, and you really do believe he can put a baby in you. You start babbling the desire – begging for it, asking him to fill you up.

“Please, please, please,” you say, gasping.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says, draping himself over your back, not stopping his hips for a second. “I got you. I’ll give you a baby. So good for me. Made to take it from me, yeah, baby?”

You know you are going to come again, his angle and precision too much to withstand. Sure enough, you are coming all over his cock in a matter of seconds, squeezing him into another orgasm too.

He kneels behind you, throws his head back while coming. Then he grinds inside you like he is trying to get it as deep as possible.

“Oh, Felix,” you say, whimpering when he pulls out, still hard, the burn less this time because you are so filthy wet that he slides so easily. You can feel his release gush out of you, his fingers chasing it, pushing back into you.

He rubs at you until you are rocking your hips and coming on his fingers. It is so much stimulation that your eyes water and your nose starts to sniffle.

He rolls you over and cups your face. You open your mouth instinctively, tilting your head to expose your neck. He looks at you like he can’t really believe you are exist and that you are here.

“Wow,” he says. The hand on your face slides so he can put his thumb back in your mouth, letting you suck on it like it is giving you life. He clenches his jaw, makes a rough sound, presses down on your needy tongue. “Next time,” he says, while starting to put his cock back into you, “Your mouth. And my mouth. You’re gonna sit on my face for hours. I’m gonna take care of you. Oh—”

He is halfway inside you when you reach up, putting your hands on his chest. He stops immediately, pulling out, taking back his hands, looking at you with a concerned tilt to his head.

“Will you lay on your back?” you ask, voice hoarse.

He blinks, like for a second he doesn’t understand words, but then he obeys. His hair is in absolute disarray, a veritable lion’s mane. He rakes it back, smooths it down as best he can. He never takes his eyes off you, watching as you sit up, as you climb on top of him, as you put him back inside you and set a slower pace.

“My turn,” you say, smiling. “I want to take care of you too.”

He smiles, putting his hands on your hips but not guiding them. He lets you take the lead, moving on top of him, finding all the ways to make him moan and close his eyes and twitch inside you.

You make him come twice that way. After the second time, he finally starts to soften enough that you can take a break.

You lay down beside him, squeaking with surprise when you press down on your belly and a little more come gushes out of you. You look at each other, his face the picture of total innocence despite his hand in it. You swat his chest, rolling onto your side and putting your head on his chest.

He laughs, putting his arm around you, stroking your back.

“You know I do mean it,” he says, looking down at you. “I want everything with you.”

“Me too,” you say. You kiss his chest, then his neck, under his jaw, making him sigh contently. “I love you, Felix. Everything about you, wolf and all.”

“I love you too,” he says, pressing you close, kissing your forehead.

There is a long moment of content silence. He strokes your back, up and down, lulling you to a dozy state. It is too early to sleep and, besides, the sheets need changing before that – even though you suspect they will just be dirtied again.

You are contemplating these sweet mundane nothings when he says, “You’re in the pack, you know. As my mate. That makes you one of us.”

“Does it?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m telling you this, because you’re a packmate and Chan is leader, but you’re my mate, so you have to take my side and tell him to fuck off when he tries to say I told you so.”

You laugh, shaking your head and playfully rolling your eyes.

“Sounds good,” you say. “Hmm, I might go have a shower before… the next… round…”

You do not have to look down to know that he is hard already, his blinking gaze revealing all. You giggle together and kiss again.

“All right, fair enough,” you say, eyes closed, exposing your neck obediently when he cups your nape. You press against him, moaning softly when he scents your neck then sucks a bruising kiss there. “It can wait,” you say, smiling. “We’ve been waiting for this long enough.”

“Mm,” he says, already slipping back into his feverish need. He grabs you and pulls you back on top of him.

There is not much talking for a while, but there is some laughter and plenty of smiles, and for the first time in a long time, you are looking forward to everything that follows after.

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix smut #felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz x you #yongbbokkie #valentinesdaystories

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spideyjimin · 2 months ago

Text

Bloodlines entwined: VI | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child.

— pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader

— genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut

— rating: 18+

— words: 11,321

— warnings: mention of morning sickness, strong language, sexual tension, teasing, a lot of making out, dry sex, implied masturbation, swearing, mention of sex, mention of abortion, mention of death, mention of murder, oc is scared, nervousness, and some crying

— author’s note: hiii angels ✨ it feels like it’s been ages since i haven’t updated this week when it’s only been a week 😅 Things are getting hot between jungkook and oc, and you finally get to know if Felix knew about the werewolf universe or not 👀 Hope you enjoy this chapter & let me know what you think 🫶🏼

Chapter VI: like supernatural

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

You study your reflection in the mirror, trying to look for a pregnancy sign. There is barely a stomach appearing which you guess is normal. The insemination only happened nine weeks ago; it might be too soon to have a bump.

However, you’ve been having terrible morning sickness. It’s honestly horrible, and thankfully, it only happens in the morning. It wouldn’t have been easy if you had to leave the classroom to throw up.

You put on the first grey shirt you find, and a pair of jeans. Since you’re going to grab some stuff at the grocery store, you don’t feel the need to put on your best outfit for that. Something very simple is quite enough.

Before leaving the apartment, you put on your headphones with music blasting in your ears. You also grab your coat with your purse and a bag for your groceries and then leave your apartment.

As you’re walking on the streets, a woman suddenly appears in front of you, a very pretty one. She’s wearing a fancy pink dress underneath a white coat. She exudes so much confidence and power. You’re very much caught off guard, especially since she looks you up and down with disdain. Who the hell is this woman?

One thing you’re sure, she’s a werewolf. She has a strong bestial scent; one different than Jungkook, but she has it. Outside your father’s child and Mister Song, she’s the first werewolf you’ve seen. Do they all have this strong aura?

“So you’re the one carrying Jungkook’s child?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, and you remove your headphones to hear her.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you politely say, trying to make sure you hear it right. However, she totally dismisses your question. “Who are you?” you ask with evident confusion.

She ignores you again, her eyes focused on your body. She might definitely hear your child’s heartbeat or smell their scent.

“Are you a surrogate or his new toy?”

You’re almost offended by her question, and it definitely irritates you that she doesn’t even bother to introduce herself. What kind of person is she? And who the hell does she think she is?

“I asked you a question,” your tone is firm, and her eyes finally look up at you.

A smirk appears on her face as if she’s happy you talked like that to her. “Yuna,” she holds out her hand to you. “Jungkook’s future queen.”

You tilt your head and frown before you shake her hand. Jungkook never mentioned any girlfriend, and to be honest, it hurts a bit to find this out like this. Was he cheating on her when he kissed you and gave you pleasure?

“Nice to meet you,” you play along.

She clearly doesn’t know who you are, and if he didn’t say anything about you to her, there must be a reason. He should be the one revealing your existence to her.

“How do you know I’m carrying his child?” you ask.

Now, you’re quite curious about that.

“Let’s just say that I know,” she says.

A little smile appears on your face as she carefully chooses her words. She definitely seems to ignore what you truly are and since she can’t reveal her world to a human, she remains vague. However, you don’t want to make it look like you know about the werewolves.

“Well, if you really knew, you’d know if I’m a surrogate or his new toy,” you use her words against her. “And if you’re his future queen as you said, this is something you’d definitely know.”

She’s taken aback by your words. She seems like she wasn’t expecting you to stand up against her. She doesn’t know what to say, and you look at her, expecting her to say something.

Jungkook appears out of the blue, his body standing tall next to you. His eyes quickly roam your face and body, making sure Yuna didn’t do anything to you. A smile appears on your face when you see him. For a brief moment, you let your eyes wander on this handsome man.

As you’re starting to notice, he’s most of the time wearing a suit, today not being an exemption. It’s a completely black outfit, even the classic shirt under his jacket. He pushes his hair back, clearly trying to rearrange it, and making you understand that he came under his wolf form.

“What are you doing here, Yuna?” his tone is rigid, his jaw clenched.

“Meeting the woman carrying your child and checking up on those rumors.”

You frown, not understanding what she’s making reference to.

“Now, I’m trying to understand if she’s a surrogate or…” Jungkook doesn’t let her finish her sentence.

“She’s my girlfriend if that’s what you want to know,” his tone is as sharp as a knife.

Your face turns to Jungkook while you try to remain composed. This is incredibly surprising, especially since you haven’t put into words what is going on between you. There’s only been a few kisses and his fingers in your pants three days ago. Based on that, you wouldn’t especially call him your boyfriend.

“Oh,” she says.

It’s clear as day that she’s hurt to find out about that. You don’t know this woman, but it’s written all over her face, and you kind of feel sorry for her.

“I didn’t know that,” she continues.

“Now, please leave her alone,” he says. “Leave us alone.”

You’ve never seen Jungkook speaking like that, and it sends shivers down your spine. He’s quite harsh, and it might come from the fact that he’s a king. However, you’re also convinced that this woman did something to him. This isn’t just about him as a king; it’s also personal.

When the woman disappears, you turn fully to Jungkook. For a moment, his eyes don’t leave Yuna, making sure she doesn’t come back. Then, once she’s out of sight, his eyes finally meet yours, and they instantly soften. He gives you a little smile.

“Who’s that woman?” you finally ask.

This man’s beauty is truly breathtaking. How can someone be this good-looking? You hope that your kid will inherit his beauty.

“Yuna,” he says. “My ex.”

Well, that would explain everything, and you kind of sense that she hasn’t moved on just yet. She might definitely still love him a lot. Or maybe she might love the crown he wears.

“She presented herself as your girlfriend,” you inform him.

“I’m not even surprised,” he rolls his eyes. “She has reappeared in my life as if she’s expecting me to welcome her back with open arms.”

Does it surprise you? No, because as a king, you expect him to have many women drooling over him, and trying to get his attention. On top of that, he’s extremely handsome. His beauty is mesmerizing, and you feel lucky to have the opportunity to see him this close regularly.

“But why did you tell her I’m your girlfriend?” you curiously ask.

For a moment, he seems to hesitate, and his eyes look behind you. You also note the way his cheeks redden, which makes him look absolutely adorable.

“That’s the only way she’ll leave you alone,” he answers, his eyes finally meeting yours again.

“I hope so,” you say. “She’s impressive,” you admit.

A smile appears on his face at your words.

“Yep,” he says. “She’s from a powerful family too so she feels like the world is at her feet.”

“I’m only meeting important people from your world,” you smile at him. “I’m starting to think that I’m privileged.”

A chuckle leaves his lips while he shakes his head.

“Technically, you’re more important and powerful than all her family combined,” he admits.

Your eyes widen with surprise. It seems impossible that you have some kind of privilege in this werewolf world. You’re a hybrid, a forbidden being.

“How’s that possible?” you ask. “Nobody knows about me, and I’m…” you lower your voice. “You know what.”

Jungkook nods as he understands you’re referring to your hybrid nature.

“You’re the heir’s mother,” he answers.

“Oh,” you say. “Didn’t know it was a privilege too.”

“It is,” he tells you. “Everybody deeply respects the woman carrying the heir.”

It’s good to know. However, you’re pretty much confident that the privilege will disappear the second, people will find out about who you truly are.

“If you don’t mind, I need to do some grocery shopping,” you show him your little bag. “Want to join?” you ask.

His eyes quickly look around as if he’s making sure nobody sees him here.

“Yes, I’d like that,” he answers once his eyes are on you again. “I’ve actually never done that, so it’ll be a first time for me.”

“What?” you ask with surprise. “You never did this?”

This man won’t even stop surprising you, but it sort of warms your heart that he’ll experience it for the first time with you. You feel honored to introduce him to grocery shopping. It’s nothing glamorous, but it’s still so normal for you. The two of you start walking in the store’s direction.

“As you might have seen, I’ve many people working for me and they take care of that.”

You’re still impressed by how huge his mansion is, and how many people you saw working there.

“It makes sense, but still,” you say. “It’s something so normal to do.”

“My normal is very different than yours,” his eyes quickly glance at you.

It’s for sure very different, but you thought that was something he would have at least done once in his life.

“Speaking of different,” you begin. “How did this ex of yours find me?”

Jungkook nervously bites his lower lip, hesitating to reveal the truth.

“The baby’s scent,” he answers.

Your eyebrows furrow because you don’t really understand. The baby doesn’t really have any particular scent, and on top of that, it’s mixed with yours.

“As a king and son of a king, I have a particular scent. It’s different than any other wolf,” he explains. “So all my kids will also have a particular one. She only had to follow that scent.”

Everything seems so peculiar with Jungkook—and with you too. But it’s strange to have been brought to this world by the king himself. It could have been anyone else, but you had to end up with him.

Once inside the store, it seems like Jungkook has entered a completely new world. He looks like a five-year-old who’s discovering something new, making him look extremely cute. He helps you gather what you need and even buys some stuff for himself. He’s so proud of himself, and it leaves you wondering what other ‘normal’ things he doesn’t do.

Jungkook accompanies you to your place to ensure his ex-girlfriend isn’t waiting at your door. This thoughtful gesture fills your heart with warmth. Inside your apartment, you invite him to stay a little while and offer him something to drink and eat to thank him.

The two of you are sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a piece of apple cake. As you look at him innocently drinking and eating, you lose yourself in your own thoughts. Even if he’s powerful in his world, he can’t protect you from your truth. He can’t protect you from the fact that you’re afraid of everything. He can’t protect you from who you are.

There is so much more to unveil about yourself, your family, and your parents, and hurt and pain might come along. On top of that, you’re a hybrid, something so deeply forbidden. You shouldn’t exist, and you’re not even sure he will be able to protect you from how the others react. Because, in all honestly, you strongly believe that nobody will accept you. Nobody will even acknowledge your child as the next ruler.

In the middle of all this chaos, there is that tiny little life growing inside you. One that units you to Jungkook, and it will be a forever bond. No matter how your relationship might evolve, there will always be this baby, and all you hope is for you to remain on good terms.

“Yn,” his voice in your head brings you back to the real world.

“Yes,” you say out loud.

“Are you okay?” he asks with concern.

You simply nod. Even though you want to share all your concerns with him, you’ve already discussed them with him more than enough times. You don’t want to bother him anymore.

“You’re sure?” his voice still echoes in your mind.

“I am,” you answer this time through your thoughts. “Just thinking about all the recent events.”

“We can talk about it if you need to,” he gently suggests.

“It’s okay,” you answer. “I just need time to process it all.”

Honestly, it’s been too much in such a short period of time. In nine weeks, you’ve been through a lot, and you definitely need time and space to digest it all. You’d also like to take your time with everything. You’re about to become a mother, and you’d like to focus a bit more on it.

“Soo,” you then say out loud. “Do you already have any name preference for the baby?”

For a brief moment, his eyes stare into yours to make sure you’re truly okay. He’s been quite concerned about you because of all the events. He hadn’t dealt with so many things in so long.

“I haven’t really thought about it, honestly,” he admits. “Although I’ve always desired to name my kid after my father if it’s a boy.”

You quickly disappear into the living room to pick up your phone before coming back. You open the notes app to write down the ideas you might both have.

“What’s your father’s name?” you ask.

“Taemoo,” he says, and you write it down.

“Oh, it’s a pretty name,” you offer him a smile. “For a boy, I already had the name Hwan in mind,” you tell him. “And for a girl, Arya.”

You add those two names to the list. Those were the names you had already chosen for your child before Jungkook came into the picture. It should have been one of those, but now, you can’t decide alone. This baby has a father.

“Queen Arya,” Jungkook mumbles. “Sounds definitely compelling.”

The brightest smile appears on his handsome face.

“I really like it,” he says.

“And you didn’t have any girl’s name in mind?” you ask with curiosity.

“Well, with Yuna, we had talked about it, and there’s a name that I like,” he confesses. “But I’d never given that name to our girl, I don’t want to be reminded of my ex.”

It’s logical; exes are always better left in the past even if this Yuna seems to want Jungkook back. Thankfully, you don’t have an ex doing the same.

“And Hwan,” he begins. “That’s the name of one of my nephews, and honestly, I wouldn’t want two people to have the same name in my family.”

