#despite the winter winds au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nouearth · 8 months

Text

double-stuffed.

peter parker x male reader x jaime reyes.

summary: nothing bonds two men who hate each other more than a sloppy mouth, and a sloppy hole.

wc: 13.1k. genre: smut. warnings: college au, friends with benefits, top!peter, tasm!peter, jealous!peter top!jaime, jealous!jaime, bottom!reader, threesome, rough-sex, blowjobs, handjobs, double-penetration, dirty-talk, muscle worship, body worship, fingering, ass-eating, mouth-fucking, dry-humping, breeding, eiffel-tower, filthy smut, loads and loads of cum, peter and jaime are rivals, reader is a slut, and reader also has a stretched out and sloppy hole by the end!

notes: how tf did i just write 13k of pure smut. ok well, not pure smut since i added some backstory, BUT. i wrote a lot, like??? hello??? someone check up on me!!!

The cold air breached through the cracked-open window in Peter’s bedroom. It’d been the winter season for months, yet snow had become a rarity with every passing year. It was much appreciated when you saw the ice crystals accumulate and cover the ground until it felt like you were practically walking on crunchy clouds.

Though, despite the weather, it didn’t stop classes from continuing unfortunately.

Another gust of wind blew into his bedroom, and you pressed closer into Peter’s body. Legs entangled with his longer limbs, and he’d bring your front leg over his hip for extra comfort, simultaneously providing himself another opportunity of friction to thaw out his goosebumps.

“Pete…” You muttered into the kiss. It came out in hesitant sputters, breathless as his hips began moving against yours in a lazy yet fruitful pressure.

You weren’t sure when it happened; Peter had an incredibly poisoning effect on you that blurred time altogether; but your jeans were tossed to the corner, leaving you in your sweater and briefs. He was dressed, or rather undressed, similarly; a blue sweater that contrasted your beige, except his pants were unbuckled down to his knees.

“Why did you open the window? I’m cold.” He muttered back, detaching his lips from yours to settle onto his second favorite part of your body—your neck.

Peter was observant. He had catalogued sections of your skin that would honor his ears the sweet and delectable sounds of your moans from many times prior.

Simply kissing your neck wasn’t enough. Licking multiple stripes beneath the underside of your jaw made you stiffen and swallow down any potential sounds. It was a leap forward, but you were resistant to him—at the very least, you did well in feigning it—and he’d start suckling to hammer ice picks at the barricade that had seemingly repelled all of his actions.

“Would help if you had your pants back on, you know—“ You answered after several long moments. Your mind had pivoted to Peter’s pair of lips by now, closing your eyes to the sloppy sounds of his markings as you breathed in the scent of his shampoo.

When he felt a swallow, your adam’s apple bobbing for aid—to catch some sort of breath—Peter could see the barricade crumble, feel his liability in infecting you with desire and lust as he felt a tent forming in your briefs. And he’d bite a mark into your flesh to let you out of your misery, drawing out the poison with several hard sucks until it was bruising. A gasp and multiple drowsy moans of his name heightened his senses and Peter felt his ears redden with heat from how absolutely devouring you sounded.

You felt his hand slip under your sweater and made its way towards your chest, pinching and circling your nubs with gentle fingers.

“Besides,” There was a familiar heat being stimulated with every grind of his hips, every tweeze of your nipples, and you’d thank Peter in between with a motion of your own. A languid kiss accompanied as you pressed intimately close, slowing the eagerness of Peter’s movements as both of your bulges collectively rubbed and throbbed when direct contact was being made. “Doesn’t seem like the cold is affecting you much.”

He chuckled at your tease. “Yeah? I’m just getting started too—“ The same hand that was thawing the goosebumps off your chest cascaded back to its rightful place on your thigh, then to the cheeks of your covered ass before he playfully squeezed and slapped in turn.

You let out a laugh, pushing yourself back onto his palms when he’d begun kneading at your flesh. His eyes were focused on your bitten lips, clearly isolating any more noises that would make his ears burst into flames if they hadn’t already.

But he was selfish. He needed more of you.

Whenever you pushed back, he pulled you forward, rocking you into him—into the tent forming stubbornly in his boxers. One hand rested on Peter’s cheek and there would be moments where you’d ever so gently cupped the plumpest section of his skin when you rolled into him just right.

“Fuck, Pete—“ It started off innocent with your hips moving back slowly, languidly into him as if you had no intentions of finishing what you started.

You were spellbound. He tantalized every ounce of thought until he had become the sole proprietor of your brain, leasing you a vitality that you could only repay in pure and absolute pleasure.

“Shit—“ The collaborative movements had enough momentum to coincidentally shift his boxers until the slit aligned with the tucking of his erection, and with one more roll of your hips, you drew Peter’s weighty cock out from the opening.

“Keep doing that… fuck. My dick’s out.” He was desperate in his demands and equally distracted as he constantly switched gazes between the way your clothed bulge rubbed against his hard-on, and the parting of your swollen lips, to which he immediately seized the chance to slip his tongue inside of you.

He explored you in every way possible, licking inside of your mouth then pursuing your wet muscle in a brief yet sloppy chase, swiveling his tongue around yours until you surrendered into his hunger. His hands remained on your ass, squeezing and kneading at your cheeks as you continued to hump him—continued to hump his cock, your bulge pressing intimidate against his as Peter’s erection was sandwiched between your bodies, providing no window of escape.

“Wait,” You gave him a slight push on the chest when you familiarized yourself with the golden hour streaming past his window, and somehow Peter took your movements to maneuver you on top of him, sitting you on his lap. He kicked off the remaining length of his pants while you searched the surface of his bed for your phone, scoring when you felt a familiar weight in your hand.

You clicked open to the lock screen as Peter’s hands continued roaming free around your body, practically fucking himself into the barrier that were your tight briefs, and sighed. “Class is in thirty.”

“And? You can make it in time, or skip class? Fuck—I’m close…“ He reasoned and pleaded with his eyes, almost comically desperate.

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head, pressing your lips into a firm line as you grounded yourself to falter Peter’s hips to a disgruntled pause. “It’s a twenty-minute walk from here. And I don’t want to keep my partner from waiting! We were supposed to meet up earlier—“

“You seriously giving me blue balls right now? That’s a first—“ He grumbled, unwilling to let you go as his grasp tightened around your hips. It only loosened when you pressed a kiss to his lips again, whispering a soft apology in the delicacy of it.

“Sorry… I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

You lifted yourself off of the bed to Peter’s dismay and re-adjusted the tent in your briefs, slipping into your jeans after.

“Partner?” Peter’s curiosity was piqued, only because his courses rarely had group projects beyond the usual lab-work. “Is he nice? She? They?”

He followed after you, begrudgingly rolling off of his bed when the mere mention of your classes reminded him of his own deadlines approaching. He tucked himself back inside of his boxers. Though, a large tent greatly remained.

“He. You might know him? He told me he was in a couple of my classes before then, and those were all the same ones you and I were in.” Your eyes scanned for your books, collecting it into your arms when you found them, then for your backpack after.

Peter gave your shoulder a small nudge and you turned back, finding your backpack hanging by his fingers. “Yeah? Who?”

“Thanks,” You took your bag from him, swinging it onto your shoulder, and then pressed a grateful kiss to his cheek. “Uh… Jaime! Jaime Reyes.”

“Jaime…?” Peter paused in thought, then frowned as if he ate one of your favorite sour candies. “That… asshole in Film Studies?”

He followed you from behind as you exited his bedroom and headed towards the entrance of the apartment.

“You remember him? I don’t think I even remember what we watched in that class, to be honest. Was he that bad?”

“Yeah… Always dismissed my critical theories like they were completely wrong. Remember how we were randomly assigned a partner and we’d be stuck with them throughout the semester? He was mine! Peer-reviewing was hell with him… ” Peter bitterly recounted the memories as you listened.

There was a puzzled expression on your face that Peter found himself half-humored by, but your gaze snapped into a bright realization, as if the lightbulb above your head had exploded, the more he explained.

“Oh, yeah…! You guys were constantly going at each other when we would do those Socratic seminars. Thank god for you two, otherwise I would’ve been the one debating or asking questions.” You half-joked, but cleared your throat when there was little to no amusement in Peter’s demeanor.

“Well, maybe he thought you were cute.” You attempted to reason. “And that was his way of flirting? Or maybe he was intimidated by another smarty-pants in the class and he was over-compensating.” You snorted, holding onto the wall as you slipped your shoes on a foot at a time.

“Maybe…?” He sighed, observing you as his erection took a painful lap in its journey back to being flaccid. “Don’t take it out on me if you get a migraine because of him.”

“Pft, I deal with you on a daily basis. I can handle anything.” You finalized your outfit with a coat and a scarf around your neck. “I’ll be back!”

“Wait—“ Before you exited, he pulled you back to him by your wrist, grinning. “You got something in your eye.”

“I don’t feel anything—“ Peter took ahold of your cheeks and cradled them in his palms—plump flesh that were warm enough to convince you to skip your class for today and make a blanket fort with him instead. You smiled as he leaned close, centimeters from touching his nose with yours, and you could feel your heart weighing heavier than usual, swelling with ease the longer Peter gazed into your eyes.

And somehow, it didn’t even burst when he abruptly blew into your eye, obnoxiously laughing. “Now you do.”

“Asshole.” You elbowed his arm, his laugher quickly infecting yours, and you bid him goodbye with a peck on the lips. “Do your homework!”

Taking a painful glance at his desk from the entrance hall, piles of textbooks, notebooks, and sticky notes mocked and taunted Peter of his impending deadlines.

He groaned, dragging his feet back into his bedroom and towards his desk. “Can’t promise that.”