As he mentions his nephew, you realize that you barely know anything about his family while he already knows so much about yours.

“Then, I guess we’ll erase that one from the list,” you say.

It breaks your heart as it’s a name you really love, but you’re not alone anymore. The baby’s name has to be chosen with Jungkook.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t worry,” you smile at him. “We have to decide together, and if you don’t want to, then I can’t force you to agree.”

“Thanks,” he whispers.

“And how many nephews do you have?”

Jungkook proceeds to talk about his close relatives. He has currently two nieces and a nephew, but a second nephew is on the way. The four of them are the children of his only sister, Dohee. She’s three years younger than him, and he definitely seems to love her with all his heart. He has also two brothers, Hyunjin and Mingi, two little monsters based on his description. Growing up, he was jealous of them because they never had to worry about this whole becoming a king thing.

His parents’ names are Taemoo and Jisoo, the two people he loves the most. It’s clear as day that he deeply loves his family, but his father’s death broke something in him, you can see it when he mentions his father. He had so much admiration for him, and he had to navigate this king role without him. He knew it from the start, but experiencing it firsthand is completely different.

“My mom would like to meet you,” he says.

Jungkook purposely avoids mentioning the terrible conversation he had with his family. He doesn’t want to worry you about that. What matters for now is the fact that his mother wants to meet you.

“She knows about me?” you surprisingly ask.

“Of course,” he says as it was the most obvious thing. “You’re carrying my child,” he pauses for a little moment. “She also knows that you’re a hybrid.”

Oh.

It surprises you that he already mentioned that to her, and you guess she didn’t react well when he told her. At least, she already knows it, but you’re not sure this first meeting will go well. She’ll for sure have preconceptions about you. She’ll probably hate you.

“I can meet her if that’s what you want,” you tell him.

“I’d very much like that.”

“Okay then,” you smile.

Family seems important to him, and you’d meet his mother if he wants to. She’s also your child’s grandmother, and you’d like your child to have a strong bond with the people Jungkook deeply loves.

“And I also would like you to meet Felix and Lexi,” you tell him.

His phone suddenly rings, his eyes looking down at the person calling him.

“Give me 2 minutes,” he grabs his phone and goes to the living room.

Even though he moves a bit further, you still can hear the conversation. Due to your very curious nature, your ears pay attention to him.

“Hoseok,” he says. “I can’t today, I’m already busy with something.”

The person on the other side, a man, responds. “What is more important than that?”

“Listen, I can’t right now, but I’ll take care of that tomorrow,” Jungkook promises.

“Please, help us as soon as you can,” the other man adds. “We can’t handle this by ourselves anymore.”

At the man’s words, you truly realize the extent of what it means to be a king. People rely on him, people need him when things get messy and complicated. And in the middle of that, he finds the time to help you and be present for you.

“Don’t worry,” Jungkook responds. “It’ll be settled tomorrow.”

The phone call ends, and seconds later, Jungkook comes back into the room, his presence appealing as always. Earlier, when you came back from the store, he removed his suit jacket, leaving him in just his black dress shirt. Now, with the soft lighting accentuating every line of his figure, your attention is utterly captivated.

The fabric clings to his broad shoulders and tapers down his torso, perfectly tailored to highlight the strength he carries so effortlessly. His rolled-up sleeves expose his forearms—strong, veined, and so distractingly masculine—and his tattoos. You try to focus on something else, but your eyes betray you, tracing the curve of his arms and the way his shirt stretches across his chest with every step.

As he moves toward you, the faintest smile appears on his lips, and it makes your heart race. There’s something about him, a mix of elegance and raw strength, that leaves you spellbound. He settles into the chair across from you, his movements unhurried, and leans slightly forward, his gaze meeting yours. You blink, trying to pull yourself together.

“It’s just a shirt, yn,” you scold yourself silently, but even you don’t believe that.

The heat crawling up your cheeks betrays your thoughts, and the way his presence fills the room doesn’t help. Jungkook quirks a brow, a playful glint in his eyes as if he’s caught you staring.

“Is something on your mind?” he asks, his deep voice cutting through your flustered thoughts.

You quickly look down at your lap, feeling your cheeks burn. “No... nothing,” you mumble.

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, just watches you intently, the air between you charged with something unspoken. It’s maddening how effortlessly he affects you, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to look away for long.

“Actually,” you correct your answer. “If there’s something important you need to take care of, you can go,” you tell him.

Based on the conversation he just had, he might have more important matters to deal with. You don’t want to be the reason holding him up. However, his rapid answer leaves no room for doubt.

“Nothing matters more than your safety, yn,” he admits without blinking.

“But…” you start arguing but he doesn’t let you speak.

“There’s no ‘but’, whatever I have to deal with can wait tomorrow,” his tone is very firm and takes you off guard.

Before you can respond, Jungkook leans forward slightly, his gaze locking with yours. There’s an intensity in his eyes that leaves you momentarily breathless.

“Listen to me,” he says softly but with an unmistakable seriousness in his voice. “Your safety and well-being come first, always. Whatever is waiting for me out there will still be there tomorrow. You, on the other hand…” his voice trails off, and for a moment, he seems to struggle to find the right words. He exhales deeply, his tone softening. “You’ve been through so much already. The last thing I want is for you to feel like you’re not my priority. Because you are, yn. More than anything else.”

His confession leaves you speechless. The vulnerability in his voice is unexpected, and it warms your heart. Jungkook leans back in his chair, giving you the slightest smile as if he’s trying to ease the tension he just created.

“So no more arguments, okay?” he adds, his tone lighter now. “I’m staying right here, whether you like it or not.”

“Okay,” you admit in defeat.

Nobody has ever treated you like this. Nobody has ever made you feel like you’re the most important person in the world. Yet, this man who appeared out of the blue in your life nine weeks ago has made you feel like the most precious pearl. He’s been by your side, never letting you face this chaos alone. For the first time in a long time, he’s actually the first man you’ll allow yourself to fall for.

His smile grows bigger at your answer before you move to the living room. You choose to watch Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse as you’re both fans of the Spider-Man universe. During the movie, you end up falling asleep as you’re quite exhausted from everything. Growing a human—or a werewolf—isn’t really easy. It consumes your entire energy.

“Yn,” you hear Jungkook’s voice in your dreams. “Yn,” he repeats. “It’s time to eat.”

Suddenly, you feel fingers delicately brushing against your cheeks. You shake your head, trying to push away the fingers on your face.

“Mmm,” you groan while you try to hide your face on the couch.

“Yn, you have to eat,” Jungkook talks in your mind again.

“Leave my head, Jungkook,” you mumble. “And let me sleep.”

“If you don’t wake up now, I’ll keep talking in your head,” he threatens.

“Noo,” you groan once more and hide your ears with your hands. “Leave me.”

Jungkook chuckles as he watches you cover your ears. Doing that won’t make him go away, he’s still able to have a mind-to-mind conversation with you.

“C’mon, yn,” he says. “The dinner will get cold.”

“You cooked?” you instantly ask while opening just one eye.

“Yep,” he answers, this time the words don’t echo in your head.

“What did you do?” you now open your eyes.

“Bibimbap,” he proudly says.

“You should have started by saying that,” you sit on the couch, more hungry than ever.

Jungkook rolls his eyes in front of you with the biggest smile on his face.

“Did you just roll your eyes?” you ask with obvious surprise.

“Maybe,” he teases you.

“Mister,” you pause for a split second. “You’re extremely lucky to be the father of my child. Otherwise, I would have already kicked you in the ass for that attitude,” you tease him back.

Jungkook is trying to remain serious, but he simply can’t. So his strong arms lift you up to place you on his shoulder. Your head almost reaches his plump, squishy, and hot ass, and in your teasing attitude, you decide to smack his ass repeatedly.

“Let me go, Jungkook,” you joyfully scream.

“Didn’t know you were into asses,” he chuckles. “Lucky for you, I have the best ass in the world.”

Instantly, you stop hitting his butt cheeks, heat radiating in your cheeks. Jungkook seems to be in such a teasing mode today, and honestly, you won’t complain. You’re enjoying this very much, you don’t want this to stop.

But he puts you down a few seconds later, your bodies extremely close now, and his face barely a breath away from yours. This teasing mood shifts completely into an intense one. For a moment, your eyes devour his lips as you desire nothing more than to kiss him like you’re starving. Then, you glance up at him, his eyes locking with yours.

His huge hands brush against your arms, and the feeling is comforting. Everything about this man and his presence is comforting. Having him with you here and now feels wonderful. It’s one of the best feelings in the world.

This time around, you don’t hesitate twice and press your lips on his. At first, the kiss is soft. His lips are warm and firm against yours, and your heart feels like it might burst from your chest. You can feel his hands tighten slightly on your arms as if he’s trying to anchor himself to this moment, to you.

Then, something shifts. The kiss deepens, growing more fervent as if both of you have been holding back for far too long. His hands slide up to cradle your face, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks as he pulls you closer, leaving no space between you.

The world around you disappears. There’s only the feeling of him, the heat of his touch, and the way his lips seem to convey everything he’s been holding back: desire, affection, and an unspoken promise of something deeper.

When the kiss finally breaks, both of you are breathless, your foreheads pressed together. You don’t open your eyes right away, savoring the moment. His hands remain on your face, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your jaw as if memorizing you.

“We should eat before it gets cold,” he whispers before pressing a peck on your lips.

You nod before sitting on a chair. A smile grows on your face as you notice the two plates carefully prepared by Jungkook. It warms your heart that he prepared dinner while you were peacefully sleeping.

“Thanks for the dinner,” you say as you start eating.

Jungkook simply offers you a smile before you both eat in silence. It seems like you’re starving because you eat so rapidly, but damn, this is so good! This man has many talents.

“Can you stay tonight?” you ask once you finish eating.

His big doe eyes move from his plate to you, he looks absolutely adorable. This vision melts your heart.

“Yes,” a sincere smile grows on his face.

“Great,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips.

You stand up to gather the plates and bring them to the sink. Jungkook, ever the gentleman, stands to help you, but you wave him off.

“I’ve got it,” you tell him. “You cooked, so let me clean.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t argue. However, you notice him keeping a watchful eye on you as you move around the kitchen. It’s a little unsettling but also comforting, knowing he’s so attentive. When you’re done, you turn to him, a mix of nervousness and determination fluttering in your chest.

“Mm, do you want to… go to the bedroom? I mean, to sleep?” you ask, your voice soft, almost shy.

Jungkook arches a brow, his lips twitching into a subtle smirk. “Are you asking me to share your bed?”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks heat up. “Don’t make it weird, Jungkook.”

“I can sleep on the couch, yn,” he then says.

You take a step closer to him. “I just… I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

His teasing expression softens instantly, replaced by something far gentler. He closes the distance between you, his towering frame making you feel small in comparison.

“You’re never alone,” he says, his voice low and reassuring. “I’m here, I’ll literally be on the couch.”

“But if something happens, you’ll be too far,” you pout.

For a moment, he hesitates, his gaze flickering toward the hallway leading to your bedroom. You can see the internal debate playing out in his head, making your chest tighten. However, he can’t resist those pleading eyes.

“You can stay on top of the covers if that makes you feel better,” you suggest.

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he answers in defeat.

“Thanks,” you press a soft kiss on his cheek, but he’s smarter than you and turns his head so your lips meet his. “Desperate for a kiss?” you then mumble.

“Maybe,” he answers with a smirk on his face.

“All you have to do is ask,” your eyes look deep into his.

“Can I kiss you, yn?” he immediately asks, and you nod.

In no time, his lips are on yours, passionately kissing you. His lips are honestly addictive; you’d be able to kiss him nonstop, and the funny thing is that he hasn’t kissed you many times. But he kisses like a god.

“You’re happy now?” you ask when you break the kiss.

“Not really,” he teasingly says while shaking his head.

Jungkook presses a peck on your lips before pressing a thousand others more, causing you to giggle.

“Better now?” you ask once he stops.

“Mmm,” he pretends to be thinking. “No,” he shakes his head before pressing a couple of other kisses on your lips.

The man in front of you loves to hear you giggle and doesn’t want it to stop. It is his new favorite sound in the whole world. Secretly, he hopes he’ll never be deprived of it.

Then, slowly, the kisses move to your cheeks, forehead, jaw, the corner of your lips, and finally they start to descend to your neck. You can feel his round nose pressed against your neck as his lips kiss your skin. By pure reflex, you tilt your head to give him more room, and your hands move to his hair to play with it. A very soft and barely audible moan escapes your lips.

This jovial and playful moment has turned into a very heated one.

“Wait,” you carefully push him with your hands on his chest.

His doe eyes look at yours with concern.

“This isn’t really the most appropriate place for this…” you whisper, the heat under your cheeks growing as his eyes are deep into yours.

“Why so?” his right eyebrow raises up.

“I mean, we’re in the hallway,” you tell him.

His eyes look around. “But there’s nobody except us, yn.”

“I know, but…” you seem to hesitate.

Jungkook finally understands that you’re not really comfortable taking this any further in the hallway.

“Okay, let’s go to the room,” he says with a smile before gently kissing your cheek.

The man grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours while guiding you to your bedroom. Once inside, he doesn’t waste a second and presses his hungry lips on yours. Slowly, he removes his fingers from your hand to remove your grey shirt. He throws it on the floor, and his eyes instantly look down at your stomach, looking for a sign of your pregnancy.

“The bump isn’t showing yet,” you say.

“Can’t wait to see it,” he mumbles, his eyes looking up at you now.

“Me too,” you admit with the brightest smile on earth.

The past few weeks have been hard and chaotic, but amidst all of that, the idea of your belly growing brings you some comfort. It will mean that your little wolfy is thriving, a reassurance that despite everything, life is forming inside you. This is what you’ve wanted since the beginning. You’ve desired to watch your body change since the second you began this journey.

Jungkook’s warm hand comes to rest gently on your stomach, his eyes locked deep onto yours. This moment is so intimate, so profound, and the rest of the world fades away. A soft breath escapes your lips as the realization settles in: no matter what happens the tiny heartbeat beneath his touch will forever link the two of you. You are bound not only by fate but by the life you created together.

“Now lay down on your back for me,” he whispers.

You simply nod before obeying him and lying on the bed. His eyes hungrily devour you as he hovers over you, his body settling in between your legs. His lips meet yours for a tender but fervent kiss. Then, slowly, the kisses move to your cheeks, jaw, the corner of your lips, and finally, they start to descend to your neck, his cute nose pressing against your skin.

Your fingers find their way to his hair, playing with it while he gives you pleasure. Jungkook’s lips keep going down, dangerously getting closer to your cleavage. Your breath is getting heavier, your heart beating faster, and your eyes fluttering shut. As he gets closer and closer, soft moans leave your lips, indicating to him that he’s doing everything just well.

Before he even reaches your breasts, he retreats to take a look at your pretty face. When you feel the cold air brushing against your skin, you open your eyes to watch him.

“Do we keep going?”

“Don’t stop,” you manage to say.

A smile appears on your face. Before you can even comprehend, his hands move down to your waist, and they are pushing your pants down your legs. Once they are at your ankle, his lips hungrily kiss you. You’re definitely desperate for this man. You want more. And it seems that it’s a shared feeling.

Your baby’s father presses his hips against yours, his growing bulge now against your wet core. That sensation alone makes you moan. Teasingly, he slowly rolls his hips against yours, but he doesn’t stop kissing you as a desperate man. You hold his black classic shirt firmly as you moan against his lips. Without any doubt, your panties are getting soaked. Jungkook is fucking you when you’re still fully clothed.

His lips finally set free from yours so he can rest his forehead against yours. His lusty eyes stare deep into yours which causes you to moan. Your walls clench around emptiness, but you’re slowly getting desperate to feel something inside you.

However, slowly, you realize the extent of the situation. You’re about to have sex. You close your eyes once more. His hips never stop rolling against yours, torturing you just the way you need. The grip on his shirt tightens, and moans keep falling from your mouth.

“Jungkook,” you blissfully whisper.

His eyes roam your face contorting with pleasure, a vision he never thought he needed. The man crashes his lips once more against yours; he definitely got addicted to your lips and never wants to let go of you.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your lips, his bulge growing inside his pants.

You both know that if you take this any further, there’s no way back. The second you’ll make love, it’ll seal forever your ever-growing bond. And is it what you want? Do you even feel ready? This is something you can’t quite answer yet, but it scares you. Jungkook wouldn’t simply be your baby’s father or your king—let’s be honest as a hybrid, he’s still your king. He’d become your lover.

“Jungkook,” you whisper again against his lips before you open your eyes.

“Mmm,” he says while he puts some distance between your faces to have a better look at you.

“Maybe we should think a bit better about this,” you tell him. “Aren’t we going too fast?”

Jungkook tilts his head, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

“Going too fast? Hmm…” he murmurs, his lips barely an inch from yours. “Let’s see. You’re having my baby, I’ve seen you at your worst and best, and I’ve already committed to protecting you with my life. But sure, let’s take it slow.”

The teasing spark in his eyes makes your stomach flutter, and you playfully hit his chest.

“Jungkook!”

This man is unbelievable, but he isn’t quite wrong. So much has already happened since you’ve met him, and he’s been there all along. He could have given up on you the second he found out about your true nature, but yet, it seems not to bother him at all.

Jungkook laughs before pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“I’m just saying at this point, I think the universe is pushing us together,” he places a strand of hair behind your ear. “But if this is too fast for you, we can slow down.”

The man now lays down next to you, his eyes looking up at the ceiling before they look at you again.

“Thanks,” you smile at him.

“I’ll do anything for you, yn,” he smiles at you. “Would you mind showing me where the bathroom is? Something down there needs some relief.”

Your eyes look down at his crotch that definitely looks compressed in his pants. So you stand up rapidly to guide him to the bathroom. It pains you a bit for him that he didn’t get his release, but hopefully, his hands will do great work.

“Sorry about that,” you tell him once you’re in the bathroom.

“Don’t worry, yn,” he says before kissing your cheek.

You leave him alone, your cheeks burning at the mere thought of what he’s doing in the bathroom. Obviously, you desire nothing more than suck him off, but you can’t. Things are going way too fast between you, and it’s better to simply slow down for the time being.

The doorbell sounds in your apartment, pushing you out of your sleep. As far as you know, you weren’t expecting any guests today. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked Jungkook to sleep at your place.

You stand up, put some clothes on, and look at the man peacefully sleeping in your bed. He looks like an angel, a beautiful angel. Then, your eyes move to the clock you have in your room. It’s almost 10 am. You leave the room as fast as possible to see who the hell is disturbing your sleep.

To your surprise, it is Felix and Lexi. Your heart starts hammering like crazy in your chest as you realize they’re going to meet Jungkook. There’s no way Jungkook is leaving this apartment without meeting them, and it honestly makes you a bit nervous.

“Hi,” you say when you open the door to them.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Felix pushes you into his arms for a hug.

Felix’s arms will forever be the most comfortable place on earth. These arms have consoled you so many times, and they’ve brought peace when times were harder. You take a step back before pressing a kiss on his cheek.

“Hello, yn,” Lexi kisses your cheek.

“What are you doing here?” you ask with obvious confusion.

You weren’t expecting them to come today. It’s a pleasant surprise, but you wish they had warned you earlier.

“We came to see how you’re doing,” Lexi answers. “And we’ve brought breakfast.”

She shakes in front of your face the little bag that carries the breakfast. They instantly notice something’s wrong, and they frown.

“Are you okay?” Lexi asks

“Yn,” you hear a voice behind you, causing you to look over your shoulder.

Suddenly, Jungkook appears, and your entire world seems to pause for a second. Your mouth parts slightly as your brain struggles to process the sight in front of you. Standing in nothing but his underwear, his messy hair falling over his forehead in the most effortlessly and attractive way. He looks like a fucking dream.

As he walks in the hallway, his hand on his hair to adjust it, you can’t help but be hypnotized by how the toned muscles on his body move. Everything from his sharp-cut abs to the powerful lines of his chest, and to his tattoos is mesmerizing. The intricate ink covering his arm only makes him look more dangerously irresistible, like some kind of dark temptation you should absolutely not be staring at this intently. Yet, you can’t help it.

A wave of heat rushes through your face, and you internally scold yourself. ‘For the love of everything, stop drooling’. Especially with Felix and Lexi standing right next to you.

You quickly tear your gaze away, but it’s already too late. Lexi is smirking and Felix seems to be absolutely astonished. Jungkook stops when he sees them with evident surprise, but instead of feeling awkward, he offers his brightest smile to the three of you.

“Hello,” he says when he stands in front of you. “My name is Jungkook,” he reaches out his hand to Felix.

You glance between the two of them, and something instantly feels off. Felix’s gaze lingers on Jungkook. There’s something in his expression, something unreadable yet undeniably curious. Your stomach tightens as you take in the way Felix studies Jungkook. Does he know him?

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook,” Felix shakes his hand. “I’m Felix, yn’s father.”

A smile grows on Jungkook’s face, and he then looks at Lexi. He reaches out his hand to her, and without any hesitation, she shakes it. The smirk on her face doesn’t fade away at all.

“And I’m Lexi, her sister.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Jungkook smiles at them.

It is almost unreal to see the three of them together; you didn’t expect them to meet so early on. And you hadn’t in mind for them to meet a barely dressed Jungkook.

“Jungkook is the father of my child,” you inform Lexi and Felix.

Lexi looks at you with a gaze that says it all. The smirk on her face is almost annoying because you perfectly know what she’s thinking. She’s thinking that you slept with him and that he’s hot as fuck.

But then, as you look at Felix, you can see that he doesn’t seem happy to learn that Jungkook is the father. Is he aware of something about him that you don’t? Felix’s reaction is very confusing.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll get dressed,” he tells you before disappearing again.

“Dad,” you look at Felix. “Do you know him?”

You can’t go any longer without raising the question. There’s definitely something off and you need to know why. You want to know how on earth Felix knows him.

“Not him,” he answers. “But his father.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and you notice Lexi has the exact same reaction.

“How?” you ask.

Felix takes a very deep breath; you can tell that it’s a painful memory.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he simply answers. “But you can’t be with him, yn,” he warns you. “You can’t have this child with him.”

You take a step back, surprised by his words. Your eyes scan his face, trying to understand why he’s saying that. There’s something very deep. Is he aware of Jungkook’s werewolf nature?

“Dad,” Lexi says. “What are saying?”

“You heard me well,” his tone is firm, and it sends shivers down your spine. Felix has only been like that when you both were making mistakes at a younger age.

“I’m not going to abort,” you answer. “It’s out of the question, and nobody can tell me what to do. This child has been desired for a long time. Things didn’t happen the way I intended, but I’ve decided to keep the baby.”

“Yn,” he whispers.

Suddenly, Jungkook reappears all dressed. He looks majestic with his full black suit which is a contrast to how he was minutes ago.

“Mister Kang,” Jungkook looks at Felix. “I guess you knew who truly my father was. I guess you knew he was the werewolf king.”

Lexi’s eyes widen at his words, but she’s the only one reacting like that. Felix doesn’t even blink. He’s fully aware of the werewolf world. It leaves you wondering if he knew that your mother was also a werewolf.

“Indeed,” he nods. “I’ve known very well your father, and I’m very sorry for your loss.”

This is getting weirder and weirder. How could Felix know personally Jungkook’s father and never say anything to you?

“Thanks,” Jungkook nods.

“Werewolves?” Lexi says with confusion. “And you both knew?” she’s pointing to you and Felix. “How I’m just learning this now?”

Felix looks at his daughter, his gaze softening instantly. Then, pain shows up in his eyes, and it breaks your heart.

“I wanted to protect you both from all of it,” he admits. “I needed to protect you.”

Now, you have many many questions because this is the most unexpected event of the day. Never would you have thought this man would be aware of this world, but it would maybe make some sense because he was super close to your parents. He knew it; you don’t even doubt it.

“Why?” Lexi asks.

“Maybe, I could explain while we have breakfast,” he proposes.

All of you nod and you head to the kitchen. While you prepare coffee, Felix and Lexi put all the things they bought on top of the table, and Jungkook grabs the plates.

“I’m very curious to know how he met my father,” Jungkook speaks to you through your thoughts.

“Me too,” you answer. “This is so weird.”

“My father never mentioned a human friend.”

When all is ready, you take a seat at the table. You, Lexi, and Jungkook look at Felix, waiting for him to finally explain everything.

“Well,” Felix takes a deep breath. “My wife, Olivia passed away when Lexi was only three years old. It’s been the biggest tragedy of my life, and the worst day of my life,” he begins. “One night, we decided to go on a date, just the two of us, and my parents were taking care of our daughter. It was supposed to be a great night; we had a reservation at a very fancy restaurant. But once we left the restaurant, on our way back home, Olivia was savagely attacked by what seemed like a wolf.”

You don’t really remember Olivia, you were very young when she passed away, but you’ve grown up with pictures of her everywhere at your house. She was a very pretty woman, Lexi definitely looks a lot like her.

“Together with some other people, we tried to push away the wolf, and we succeeded. Unfortunately, he had injured her in her left thigh. There was nothing that we could do. In a matter of seconds, she bled to death. When the ambulance arrived, she was already gone.”

So Lexi’s mother was murdered by a wolf, a bit like your parents. The stories are different, but the murderer’s nature is still the same.

“At the hospital, a man, your father, came to me,” he looks at Jungkook. “He told me everything about the werewolves. It was a werewolf that killed my wife, and it was his first full moon, his first transformation. Your father offered to pay for the entirety of the funeral and to give us financial support,” he looks now at his daughter. “He’s the one that paid for your studies; he insisted on doing that. He has also protected us since then,” now he looks at you. “He has protected you too and also paid for your studies.”

So in the end, Jungkook’s father helped the Shadows to find your parents, but he also protected you afterward from this world. It seems so unrealistic, but he probably didn’t know you were a hybrid. Although you strongly doubt it.

“It was a very difficult time, but he stood by our side and helped us. I had so much respect for him, and we would meet sometimes.”

Jungkook frowns. “Did he know about yn?”

“Know what?” Felix seems confused by Jungkook’s question.

Fuck, he doesn’t know about you. Felix clearly doesn’t know you’re a hybrid and that your mother was a werewolf.

“Shit,” Jungkook whispers.

“My mom was a werewolf,” you answer.

“Oh my god,” Lexi says. “I never imagined one second Mrs. y/l/n to be a wolf.”

“So you’re one too?” he says with evident shock.

You nod, saddened that he has to learn this way that you carry werewolf blood. Things would have for sure been different if he knew. Most probably, you wouldn’t have grown up ignoring this side of you.

But one thing seems to be sure: Jungkook’s father knew about you. How could the king not ever realize that in so many years? Maybe he didn’t know, but you strongly doubt that.

“I’m not fully a werewolf,” you confess. “I’m half human.”

Jungkook then remembers a line he read in his father's journal; one that he got to read after his passing. It was comforting to read those words when the grief was too painful to deal with. The line said: ‘I broke the rules, and I’d be doomed if somebody ever found out. But how could I do otherwise? An innocent life would be taken, and I couldn’t live with myself if I’d respect the rules.’

Jungkook never understood what he meant as he was deeply convinced his father always followed and applied the rules. However, today, this sentence seems to make perfect sense. Taemoo knew about your true nature but decided to spare you. He decided to let you live, knowing the consequences. His father protected you all these years. And now, it’s his turn to protect you.

“Which makes me a forbidden species,” you add.

Now that Felix and Lexi are aware of this, it will make things easier. It’s been so so hard to hide this from them because you’ve been used to sharing everything with them. And this motherhood journey is supposed to be theirs as well, but you had to hide a big part of it because humans can’t be told about the werewolf world.

“So,” Lexi says. “You’re the king now, I guess?” she asks the father of your child and he nods. “It then makes yn’s child the heir?”

“That’s right,” Jungkook says.

Felix closes his eyes. This clearly doesn’t make him happy, and it most probably comforts the idea that you shouldn’t have this baby. His grandchild will carry the same blood as the person who killed his wife. His daughter actually carries that blood. It’s hard to accept that.

“Sorry,” he says before leaving.

A tear runs down your face, and Jungkook squeezes your hand when he notices it. This is devastating, and you can only understand your father’s reaction. In his shoes, you would feel the same.

After a couple of hours, you decide to show up at Felix’s house to have a one-to-one conversation with him. There’s a lot to discuss with him about who you and your parents are. It’s not going to be easy, but you really need to talk with him.

Once you’re inside the house, you follow the sound of his heartbeat. You easily find him in the living room watching tv with a beer in his hand. Seeing him like this, it’s as if nothing ever happened.

“Hi,” you take a seat next to him on the couch.

His face turns to look at you with a little smile appearing on his face. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Hearing the nickname warms your heart. It would have broken your heart if he had called you by your name.

“How are you feeling?” you ask with concern.

“Better,” he answers. “Sorry, I left like that.”

“It’s okay,” you offer him a smile.

Felix puts down the beer bottle on the coffee table before grabbing your hands. His eyes are filled with softness, and it’s comforting.

“Did you spend the last twenty years hiding yourself?” he questions.

You shake your head. “No, I only found this a couple of weeks after I got inseminated.”

“Great,” he answers. “I would have felt terrible if you had kept that a secret from me all these years.”

Even if it’s scary to reveal something this big to someone so dear to your heart, you’re sure that a younger version of yourself would have struggled to hide this from him. He was your anchor. Navigating this by yourself would have terrified you.

“I’m not sure I would have managed,” you admit with a smile growing on your face.

“I think so too,” he says. “And how have you been feeling?”

You proceed to explain how these past few weeks have been nothing but an emotional roller coaster. You explain how it felt to learn that your parents hid something this big from you. How you hated them for a while. How you felt after finding out why they were killed. How you felt while going through your first transformation. You tell him everything.

Felix listens to you and raises questions from time to time. It’s obvious that he’s sad your parents didn’t tell him anything. They were his best friends, and knowing that all these years they hid this broke his heart. But he also understands why they didn’t. If he hadn’t seen with his own eyes a werewolf, he would have never believed them.

“I guess now you’re dating your child’s father,” he remarks, his tone light but laced with curiosity. The memory of seeing Jungkook half-naked clearly lingers in his mind.

“No,” your cheeks are invaded by a strong heat wave. “We’re just friends. He’s been guiding me through all of this, that’s all.”

Felix tilts his head. “Friends?” he scoffs. “You two don’t look like two friends. There’s definitely something going on between you. I can sense it.”

Your gaze drops down at your hands, suddenly finding your fingers fascinating. There’s no way you can lie to him, you perfectly know it. Felix can see right through you; he always could.

“There is something,” you hesitate before adding. “But it scares me.”

“Why sweetie?” there is obvious concern in his voice.

For a minute, you close your eyes, inhaling deeply as you try to untangle the knot of emotions in your chest. How do you even put this into words? When you finally look at him again, your voice is quieter.

“I’ve never felt like this before. Being around him is different. He makes me feel safe,” you swallow hard, barely above a whisper as you finish. “Like I can finally breathe.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing, yn,” Felix watches you closely, his expression softening.

You bite your lip, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. “It’s not, but it also is.”

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate. You sigh, trying to find the right words.

“Everything is happening so fast. My entire world has changed overnight. And Jungkook… he’s overwhelming in ways I can’t explain,” your voice drops to a whisper. “He makes me feel safe, but at the same time, I feel like I’m losing myself to something I don’t fully understand.”

Felix tilts his head slightly, observing you as if he’s piecing together a puzzle.

“And that scares you?”

You nod, exhaling shakily.

“More than I’d like to admit. It’s like…” you try to find your words. “Being around him is both calming and chaotic. I crave his presence, but I’m also scared of what it means. If I let myself fall completely, what happens when he realizes I’m not enough? What if all of this is just a product of our circumstances? What if it’s not real?”

Felix leans forward, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. His hand grabs yours in an attempt to reassure you.

“Yn, love isn’t something you measure with logic,” he starts saying. “It’s not a list of pros and cons, and it surely isn’t something you can control,” he squeezes your hand gently. “Whatever this is between you and Jungkook, it’s real. I saw it the second you looked at him.”