There was indeed something way worse than having blue balls.

“You’re still up?” Peter stepped out of his bedroom with a scratchy yawn. The dryness of his throat never failed to rouse him awake around 3 AM. His tousled hair bounced with every sluggish step towards the water filter, pressing a kiss to your cheek mid-way.

“When am I not…” Your voice was dull and monotonous as you remained fixated on the screen of your laptop, typing away at a filled word document. You had a late reaction to his kiss, turning towards Peter for a kiss on the lips instead—a reward for your hard-work for the day—but he’d already left to chug a glass of water down.

“I thought you were finished with your project by now?” He filled another cup of water before properly joining you on the couch.

Peter’s appearance for the night alerted you to clear your mind and take a breather. Your laptop was shoved off to the side and his arm immediately opened to bring you closer. You could feel the warmth of his gaze glazing over you with worry as he passed his cup of water into your hand.

“Yeah…” You sighed, drinking the lukewarm liquid in tired sips. “Turns out we needed to write an essay per topic, not include the three we’ve chosen in one collective essay.” When you finished explaining, you gulped the entire glass down, and set it on the coaster.

“That’s… tough, and annoying, and I’m sorry.” You and Peter laughed as lethargy devastated him of the vocabulary needed to properly sympathize for you, but his presence was more than enough. He rubbed your shoulder, giving one side an affectionate squeeze as a simple act of support while you leaned into him. “What’s Jaime doing?”

“The same thing. He’s coming over in the afternoon, so we can hopefully finish the rest.” You could feel Peter stiffen. If he had a switch on his body, it was flipped and glued to defense mode because as much as he hated to admit it, he was intimidated by Jaime.

“Be nice, okay? I mean, what—we were sophomores? We were all figuring ourselves out early on.”

“Hm.”

Peter was intimidated by how much time Jaime was spending time with you in and outside of class; by how quickly you seemed to have bonded over the course of a few weeks; by how intimate you seemed to have gotten with him judging by the fresh amount of hickies displayed on your neck, dethroning Peter’s own set of bruising marks.

It was all his fault—Peter’s.

He was the one that insisted on whatever you and him have had going on instead of pursuing a romantic relationship like you wanted. There had been many times where he regretted that decision; times where he thought making you his was simply a fleeting thought and nothing more. But it backfired, and regret came back in a full, disastrous, home-wrecking storm of karma.

“Get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” It was Peter’s sudden movements that made you jolt after enduring the long silence. He got up from the couch and walked back into his bedroom without sparing you a glance.

As if the thickened air in the room wasn’t telling enough, Peter’s stoicism solidified your assumption. You sighed a weight that fueled the tension looking free.

He was furiously jealous.

Peter hated how you came back from class later than you usually did. He hated how Jaime’s cologne of cedar wood and musk stung his nose instead of your usual scent of oak moss and citrus peels. He hated how every time he caught a glance of your phone, it was a text massage from Jaime. He hated how Jaime had a bug emoji next to his name, similar to how Peter had a spider next to his. He hated how Jaime had infiltrated your life, to the point of you having to base your schedule around him now.

And Peter hated how every time he was inside of you, he couldn’t stop thinking about how Jaime’s cock was buried deep in your ass, how you willingly bent over or spread open for him, how you kneeled on the floor and most likely whined and begged for his cum as you jerked him off, emptying your thoughts of what was left of Peter for him.

For Jaime.

Peter was losing you—losing to Jaime of all people—more and more with every passing day.

But he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

“Jaime…” You whined, drawing out the last vowel of his name as you stretched forward to loosen the tense muscles knotting along your lower back. A groan escaped when the pad of your fingers grazed your toes, and you immediately snapped back when a cramp began to settle in. “Can we take a break? I swear, I’m starting to go blind.”

You and Jaime have been sitting on the floor, circled around your coffee table in the living room as you both worked on finishing the essays, as well as the accompanying presentation.

“Uh-oh, seems like we gotta take desperate measures then. Who else would hype me up if you go blind?” He joked, then stretched his arms upwards until a loud crackle drew a satisfying groan from him. “Dinner?”

“Uh…” You looked around for your phone, spotting it on the couch you were leaning back against, and clicked the device open to reply to Peter’s messages. “Peter said he was getting pizza for us after class. Should be on his way now.”

[Petey 🕷️]: All pepperoni ok? [M/N]: yeaaaap, can you get pineapple on one side too [Petey 🕷️]: Oh god, I forgot that you’re a pineapple person [M/N]: IT’S GOOD TO ME! 🍍🍍🍍 [Petey 🕷️]: You could dip it in a can of pineapple juice and there would be no difference

[M/N]: shut up, i’m the one paying for it

“Huh, really?” Jaime was surprised, straightening his posture as he took a nonchalant peek at your phone. For a moment there, Peter’s kindness took ahold of Jaime’s pessimism by the reins and pressed a non-existent brake. “That’s… nice of him.”

Frankly, it was your suggestion to Peter, which surprisingly didn’t take much convincing since it was his favorite pizza joint. All he really needed was a kiss to seal the deal.

Jaime’s gaze flickered between the sprint of your thumbs and your growing smile. Blue and grey colored message bubbles appeared one after another, and the snickers that fostered briefly colored him red. Rather than finding the sound of your voice annoying, it was the person nourishing the joyful noises out of you that ticked him off.

Since middle school, he had always been at the top of his class. Whether it was because he truly enjoyed the subjects in school, or because he wanted to be the hero that pulled his family out of poverty—failing wasn’t an option.

Then came Peter Parker. He’d been in four of his courses since sophomore year, but it was Film Studies that truly roused a flame within him. Maybe because it was a smaller class as opposed to a seminar like the rest of his classes with him.

Or maybe because it was his first class with you, absolutely head over heels for Peter.

Peter, who would come into class late because he overslept. Peter, who would fall asleep during a viewing of a film instead of analyzing the mise-en-scene. Peter, who would be awaken by their professor and somehow manage to conjure an answer that would satisfy her—or worse, impress her. Peter, who didn’t have to work hard as him because he was… Peter Parker.

Peter Parker, who was the sole captor of your bright smile that Jaime had preferred over a hot cup of coffee when mornings were tough; the motivation for you to come out of your shell because Peter didn’t want you to be a loner like him; the person you would rely on because you trusted his opinion; the reason Jaime could find the courage to get a word in when he approached you because Peter was always by your side.

Peter, who Jaime could never be.

“Hey,” Your ear twitched as a gentle draft blew into the canal, and you immediately turned to face Jaime, ticklish in your endeavor. “I’m here too.” His lips pressed onto yours, sweet and fulfilling despite there being a bitterness in his tone.

“Sorry…” You murmured, tossing your phone to the side as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close and relishing in the softness of his lips.

Jaime let his muscles go limp, immediately toppling over your body once you pulled him close, and your bodies clumsily collided onto the rug with a small thump, a fit of laughter breaking the kiss apart in midst.

He positioned himself on his side after rolling off of you, cushioning your body with one of his arms beneath your back in turn. “Why is your rug comfier than my bed?”

You shrugged, sprightly raising your brows. “Doesn’t stop us from making out on it.” Your hand rested on his cheek briefly before swiveling it over to the front of his hair, brushing it back in one stoke, and settling on the back of his head to pull him face-to-face, nose-to-nose.

The dark curls of Jaime’s hair fell forward over his forehead in delicate and thick clumps, and you sniffed a familiar waft of spearmint that was pleasant to your senses. “Do that again. Feels nice.”

“Yeah?” You chuckled because Jaime’s voice lowered to a calming whisper, feeling his lips brush ever so slightly over yours—feathery and light like a brush—as you repeated your strokes. Your nails scraped lightly over his scalp, enough pressure to close his eyes and coerce a satisfied sigh out of him, and then another into your mouth when he kissed you as delicately as your touch again.

Every swipe of Jaime’s lips—of his tongue—muted the sounds around you, phased you out of reality, and lulled you out of the migraine you’ve been enduring for pulling an all-nighter. The last sound you recalled hearing was Jaime’s zipper, an enchanting pitch that needed no verbal cue for you to sneak your hand down his pants. The eye-rolling massage at the base of his head was abandoned, but it was immediately compensated when you rubbed and cupped at his clothed bulge.

For a moment, Jaime perfectly fit in your palm, letting your fingers do most of the work without much wrist movement as they pressed and squeezed at the soft lump. As you continued, you gradually felt the lump expand into a meaty mass that had you practically drooling into his mouth because you remember the taste and smell of his thick cock.

And defeated, because you recollected the uncomfortable stretch he’d summon when he was inside of you.

“Fuck.” Jaime hissed when your thumb pressed the smooth fabric of his briefs to the plump glans of his uncut cock, forcing the fabric to swivel his foreskin over the head in tantalizing circles—until thick drips of pre-cum stuck and stained a spot of the white briefs into a deeper shade of grey. “I could come just like this, you know?”

“Would be a waste of cum, though.” You simpered, looking pleased with the effect you had on him. Your hand began stroking the thick shape of his cock, pushing his tuck upwards until the tip poked out from under the waistband, greeting you with a delectable coat of pre-cum when you peeked downwards.

Jaime exhaled a shaky breath, pulling his shirt off. “Knowing you, you’d probably suck it right off the fabric, wouldn’t you?” The starry haze in your eyes; the constant licks of your lips; the harder grasps at his cock to pursue more dribbles of his pre-cum; he recognized the symptoms of your lewd vehemence straight off-the-bat, promptly rolling onto his back and kicking his pants off.