“But I don’t know if I can handle it,” your chest tightens. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“Maybe that’s the beauty of it,” Felix gives you a knowing smile. “Maybe you’re not supposed to figure it all out alone. Maybe Jungkook isn’t just someone who came into your life—maybe he’s part of your journey to finding yourself.”

His words settle deep within you, stirring something you’ve tried so hard to suppress. You’ve been so focused on resisting, on fearing the unknown, that you never considered the possibility that Jungkook isn’t here to take something from you but to show you a part of yourself you never knew existed.

“I don’t know,” you shake your head.

“Don’t overthink, yn,” he gives you a little smile. “Just follow your heart.”

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop fighting what you feel for Jungkook.

As you’re standing in front of the impressive gates of Jungkook’s mansion, your heart beats immensely fast. You’re about to meet his mother. A mother that apparently has expressed her desire to meet you. The mother of her grandchild—or should you say—the hybrid. It’s making you nervous because 1) she’s Jungkook’s mother, 2) she’s the queen dowager, and 3) she knows you’re a hybrid.

To your surprise, he didn’t hide from her what you truly are. You’re not sure if he should have done that, but she’s also going to be part of your family. Your baby is also forever going to link you to her. She deserves to know who you are. In the end, you believe it’s best she learns it from her son.

The gates finally open, and you drive to the mansion. Jinwoo, Jungkook’s valet is waiting for you, and as last time, he shows you where to park your car.

“Good afternoon, Miss y/l/n,” he smiles at you while opening the door.

You’re still not used to someone opening your door, but you guess you’ll have to adjust to it.

“Thanks, Jinwoo,” you offer him a bright smile. “Is Mrs. Jeon already here?”

“Yes, she is,” he nods. “She’s discussing with Mister Jeon in the living room. They are waiting for you.”

Now, your heart pounds even faster as the realization hits you: They are waiting for you. When can you die? Probably now. This is making you way too nervous, but you don’t have much of a choice. She’s the grandma of your child. The only living one. Well, that’s not totally right. Even though Felix isn’t your biological father, he’ll also be your child’s grandparent.

“Follow me,” Jinwoo informs you.

You both walk in the direction of the first floor's living room. This mansion is still extremely impressive, and you still wonder how Jungkook can live by himself here. As you get closer to the living room, his presence grows stronger. It feels like you’ll never get used to this feeling, but you like it because it’s quite reassuring.

Jinwoo stops in front of a massive door—and you do the same. The man knocks at the door and only opens it once he hears Jungkook’s approval.

“Miss y/l/n is here, Mrs. and Mr. Jeon,” he informs them.

With a beating heart and shaky legs, you step inside the surprisingly small room. Although still spacious compared to your living room, it feels almost intimate within the vastness of the mansion. The soft glow of warm lighting bathes the space, casting gentle shadows that dance along the walls.

Plush furniture is arranged thoughtfully, creating an inviting atmosphere that feels more personal than the grand halls you’ve passed through. The scent of aged wood and faint traces of something musky—perhaps cologne or the lingering essence of past visitors—lingers in the air.

It’s cozy in a way that surprises you, the kind of room that feels lived-in despite the house’s regal stature. You take a slow breath, allowing yourself to settle into the unfamiliar yet oddly comforting space. You definitely like the vibe of this room.

Jungkook and his mother are standing in the middle of the room, their eyes glued on you. The young man offers you a sincere and bright smile. His mother, on the other hand, is kind of analyzing you, but you’re not sure. She’s just looking at you with an unreadable face, the same one her son always has. Mrs. Jeon is a strikingly beautiful woman, exuding an undeniable aura of power and confidence.

“Do I need to bow?” the words don’t leave your lips, they are only addressed to Jungkook.

“Yes,” he answers through thoughts. “She’ll appreciate it.”

Standing before her, you lower your head in a respectful bow, the weight of the moment settling heavily on your shoulders. The woman before you exudes an effortless grace. A grace only someone with high stature would carry. Dressed in an elegant yet understated outfit, everything about her radiates authority.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her after you bowed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, miss y/l/n,” she offers you a little smile.

Your eyes quickly look at the man standing next to her, he looks beyond hot. He’s wearing a casual outfit which you honestly prefer on him. The suits look really good on him, but baggy pants and a large shirt look way better.

“Do you want to drink or eat something?” Jungkook asks.

“I’d like a glass of water if you don’t mind,” you answer.

The werewolf king nods before heading toward the door, instructing Jinwoo to bring water and some biscuits. You swallow hard as the three of you sit down on the couch. Jungkook takes a seat next to you, offering silent reassurance with his presence, while his mother sits across from you, her posture impossibly straight, radiating authority.

The air is thick with an unnameable tension, and you can’t quite tell whether it’s just the nerves of meeting someone as powerful as Mrs. Jeon.

“How are you feeling?” she politely asks.

For a moment you hesitate, wondering if she’s asking how you feel in general or referring to the pregnancy.

“I’m feeling good,” you cautiously say, trying to keep your tone neutral. “But the morning sickness has been hitting hard.”

To your surprise, a smile grows on her face.

“I understand,” her eyes now move to her firstborn. “I still remember how hard it was when I was pregnant with Jungkook.”

Her voice is so soft, melodic even, and it’s a bit of a contrast compared to the aura she exudes. For a moment, you take a proper look at Jungkook’s mother. Her son has inherited so much from her: the deep, thoughtful doe eyes, the perfectly sculpted round nose, and even the way they hold themselves with quiet confidence. You wouldn’t say he’s a copy of his mother, but he takes a lot after her. And he certainly is as good-looking as her.

“I think up until the sixth month, I wouldn’t go a day without throwing up,” she adds with a small chuckle as if the memory is distant but still vivid.

“Oh wow,” your fingers unconsciously rest on your stomach. “I hope that in my case, it will be over by then.”

Her gaze moves down to where your fingers are resting. She’s looking at your stomach—the undeniable proof of your connection to her son. The moment is brief, but it carries weight. She’s acknowledging the child, but perhaps also the unspoken implications of what it means for her family.

“Every pregnancy is different,” she finally says.

The air slightly changes, still filled with uncertainty, but not entirely unwelcoming. Maybe she’s just as uncertain about you as you are about her, but one thing is clear for you—she’s making an effort.

“And in your case, very unpredictable,” she adds.

There’s absolutely no doubt that she’s referring to your hybrid nature. It doesn’t surprise you; you knew she’d bring that up. The other way around would have surprised you.

“I know,” you answer, your eyes looking down at your hands. “And to be honest, I just have as many questions as you do, but I want to believe that, like any other mother, I’ll find my way.”

“I’m sure you will,” she gently says. “And you’re not alone.”

Your eyes now look up at her with obvious surprise. She notices your expression, a little smile subtly appearing on her face.

“I’m sure this is not easy for you,” she begins. “Discovering being a hybrid while being pregnant must be scary. But it’s also scary for us because you’re the very first hybrid. Nobody knows how to react. I personally don’t,” she admits. “You aren’t supposed to exist, neither the life growing inside you.”

Your heart resumes to beat rapidly in your chest.

“But if you’re still here, I guess it’s because the universe protected you, and fate chose you to be the mother of my grandchild.”

Her eyes very quickly gaze at her son; it’s very subtle but you notice it. You notice something briefly appearing in her gaze. Like some sort of heavy secret between her and her son. Something that you definitely want to know now.

“Jungkook made it very clear that he’ll protect you,” she continues. “And as a member of our family now, we will protect you.”

Tears start forming in your eyes while your heart swells with an emotion you can’t quite explain. Hearing her say that you’re a part of her family is honestly something you didn’t expect to hear today. Especially from her.

“I will for sure need some time to adjust to this new reality, but Jungkook deeply cares about you. As a mother and a wife, I can only understand what he feels.”

Jungkook’s hand meets your thigh to squeeze it gently. This gesture is a very comforting and reassuring one. Instinctively, you place your hand on top of his. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the Jeon’s matriarch. To her, there’s absolutely no doubt that you’re her son’s soulmate. It’s just so obvious.

She then asks you many questions about your past, how you found out about your hybrid nature, how you’ve been dealing with the news, and how it has been for you to discover suddenly this entire werewolf universe. Even though it’s clear that she’s not entirely comfortable with you, she’s making an effort. One that you deeply appreciate.

You’ve also got to know more about her. She’s a very honorable woman, and you can only admire her for her strength. She’s been a queen and she lost her husband two years ago. The mention of her husband seems to still be painful to her, but she liked to speak about him, to remember the man he was.

Although you were extremely nervous to meet her, the mood slowly softened, and the nervousness slowly faded away. It definitely was a pleasure to meet her. To meet the grandmother of your child. To meet Jungkook’s mother. But it was beyond anything else a pleasure to see Jungkook interact with his mother.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts imagine #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bloodlines entwined #bloodlines entwined: chapter 6 #spideyjimin

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mikiib · 2 months ago

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PARANOiD: THE CAGE

Gina finds out that Jessie has a cage!?

Stay tuned for more moments in PARANOiD, and check out the story in the links below!

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 1 year ago

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Allure

Part One:Sunshine

❥MATZ x fem reader

Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa. The most known and feared alphas of the new generation. It took two dozen elder alphas to subdue them and stick them in the world's most secluded prison- hidden away in the mountains. The prison that sweet little omega (Y/n)'s works at.

Knuckle Velvet (Part Two)

Smoke (Part Three)

➯a/n: i've always wanted to write a story i would like to see as a movie or show, and i very much enjoy supernatural and dark romance, so i made this ! it does get very dark so please read the warnings and take care of yourself first and foremost. i am very proud of this, i hope you enjoy 💕

✃ "Because you're... alluring."

✫彡wordcount: 9.3k

♫"Hey, you should leave that young thing alone, ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness everyday." - Flower Face (original by Bill Withers) ♫ Allure Sountrack

(>ᴗ•)♡´･ᴗ･`♡genre: smut, YANDERE, a/b/o au

ಠ_ಠWARNING/content: DEAD DOVE I MURDERED THAT BIH

chapter specific: literally what have i done, not beta read(ironically), criminal MATZ, alpha MATZ/omega reader, forget everything you know about werewolves, so much world building, extremely yandere behavior, talk of attempted child murder, class division of werewolves, panic attacks, vulgar language, mind control, lots of scent stuff, unhealthy relationships, ptsd, flashbacks and nightmares, physical violence, manipulation of others dreams, supporting character death, forced soul bonding, forced marking, reader implied to have mental health issues, murder, gore, violence- all that good stuff. THIS IS NOT A NON CON FIC ALL EVENTUAL SMUT WILL BE CONSENSUAL.

⁂perm taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

⁂fic taglist: @potatomountain @spooo00oky

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE ˚➶ ｡˚

You hate weekdays. That much is true for a lot of people. You like to think your reasoning is especially valid.

Every Monday through Friday like clockwork, 6:30AM you walk into the prison. That on its own wasn't so bad. You lived only ten minutes away; the gothic building looked over your village in tandem with the mountains. You could see it when the weather was clear, even from your bedroom on the edge of town. You were no longer afraid of it like when you were a child.

You are, however, afraid of the newest prisoners.

New arrivals didn't usually rock you. This is the only prison in the country fit to hold lycans, after all. They all got transferred here eventually. From beta's who were just stealing to eat, to alphas who used their powers on humans, to those who believed in the old ways and fed on humans.

You had to interact with them all face to face.

You weren't excited for that particular aspect of your job this week.

You made your way through the double doors and greeted the security guard, your friend Hyolyn, as you went through the metal detector. It went off on account of the scent blocker that was embedded in your neck. She chuckled and switched it off so it stopped its incessant beeping.

"Don't laugh at me!" You threw a smile her way as you got your small purse from the plastic bucket she slid towards you. She doesn't bother to check your bag. She knows you well enough to know you wouldn't bring in any "fuck shit", as she would say. "You alpha's don't have to worry about accidentally spewing scent everywhere."

"Thank goodness for that, this place would stink to high heaven." Her unintentional reference to the new arrivals makes the air turn stiff. She could tell you were on edge immediately. "They aren't all that scary," she lays a comforting hand to your shoulder as you fiddle with the long strap on your crossbody bag.

"I heard one of them killed Alpha Greene... you think that's true? That guy was huge, I saw him at The Thing last year, I almost peed myself cause he looked at me-" You stop your own rambling, taking a deep breath and letting it out as a shaking sigh. "I don't want to go in there. Honestly, why can't we install a laundry chute or something, fuck."

"I'll follow you up, I c-"

"No, no, it's visiting day. You need to be down here. You know Chungha? Her daughter is visiting today. Don't want you to miss her." You offer a sad, tight lipped smile, but that doesn't trick her instincts to protect her weaker pack member. She knows you too well to be tricked.

"You just scream and I'll be there. Either of those cocky fucks lift a pinky in your direction and I'll gut them. They don't deserve to see a trial anyway."

A small exhale in the form of a chuckle lightens her protective instincts, she can tell you feel more at ease with her promise to be right there at the slightest hint of trouble.

"See you, Hyolyn."

"Later, babes."

You wave your fingers with a smile as the elevator doors slides shut. As soon as they clunk together, you let it fall and crouch with your head in your hands, taking in deep and slow breaths as you try and force all of the rumors you've heard about the two newest inmates away from your head.

The older alpha of the duo was the first born in this generation. They're always powerful. But he was born to two bloodthirsty rouges. Born in sin and blood lust.

The younger alpha was born just some months after, to an arranged marriage that was purposefully formed to make powerful children. They surely regret that now. Some say the man has the strongest, sharpest claws since the first lycan in Talbot Castle.

When the elevator dings, you're already upright and have that strong facade on that you put on when you're clocked in.

˚➶ ｡˚

You start with the familiar. "Hey, Chungha," you tap on the silver bars of her cell, "hand 'em over." She smiles as she stands, stripping the sheets from her cot and holding them through the bars for you. "Thank you," you draw on with a tug on your lips that matches hers.

"Yunnie in town?"

"Mhm," you hum as you fold the blanket before dropping it in the large basket on wheels, "she came over for stew, I made sure to feed her good and well, don't worry."

You know it was probably problematic, but you couldn't help it. Chungha came here three years ago on a charge for battery, and over those three years you became sort of friends with her.

The battered in her case was her grandfather. When her five year old daughter, Jiyun, started to show signs of being an omega- he left her in the snow to wither away. She managed to survive until her mother came home, and said mother was furious.

She was lucky she didn't charged with attempted manslaughter.

"She said she'll be here first thing."

"Thank you," she had a heavy pull on her voice. You don't have the emotional connection to other wolves like an alpha or beta did. But it was clear to anyone she was being sincere. "You're a good woman."

"Don't mention it, Yunnie is good company. Oh," you start to wheel the basket away when you remember something. You reach into the purse that you had set on the handles. "She made this at art class, asked me to give it to you so it didn't have to wait in processing."

It was a small, cruelly made ceramic bowl in the vague shape of a heart. It was clearly made by an eight year old, but made with love.

"I owe you."

"Just keep working on that parol work." You said lightly and blew a kiss as you moved to the next cell.

The rest of your work nearly cleared your mind as you went from cell to cell, floor to floor. Omega's were on the second floor. Beta's on the third. Alphas on the fourth. High security on the fifth.

It's on the fourth level that you begin to feel those nerves that you had just worked away. The scent was becoming stronger. They didn't put them on blockers? Maybe they didn't think it would be worth it. Everyone knew that they were the worst of the worst, they didn't even try to hide it. They would undoubtedly be put to death. Why waste two perfectly good, expensive, blockers?

The basket of used sheets is nearly full, accumulating into a weight that makes you put your back into it as you push it into the elevator.

Your index finger reaches out, and before you can stop yourself you've pressed the button to the fifth floor.

You blank out until the door opens again. Your teeth are eternally grateful for the gum between them so they don't grind themselves into dust. The mint flavor does little to calm your nerves.

The only thing that makes you come back to your own head is Changbin. He's a big, buff beta with a gun full of silver bullets on his work belt. He won't let them hurt you. His smile washes away a lot of the nerves.