“Fuck, yeah.” You were famished, absolutely starving from the way you attacked his lips and sloppily explored his mouth with your tongue after straddling on top of him. You pressed onto his bulge, pushing against the center of his briefs with deep ruts until the head of his cock was exposed. Your mouth swallowed every profanity that would slip out of Jaime’s throat, fueling your hunger and channeling it into harder grinds.

He briefly put you on time-out to sit up and help you undress, one article of clothing at a time, beginning with your shirt. Jaime latched his mouth onto the first surface of skin he laid his eyes on. As you lifted your shirt, exposing more of your body, his lips trailed behind the hem soon after. He licked upward in one long strike, then dragged his tongue over the center of your chest, murmuring as you held his head close.

“Have I ever told you how much I loved your body?” It was a sweet confession, some would reckon that it was wholesome, and that was more of a reason why it made your cock throb in strong pulses, begging for your sweatpants to release them for oxygen. He chuckled, one hand squeezing you at your bulge. “Guess I haven’t enough.”

First, he tongued at your nipples, flicking the wet muscle on one nub before moving onto the next as he held you by the waist with one hand, balancing your straddle on his lap, and massaging the print in your pants with the other. Your cheeks ignited into flames when you caught his gaze; half-lidded and drowsy as if the sound of your moans was his lullaby. Then, he gently bit when he figured you’ve been hypnotized by the languid swivel of his tongue for far too long, disrupting the chain of moans into staggers. “Jaime, fuck—“

“Try tugging on them with your teeth.” Your brows furrowed, wrinkles creasing in the middle of the two arches, as you were puzzled by a sudden voice that sounded distinctly different from Jaime’s.

When you met his gaze again, his expression mirrored yours, frowning because your lips never moved when the voice came up. “What did you—“

There was a silhouette that loomed near the open kitchen that pulled your gaze from Jaime and towards the shape of a familiar body instead. Jaime’s gaze quickly followed yours after witnessing your pupils dilate.

Peter was leaning back on the kitchen island, watching with one hand down his pants and a smile that rendered you speechless and frozen in place. “When did you—I-I didn’t even hear you come in—“

“Few minutes ago. Good thing I didn’t miss the miss the show. It was getting good.”

Before you and Jaime could begin scrambling for your clothes, Peter was already on his way towards the two of you, halting in front. You scanned him from head to toe for any anomalies, a break you’d expect to see if someone was caught almost fucking on their living room floor. What you got instead was a familiar gaze that you’ve accustomed to your own intimacy with Peter, then he lightly tapped his foot against Jaime’s lower back.

“Not the ideal situation I’d like to… meet you again in, but… I will say that I like it a lot better than what I had originally imagined.”

“Seriously? What do you—“ Jaime met Peter’s eyes, an awkward yet heavy tension in the air forming, but once his gaze fell to the center of Peter’s crotch being palmed by his hand, he felt a lightbulb go off. “Ah.” He scoffed, a gale of chuckles following after because of the absurdity of the situation—to cover up the guilt that he found it hot at the same time.

That he actually found Peter attractive.

“Peter, I don’t think this is—“ You reasoned, but Peter deprived your speech when he began stripping off his own clothes. What the fuck is happening…?!

“(M/N) likes it when you tug on his nipples with your teeth.” He ignored you, nonchalantly repeating to Jaime. Though, it was hard to ignore the dumb-stricken look on your face when he approached closer to you, your confused gaze following his every movement. To appease you, he gave your chin a gentle cup, fondly stroking the center with his thumb as he shared a look that you could only deem as trusting from him.

You only began to relax when Jaime forged his suggestion into reality when he brought his mouth back up to your nipples and gently tugged at the nubs with his teeth. Every pull yanked a moan out of you, but you couldn’t help but feel entirely exposed and ashamed, knowing that Peter was watching you with another man.

It was allowed. Jaime and Peter have known about each other as flings for quite some time now, so it wasn’t like you were cheating, but… why did it feel wrong?

Once Peter stripped himself down to his boxers, he approached your side again for support, a large tent begging for you to release it from the loose restriction of the pattered fabric. Jaime’s gaze curiously followed Peter, watching his every move as he suckled, bit, and pulled at your nipples. He repeated despite the fact that they were swollen in between his lips, gratified that they were becoming perkier with every torment he’d inflict upon them.

Despite the fact that you had given into Jaime’s touch, into Peter’s demands, you looked up at him with concern, a daunting guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders, and he recognized that look with sympathy, assuring you with a calming smile and a soft kiss for good measure.

“Be a good boy for me, and stroke my cock.” Peter murmured lowly, stroking your cheek with doting knuckles, and you felt pacified right then and there. “And when you’re stroking my cock, you’re going to stop being selfish, treat Jaime like the respectable guest he is, and suck him off—got it?”

It was rare for Peter to be verbal like that. It wasn’t him, he claimed once, explaining that it was awkward because it sounded like he was in a cheesy porno.However, even if it was terribly and overly used in those pornos; a porno was a porno, and Peter was turning you on more than ever right now.

You inhaled, absolutely enraptured by what you were demanded to do that you forgot to breathe for a brief moment—but Peter kissed you again as a reminder, and you nodded. “Got it.”

You could feel Jaime throbbing under your clothed ass, his bulge prodding at the center of the fabric in desperate beats, as if he was agreeing to Peter’s ultimatum. Guess the dirty talk got to you too, huh?

As you climbed off of Jaime’s lap, Peter tossed a couple of throw pillows to him for his lower back and his head. Then, he did the honors of pulling your sweatpants off. A collective sigh of relief was heard as Peter and Jaime realized you went commando when your cock sprang free, throbbing and begging solely on the basis of Jaime’s mouth and Peter’s voice.

You knelt on the floor and bent forward, pushing your ass back while you slowly tugged Jaime’s briefs off to reveal his thick, uncut cock, seeping in its own pre-cum. “Pete, look how wet he is.” You slurred on your own drool as Peter knelt by Jaime’s hip, rubbing at his own cock.

“Geez, no wonder you were such an ass. Probably kept ruining your pants—“ Peter amused himself, taking one glance at the flushed expression on Jaime’s face, and chuckled.

“No, that’s not— we’re going to talk about my problem with you later.” Jaime stammered, but then halted when a sigh huffed past the dry of his throat as you took his stiff dick in your hand and stroked, squeezing until his foreskin covered the swollen glans completely and let the pre-cum pool within the folds, and then pulled the skin back and spread the thick coating back over the head again, somehow thicker with every cycle.

“Fuck…” Peter watched in awe, continuing to palm at his erection until the restriction of the garment had become unbearable to sit in. He slipped his boxers off and tossed it to the corner, then positioned his hips to sneak his cock into the palm of your free hand.

There was an expecting look on his face when you glanced over; a brow raised and a nod to his cock that seemingly reminded you of his demands. Balancing on his knees, Peter’s thighs pulsed, his taller height putting more weight on his muscles and making it look all the more sculpted as if he’d selfishly stolen limbs from Michelangelo’s workroom. Even though you’d seen Peter naked more times than you could count, you found yourself staring marvelously at his body. You never noticed how with every stroke of your hand, he sucked in his stomach, to pace his breathing, and his abdominal muscles would naturally divide into sharp, defined lines.

Somehow even more so, when he began thrusting into your fist.

As Peter helped you with one of your tasks, Jaime naturally found himself spreading his legs apart when you began lowering your head. You’d never admit it because out of context it sounded incredibly comical, but you loved cock. If you had to utilize the formal language of your essays, you’d say that you treasured it. It was one of the many reasons why Peter and Jaime loved having you around; why you found yourself on your knees after they returned from a long day of classes; why you’d gotten better at taking them down your throat because it’d become a daily practice, a hobby you’d reckon.

Because you knew how to appreciate a cock when you saw one, how to make love to one, and you would do anything to make your men feel at ease, even if it was at the cost of your own abandoned pleasure.

“So fucking big…” Your left hand continued to pump Peter’s cock while you shoved your face in between Jaime’s thighs, nuzzling and feeling the warmth of his balls loose over your nose. You inhaled his musk, repeating the deep whiffs of Jaime’s ball sweat, before taking his heavy sack into your mouth and suckling. Occasionally, you’d abandon his scrotum to lick at the underside of his cock as it laid thick and hard—pleading to be tended to—over his pelvis.

“Shit—fuck, I love it when you play with my balls like that...” You tugged on the stretchy skin with pressed lips to the base of the sack before taking him in again and rolling the spheres over the surface of your tongue like two gumdrops. You watched Jaime writhe as you tongued him, his stomach flattening and then puffing abruptly because he was precisely sensitive over the right side of his scrotum.

Jaime’s weak attempt at controlling himself from spilling a load right then and there was an example of how twitchy and overly-stimulated he could be if you found—played with—the right spot. Thankfully, he found the grace of God to hold it in and reminded himself to breathe; slow and methodical as he watched you with arousing awe.

He switched his gaze over to Peter hazing over you, and smirked. The hard gulps Peter would take, the stiffen of his jaw, the nostrils of his nose flaring up. He was blatantly jealous, scorched by the sun type of jealous, and Jaime got off on that, found himself growing impossibly harder knowing he was victorious in this moment.

Jaime was always good at reading people’s expressions. Even if they had tried to conceal it with a smile, their eyes told a different story. With your mind solely focused on pleasuring Jaime, your hand had gone limp despite still being wrapped around Peter’s own length.

“Just like that, fuck, baby.” Jaime reached down to affectionately pet at your head, a physical encouragement that stroked a delighted noise out of you, and you’d repeat until his hand gradually fell to the nape of your neck. By the desperate pulses of his hand, his palm slightly angling upwards to push your head forward; you’ve been with him long enough to recognize that he needed his cock sucked.