But the growl that rumbles against the walls makes them return ten, one hundred, one thousand fold. You don't dare say a word. A deer in headlights until Changbin places his hand on the small of your back. "Go on, don't give them the satisfaction of scaring you. They aren't going nowhere no time soon. Take a look."

He motions you deeper into the hall, florescent lights buzzing above you, matching the jittering feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach. It smells too strong. Too much. You're about to fall to your knees from the weight and you haven't even come face to face with the near feral criminals.

Changbin opens the doors at the end of the hall.

They've definitely gone all out to keep them in place. Two large cages placed next to each other in the middle of the enormous room. Made of pure silver and wrapped in wolfsbane. The unpleasant smell of the plant makes your nose twitch. A ring of blood ash surrounds it. Only omegas can pass through blood ash, and now you start to realize why they sent you.

You want to curse the warden, but the second you open your mouth, a loud cackle sounds out from one of the cages.

Changbin's hand twitches at the gun attached to his side.

"Oh wow," the smaller alpha chuckles, eyes closed, head tilted back, as he sniffs the air. "I didn't expect that." More manic giggles slip past his lips.

You haven't even looked up to see them and you want to cave in on yourself.

"What are you rambling about, huh?" The guard next to you shouts, making you flinch instinctively.

"That sweet... sweet, smell," he moans. You can hear him shuffling. "From a peppy little spit fuck omega."

You gasp abashedly, and now two laughs ring out. You want to wonder how they can smell you. Your insurance provides the best scent blocker in the country. But you're too scared to breathe, let alone think.

"Shut up," Changbin groans, he can feel you tense next to him, "don't piss me off, Kim."

"Awe," a new, rumbling voice makes you cower the second it reaches your ears, "this your mate? Hm, no... you wouldn't bring your mate here. You're not an idiot. Then, say... omega." You don't make a move to look when he addresses you, you stay looking at Changbins grip on his gun, silently.

"Omega, come!" Your feet move for you, and that manic laugh almost makes you wet yourself as you realize that your wolf is making you move toward them without your consent. You stop just outside of the blood ash, where you know you're safe.

"Changb-"

"No. I'm the one you're speaking to."

Changbin seems to be weighing his options, eyeing the men as they eye you.

"Why are you here? You a shrink?"

You shake your head.

"You a lawyer?"

Again.

"She works here, dumbass, look at her scrubs," the younger speaks, and you nod subconsciously, to which he giggles, "what can we do for a pretty little thing like you?"

When you refuse to speak, the guard does it for you. "She's here for your sheets today. Get used to her."

You hated that this was your job, but it was easy and accessible, and available for omegas. Werewolves are clean freaks. Every day you had a different cleaning task, but you didn't complain. Not until right now- you wanted to rip out the throat of whoever's idea it was to not shoot these criminals on sight.

"Ah," he hums, and you can feel his eyes raking your body. You can feel both of their eyes. "Not too bad of a sight to get used to. Huh, Hwa?"

"Mh, that's right... can't wait to get my hands on her."

Your head snaps back to Changbin.

"Awn, she thinks he's gonna help her!" The high pitched giggles bounce around in your head. "Oh, little omega~"

The saccharine coo finally pulls your eyes to the men in the cages.

If you thought you knew what fear was before this moment, you were wrong.

The two strongest criminals in the country, staring you down like a piece of meat. It doesn't matter that they are the ones in cages of silver and wolfsbane. You are the one who feels cornered.

You can immediately feel out their dynamics. The taller one is the older one, quiet and still in his cage as he sits in the center. Shaggy, shining hair framing his face and neck like an elegant piece of lace over a brides face. He has a sleeve of tattoos on one forearm, a thick tattoo on his neck. Eyes glowing a deep, blood red, as he tries to read your entire story with only a look in your direction.

The giggling one is less intimidating, only by a hair. Chemically lightened locks pushed back messily, letting his entrancing features shine in the light from the narrow windows high on the walls. He has tattoos as well, but they seem few and far between. His eyes are human for a moment before they meet yours. Instantaneously, they flick black.

The knot drops from your throat and you let out a small, pathetic, squeak.

Changbin breaks your staring contest with the alpha, shouting orders at them. "Take the sheets off your cot and set them outside of your cage. Do not attempt to touch her, I will shoot you."

Neither criminal makes a move to follow his orders, both simply staring at you.

A low growl is emitted when the older alpha finally snaps up, tearing the sheet off the sorry excuse for a bed in one fell swoop. The younger follows his lead, shoving their sheets through the bars that are wrapped in the poisonous flower.

You look to the guard, and he nods, "go." With his finger twitching at the gun ready to pull it, you jump over the dark red ashes and into the wolves den, snatching the sheets up as quick as possible and dashing away, out the door before they even get a chance to lock in your scent up close.

The giggles follow you all the way to the elevator and ring in your head even as the thick metal thunks shut.

As you take a deep breath, you notice the sheets are gripped to your chest, your claws drawn subconsciously in your panic and ripping them up. "Shit!" You let out a curse and shove them into the bottom of the basket so you don't have to smell it as closely on the long ride to the basement.

˚➶ ｡˚

The lingering wafts of your fresh scent are long gone, nothing to distract the alpha's from their caged boredom and bubbling rage over being caught. "I'll have that runts heart in my hands by the end of the month." Hongjoong groaned, to no one in particular- he knew Seonghwa was too deep in thought from their recent revelations. "Fucking back stabbers. They're more pathetic than a bitch in heat trying to get off with a dildo."

The thought hit his mind as soon as the words left his lips.

The thought of you, legs spread with your hand dipped low, trying to satisfy your primal urges and-

"Stop that." Seonghwa growls, kicking the bars of their shared 'wall'.

"Settle down!"

"Oh, like you weren't thinking it!" Hongjoong rolls his eyes, a scowl on his face as he crosses his arms. "Your ruts coming and you don't want your-"

"I said stop," he nearly roars, grabbing Hongjoong's state issued orange top and ripping it with his claws as he pulls him forward.

"I know you want her because I want her too." He whispers, smirking at the telltale signs of desire and bloodlust in his mates eyes. Red swirling around the brown of his human eyes. "Imagine how good she'll smell when we take out that stupid blocker. We'll be drowning in her scent." He moans, grabbing his wrist, "I get the honors, my claws are sharper, anyways," he draws them quickly, digging them into his skin as if to prove a point.

"I can use my teeth, mark h-"

"Oh, will you two stop? Love of God..." The guard in the large room slaps his book down on the rickety table. "What is there possibly for you to be fighting about? You're about to be executed, you know that right? No jury in the world will let you walk, especially the human half."

Their frustrations turn to the man, letting each other go. "Ah, you think so?" The older croons, dragging his index over his bleeding wrist and bringing it to his lips, sucking it clean before he continues. "We won't be around these parts long enough to meet the jury."

"What do you mean by that?"

Hongjoong covers his mouth when a laugh slips past. Seonghwa simply smirks as he sits cross legged, eyes locked with the guard as he licks his wound.

"What do you mean by that?!"

The blonde man breaks out in a fit of laughter. The brunette simply flashes his bloody canines in a twisted smile.

˚➶ ｡˚

You spent the whole time doing your daily tasks trying to hype yourself up to go back up to the fifth floor.

You usually went top down, four to one. Nobody has ever been on five before.

You go bottom up today, starting at Chungha with a full basket of freshly washed sheets. She prattles on about her visit with Jiyun, and how she's so thankful for you.

You choose that as your focus point for the rest of the work day, even as you press the button to the fifth floor.

You think back to the first time you spoke to Chungha, she was a crying mess, unable to sense that you were an omega like herself. She cried and cried and cried as you held her hand through the bars of temporary holding. She cried for her daughter, for cursing her with the shame of being the weakest link of any pack. When she looked up and saw your eyes, barely glowing, she cried more.

She apologized profusely, but you reassured her that her words were true, and you hadn't been offended. You told her that, in fact, she was the first to ever share your feelings of what being an omega really meant. It meant loneliness beside anyone but other omegas. Fake relationships born with people who only stuck around because of their primal instincts to either prey on you or protect you. It meant facing the fact that you were outcasts from both of the world's dominant societies. Outcasted from humans for being a werewolf. Outcasted from werewolves for being weak. So weak, in fact, that blood ash didn't even think of you as a wolf.

That night, you drove four hours to the next village over and looked after her daughter until her aunt had room. You remember the first thing the girl said to you. She didn't speak that whole day, surely in shock from the past few days events. But when you tucked her into the motel bed, she spoke as soft as a ghost, "sing me a song?"

You hum it to yourself now, the soft sound reverberating through the metal around you until the door opened.

You wheel the basket with you this time, like it will protect you as you approach the open doors, already feeling the unwavering gaze of the criminals.

"Hey, dolly~" Hongjoong, you had learned when you took a peek into their files, purred your way.

You didn't give him the satisfaction of responding verbally, but he saw the goosebumps on your arm as you reached into the basket, stretching on your tip toes to get the last two sheets.

"You never shut up do you, Kim?" The guard sighed with an exhausted tone, making you smile as you slowly made your way to the ring of red dust.

The throaty rumble from Seonghwa, the older, taller wolf, makes that smile drop to the depths of Hell.

The new guard seems to notice your anxiety, eyeing you up- in a much less predatory manner than the caged men. "Go on, 'mega. I'm watching them."

A bang on the metal bars makes you glue your foot right back where it came from. It's the blonde one, "you shut the fuck up!"

"No, you shut the fuck up! I'm the one with the silver bullets!"

All of the yelling is making you tremble, Hongjoong and the guard going back and forth. "She isn't your omega!"

"She ain't yours!"

Seonghwa watches with a sinister smile as you back away from the ash and the guard, calling to you quietly, "hey."

The soft tone of his voice makes you raise your eyes, but not your head. His eyes don't hold that threatening and dominating red from before. They're a soft brown color that reminds you of a beautiful dark oak in the morning sunshine. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)..." your tongue moves without your consent, fresh blankets held to your work scrubs.

You desperately want the guard to notice this trance you're in, and grab you out of it. You want to do it yourself, but you can't do anything but admire the beauty of the criminal who has you hypnotized.

"You're a pretty omega, y'know? What color is your wolf?"

"Black..." It's a slur off your lips, barely registering in his sharply tuned ears over the yelling that continues to fill the room.

"Mine too. What's her name? His is Akma."

"Solis."

"Very pretty. Is she fast?"

"Yes."

"Does she want an alpha? A mate?"

"Yes."

The guard finally notices your raised gaze, affixed to the infamous, unlawful, man. He puts his gun back in the holster quickly before gripping your shoulder and forcing you to turn around. "You idiot, didn't anyone ever tell you not to look a first born in the eyes?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry." No one had ever told you that, actually.

Both of the criminals share a smirk as the man from your pack attempts to calm you. It wasn't hard for them to figure out you were an alpha-less village. They could smell every single wolf in five miles, and not a single stench from a wolf even nearly as strong as them.

There was, however, you. A honeyed smell that filled their guts with the primal need to rip out the eyes of anyone who dared look at you.

The guard couldn't be more wrong. You are their omega. You just don't know yet.

"Go and give these fucks their sheets, then get the hell out of here." The man shoved you, making you jump clumsily over the ash so you didn't break the seal.

He yells at them to back up, and they do so without a fight.

You shove them both in at the same time before running back out quickly, grabbing the empty basket and dragging it with you, the sound of the wheels scraping with the force of your panic echoing in the near empty room.

"You guys get off on scaring defenseless girls?" The guard scoffs, not expecting an answer as he drags the chair out of the room and slams the doors behind him.

Seonghwa lets his facade fall the second the door shuts, falling to his knees and grappling at the sheet like he's a starving man with the last piece of food on Earth. Hongjoong watches for a moment in confusion until the scent catches up with his weaker nose. Then he's quickly falling in the same position.

"It worked, the guard was so easy to distract," Hongjoong chuckles, face buried into the sheet that smells vaguely like you from your time spent holding it. "What did you learn?"

"(Y/n), a black wolf named Solis," he pauses, eyes rolled back as he takes a deep breath. They're red when they re-open. "No mate. It's really her."

"You think we should have told her?" Hongjoong inquires, looking through the bars.

He's never seen Seonghwa on his knees for anyone but him or the moon.

"No," he shakes his head, turning to lock eyes with him. "She'll figure it out when I mark her."

"When I mark her."

He rolls his eyes at his defiant nature, knowing full well he won't disobey his orders no matter how badly he wants to do something.

In a dog eat dog world, the strongest was the most powerful. Unlike their human neighbors, werewolves don't decide political or social standing by money or family name. They decide based on who comes out on top in a battle of the body and of the wits.

It had been determined years ago, when they were just young rebellious pups, that Seonghwa was the alpha. A fight in the woods under the moon had set it in stone between the two.

He could have ripped Hongjoongs throat out right then and there, but now, 13 years later in the present; they're bonded for life.

Sometimes he still sees Hongjoong as that 12 year old boy under his teeth, still snapping and growling even as he bled out with tears in his dark eyes, fighting to survive purely out of spite.

"You can mark her first," Seonghwa speaks quickly, turning his back as he puts the sweet smelling sheet on his cot.

He smiles at the man, a quiet thanks spoken through their bonded souls.

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday, they don't see you until much later in the day, but they bask in the sight of you opening the door with a broom and tray in hand, smiling at Changbin. You'll be here for a while, it's a big room.

"Hey, Binnie," you whisper to the beta, and Seonghwa has to bite his tongue.

Binnie? Ugh.

Hongjoong isn't so polite, "hey, Dolly! We don't get a hello?" You barely peek at him, eyes flicked from him right back to the floor in a millisecond. He knows you noticed his pout when he hears the smallest 'hello' tremble by your lips.

You start in the corner, headphones attached to your walkman with your favorite song on repeat to try and soothe yourself. Bill Withers calming voice blocks out every word of the teasing alphas, but you can still feel them mocking you and picking at you.

You don't dare sweep anywhere near the blood ash on the floor. One less precaution in place was one more thing to worry about.

"Bye, Binnie."

He does growl that time, eyes narrowed on your back until the door shuts.

˚➶ ｡˚

Wednesday, you have a frown on your face. "Three days in a row?" The guard Hongjoong got in a yelling match with, Merle, greets you as you come into the cavernous room, "bad schedule huh?"

"No kidding," you sigh, feet slightly hesitant to pass the dust border, "I'm here to fix your shirt. It's state property." You don't look at them, but they know who you're referring to.

They act like they don't, though. Just to hear more of your voice. To make you wriggle under their attention. "Sorry? What do you mean?"

You look and point to Hongjoong, his collar ripped from Seonghwas grasp. "State property."

"Ah, of course." He grins like a jackal, pulling it over his head and sticking his hand out of the bars just in the slightest. "On one condition."

You pout, eyes on the shirt which is just far enough away that you'd have to step closer. And it's the cutest fucking thing they've ever seen.

You look back up at him, silently asking. "Sit and talk with us. The guards here are no fun!" His laugh makes you jump back further, he sounds like a mad pirate.

You look over to Merle, who just shrugs, "just get it over with so these guys will shut up. They're only talkative around you, they need an audience for their antics."

"We won't bite," Seonghwa chuckles with his teeth exposed, making you shiver.

"Fine, give it here." You take a single step forward, palm out infront of the blonde.

When you grab it and go to race away like always, his claws wrapping all the way around your wrist stops you, sharp edges threatening to slice your skin down to the bone. You scream your head off, silenced when Seonghwa coos softly, "sit with us, and talk."

"Let me go..." you plead, eyes frantically flicking to Merle, whose gun is drawn to Hongjoongs head from the border of the ash, waiting for him to take one more wrong move so he can rid the world of one of its greatest criminals.

"Sit, omega." You do so, slowly lowering to the floor with your wrist and life still in Hongjoongs hand. "You have your sewing kit with you, I can hear the buttons hitting the needle. So sit, stay, and talk while you fix it."

Once again, they're the ones caged in. But you're the one who's stuck.

One look to Merle tells you he probably wouldn't help you even if he could get to you. He lowers his gun as your tailbone hits the concrete floor.

Your thin work scrubs do little to fight the cold of the old flooring, one reason of many that you shake as you reach into your purse and get the small tin box.

Hongjoong releases your wrist and sits mirrored to you, hands perched on the bars in the gaps of the purple vine flower wrapped on them. Seonghwa comes to the corner of his side of the split cage and breathes in deeply through his nose, eyes locked in on your every movement. "So you're essentially the errand lady? Maid?"

"Yes..." You murmur under your breath as your fingers work to thread the needle, slowly backing away until you're out of reach, but still stuck in the blood ash with no one to rescue should the men infront of you decide to rip their cages open. You only stop backing away when you hear a warning growl.

You don't care to see which it came from, you just want to do this as quickly as possible and get far, far, away. They could have chose anyone to focus their annoying efforts on. Changbin, Merle, the warden. But no, just your luck.

"You live in the village, right? Were you born here?" Seonghwa continues to do the talking as you carefully fix the shirt.

"Yes. And no."

A small hum from the one in front of you is a sign they want you to continue. "I was born to an overpopulated pack. They kicked me out when I turned eighteen. Our old alpha took me in." The hitch in your voice is a clear sign that it's a sore topic. And Hongjoong continues to poke the wound.

"How did they find you?"

"Woods."

"Woods?"

You can't help the small growl of frustration, lip curling as you look up. "Woods."

The reaction is one you wouldn't have expected from a normal person, but then- they aren't normal.

They laugh, cooing over your gesture of anger. Compared to them, you seem like a teacup puppy. "My, my," the brunette chuckles breathily, "is that Solis coming to play?"

"At least she can," you snap, sent to the back of your own head as your wolf tries to defend you, "she isn't a caged mutt."

Hongjoong breaks out into a manic fit of laughter, while his paramour is the opposite: his eyes flick red before your own, sharp teeth on display in a show of dominance over your smaller ones that are subconsciously bared at him. "Watch it, omega." He spits his words with venom, "I won't be so nice when I get out of here."

You rip the extra thread with your claw, kicking the shirt across the floor so it sits at the bottom bar of Hongjoongs cage. His chest still wracks with laughter, watching as you sit up in a low squat so you're still level with the alpha.

It's clear that you aren't currently you. Your wolf has control of your mouth and body, crouched in a position akin to that of a dog ready to pounce as you hiss your words, "I'm going to laugh in your face as you hang."

"Aw, is that how dear old alpha died?"

"Cut it out!" Merle screams disinterested, eyes glued to his flimsy magazine.

"I heard he got gutted~" Hongjoong giggles, watching the color flicking in your eyes.

"I'll gut you!" Your threat only makes him laugh more.

"(Y/n)!" The voice of Hylyon breaks your wolf away from you immediately, falling to your bottom and crawling to the sound unwittingly. "You fucking idiot, Merle!"

She reaches over the blood ash and pulls you over the ring, letting you collapse into her as she drags you away, still throwing profanities at the incompetent guard. Hongjoong is laughing loudly. Seonghwa yelling at you to come back. The elevator cuts of his roar, the last thing you see through your blurry vision is his fist making a dent in the silver cage.

You fall onto the floor of the metal box. Thoughts flood your head too quickly for you to swim though them, making you drown and try to escape by releasing the pain with tears. You don't even notice when your friend turns her key in the elevator to make it stop in its tracks, you only see her when she sits right infront of you.

"Babes, calm down, I've got you," she reaches out slowly and places a hand on your leg, slowly rubbing her thumb over your knee.

"I can't go back up there... they're too strong, they make me feel like I'm suffocating," you splutter through gasps, "I'm too weak!"

"Hey, hey, you're spiraling!" She opens her arms and pulls you into her, letting you sob into her uniform. "In and out, girl," she holds the back of your neck securely, almost instantaneously making you calm. "I got you... I got you..."

You sit there for a good while, crying into her shoulder as you sort through your wracked brains.

Your alpha was gutted. Right in front of you. Because of you.

Unbeknownst to you, their tuned ears are still listening in, the elevator stuck within their ear shot as you begin mumbling your favorite song to yourself through tears.

˚➶ ｡˚

The sound of claws slicing through the skin on your back rings in your ears. Though, you can't feel it. Your eyes are locked in on your own claws, dug into the hardwood floor of your humble home to keep yourself from being dragged.

You've been here a million times before.

Blood pooling off of your body and onto the frigid surface below you. Teeth sharp and bared to the moon though the open window, begging that she might let you survive. Eyes aglow with your instincts as your wolf tries with every fiber of her being to turn, but she knows it's no use.

The distorted voice above you drips with mocking venom, a chuckle as its owner realizes you can't even fight back like other wolves might: by letting your wolf fully transform.

The wind blows through your curtains, washes your body in the artic breeze. The snowflakes on your windowsill are so delicate, all of their features fade into a blurry mush as they make contact. They melt, dripping down your wall.

This time it's different.

You're turned over, gaping wounds slammed into the floor as always, but when you look up to your aggressor it's different.

His eyes aren't the yellow of a rouge, but the red of an alpha. His hair isn't that unruly blonde curl that you pulled at frantically, that you can still feel on your finger tips when your hands are unoccupied. It's long, shining, soft looking dark locks.

You fall through the floor into another time, another place.

Face first into the snow: your hands, shaking with adrenaline, do little to catch you.

You don't remember this.

This isn't right.

This isn't your nightmare.

You find yourself in a clearing in a forrest, the densely packed trees creating a bubble of nature around you. "(Y/n)?"

You whip around, coming face to face with an unfamiliar man. Almost face to face. If he weren't floating a few feet in the air.

His legs are crossed under him, hands facing palms up on his knees.

"Don't worry. You're only dreaming." He speaks calmly as he floats around you in a circle, like a shark examining its potential prey.

You follow him with your feral gaze, that familiar feeling of an adrenaline crash quickly approaching.

You know you're only dreaming. You've had that last dream more times than you can count in the past three years. It always plays the same. But not this time. You're only slightly thankful that you don't have to witness your alphas death again, but the gratefulness is overshadowed by confusion.

"Are you an angel?" You whisper, watching the man's soft and rounded features as he comes to a stop in the air in front of you and gracefully lowers to his feet.

"I can be, if that's what you want me to be. I'm only here to watch your dreams, fight off the nightmares."

"Why?" You feel distant from your body, watching powerlessly as your hand takes his, letting him lead you out of the clearing and into the darkness of the woods.

It disappears around you, warping into a spring day on a familiar path.

"A favor for a friend."

With the snow gone, you're in your spot, your old towel on the dewy grass with a book laid atop of it and the soil beneath your feet as you approach.

"Enjoy."

The hand vanishes from your own, leaving you alone on the side of the path. You look for him. But he's just an eidolon, watching you from the sky where you can't see him.

You warily take a seat and pick up the book.

˚➶ ｡˚

They don't see you again through the week. And when the next Monday comes by, their sheets are removed while they're in the showers.

Hongjoong sighs from his place on the floor, for the tenth time in the past half hour.

"Hong-"

"I miss our omega!" He whines, cutting him off.

Seonghwa stands from his cot, slowly lowering to the floor next to their shared bars. He lays flat on his back, mirroring Hongjoong as he tilts his head to look at him. "Soon." Is the only word he utters.

He reaches through the silver bars, ignoring the sting as the fresh wolfsbane brushes his wrist, and takes his hand.

The both of them look up at the ceiling through the bars of their enclosure.

Your scent is long gone from the room, and their noses can barely pick up on it through the rest of the village and prison.

"I want out of here," Hongjoong whispers, so lowly that the guard can't hear him from outside of the door, "when are they coming? Your bond with them is stronger, I can barely feel them..."

"Soon." He repeats, "very soon, Joong."

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday you manage to talk your coworker into sweeping the top floor, and you rejoice in the freedom of not being under the alpha's gazes. You've worked out a good schedule to completely avoid seeing them, and it's made your job feel like it's back to normal.

You can still smell their power wafting through the AC, but it's bearable. You distract yourself in your free time by making excuses to be on the second floor with Chungha and the other omegas.

Today, that excuse is 'omegas need physical outlets too', and the warden let you bring up buckets and brushes so you could all scrub the base boards.

"Oh, I've got one!" The omega to your left speaks, lifting his brush in the air in a eureka moment, "Texas Chainsaw Massacre or... Halloween?"

Chungha scoffs with a smile as she scrubs away to your right, "are we including sequels? There's like a billion!"

"No, stand alone original," Beomhan goes back to scrubbing as he continues, "both of them are classics but which one is a better classic?"

"Halloween is the classic slasher, Texas Chainsaw is like psychological horror," you chime in as you dip your brush into the bucket, sitting on your calves as you take a breather. "I think it's not fair to compare them... but Texas Chainsaw, definitely."

They laugh along with you, and Chungha shakes her head, "Halloween has more rewatchablity. You don't want to see Sally go through that more than once, but Laurie Strode fights harder and it's more like, yeah I'll watch her kick ass again."

"Cinematography in both is so beaut-"

The lights above you flicker before they shut down completely. People start muttering their concerns, quite a few of them looking your way. "Don't worry!" You hop up and get your keys from your pocket as you make your way to the locked stairwell. "I'll go and see what's going on, keep scrub-"

A loud siren echoes in the brick walls, shocking you all to cover your ears.

Everyone looks to you for answers, and you don't have any as your brain starts throwing theory after theory at you.

"It's okay, go back to your cells! Shut them behind you!"

They listened, however grumpy about it. The cell doors locked automatically when they were closed.

"Hey, what's going on?" Chungha asked over the clanging of the cell doors. The two of you, along with Beomhan, were the only ones left after a moment.

"Go back to your cell, Beomhan, hurry."

"No, what's happening?"

The sirens cut off and leave you in a pregnant pause for a moment as you simply try to calm yourself.

A deafening scream ricochets through the air vent next to you, scaring you into their arms as you all stare at it.

Usually, the air flow covered the echoes throughout the floors. But with no power, you could hear everything- albeit muffled.

Yells and shouts. Gunshots. Growls. Unidentifiable chaos. And above all, your ears tuned in on a rumbling, calm voice through it all.

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... It's not warm when she's away..."

Your eyes widen as theres a bang at the stairwell door. "Go, go!" You grab each of their wrists, dragging them into Chungha's cell. You slam it behind you and let down the sheet she has over it, backing away and staring at it as you hear the door hit the wall behind it with the force it's slammed open.

"(Y/n), what the hells happening?!"

You slap your hand over his mouth and bring a finger to your lips. The other omegas on the floor are all making a ruckus, and you can only hope that it will confuse that unfortunately familiar voice so he can't find you.

˚➶ ｡˚

The beta in the large room ignores Hongjoong as he continuously asks after 'the pretty omega'.

He just sweeps and sweeps, finally understanding why you hate coming up here. He has his back turned to the cage, and consequently, to the windows.

High on the tall walls, the narrow glass is opened from the outside. Seonghwa smirks, and gestures his head to it. Hongjoongs gaze follows, and he has to slap a hand over his mouth so he doesn't laugh.

A skinny figure is sliding its way in through the window sideways.

He drops to the floor as silent as a mouse, landing on his knees and grinning wildly up at his alphas.

Hongjoong throws his head back in preemptive relief, while Seonghwa is watching with a similarly wide smile as the man walks straight through the blood ash, breaking the circle with the tip of his shoe.

The worker still has his back turned as the lock on Seonghwas cage is picked with a long claw. He doesn't even know what's happening as the next thing he knows, he's thrown across the floor.

Blood ash knocks up around him, coughs wracking his body as he looks up to his assailant.

Park Seonghwa, newly freed from his cage, looks down at the worker with his eyes glowing red.

"Now usually..." He begins, crouching to be face to face with him, "I'd go through this whole place just for the fuck of it and cause some beautiful chaos. But I'm looking for someone."

"(Y/n)?" He stutters out, backing away only to knock into Hongjoongs legs. Stuck between the two criminals, he chooses his own head over yours. "The second floor! Sh-she's on the second floor!"

"Let's go get our omega, Joong."

Nonchalantly, Hongjoong draws his claws and slices the neck of the worker. He hops over the gurgling body and follows his mate with an ecstatic giggle.

He wraps his arm around the skinny man's shoulder, "Wooyoung! Our savior~" He ruffles his hair and laughs as he groans.

"You guys know I've got your back. Seonghwa told me about your new omega, you seem excited," he mimics the alphas smile as the eldest of the trio opens the doors.

The guard on duty, who happens to be Merle, looks back with wide eyes.

"Yes, oh yes!" His eyes roll to the back of his head, touching the stitches you made on his shirt. "Oh, you'll love her, she's a feisty omega just like you."

He makes a run for the fire alarm at the end of the hall, but Seonghwa is faster. The beta is tackled to the floor.

"I'm glad you both will have a buffer, tired of you always at each other's throats during ruts," Wooyoung laughs, looking down at the guard as they pass.

Seonghwa had simply torn out his throat with his bare hand and made his way to the elevator, holding it open with an impatient glare.

The door closes behind them and the only sound is Seonghwa's heavy breathing.

"You're real eager, huh?" The omega breaks the silence, "San should be coming in any second to block the main door. No one will get past him. The rest are in the village, just as we planned."

"Good, she'll need somewhere to rest before we take off....Fucking idiots, thinking they can cage us." He groans, eyes flicking to the number above the doors as it dings.

3? "Fuck."

The door opens and the woman on the other side takes a moment, nearly walking in before she notices the crimson liquid dripping from Segonhwa's hand.

She makes it halfway through the hall before Hongjoong pounces on her, fighting her effortlessly as if she's a rag doll. The guards run to try and save her, but it's too late for the unfortunate woman, and they just signed their own death certificate as well.

Seonghwa and Wooyoung make quick work of them, but their plan is already foiled as the lights flicker to a halt and leave them bathed in dim light of the setting sun in the few windows.

The alphas fall to their knees as their sensitive ears are bombarded with a loud, incessant siren.

"Wooyoung!" Hongjoong screams over it, "go turn that shit off!"

He nods, taking the keys off a mauled guard and dashing to the stair well, leaving it unlocked behind him.

Hongjoong crawls to Seonghwa, collapsing into his chest with his teeth clenched and palms over his ears. His ears were always more sensitive.

His partner places his hands over his, thumb running over his own. He looks down with his eyes glowing red, meeting pure black.

He leans and kisses him deeply, all teeth and bloodlust, trying to merge their souls until the sirens cuts off.

Their foreheads rest together, ignoring the chaos of the beta's around them yelling to be released.

"Are you ready?" Seonghwa whispers, gathering another set of keys from the fallen workers. He throws it to one of the locked in prisoners, a smirk on his face. So much for not creating chaos.

"Let's go," Hongjoong holds the door to the staircase open and lets him go first with a dramatic bow.

It takes one scream to start the havoc. The entire prison is filled with the sickly sweet sounds of caged animals with a taste of freedom. Gunfire and howls bring a smile to Seonghwa's lips as he sings out,

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... it's not warm when she's away..."

He hums the song with a wide grin as Hongjoong kicks the door. It takes only one more kick before it slams open and bangs against the cement wall.

The omegas in their cells are all yelling at them, at one another, in general.

Hongjoong kicks one of the many buckets on the floor over and groans, "here I was thinking she'd make it easy. I guess we'll have to go cell to cell!" A small spike of a heartbeat in his ears makes him smirk, following the sound that he memorized the first time he'd heard it.

Seonghwa follows him, immediately zeroing in on the same cell. He comes to stand infront of it, his breath making the blanket behind the bars sway slightly.

You see both pairs of orange slip on shoes and you feel your heart stop in your chest.

You cower further into the corner with Beomhan as Chungha stands in front of you. The sheet is grabbed from the outside and ripped away, making you all shriek.

"Were you playing hide and seek?" Hongjoong giggles, throwing the blanket to the side with his eyes never leaving you, a scowl growing on his features as he notices the way you're curling into another wolf. "You should know better than to hide from your alphas. Come on out."

You shake your head, gaze lowered as you hold onto the back of Chungha's uniform.