“Wait,” Peter abruptly spoke up, confident and authoritative, as you let Jaime’s balls go and bent forward an inch more, beginning to hover your mouth over Jaime’s cock.

You and Jaime curiously looked over. Your mouth parted open to ask him what was wrong, but Peter seized the opportunity to brush past your breath and invade your mouth with his cock, the abrupt aid of his hand surprising you as it leveled your head lower to meet his pelvis. “Just a little warm-up.”

“Peter—“ The gasp of his name was shoved down your throat, immediately coming back up as gargling instead since Peter offered you little time to prepare yourself. You heard Peter let out a strong exhale, his body melting into a limp once again when your mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock, then the first few inches of his erection the more he pushed your head down. You braced your hands against Jaime’s strong thighs, squeezing harder and harder when it became a struggle to take Peter’s thick cock.

Jaime would’ve called the pain at his thighs unpleasant; your dull nails digging painfully into his bronze flesh followed by a scratch; but all of that was forgiven because of the scene before him and how incredibly hard it made him. Like a scene found in one of his browser’s bookmarks, you were choking on a cock that was too big for you; on a cock that you pathetically had to warm up for before beginning to throat it deeper; on a cock that would be considered a miracle to shove it down your throat in the first place. For a brief second, Jaime had second thoughts on whether you’ve sucked anyone else’s dick but his own.

Peter offered you little patience, only pulling you back up to take a small breather because you begged him through an incoherent whine that could’ve easily been mistaken for a moan. After a few seconds, you were back downing on Peter’s cock as if you weren’t struggling to take him moments prior. It played out exactly like the plot of his favorite porn scene.

The feigned innocence, the porn star dick, the teary bottom; Jaime’s cock was dripping, envious of the sloppy and warm lathering that Peter was enduring, that Jaime was so close to experiencing again before Peter took it all away from him—because he was fucking jealous.

Jaime’s mouth fell open the exact moment Peter’s did when you pushed your head lower than you did previously, then lower, and it seemingly never stopped until your swollen lips flushed to the furry hairs of Peter’s pubes. “Holy shit, (M/N)…”

“Has he ever deep-throated you before? He’s getting better at it.” It was so nonchalant, Peter’s tone, as if he got to experience your glorious throat every single day. If Jaime digged deeper, he heard a cockiness to it as well.

Something possessed Jaime—a rapturing feeling that made his chest feel funny, his cheeks stain with red, his cock throb with fervor. That feeling again; jealousy.

“Yeah? Give me a try then, (M/N)?” Jaime wet his lips when a large dribble of drool rolled down the corner of your stretched mouth. He met eyes with you when you glanced, beckoning you with a wave of his thick cock then slapping it multiple times onto his palm. The loud smacks were like a spell, and he knew he succeeded when you pulled Peter’s cock out with a delicious slurp.

“Actually,” Peter’s grasp on your head hardened, turning it back to face his cock when his fingers swiped your chin, and shoved his cock back into your mouth, quickly before you could rouse a sympathy for Jaime. “Seems like he’s pretty occupied with something at the moment.”

“Seriously—“ Jaime watched with one brow raised, irritation written all over his face while stroking his cock to keep himself hard. Thankfully, you saved him from completely going flaccid as you replaced Jaime’s hand with your own, stroking him as you bobbed and sucked on Peter’s cock.

It only lasted a couple of minutes before Jaime got up, still clearly displeased, and for a minute, you’d thought he would’ve walked out right then and there, until he began standing next to Peter instead. You pulled away from Peter’s cock to take another breather, sitting flat on your bottom and then welcoming Jaime with a couple of strokes while your other hand worked at Peter’s cock at the same rhythm and pace.

“Since you’re getting so good, why don’t we introduce something new then?”

“What’s that? Am I sucking two dicks at once or something?” You joked, too distracted wiping the drool off your mouth with your forearm to notice Peter and Jaime exchanging a look that surprisingly wasn’t of malice. It was as if they hit jackpot. Their eyes brightened at the suggestion and the smallest creak of their smiles signaled a sinister connection that puzzled you.

They loved sexually tormenting you.

“Wait. Guys, I was just kidding—“

“If anyone could do it, it would be you.” Peter flashed you a grin, knocking on your lips with the tip of his cock as if it was an entrance to the warmest cock-furnace in town. “Come on.”

“Yeah. You always told me to try out my options first before deciding whether it wasn’t for me. Shouldn’t you follow your own advice?” Jaime hummed, Peter agreeing after, then joined Peter in his mischievous endeavors. He traced the outline of your lips with his cock, smearing your plump flesh with his pre-cum.

You were apprehensive, looking up at them as they straighten their posture in anticipation. Their cocks stood heavy and intimidating, weighing heavily on your lips, and you were sure if you opened up your mouth in this moment, they would certainly take the opportunity to push past your complaints and fuck your throat again.

“Make me a deal, then.” The salt of Jaime’s cock compelled you to speak, offering him the tiniest licks because you felt bad for abandoning his cock earlier. With your tongue offering him little resonance, Jaime rolled his shoulders back to get some kind of fixture, as frustrating as it was.

“What’s that?” Peter asked, greedily pressing the head of his own cock to Jaime’s so he was spared a few licks of your tongue. It was almost distracting—how the plump tips of Jaime’s and Peter’s cock connected together in thick, web-like strands. You felt yourself give in for a moment, taking both of their cocks into your hands—one in each respective grasp—and mouthed the swollen glans while speaking.

“No more fighting for the rest of the night. And if we’re ever doing this again,” You realized you had the power to control them all along, the power to make them succumb to your demands because without your mouth, who else would they go to? “You guys are going to make amends and be friends. Deal?”

“Deal.” They collectively agreed in unison, a quite comical interaction that you were confident they were going to reel back on their promise once you squeezed a load or two out of them; their minds would be cleared and their decisions wouldn’t be drawn by the simple promise of sex.

“Fuck,” You couldn’t help but compare their cocks as your hands stroked them down in your spit, coating them in a glossy sheen that caught the light above. It was glorious seeing their cocks in this position, with Peter and Jaime towering over you, their cocks sticky and wet from your spit. “Wish you could see what I’m witnessing right now.”

You were envious that they only had one subject in their center of vision. You had to constantly alternate between Jaime and Peter to make sure one wasn’t feeling neglected. If you presumed they did, you’d recompense through a cycle of sucking their cocks, playing with their balls, slapping their dicks on your face, tongue included, until your cheeks were covered in your own spit.

Whatever they wanted, you’d do it for them because you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing your boys were unhappy.

Peter’s dick was a spitting image of one of those famous male porn stars that you recalled obsessing over; a strong curve to the length with the girth thickening towards the head; it was always a struggle to fit him inside of you. If you had to be modest, you’d call it a handsome cock as natural veins pumped throughout his cock, making it evidently clear where all the blood was rushing to; a natural eye-widener, and a throat closer, for everyone.

Peter liked making sure your face was free of any anomalies. Whether the number of obscurities were the bad lighting in the room, casting shadows in place that masked your mouth, to the locks of hair covering the tiniest bit of your face; you were a wonderful performer that needed to be seen, and Peter was here to ensure that, especially with a guest in the room.

His eyes casted over you while you went down his cock under the control of his palms. He liked having you follow his rhythm, follow the pace of his urges. If he wanted for you to focus your tongue on the head of his cock, then he’d pull you back at his own time and make sure to pull his hips back whenever you needed a fix of something more. If he wanted you to deep-throat him until you couldn’t breathe, he’d make sure you were on your very last grasp of life before you turned blue.

The sound of your saliva building and welling up in the back of your throat was a beautiful noise to him, one he could hear in his sleep and happily have wet dreams of. You sucked on his cock, slobbered over the weight of it through several coughing fits and chokes, and you made sure to look up at Peter with tears in your eyes, seeking for some kind of approval. He breathed out slow, seemingly controlling himself from spilling all over you right then and there, and found that if he didn’t stop himself now, then you’d never get to Jaime. When he told you to open your mouth and pant with your tongue out like a fucking animal, a wide and dark smile spread across his face. It wouldn’t be absolute control if he didn’t succeed in humiliating you.

“Good boy,” Peter bent over to slap you hard on the ass, a loud echoing smack resonating in the room. You winched, but nonetheless smiled up at him because Peter approved of your skills. “Now, make me proud.” He sent you off with a kiss, roughly patting the side of your cheek where his cock once bulged through, and did you the favor of shoving your mouth down on Jaime’s cock with no warning.

For Jaime, it was as if his own uncut cock couldn’t handle the weight and mass of his meat, making it naturally curve downwards that made it less difficult for you to slide him down your throat. What he lacked in length, he massively over-compensated in thickness and girth. A prominent vein ran down the center, and it made your heart skip a few stones or two when you realized the thick blood vessel was the reason why he built up a delectable amount of pre-cum.

The definition of control was interpreted differently between the two men. Where Peter forced you to suck his cock and move at his own pace, Jaime preferred constraining your head in between his palms and force you to take his cock, like you were some kind of blow-up doll. With a slightly bent posture to properly fit himself into your mouth, Jaime hooked one thumb at the corner of your mouth and stretched it open to accommodate his girth, and fucked into your warm mouth. Your knees felt bruised, burning in agony as you took every one of Jaime’s heavy and selfish fucks with absolutely no complaints. You clenched your eyes tight when he hit a little too hard at the back of your throat, then again, and again, because he loved how you sounded when his cock dented into you. He also loved how you couldn’t contain yourself and let an endless amount of saliva waterfall from your tongue and mouth, making it all the easier to slide down your throat.