"(Y/n)," the saturnine man speaks, "come here."

"No, leave us alone! Leave me alone," your voice cracks despite how strong you want to appear.

"If I have to drag you out of here I will be very angry. Just come on, do us all a solid."

"No-"

"Open the fucking door!"

"No!"

The cells were built to hold lycans, which means lycans shouldn't be able to get in... right?

"Fucking-" Seonghwa hits the bars, leaving a dent and making the three of you jump.

Hongjoong leans on his tiptoes and whispers into his ear, and whatever he says makes his eyes begin glowing a murderous red.

He slowly wraps his clawed fingers around the bars, and the way Hongjoong backs up makes your stomach churn in anxiety of what's about to come.

And it was warranted anxiety.

With a loud growl and a single tug, he rips the silver bars from their cemented place in the wall, causing a large crack to form.

"Holy shit!" Beomhan screams, arms wrapping around you tightly.

Chungha is ripped from the small room and tossed all the way across the room, back colliding with the wall and leaving her unconscious.

You yelp as Beomhan meets a similar fate, torn from your grasp and out into the rec room like he's a mere bag of trash. You see Hongjoong approaching him with his long black claws out and proud, but your vision is blocked by the large alpha infront of you.

Your hips back into Chungha's small desk, and your hands clamber around, landing on something small and solid.

You swing it at his head and he ducks, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the small cell. You manage to swing again, making contact with his head. The small ceramic bowl shatters into pieces and leaves him only temporarily stunned, glaring down at you.

"Fucking stop," he growls quietly, shoving you to the floor.

He lets you shuffle away, only because Hongjoong is right behind you.

The blonde chuckles, pulling you back up by your collar and crashing you face first into one of the round steel tables bolted into the floor. "Ow!" You yell out as your head makes contact, fighting against him with all your might, but it's fruitless.

He kicks your feet apart and stands between them, leaning his chest over your back. You can feel his nose against your neck, over the healed skin above your scent blocker. You snap your eyes shut and do the only thing you can thing of.

You can't fight. Begging to these men would be useless. You can't disappear into the floor like you wish you could.

"Please, Selene," you pray to the moon, tears slipping past your shut eyes as you feel the claws of the mad man on your neck.

You cry out as the other worldly sharp nails slice into your neck, slowly and almost surgically. His other hand is cupped on the back of your head, keeping your head pushed into the cold metal. "Shhhh," he gushes above you, "it's okay."

Seonghwa sits at one of the bolted stools and rests his head to mimic yours, cheek on the table. "We'd've been more gentle if you listened, omega."

Between the tips of his claws, Hongjoong holds your small alloy scent blocker. Almost instantaneously, your natural scent floods their senses.

Their deep rumbles of pleasure make you snap your eyes back shut, missing the way Hongjoong stomps on the device.

"Fuck," the wolf behind you curses, body pressed close to yours like he wants to fuse together, he places his hands in yours and tells you, "you might want to squeeze."

"Wh- ah!" Your scream echoes over all of the other chaos as his teeth sink into your left shoulder, and you do just that. Your clawed hands squeeze around his, sharp nails knocking together as you hold on like his hands are the only thing keeping you from slipping to the underworld.

It feels like a million pins and needles washing over you, leaving you paralyzed in place as he purrs into the wound, making your bones vibrate.

A warm, comforting hand on your cheek makes you force your eyes open. Seonghwa smiles sweetly, like he isn't witnessing one of the biggest crimes in the lycan community.

Forcing someone to be your mate for the rest of your mortal lives.

"Breathe, omega," his words make you realize you're holding your breath, and you let it out as a sob. "That's it," he hums, rubbing his hand down your head with all the gentleness he's capable of.

Hongjoong pulls away with a moan, resting his head between your shoulder blades as he catches his breath.

Your wolf is already calling for her mate, howling in the back of your mind as you cry.

"Don't worry, we'll take good care of you." Seonghwas words have little time to register in your adrenaline filled head as he turns your head the other way and climbs up on the table.

It hits you when he moves your ruffled shirt away from your right shoulder. "No! No!" You find yourself with two million pins and needles in your body now, squeezing Hongjoongs hands all over again as Seonghwa sinks his teeth into you at an excruciatingly slow pace.

They're bigger, or maybe they only feel that way because your body is on fire. You sob freely, feet stomping pathetically to cope with the pain.

What little comfort you find in Hongjoong squeezing your hands back is washed away by the simple fact that it's him. That blood from his claws drips onto your skin.

It feels like a century later that the older alpha finally pulls away, a bellow of pleasure as he runs his thumb over the wound: making you jump.

"Your turn, omega."

The weight of their bodies is gone, but you can't bring yourself to move. Out of fear, maybe. Pain, perhaps.

"You know what happens to wolves who don't finish the bond." Hongjoong purrs teasingly, knowing full well that you will have to mark them back least you want to suffer at the hands of the moon herself.

A life with them was better than being turned inside out and left to the elements. Just barely.

You lift yourself on shaking arms and nearly fall as you turn. You would have if not for Hongjoong catching you. He lifts you back to the table much gentler, letting your legs dangle as you sit on the table top.

"Why... why me?"

"... Have you heard of Harry Talbot?"

"Harry Talbots a myth... what's he got to do with your fuck shit?"

"Harry Talbot was the first wolf that could smell his mate. He could tell just by her smell, they were meant to be." Hongjoong slots his way between your legs, smiling down at you with his bloody teeth, "her smell called to him. It wasn't just good. It wasn't a normal scent. It was...alluring."

You were growing dizzy, head spinning.

"Strong alphas can sniff out their true mate. And, baby, we're the strongest that there is."

You have to force yourself to swallow. Have to remember to breathe.

"Why? Because you're... alluring."

That's the last thing you can register before your world turns dark.

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE END ˚➶ ｡˚

#yandere fic #smut fic #ateez fic #yandere ateez #park seonghwa #yandere seonghwa #ateez matz #kim hongjoong #yandere hongjoong #ateez smut #ateez x reader #matz x reader #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #yandere ateez x reader #yandere x reader #yandere werewolf

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thesanityclause · 1 year ago

Text

I bought this and it was so great I loved it you will too. I'd buy every issue if Lucie Ebrey made more.

So it's finally October and that means it's officially ShortBox Comics Fair month. Tons of new comics from creators from all over are up to purchase until October 31st, so you better act fast.

My offering is Werewolf Social Club and I'm extremely excited to share it with you all! Please consider picking it up if you're chompin' for a found-family story with werewolves. And tupperware.

Grab it here! (awoo)

#comics #it's good #i love wholesome found family stuff mixed in with supernatural stuff #also just werewolves in general kick ass

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defectivevillain · 2 months ago

Text

give you all my poison

pairing: Peter Hale/Reader

reader's pronouns are he/him; race is ambiguous.

Derek shakes his head in disbelief. Then he falls silent and squints at you. “Peter’s right, you do smell a bit weird.” He frowns, his eyebrows furrowed. “Should I be concerned that everyone’s smelling me?” you ask. “We’re werewolves,” Derek says flatly. Yes, you suppose that is a suitable excuse.

You’re not quite sure what Peter Hale’s obsession with your scent is about. You just know that he doesn’t seem to care what you think, because he’s constantly breaking the distance between you and sniffing at your neck with a confused and irritated expression.

word count: 4.8k | ao3 version

Warnings: mentions of skin-peeling/shedding (molting); canon-typical blood, injury, violence, and supernatural stuff

author's notes: The reader is male/transmasculine. His race is ambiguous.

This is canon divergent, maybe even canon non-compliant. This fic’s pacing is pretty quick and it’s dialogue heavy. But I thought of the idea yesterday and just had to share it. I’m obsessed.

I'm bad at creating my own titles—this one is an edited lyric from Thank You for the Venom by MCR. Because duh.

“You smell very strange,” a familiar voice says in lieu of a greeting. You look up from the couch to find Peter standing in the opposite doorway, his nose scrunched and a pinched expression on his face. He looks effortlessly casual in his cardigan and jeans, and his gaze flits about your form before settling on your face.

“Thanks,” you say wryly. You’ve long grown used to Peter’s somewhat blunt, borderline rude personality. He’s clever and has a sharp wit, making him rather entertaining to speak to. You thought you had grown used to his sardonic nature, but that remark hurts a bit.

“You know what I mean,” Peter says, appearing moments away from rolling his eyes.

“I really don’t,” you admit. You know werewolves have a particularly strong sense of smell, but you’re not sure why he’s pointing it out to you.

“You smell—” Peter breaks off, annoyed. He takes a step into the room and freezes, falling quiet for a moment. “—strange. You don’t smell like a human.”

“What?” you ask, growing a bit worried. What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?! Are you not human? “Wait, what do I smell like, then?”

Peter takes that statement as permission to break the distance between you and start sniffing your neck, to which you try to push him away. He chases you for a moment before leaning back with a focused expression on his face. “You smell acidic,” he concludes.

“Maybe my pH levels are off,” you mutter dryly, ignoring how your heart had jumped at his sudden proximity.

Peter hears the remark (damn his werewolf hearing). And damn it, that means he can probably hear your heart racing. Ugh. “No,” Peter responds, breaking you away from your thoughts. “You don’t smell like any human I’ve met.”

“Do you go around smelling humans a lot?” you ask, attempting to alleviate some of the tension in the air.

“You could take this seriously, for once in your life,” Peter says, entirely unimpressed by your jab.

“That’s ironic, coming from you.” You smile. “And take what seriously? You just said I smell weird. And then you proceeded to smell me without warning.”

Peter looks at you for a moment and growls, walking off into the nearby hall. You stare after him in confusion, before making peace with the fact that he’s not going to explain himself.

Several minutes pass before another presence enters the room. You’re about to ask Peter what the whole smelling debacle was about when you realize the new arrival isn’t Peter, but instead his nephew, Derek. He gives you a stiff nod from his spot in the doorway. You raise your brow expectantly, sensing he wants to speak with you.

“You seem to be…” Derek then says, trailing off for a moment as he evidently struggles to find the words. “...Particularly good at annoying my uncle.” He then notes, taking a step to the side and leaning against the wall.

“I try my best,” you say.

Derek shakes his head in disbelief. Then he falls silent and squints at you. “He’s right, you do smell a bit weird.” He frowns, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Should I be concerned that everyone’s smelling me?” you ask.

“We’re werewolves,” Derek says flatly. Yes, you suppose that is a suitable excuse.

“Okay then,” you relent. That still doesn’t give you an explanation, though. “Why is it such a big deal?”

“Werewolves use their sense of smell to distinguish between friends—or pack members—and enemies,” Derek explains.

“Well, can’t you just look at me to do that?” you ask. Derek scoffs, as if it’s an incredibly dumb question. “What?” you say defensively.

“It’s not that simple,” Derek says, vague as always.

“So… what’s the problem with me smelling weird?” you eventually prompt him.

“It’s not a problem, necessarily,” he remarks. “But all humans have a somewhat similar smell: blood and sweat. Either you have strange genetics, or…” You stare at him expectantly. Derek just exhales. “Or you’re not human,” he finishes.

“Oh,” you remark, not quite sure what else to say. “Fun.” The prospect of you being supernatural is definitely overwhelming. But maybe it’ll just be a fluke. Maybe you just have some undiagnosed health issues. Surely there’s a logical explanation for this.

“Yes,” Derek says, a hint of a smile on his face at your sarcasm. It quickly fades as he considers the statement. “So you could be some sort of supernatural creature.”

“Wouldn’t I have known that by now, though?” You frown.

“It depends,” Derek murmurs. “Not all creatures have to undergo a bite or formative event to trigger their powers. Some are born that way, others are created through science.”

“Huh,” you remark. “You know a lot about this stuff.”

“Thanks to me,” Stiles chimes in, popping up in the opposite hallway. Derek’s eyes immediately shoot over to Stiles and you resist the urge to laugh, instead following his eyes and looking at your friend.

“Hey, Stiles,” You greet him.

“Hey!” he says brightly. He’s tapping his fingers against the wall. “So, I heard you’re joining the supernatural gang?” You know him well enough to know that the smile on his face is a devious one. You may be in trouble.

“Not yet,” Derek interjects, before he can get too excited.

“Well, you can be an honorary member,” Stiles says with a nod. You feel yourself start to relax at the remark. “And don’t let Peter get to you. He’s kind of a dick.”

“Stiles,” Derek warns him. “Okay, so he’s definitely a huge dick,” Stiles corrects himself. Derek groans in annoyance and walks off, leaving Stiles and you in the living room. “Mind if I sit?”

“Go for it; I could use some human company. Or semi-human, I guess.” You move over to give him more room.

“I fit the bill,” Stiles hums in agreement, stretching his legs to let his feet rest on the coffee table. Derek always hates when he does that, you note with amusement. You get the feeling Stiles has started doing it on purpose now. “So, you think you’re supernatural?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” you frown. “I mean, if Peter hadn’t said anything about me smelling weird, then I wouldn’t have even considered it.”

“Peter said you smell weird?” Stiles blinks, before face-palming. “Idiot.” You get the weirdest feeling there’s something you’re missing. But you can’t focus on it for long before Stiles is continuing to speak. “Don’t worry. He’s probably trying to make something out of nothing.”

“I hope so,” you sigh.

“Hey, don’t panic,” Stiles remarks. “Even if you are somehow supernatural, then we’ll be able to help. You’re definitely in the right place.”

“Thanks, Stiles.” You smile, appreciating your friend’s support.

“Don’t mention it,” he says casually, reaching for the TV remote. “Now, wanna watch shitty reality TV? How about 90 Day Fiance?”

“Hell yeah,” you respond affirmatively.

As days pass and bleed into weeks, you slowly start to forget your unusual interaction with Peter. You continue studying and focusing on school, occasionally meeting up with the pack when they need another set of eyes on things. Ultimately, your spring semester is shaping up to be a normal one.

But then some strange things start happening. Beacon Hills is a strange place—you’ve grown to accept that. It’s home to all sorts of supernatural creatures. Hell, you’re friends with werewolves: you can handle a bit of weirdness. Usually, you’re not directly involved, though. You’re always a bystander, which you’re more than fine with. Things don’t necessarily happen to you, which is why it throws you when you wake up one morning to find your skin peeling—and not just a normal amount. It’s… Well, you don’t even want to think about it anymore. You just feel like a snake shedding its skin. The thought makes you shudder.

And then there’s your strange tolerance for heat. You’ve never quite loved the summer months in Beacon Hills, since it can get very warm outside. You’re usually okay if you stay inside. But this summer, for whatever reason, you’re not only comfortable in the heat—you find yourself actively seeking it out, moving to sit in the sun instead of the shade and going outside more often. You also find yourself feeling less fatigued, as if you’re expending less energy. It’s all so weird. You would try speaking to Stiles about it, but the pack has been pretty busy lately with the appearance of a few hostile Darachs. Besides, you don’t even know how you’d begin to breach the topic.

It all comes to a head on one particularly sweltering summer afternoon, when you find yourself seeking out the sun’s warmth instead of resting in the air conditioning like the rest of the pack. You had gotten some incredulous looks, but you couldn’t quite focus on that. You can’t rationalize this behavior of yours—you just know that it feels right, somehow.

“What are you doing out here?” Peter scoffs, clearly trying to sound disinterested. You squint and look over to find Peter standing next to you in a tank top and sweatpants. There’s a note of something close to concern in his voice. You pretend not to notice, instead considering the question.

“Relaxing.” You just shrug, crossing your legs and taking a slow breath.

“It’s practically a desert out here,” Peter points out. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m fine,” you reassure him, noticing the worry hidden behind the insult. “It feels nice.”

Peter leans forward and brings a hand to your forehead, frowning. “You don’t feel warm,” he notes.

“I told you,” you say quietly, without venom. Peter just mutters something under his breath about stubbornness before walking away. You glance around and find him retreating into the cool, air-conditioned house. You hum and turn your attention back to soaking up the sun’s warmth. It feels quite nice—almost rejuvenating.