“Fuck yeah, dude…” Peter was in awe. You felt one of his fingers toy with the pucker of your hole after he took a scoop of your saliva and spread it over the length. In circular motions, Peter was teasing in his endeavors, chuckling to himself as he felt you clench at the tiniest appeasement. “Think he likes how you’re fucking his mouth.”

“Yeah? There’s room for two, you know.” It was the most they’ve exchanged conversations since the last time they saw each other in class; although this time, it was a much more pleasant interaction. Jaime pressed his cock to the right side of your mouth, and you whined, giving his thigh a slap because it was a strange and uncomfortable sleeping. He pacified you with a couple of head rubs, then briefly taking his cock out for you to recover your breath.

“Let’s move to the bed, my knees hurt…” You grumbled while simultaneously catching up on your breath. You didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer as you already made your way into your bedroom with footsteps following you from behind.

It only took a few seconds for the three of you to work out your positions; Peter and Jaime laid flat on the bed, with each men taking the opposite end, similar to a bridge. Their legs tangled, thighs sat atop of one another, Peter’s feet at Jaime’s head and vice versa, and ballsacks pressed with the cocks facing towards the respective owner. You were the interconnecting piece, the final key in completing the puzzle, as you sat by the side of their hips. You had Peter on your left and Jaime on your right, jerking them off with your respective hand.

“Comfy?” You asked both of them, nonchalant in tone as you briefly went down to lick at the precum dribbling down Jaime’s cock, then to Peter’s as you caught the strong pulses of his length at the corner of your eye.

“Very much…” Jaime sighed, mirroring Peter’s position and cushioning his head with his arm. Contrary to how they’ve been treating you and your mouth, their gaze had softened as they’d been watching you. Peter had his warm palm running continuously down your spine, while Jaime’s arm traversed around you to take his time in teasing your hole with a finger, slow and sweet like the taunting delicacy of your tongue.

“So fucking big…” You marveled when you pressed their stiff cocks together and stroked out a groan from either one of them. The lights of your eyes dilated into sparkles because you could barely wrap your hand around them with this one grasp, and out of curiosity, you squeezed to impossibly squish them together, effectively earning a needy rut of their hips from Peter, then Jaime, and your throat caught a profanity because it was the hottest thing ever.

Stiff veins pressed into one another and Jaime’s precum made it too slippery for you to properly hold him and Peter without one of them slipping out of your hand. You were growing impatient, and you could see it in their eyes that they were too. Jaime’s was pleading for some kind of warmth, while Peter’s was almost threatening, as if he was about to pass out any second.

After a couple more taunting strokes, you gave in and appeased them. You lowered yourself, smelling the sweat and musk that both the men heavily extruded through the slurry of pure sex, and shoved both of their cocks into your mouth. At least, you attempted to.

“Oh, fuck—“ Jaime’s eyes widened, then tightly closed because he was overwhelmed.

“Shit…” Peter muttered under his breath, the words leaving his mouth open because he’d only seen this in porn scenes.

It disappointed you, you couldn’t possibly fit them inside of your mouth except for the heads. If only you had a bigger mouth, or maybe knew how to disjoint your jaw muscles to somehow fit them both completely in—but you didn’t. Despite the limitations, you settled on fitting the heads of their cocks and suckling. As your tongue ran over Peter’s bulbous head, then Jaime’s thick glans, you made sure you were stroking what you couldn’t find in your mouth. Instead of lamenting over the loss of a stretch, you marveled at the way it felt when you wrapped your mouth around the glans, then at the way their dicks rubbed against one another desperately, imperfect in rhythms because Peter and Jaime were selfish in their own pursuit of your mouth.

“So fucking hot, god…” Your internal thoughts came out in a moan, slapping their cocks on your tongue as you stared longingly at each one of them, wanting this very scene to seep into their mind and allow you to be the defining example of a cock whore.

You then pulled away to dribble bubbles of spit over their needy cocks, lubing them each until you proceeded to struggle to fit them inside of your mouth, only barely being able to push your lips past their heads. You knew they liked watching you struggle, watching you do your best to pleasure them, and it was mutual benefit because you liked having the attention all on you.

“Need to fuck you…” Jaime demands almost came out as a whine, and you found it absolutely adorable considering his meat was weighting heavily on your tongue.

“Fuck, baby, me too… I need to fuck your hole.” There was frustration pent up in Peter’s voice, and he took it out on the grasp he had on your ass, kneading your left cheek until you could mentally picture a handprint on your skin. You winched, pushing out to relieve some of the sting, but Jaime’s hand abruptly smacking down on your right cheek rutted you back.

“Only if you guys promise to dump your loads in me.” You moaned, feeling someone’s finger climbing into your hole again and pump inside of you. Then another, spreading and curling the two joined digits. And another, three now, pumping at a slower rhythm, because your tightening walls were restricting their movements. Peter’s gaze darkened, because he swore you were clenching on purpose to taunt him.

“As if there was any other option on the table?” Peter questioned, rising to sit on his knees, and Jaime would later join.

“His hole’s made to be filled with cum.” Jaime added with a smoldering expression, flipping you onto your stomach, then provided proof of his comments by spreading your ass cheeks out until you felt completely vulnerable and exposed. You resisted with a few clenches, but Jaime’s grasp on your ass cheeks was forceful stronger; there was a gratification that helmed his palms as he showed off your pucker to Peter. You felt something wet flatten against your opening, rearing you with inquisitive licks and prods like it was searching for something inside of you, “Tastes good.” Opening you further like its intention was to make your body writhe in toe-curling and ass-pushing exaltation. Your back arched into the mattress and you spread your knees further apart, gyrating your hips into the thick, musky air because the slightest draft made your cock harden and tremble with a whimper.

“Fuck, look how tight he is too…” You moaned when Peter curiously slid two lubed fingers into you despite being well acquainted with the tight cavity once Jaime pivoted to licking at your taint, then the base of your balls. The opening of your legs provided enough space for Jaime to sneak his head in between them and take your cock into his mouth to suck you off, holding you steady at the base.

“J-Jaime, fuck—Peter!“ His mouth was warm, strangely comforting, and whimper inducing. You felt yourself sink onto your knees and lie pliantly as you let him take you, as you let Peter invade you with two more fingers; a total of four digits pumping inside of you now; though you made sure to lift your hips up to leave enough room for the man who’s been slobbering all over your erection.

If only you had eyes at the back of your head so you could witness Peter and Jaime touching themselves, so you could watch Peter’s mouth gape open when he slid his large lubed cock into as if he hadn’t done that countless times prior, so you could see how Jaime’s free-hand guided Peter’s hips to push further into you because they both were well-aware how accommodating your hole can be. It was a struggle to even fit the head of his cock into you, like you’d expected, but you were thankful for Jaime as he gave Peter the push he needed.

“Oh, fuck,” You strained, gathering yourself onto your forearms to toughen out the discomfort—practically planking—as Peter breached himself into you moaning at the tightness, then began moving his hips.

Slow and steady, you felt more of Peter residing into you with every thrust, rocking your own hips to thrust into Jaime’s mouth. It was a messy, interlocking of sweaty bodies, but you couldn’t have asked for anything better. Jaime’s tongued swirled around you, inhaling and working you with a greedy tongue. When he pulled off with an audible pop, you felt his saliva dripping off of the span of your cock in heavy webs, that were then used to lather up his own cock before rolling off the bed to stand before you. He tipped your head back, making you look up at him flushed and intoxicated from Peter’s quickening thrusts, and pushed his cock back inside your warm mouth in one smooth slide.

You didn’t know where to dispose your moans now that your mouth was filled. Once Peter efficiently picked up his pace, he steadied his balance with a firm grip on your hips; the left lag was braced on its knee while his right leg was heeled on the mattress, fucking his cock into you deeper with his new position.”Fuck, I could watch you take my cock all day.”

Your cheeks were hot as your moans ballooned nowhere but around Jaime’s cock. Whimpers and joyful noises vibrated around him as you sucked his cock off, and you’d occasionally lose your balance when you tried to stroke whatever you couldn’t fit inside of your mouth, but you caught yourself before you could fall flat onto your face. You didn’t want to waste a single second of not both of your holes filled.

“Fuck yeah, keep fucking him like that.” Jaime exhaled, reaching out to fist-bump Peter as there was a mutual indulgence the two provided for each other. His body was slick with sweat when you noticed droplets of heat running down his muscles. He pumped out a few puffs of breath when he fucked into your mouth quick and desperate, enveloping and pressing your head to his abdomen to keep you steady, to keep his cock from falling out of your mouth because you had a habit of pushing him out whenever he pushed past your limits. Your field of vision was basically hidden as you stared into nothing but Jaime’s trimmed pubic hairs, your passive mouth sore and hurting, and your cock was equally sore—dripping on its own accord now—because you found it so incredibly alluring to be used thoughtlessly like this; Peter selfishly driving himself into you, panting because he was close, and Jaime pushing back into your gags with eager ruts of his hips, a tolerance that you knew would have you sore tomorrow morning, but a fucking comfort to know that you pleasured the two men with your own body.

“Switch.” Peter and Jaime exchanged positions once they knocked out a low high-five. It was on your own terms to flip yourself onto your back in the meantime, hanging your head off the foot of the bed for Peter to mouth-fuck you while you bent your legs up to your chest in anticipation of Jaime. Peter cooed, petting your spit-wet cheeks before leveling himself to meet his cock to your lips, then pushing your mouth open. It was adorable to see how you knew your place without a single spoken demand. “Mm, fuck—Jaime kept you warm and nice for me.”

“Can say the same for you, Pete.” At nearly the same time, Jaime supported himself by using the back of your thighs as leverage, squeezing a glorious amount of lube over his cock before pushing into you. Within the first slide, you were reminded of how thick he was from the way you were too distracted to suck Peter off and let your mouth agape, croaking out a discomforting moan. “Fuck, he’s warm.” He didn’t waste to time in letting you adjust to his size, because—well—Peter did the work for you, and began burying himself deep and close to that certain spot that never failed to send tremors down to the bone of your body.

Jaime snapped his hips with precision, the loud claps of sweating skin snipping at each other being one audible evidence of his experience with you. Your thighs and ass rippled sharply, then your muscles stretched as he pushed forward to fold your knees to your chest and slot his cock into you with momentum, gravitational force pounding him down into you like ocean waves crashing onto shore. Every time his impact moved you an inch off the bed, he brought you back with a tug at your thighs because he needed to be close to you. He needed to watch you gag on Peter’s cock, your throat struggling to close around his girth when it was sheathed deep enough for Peter to bulge through. When it occurred, Jaime showered delicate kisses to the center of your throat, moaning when he could feel the span of Peter moving inside of you, and then feel your throat constrict when he pulled out in a slow slide to draw out your breath for a little longer, to watch you desperately inhale for fresh air.

“Do that again.” Jaime couldn’t resist his temptations, caressing your chest and stomach because it had been flexing the entire time Peter and him had been fucking into you. The darkest desires compelled him to roam his hand towards your neck and wrap it around while Peter buried himself down your compliant throat again, and he squeezed his hand around you, your eyes clenched following the added pressure, while your throat locked around Peter’s juicy cock. Your gags lodged, bubbly in agony because they had nowhere to escape, until Peter pulled himself out what felt like minutes away of seeing the stars, and you immediately spilled into desperate intakes of breath, panting yet moaning because you had never felt such an intense adrenaline rush in your entire life.

Dragging his balls across your face, Peter loved seeing you sexually tormented like this. Red in the face as the blood rushed to your head, delirious on the sole entity of cock, winded through staggered pants as he had you gagging down his cock as if he had a lifetime warranty on your throat. It was beautiful; your words slurred because you were too exhausted to form coherent sentences and he’d use that as leverage, asking you to repeat yourself knowing that he’d deprived you of oxygen. Almost always, despite the promise that he’d let you catch your breath, all of that is thrown in the gutter when Peter sheathed his cock back down your throat like a man who had been cut off of your services cold-turkey, returning back with a vengeance, and as a man who had become a fiend for pleasure.

Jaime and Peter cheered like frat boys you’d see in porn, laughed because you looked so adorable when you asked for a small break; your cheeks were guttered with tears and your voice scattered into puzzled cracks. It was hard to resist coddling you with praises and affectionate kisses, even had they turn up their demeanors to an eleven. You would always be someone they treasured.

“You did fucking great, (M/N), god…” Peter was awe-stricken, rewarding you with a kiss on the lips to breathe life back into you, briefly holding your head up so he could unfurl the clouds until they dissipated for the time being.

“Mmf…” You thought you were a lot stronger than this, but your muscled had turned into jelly. Jaime slowed his thrusts down when he noticed how limb you’ve gotten and he figured stroking your cock again would do wonders for your peace of mind. “Need…” You muttered something under your breath, and for a moment, the two men paused because they thought you’d had enough and wanted to stop.

“Hm?” Jaime did his best to control his hips, panting. Judging by the death grip on your hips, it was obvious he was nearing his climax.

“Need you two…” You groaned out, replacing Jaime’s hand with yours as you switched your gaze between Peter and Jaime, collectively begging for them with the yearning gaze in your eyes. “Need you two in my ass, fuck…”

“God, you know how to make a man happy.” Peter laughed, breathing a sigh of relief, and you swore his cock had grown bigger at the simple thought of sheathing himself inside of you again. “Up, up.” You lifted yourself with the help of Jaime’s embrace when Peter positioned himself under you, and then Jaime lifted your legs up and hooked them over his shoulders, angling your ass out just right after pulling out.

Jaime did most of the work as he was the only one kneeling, whistling an impressive note when your gaping hole was exposed to him, and for his viewing only. “If only you could see this, Peter.” He prepped you and Peter with a generous amount of lube, then himself, chuckling as he stroked himself to the expanded opening of your hole. “We stretched him out real good.”

“Fuck, won’t be too difficult to fit us in then.” It was a rhetorical question that you knew the answer to, and you could feel Peter mischievously smiling into the back of your neck as if he told the funniest joke in the history of mankind.

Peter’s arms traversed around you, his palms reaching to hold your ass open while Jaime intruded into you first. The lube made his entrance a lot easier than the first time and you immediately welcomed his meaty cock with a tight suction, holding his thrusts as you felt the bulbous tip of Peter’s cock prodding around for a gateway into you.

It was a slow and methodical approach. For them, it was more important for you to feel comfortable instead of potentially letting the consequences of rushing everything ruin your experience.You felt flustered, overwhelmed, and your body followed in pursuit as you felt a stretch you’d never dealt with before. The hairs on your body stiffened. Heat spread throughout your body in hot splotches and left your cock limp and flaccid, spidering from beneath layers of skin until goosebumps raised from the sweat when you felt Peter trying get inside of you.

“Peter—oh, fuck—“ Your voice caught in your throat as you tried to open up for him despite the buzzing pain. You were pacified, and then encouraged by the deft of Jaime and Peter’s comforting hands. A pair of Jaime’s calloused hands ran over your legs, then thighs, then stomach, all over your body, to get you to relax your muscles. Another pair massaged your thighs, Peter’s; he whispered sweet and calming encouragements in your ear, dousing the strain of your neck in tiniest kisses while he attempted another push to fit himself in.

“Let me in, come on… We’ll take care of you.” Peter never lied. You trusted him. You trusted him to not hold it against you if you couldn’t. If you decided to stop because it was too painful. You let out a few nervous breaths, your stomach flexing, and then came Jaime, rallying your will with wet yet delicate kisses, just the way you liked it, as a way to distract you. Little by little, you felt yourself give in, your muscles slacking the more they touched you everywhere, including your cock again. Your body was burning with heat not because of apprehension, but because they couldn’t take their hands off of you. You felt deified, like a god as Peter clamped his lips around your neck, his strong hands kneading at your ass, while Jaime moaned into your mouth, electrified by the sweet taste of your wet tongue.

You breathed.

You met Jaime’s gaze, then turned to kiss Peter on the lips after meeting his, moaning as Jaime began thumbing the head of your cock.

You trusted them.

Your mouth alternated from Peter’s to Jaime’s in a heavy and tense session. Greedy tongues reaching for whatever was laid before them, and you were sure Jaime and Peter briefly made out because they were so fucking lost in the heat of it all. Their passion and lust had poured a newfound energy into you within a cycle of heavy kisses. Tongues worshiped your body from the neck and shoulders down, and you felt weightless.

And you let Peter in.

Slowly, your hole stretched to accommodate the incoming cock, and you let out the most heart-swelling and cock-hardening groan when you felt the fattest part of Peter’s glans breached you, then a yelp when the entire cock-head slipped inside of you abruptly.

“There we go, shh…” Peter’s hand ran down your arms, a sincere attempt to stabilize and calm the trembles in your body. His lips remained attached to the shell of your ear, whispering words that had gone from one ear, scrambling letters into gibberish in the process, and then out the other. “Slowly…” Peter said, more so to remind Jaime, and he nodded with assurance.

They gave you a second to recover while you held tight to Jaime’s shoulders. Sweat trickled down your chest, your spine, framed your forehead in droplets, as you rode the wave of pain. After subsiding the gut-wrenching pain with a few deep breathes, you gave them a nod, giving them the pass to continue.

“Fuck,” Jaime wished you didn’t press your face into his neck as you were sandwiched between the two of them. There was nothing more attractive than watching you suffer, as morbid as it sounded. He thought you looked beautifully broken, sounded beautiful too as you whimpered when either one of them moved their hips. With slow and methodical ruts, they gradually felt you relax with the occasional jerks. Peter’s cock slipped deeper into you when Jaime thrusted out, and gradually, they found a rhythm that worked for your comfort, opening you, stretching you out as their cocks rubbed stiffly against one another. “Feels so good—“

“You’re amazing, baby.” Peter assured you, a motivation for you to loosen your muscles again. He held your ass apart to ease their combative motions in, and once you let go through the careful and spoken truths that Jaime and Peter kept praising you with, the fear that you had latched onto and kept vaulted in the rigid of your body seemingly had been let go—thrust by thrust, you felt yourself opening up and things got much easier for you.

You panted, shoving yourself down and back so you were fully impaled on the cocks fucking you, confronting your fear and winning for Jaime and Peter. You have two cocks inside of you, taking two cocks whole, fucking your tight hole and spreading you open. You reminded yourself because it felt like a dream, whimpering when Jaime began going balls deep with every thrust, and Peter would follow in pursuit, holding your weight up and your ass open.

Finally, you felt your cock harden again; the span of it springing into a familiar mass, taunting Jaime to move faster as your cock throbbed when he came down onto you, then a few dribbles of precum leaked when Peter came up. They let out a moan when they met in sync, occasionally fucking you with their cocks as one big mass, their voice rattled with rapture because you were taking them in so well, so inviting despite your ability to clench and hold around them. You don’t, because you were fucking free, wiggling your hips without a thought, without a single rhythm in debt to your ass, and the only beat you follow was the sound of your heart as it began to accelerate.

You can hear it soar, decibels rushing loud and alarming in your ears as they fucked and fucked more into you. Cocks rubbed as one, then Peter would purposely delay because he loved burying himself into you as a single unit, grounding your hips to him because you were his first, and you heard shards of spirit break into a gazillion pieces, a barrier that had protected your sanity.