Then a sudden sharp pain bleeds through your ribs. You gasp and bring a hand to your abdomen, feeling as if it’s tearing itself apart. Your back is aching persistently too, adding insult to injury. You’re leaning down to the ground now, a hand on the grass as you try to breathe past the stabbing sensation in your chest. What is happening? One moment you’re fine; the next, you feel as if your entire body is stretching and ripping at the seams.

You blink and submerge yourself in darkness. When you open your eyes, you realize you’re on your feet again. Except… you’re taller than normal. And your lower half comprises eight inky black legs. There’s something weighing your back down; you manage to turn around enough to see a giant stinger. Are you… a scorpion? You stare down at your form in disbelief. Everything from your waist up is human; from the waist down, you look like a scorpion.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Peter’s voice breaks through the silence and you look over to find him staring at you in complete disbelief. He’s standing just past the stairs to the house, regarding you with an unreadable expression.

“...Hey,” you manage to say awkwardly, your heart racing in your chest.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” he exclaims incredulously. "Hey?”

“I didn’t know this would happen!” you quickly defend yourself.

Between the likely indicators of your distress—your accelerated heart rate and pained breathing—and the commotion from your argument with Peter, you’ve successfully drawn Stiles and Derek out of the house. Derek doesn’t look super surprised, only a bit wary; and Stiles looks excited. His eyes are practically glittering. “I knew it, dude!” he exclaims, sending you a thumbs-up. You feel some of your nerves fade at the friendly gesture. “Supernatural gang! Hell yeah. You look so fucking cool!” You fight off a smile.

“Stiles,” Derek admonishes him. But he’s hiding a smile.

“I knew you smelled too weird to be a human,” Peter says triumphantly, a victorious grin on his face. He seems to have gotten over the whole scorpion transformation thing pretty quickly.

You just huff in annoyance. You have more important things to worry about at the moment, like returning to your human form. “Any advice on how to…?”

“Go back to normal?” Peter supplies. He’s studying your tail with particular interest, hunger flickering across his face. You hope he doesn’t want to eat you. “No idea.” He shrugs.

You look at Derek helplessly. He sighs. “I’m not sure either,” he admits, before glancing at Stiles. “Any ideas?”

“Finally someone asked,” Stiles huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thought I’d be standing here twiddling my thumbs the whole time.”

“Stiles,” Derek says exasperatedly.

“Right, right, not the time,” Stiles sighs, before taking a step closer to you and looking up at you. “Okay, so I’ve done some reading. Because, well, emissary stuff. I guess. Anyways! I remember the process being similar to werewolves—having something anchor you to your humanity.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” you ask helplessly, starting to feel a bit scared.

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay,” Stiles says, evidently sensing your distress. “We’ll get you out of this soon, don’t worry.” He placates you. Damn it, Stiles always knows just what to say. You want to be embarrassed, but hell, you just turned into a half-scorpion! This is far from normal.

“Your anchor can be a person, a relationship, an object,” Derek adds. “Anything that reminds you of your human form.”

You take a slow breath, attempting to calm yourself down. You can do this. You don’t need to rush it, either. You’re not in danger right now—Peter, Derek, and Stiles are here. They’re not scared by you, and they didn’t shun you. You’re going to be fine. You’re safe. You repeat that notion like a mantra in your head. You’re safe. You’re okay. You’ll be just fine. And slowly but surely, you start to believe it. The stiffness and discomfort slowly bleed out of you and you feel a sudden pressure in your knees before you crumple to the ground.

“Not bad,” Peter says, the words sounding garbled through your ringing ears. He’s standing far closer than you thought he was—if you were to stand up, you’d probably crash into him.

“Ugh,” you just groan, attempting to peel yourself off the ground. Your limbs are aching and there’s some sort of liquid dripping from your fingers. But otherwise, you’re back to your human form! Small mercies.

Peter doesn’t even offer you a hand, instead just bending down and hauling you to your feet like a stray kitten. You blink and wobble a bit, set right by his rather tight grip on your upper arm. “Thanks,” you say to him, before looking down at your dripping hands. “This is probably venom.”

“Probably, yes,” Peter says with a smile.

Stiles and Derek approach you, vastly different expressions on their faces (intrigue and skepticism, respectively). Stiles leans in to scrutinize the liquid for a moment. “It won’t hurt you, because you have resistance, I’m sure,” he reassures you. “But it’ll be poisonous to us. Maybe even corrosive,” Stiles analyzes.

“Corrosive?” you echo.

“Look.” Stiles inclines his head down to your feet. You follow his gaze to where you had first fallen after your transformation. There’s a sizable chunk of ground caving in on itself, evidently from where the venom had fallen to the ground and eroded it. “Hey, you should try shooting it.” He proceeds to shoot his wrist out like Spider-Man shoots his webs.

“I’m not Spider-Man,” you huff. Peter lets out an amused noise; you decide to follow Stiles’s instruction, if only out of curiosity. Unsurprisingly, the venom just drips off of your hands. You smile knowingly.

“Hey, it was worth a try,” Stiles defends himself. He seems eager to change the subject. “Anyways, now we have a shit ton of werewolves, a Kitsune, a spark, a Kanima—Jackson’s lucky he’s even being included—and you. Nice. Sounds like the start to a really bad joke.”

Derek just rolls his eyes. He probably doesn’t realize it, but his eyes are gleaming with fondness as he looks at your friend. You catch Stiles’s eye and smile, which he returns with a smile of his own. Maybe one day he’ll notice Derek’s pining. Maybe one day.

“Let’s head back,” Derek suggests. “You should probably be in our company for a few days, to ensure you don’t transform accidentally.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be good…” you hesitantly agree, thinking about transforming into a half-scorpion in the middle of your lecture hall. That’s one easy way to fail your classes. You stare down at your hands, relieved to find that the venom has been absorbed into your skin once more. Where exactly that venom goes is a mystery you don’t particularly care to solve.

“I can do some research,” Stiles offers, practically bouncing on his heels at the thought. “Some light reading.”

“You call those thick ass books ‘light reading’?” Derek mutters disbelievingly as he heads back towards the house.

“Yes.” Stiles frowns, walking behind Derek. “And that’s not how you say ‘you’re welcome,’ sourwolf.”

You don’t really have the wherewithal to comprehend what they’re talking about, so you instead just focus on not tripping over your own feet as you head back to the house. Peter still has a hand on your arm, which you’re secretly grateful for. You sort of feel like you’re walking through a thick sludge. Evidently, the transformation will take some getting used to.

You can’t be more than a minute’s walk from the house, but you’re still tired by the time you get up the steps. You pause in the entryway, bracing yourself with a hand against the wall. You can feel Peter’s inquisitive gaze burning into the side of your face. “You’re about to pass out,” he reminds you.

“Thanks, I hadn’t noticed,” you say dryly. The remark lacks your usual bite, instead sounding a bit pathetic.

“You’re welcome.” Peter smiles sweetly. You roll your eyes. Despite his acerbic remark, his grip on you tightens as he leads you to the living room. You pretty much collapse on the sofa, feeling all of your adrenaline promptly seep out of your bones.

“Get some rest,” Derek practically orders. Stiles lets out a pointed cough and he lets out a strangled breath. “You’ll need it,” he says a bit more kindly.

You don’t have the time or energy to contemplate the weird expression on Peter’s face as he stares at you; or notice the meaningful look Stiles gives you, his eyes flitting between Peter and you pointedly. Within moments, you’re succumbing to exhaustion and falling asleep to the ever-familiar sound of Stiles and Derek’s bickering.

You would think, in the time since you learned you’re a Girtablilu—which is the official word for a creature like you, according to Stiles—that Peter would abandon the whole scenting issue. You’re pretty surprised, then, when he walks into the room and freezes again, a frown rising on his face.

“You smell different,” Peter says.

“Not this again,” you protest. But it’s too late—Peter’s already getting up in your space and sniffing you. You remain still this time, if only because you know resistance is futile.

“You smell like the banshee,” he concludes after his impromptu inspection.

“Lydia?” you ask. Peter knows her name—he shouldn’t be calling her ‘the banshee.’ You sigh, knowing that’s an argument you’re not going to win. “Yeah, we’re roommates. I’m surprised you’re just now noticing.” Indeed, you’ve been rooming with Lydia for the entire year.

“Co-ed dorms?” Peter questions.

“Yeah, our residence hall is all-gender,” you reply, confused by this particular line of questioning.

“Interesting,” Peter says. The irritated expression on his face suggests that it’s nothing of the sort. “And she’s your girlfriend?” he clarifies.

You stare at him in complete disbelief. He stares back unflinchingly. “What—? No,” you choke out. Where in the hell did he get that idea?

“You’re sure?” Peter asks, a smile on his face as if he’s amused at your expense. It looks a little strained. “You smell like her.” Okay, now he definitely sounds annoyed.

“Positive,” you respond firmly. “Lydia likes women; she’s dating Allison.” And the two of you live together—it’s only natural that her scent will carry over to you, if that’s how the whole scent thing works. You’re still very confused by it. Thankfully, that’s not really your problem—since you don’t have an enhanced sense of smell like the werewolves.

“Oh,” Peter remarks.

“Yes, oh,” you say, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “And I’m gay too. So we’re just friends.” Peter doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “We get that question a lot.” You then explain, needing a reprieve from the awkward silence.

Peter just hums. “I didn’t realize you like men.”

A pause. “Well, I do,” you say somewhat helplessly. You have an idea of why he’s so interested in that particular tidbit, but you don’t want to get your hopes up or read into it too much.

“I do, too,” Peter says.

Your eyes snap to him so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. For a moment, you’re struck silent as you just stare at him incredulously. Fortunately, you’re saved from stammering out a response when Derek storms through the door, looking furious. “I’m going to kill Stiles,” he hisses, surging through the room and heading to one of the adjacent hallways. The tension that had been settling between Peter and you is promptly broken, leaving you both standing in the living room somewhat awkwardly.

Unfortunately, it seems Peter hasn’t lost his creepy fixation with your scent. The first and second time, you weren’t expecting it. This time, you manage to see it coming.

“You smell like Stiles,” Peter says as he enters the room, studying you intently.

“Okay, no need to test it,” you say quickly with a shake of your head, leaning away from him before he can start sniffing you again. You’ve since learned from your mistakes. “What’s with you and this scent thing?” you demand.

Peter just smiles, entirely unashamed of the stunt he just tried to pull. “Why were you with Stiles?” he asks instead, proceeding to entirely ignore your question.

“You know him,” you answer exasperatedly. “He’s a ‘slut for research,’ in his own words. He wanted to see what kind of scorpion I am.”

“And?” Peter prompts you.

“Well, we’re not quite sure,” you begin. The research process was pretty entertaining. Stiles was fanboying half of the time, which was a bit flattering, honestly. “We couldn’t test if my tail grows back without cutting it off, which we didn’t want to do, obviously. But I am fluorescent, supposedly. So that’s fun. And then my venom’s toxic too.”

“I guess I was molting last week,” you recall. Peter’s entirely silent, which convinces you to keep talking. “Scorpions can live up to a year without food, but we can’t test that either. They also have low metabolic rates. That’s about it, I think.” Some of that information is from Wikipedia, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’d never met a Girtablilu before,” Peter admits. That statement feels more impactful than you can comprehend, for some reason. There’s a certain weight to it.

“Me neither,” you then huff. Peter’s expression cracks into a slight smile.

“You’re something of a rare breed,” he teases.

“Don’t say it like that,” you argue insistently. “I’m not a pet.”

“You’d be a cute one,” Peter continues, uncaring of your objections. “Just put you in a tank, throw you crickets every few days.”

“Perish the thought,” you say with a shake of your head.

“Take you out for walks,” Peter continues, if only to irritate you more.

“I’ll sting you,” you threaten him.

“You won’t,” Peter says.

You both know it’s an empty threat. “I won’t,” you agree.

“I have diplomatic immunity, it seems,” Peter notes. He looks smug now.

“For now,” you emphasize, wanting to wipe that damn smirk off his face. “Don’t get comfortable.”

“Oh, I won’t,” he says. The sharpened teeth in his grin send a bolt of something down your spine. “I’ll be watching you very closely, sweetheart.” And, in typical dramatic fashion, Peter’s gone before you can respond. That’s probably good for you, because otherwise, he would’ve noticed the flustered expression you’re sure is written all over your face.

You’re starting to think something’s wrong with Peter. Maybe he’s sick or something. He’s just been acting a little… strange. For one, he keeps on touching you—casual gestures like a hand on your shoulder, the nape of your neck, or your back. He doesn’t behave like that with anyone else. Next, he’s being weirdly evasive. Every time you try to speak with him, Peter almost seems distracted.

In hindsight, maybe you should’ve expected this behavior to manifest in other ways. Because surely that’s the only explanation for why he thought that pursuing multiple Chimeras on his own would be a good idea. Peter’s strong, sure, but not that foolish. At least, that’s what you thought.

Safe to say, once you all learn of Peter’s absence, you’re the first to volunteer yourself to go after him. Stiles had tracked down the location of the Chimeras the previous day, so it won’t be hard to find. Furthermore, your venom will prove useful—since the creatures have very few weaknesses otherwise. Derek doesn’t seem happy about it, necessarily, but Stiles manages to distract him long enough for you to make your daring escape and go after Peter.

You find him in the same clearing Stiles had labeled as the Chimeras’ hideout. He’s fending them off, but you can tell his balance is slightly lopsided and he’s slowly losing ground. You sigh, resigning yourself to a messy evening before transforming into your Girtablilu form and fighting off the creatures at Peter’s back.

After what feels like far too long, you’ve successfully defeated all of the Chimeras. You take a slow breath and calm down, embracing your human form once more. As you return, you stumble and shoot an arm out, bracing yourself with a hand on the tree Peter’s leaning against. The transformation still isn’t as smooth as you want it to be, but you know it’ll improve with time.

“Maybe don’t go off on your own again,” you say breathlessly, looking down at him with a tired smirk on your face. “Also, you’re welcome.”

Peter’s staring at you with wide eyes, his gaze roaming your face as if drinking in the sight of you. You stare back at him, a bit curious about his sudden intense scrutiny. He doesn’t explain himself, instead keeping quiet and just looking at you eerily.

Eventually, you extend a hand to him; he takes it and allows you to tug him to his feet. You move to release your grip, but Peter’s grasp is steadfast and unrelenting. The two of you stand there for several moments, far closer than what is socially appropriate.

“You’re difficult to impress,” Peter eventually murmurs.

You blink. “You were trying to impress me? Why?” The thought is almost ludicrous.

“Because I… care about you,” Peter says, his voice almost dripping with condescension and revulsion. You recognize the bravado in the gesture—knowing he’s masking his uncertainty and nerves. Then you process the statement and everything finally makes sense: the scenting; the physical contact; the look on his face when you first transformed, and the look he gave you just now; the concern disguised with sarcasm.

“Oh,” you breathe.

“Yes, oh,” he repeats, clearly taking delight in calling back to the last time you said those same words. Suddenly that conversation about sexuality makes a lot more sense.

“Well,” you drawl, sounding a lot more confident than you feel, “are you going to do anything about it?”

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Peter’s eyes are glittering.

“Yes,” you confirm, your voice wavering ever so slightly. Peter’s expectant gaze is only making you more nervous. “I care about you too.”

“Good,” Peter states, before surging forward and kissing you. You’re quick to embrace him in return, your arms looping around his shoulders. It’s far from a sweet or harmless gesture—Peter doesn’t do sweet, and you think his claws are digging into your waist somewhere. But… you wouldn’t want him any other way.

“Well,” a familiar voice says far too soon. Peter and you break apart, both of you turning to investigate. “I guess you guys had it handled after all.”

“...Hey, Stiles,” you sigh, recognizing your friend at the edge of the woods. Stiles sends you a wave.

“Derek thought I should check on you,” he explains, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “He’s gonna kill me, though: I bet him that you guys would get your shit together by the end of the week.”

“So, thanks,” Stiles says with a smirk. “I can’t wait to rub it in Derek’s face.”

Peter and you exchange a look before sighing in exasperated defeat.

I had to look up werewolf scenting for this. and then I immediately got embarrassed and stopped and deleted my search history. And now I'm talking about it here and leaving a permanent digital footprint. sigh.

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