All of that had exploded, fireworked itself into shooting stars when Peter doesn’t waste a second to pound up into you, his breath fogging the back of your neck, then your shoulder when he hooked over his chin to kiss you again, swallowing your whimpers to turn them into his own delectable moans.

Forget holding your legs back, Peter abandoned them and you were on your own, your limbs relying on your own core strength as you struggled to hold them up, while his cock drive madly into you, Jaime’s chasing after in equal, heavy ruts.

“I’m gonna cum—fuck.” You huffed, closing your eyes because you were so close. You felt yourself getting closer relying on the thought that you hadn’t even touched your cock because you were so distracted, so well-fucked that you didn’t need to be touched.

Like that, just like that, keep fucking me like that. And just like that, you cried out and your cock throbbed once, signaling a fountain of cum that would then shoot out of you like lava seconds after, and your pucker would clamp around their cocks moving inside of you, pounding into you. Thick ropes of cum landed over your chest, then on your face when the impact of their thrusts was forceful enough to give it some height, and your hole throbbed around their joined cocks because you relieved yourself with a throat-cutting shudder, goosebumps returning back to form from head to toe.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Jaime repeated himself, fucking into you harder, deeper, faster. You felt his heavy pants on your chest when he leaned down to taste your cum, and then witnessed his eyes roll back when the taste was heavenly, a creamy merit that made the ache in his back worth it because you tasted so fucking good. You looked so fucking good, exhausted and melted, taking two cocks in you at once without a single complaint.

“Fuck.”

Jaime’s hands gripped your hips harder, and he let out a deep groan, burying his thick cock deep into you as he came. The weight of Jaime’s strong pulses drew multiple moans out of Peter, bursts of pleasure inflicting on the latter as he fucked into the hot flood of cum, fucking you sloppily with his cum-lathered cock, fucking alongside Jaime’s sensitive and swollen glans, vaulting it from leaking out of you.

It wouldn’t be long until Peter was triggered to let loose as well and spare you of his own thick loads with a raspy groan. He snapped his hips upwards once when he came, then delivered another hard snap to push out multiple strong and thick loads, and then another for good measure, because he was obsessed with how it felt to have his cock drowning in the creamy and warm mixture of his cum and Jaime’s. Your pucker throbbed, both of them completely breached inside of you to the hilt of their cocks, and your ass felt so fucking full—so fucking raw—knowing that you were double-stuffed with endless streams of their cum loads.

“Guys…” Your voice trembled, your muscles giving out as your legs dropped from fatigue, but they wouldn’t stop moving their cocks in you, sloshing their thick cum inside of you. Once your legs dropped, you felt a river of cum dribbling out of you, cold in its journey out of your ass, and you shivered despite being sandwiched by two warm bodies. “Mmf, tired…”

One by one, they slipped out of you. Peter first, whimpering because he rubbed his sensitive cock against Jaime’s during its removal, making him twitch and shudder. Then Jaime, unwilling at first because you were so warm, but nonetheless unsheathed himself out because he was curious.

You didn’t know what they were doing, nor did you care, because exhaustion had caught up to you, reminding you that you barely had slept the night before, and now the physical strain on your body only added more to the overwhelming drive it could barely handle. You rolled flat on your stomach, nose-dived into the pillows, and then whined because a pair of hands wouldn’t stop kneading at your ass, spreading them wide open for your hole to expose itself.

And when you looked back over your shoulder, Jaime and Peter had their phones out, snapping photos of your violated hole; gaping and raw, and breached as cum was spilling out of it like a leak. It was the fucking hottest thing for them, mouth-watering, and when you scoffed and scanned their sweaty bodies, you swore their dicks twitched.

“You fucking rockstar.” Peter laughed, love-tapping your asscheek before joining you by your side. His hand never left your ass, a strong urge to relieve the pain, if you still had any, with comforting rubs and squeezes.

“Didn’t hurt you too much?” Jaime asked, smoothening his palm along your spine.

You silently shook your head, murmuring. “It was a good bonding exercise, don’t you think?” They laughed, and for a brief moment, Peter and Jaime exchanged a cordial look towards each other, approving the other with a firm nod.

“To new beginnings.”

Jaime joined you from behind, feeling an arm traverse from under your stomach, and pulled you closer until you were on your side and he was spooning you. You could hear both of their heartbeats running at full pace, then slowing as they sank their heads into the pillows, their breathing becoming shallow as they were just beginning to recover from their exertions. Gradually, Peter’s hand stopped rubbing your ass and after you looked back to see if Jaime was asleep, so was Peter, drifting off with a warmth that you wished would stick by you for eternity.

“To new beginnings...”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#peter parker x reader #jaime reyes x reader #peter parker x male reader #jaime reyes x male reader #peter parker x you #jaime reyes x you #nou.fics

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amuromi · 9 months

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★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 9.9k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! heian era!au, concubine!reader, true form!Sukuna, unprotected sex, established relationship (married), canon typical violence, era typical misogyny/gender roles, unhealthy obsession, mentions of death, mentions of cannibalism and blood, (Sukuna is a lunatic), Sukuna is referred to exclusively as “Lord Sukuna”

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ I got a bit carried away with this one. My love of psychological horror was clawing to be free but I think I kept it pretty contained…

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ✦ ⋆˙ engawa ┈ a hallway-like path surrounding the house ⋆ shoji ┈ a sliding door/divider ⋆ koto ┈ a Japanese zither/stringed instrument

The winter storm has leached everything into bleak shades of black and white, like ink on parchment. The trees are thick black strokes against the deep gray clouds, dusted with a thick layer of snow as flurries fall like stars through the courtyard. In the moonlight each snowflake shines like pearls, soft and lustrous as they dance on the wind. From the edge of the engawa it almost looks like staring into the great gaping mouth of a beast that’s swallowed the world, spears of ice hanging like jagged teeth from the edge of the roof, the wind shuddering through the estate in howling gusts. The cold night is scented with dreams of spring, sweet smelling coal burning in braziers, wafting gray wisps of floral-scented smoke into the wind.

It’s quiet aside from the sharp whistling of the wind and the hissing of snow melting over hot coals, then, somewhere within the estate, a bell tolls for the Hour of the Rooster. Nightfall, despite the veil of darkness already laid out by the storm clouds. Suddenly there’s the sound of footsteps soft as summer rain, pattering through the estate and the shoji begin to blossom with the warmth of firelight as candles are lit throughout the sprawling house. More snow gathers in soft sheets over the courtyard before there’s a gentle knock to announce a soft-footed servant coming to renew the braziers and light the lanterns. The scent of lavender is renewed as the coals are sifted and replaced and the engawa is streaked with blushing shades of gold as the pink-tinged paper lanterns are lit in turn.

Of all the rooms in the vast estate, yours is the most adorned. Which is to say, it looks as though your room is used for more than sleeping. There’s a modest desk with inks and paper, a small table for combs and perfumes, and a trunk for miscellaneous things beside the chest of drawers filled with kimono. When she’s lit the last lantern, you ask the girl to send for your personal maid. A dowry servant, though not originally one of yours. Life in this estate is fleeting in that way.

An unbalanced teacup had been the undoing of the girl your father sent to accompany you in your marriage. Stained silk and scalded skin, later soaked with splatters of blood. But the tatami were changed and the kimono and girl were replaced. Your new maid is a bit older–a few years your senior–originally belonging to a woman that came before you. Certainly not First Mistress because she would loathe to see you even look upon anything of hers. No, she served a less honored concubine that wasn’t worthy of the title “wife,” even if it’s a hollow honor in itself. Still, your maid had belonged to the unknown mistress before she perished. It all happened before you were brought to the estate, but the haggard weight of the loss still sits heavy on her shoulders. Her face always looks like a crumpled piece of paper that someone tried to smooth flat, creased with hidden worries. She arrives quickly, kneeling to await her orders.

“I’m happy,” you tell her. “A new Mistress is joining the family tonight, isn’t that right? Happy news.” The maid hums something to the tune of affirmation, long since grown used to your unflinchingly jovial disposition. She once asked if you wear a smiling mask throughout the day and take it off once you sleep. It’s a silly question, of course, but you like to imagine that you smile even in your sleep. There is nothing to be sad about. Living a life such as this is no different than a deer grazing in a meadow. There is nothing beyond the grass. Nothing farther than the horizon or higher than the tallest tree. What is there to be sad about when the world has been folded into something small enough to hold in your hands, a piece of origami meant to be appreciated and not pondered. There’s happiness in the simplicity that this life provides, though you seem to be the only one to realize it.

The other two Mistresses of the house say that you should be locked up in a rice chest and left out to die. That it’s cruel to let you live in such a state of delusion. How little they know, yet it’s still too much. At times, it seems that they are far deeper in their minds than you’ve ever been. Caught up in worries and tribulations that haven’t plagued you in a long time, since you let go of your humanity. What use is pretending to be human when you’re treated like a pet. Treasured and pampered but still inferior to the master of the house. Because your husband has no true use for human brides. In keeping the three of you, he has honored each of your families with the knowledge that their blood has produced something too intriguing to kill off just yet. Perhaps if he desires an offspring to assume his legacy he’ll have a true use for one of you.

Other brides have been offered and had their families culled like squashing bugs. It made you feel some air of superiority, knowing that you were chosen from a dozen women to be honored as a new wife to the King of Curses. It only took a few months for you to realize your place in all this and the last thread of your humanity snapped like a frayed koto string. Thinking of yourself as a person is useless when the person that holds your life within his hands sees you as no more than a doll to be toyed with as he sees fit.

“I’m happy.” You always mean it when you say it. Happiness is all you have left when faced with the truth of how finite your existence is. There is no world beyond the walls of this estate. No people beyond its residence and staff. No purpose outside of serving your husband with unwavering loyalty. In that regard you are the most precious of his wives. The others, their devotion wavers. You’ve seen it in the way they still hesitate to follow simple instructions, still tremble and shrink in Lord Sukuna’s presence even as you bloom like a flower in the light of the sun. He is your sun. There is no life without him. Which is why you are happy to simply exist in this small world that he’s made for you.

His power has greatly uncomplicated your existence, turned it to something purposeful, something that will end when you’re no longer of use. And Lord Sukuna will always tell you when you serve no further purpose to him. How many underlings has he executed because they were no longer of use? You imagine they must’ve felt great pride in the moments before their demise at the hands of their King. Pride in knowing that they did what they were made to do. As a child you had scoffed at the idea that your only purpose was to be wed and serve your husband as a proper wife should, but that was when the husband of your future was set to be someone unremarkable. Lord Sukuna is greater than any man that’s ever lived. Perhaps even ascended beyond the concept of a man to become the strongest sorcerer to ever live. As the daughter of a highly regarded family known for birthing remarkable sorcerers, you take pride in your small but purposeful place in all this. The culling of clans, the clashing of factions trying to unseat your husband. History will remember you because you will play your part until the very end. An end you’ll greet with a smile if it should come by your husband’s hand.

“Will the Fourth Mistress be here soon?” A new deer to join the herd, a new flower planted in the garden.

“By the Hour of the Bird, the last message said.” Your maid agrees. Soon, a new Mistress will be here. It’s been so long since another woman has joined hands with Lord Sukuna. The last being yourself nearly two years ago. First Mistress had been collected three years ago, and Second Mistress came along only a short few months behind her. Lord Sukuna had waited half a year after that to marry a third wife, and you must’ve served him well because there’s been no need for another until now. It makes you wonder if death is close at hand. A raven had come earlier in the day, before the snow began to fall, announcing that Lord Sukuna would be returning from his excursion by nightfall. Perhaps he wanted to arrive home in time to greet his new bride.

Fourth Mistress. Unlucky number Four, terrible number Four. Blowing into her marriage with a snow storm. It’s all terribly inauspicious, but Lord Sukuna has reason for everything he does. Nothing is without purpose. Even death has cause when dealt by his hand. Even if it comes tonight you will go towards it fully satisfied. The snowfall looks beautiful, and the cold isn’t so terrible with the legion of braziers burning around you and the thick furs draped over your shoulders. It’s a wonderful night to die if it should come to that.

“Shall we go welcome her?”

“First Mistress insisted that you need not be present for Fourth Mistress’ arrival, your highness.” First Mistress, Jurina, whose hatred towards you cannot be quelled by any manner of platitudes.

When you first arrived, you’re sure it was mere jealousy that compelled her to act out against you. A multitude of wives is not uncommon among high ranking men, but rarely is it expected that they should all live together. Most wives are left in their parents’ homes to be visited whenever their husband deems it fit. To walk the hall of your home and come across the woman your husband sees when he is not with you must be jarring to the first woman he married. Jurina seemed adamant about dispelling you from the family upon your first arrival. Now, her animosity isn’t borne of jealousy, but discomfort.

Your happiness makes her nervous. She’s said it herself. Snapping and raging at you for your unflinching smile even as she and Second Mistress have slowly begun to lose themselves in the monotony of this life. Sitting and waiting, then serving when Lord Sukuna comes home. To them, your complacency, your happiness, is something eerie and othered. Akin to the curses your families seek to eradicate. Unnatural. Inhuman. Though it hardly matters what they think of you. They are not your reason for being, and Lord Sukuna seems to find your smile charming.

Despite the chill, you find yourself reaching for a fan. A gift from Uraume. They’re strangely doting towards you in a way that they aren’t to Lord Sukuna’s other wives, bringing you gifts when they accompany Lord Sukuna on long trips away from the estate. A set of calligraphy brushes, a jade bracelet, a new kimono. You’ve amassed quite a collection of possessions by Uraume’s spoiling, though the fans are your favorite. All made a beautifully lacquered wood, some painted with gilded designs, the folded paper painted by the hands of careful artists. Crashing waves and blossoming trees decorate each of your fans and you take great pride in keeping them all in pristine condition because you’d hate to perform a dance with a damaged fan.

Of all of the things filling your room, your koto is the most precious. It had belonged to your mother and she offered it with teary eyes as your wedding gift, absolutely bereft that she had to marry her daughter off to a monster to appease the head of your father’s clan. But such was your purpose in being born into a highly acclaimed sorcerer clan. Take your blood and lend your body to another clan so that you might make more powerful jujutsu users. Your father had complained of the waste in sending you off to quell the King of Curses, insisting that sending you to Lord Sukuna would be a waste of a bride. Curses have no use for brides nor, truly, does their King. Still, Lord Sukuna keeps all of you alive and well in his home. To what end? It’s hardly your concern.

“Bring my koto,” you hum. “I want to dance.”

The maid goes about carrying the large stringed instrument to the edge of the room where the opened shoji separates the warmth of your room from the chill of the engawa. It is a happy coincidence that your maid had been taught to play the koto some years ago when she was still an eligible maiden. But her father grew ill and when he passed her mother sent her off to find work to support herself because she couldn’t afford a dowry to marry her off properly. So she sits and serves, waiting for you to name your song of choice with her fingers poised over the strings. The song you choose is one of comfort, the first your mother ever taught you when you were learning to dance and play. There’s a practiced grace to your movements, smooth as a flowing river as you dance with your fan. The song is short but it is always your favorite to perform.

A rare beauty in the north, she’s the finest woman on earth. A glance from her, the city falls. A second glance leaves the nation in ruins. There exists no city or nation that has been more cherished than a beauty like this.

Flecks of snow melt against the bare nape of your neck, so cold it feels like burning, but you want to keep dancing. The weather has no bearing on your mood. Rain or shine you are happy to sing and dance, amusing yourself as you wait to be of use to your lord husband. Perhaps he has already returned home along with his new bride but without the order to accompany him you will stay in your room, performing to your heart’s content. Your maid begins to pluck out the notes of your next song request, fingers stuttering over the strings as if she’s forgotten how to play the melody. That’s alright, you will dance even without proper music, swinging your fan with practiced poise as your voice contests with the howling of the storm. It’s a song of longing and melancholy. Fitting for a woman separated from her husband.

Are you going away? Leaving me alone? How could I live if you’ve gone away? Are you going away? Leaving me alone? I want to keep you unhappy with me. I fear you may never return. Sadly, I will let you go–

“Stop whining, I’m here.” A voice interrupts your singing, a smooth timbre that rumbles like a roll of thunder. So please, come back soon after you leave. In a heartbeat you’re on the floor, kneeling before your husband. Lord Sukuna is soiled from his travels. Kimono stained and torn, the scent of blood lingering heavily around him, along with the buzzing aura of excess cursed energy leaking into the cold air around him.

“Welcome home, Lord Sukuna.” He purrs at how you prostrate yourself at his feet, always so satisfied with your absolute submission. He once told you your lack of fear was something intriguing, your unwavering adoration far more interesting than submission borne of fear. It’s something he’s found in so few of his followers and you imagine it’s why he shows such preference for Uraume’s company. Of all of your husband’s subordinates, they are by far the most devout. Perhaps even more than you because they know what Lord Sukuna is trying to achieve with all the calamity he causes. Your lord husband has never made you privy to that knowledge, and as a good wife you remember it is not your place to ask. If you are meant to know something, he’ll tell you.

“Get out.” His voice is thick with something akin to revulsion, though you don’t bother to raise your head. Lord Sukuna hasn’t spoken to you so gruffly since you first proved your devotion to him. Behind you there’s the sound of frantic movements as your maid assumedly makes herself scarce in the presence of her master. When she’s gone Lord Sukuna gives you permission to lift your head. In the low light, you can hardly see his face. It’s hard to tell Lord Sukuna’s mood even in bright lighting. He hardly changes from his stoic expression unless there’s blood being spilled, then a smile–more like a deranged baring of his fanged teeth–finds its way onto his face.

“Come bathe with me.” He doesn’t wait for you to react, already halfway down the engawa by the time you gather yourself enough to stand. Lord Sukuna traverses the estate with practiced ease, as if this was his childhood home and not all place of residence usurped from some affluent family. Though the perks of Lord Sukuna’s minions commandeering such a luxurious home for their leader and his family are the accommodations afforded to only the highest nobility. Because only families with more money than time to spend it can afford to build their home large enough to encompass a hot spring along with all the other necessary land. The air is humid around the bathhouse, curtained with steam as clouds of warm air seep out of the secluded space.

Lord Sukuna stands expectantly at the edge of the rocks surrounding the steaming pool, waiting for you to fulfill your wifely duties. With great haste you begin to undress him. His kimono is ruined beyond repair, delicate white silk tattered and stained with browning patches of blood. Still, you take great care in folding each article as it’s removed from his body. There’s no added layers despite the inclement weather, no added underclothes beneath the outer layer of clothing. Your hands reach skin sooner than you expected, flinching away from the warmth of his muscles as if his skin were an open flame. Despite your status as his wife and your consequently intimate knowledge of his body, you still err on the side of caution when it comes to touching Lord Sukuna. He had only asked you to undress him, not to run your fingers over the corded muscles of his arms. Luckily, your husband seems unconcerned with the wayward touch. Instead of snapping at you he rolls his shoulders as if the layers of clothes had been restricting his movements. In all likelihood, they probably have.

Lord Sukuna is something that is no longer human. A higher being ascended beyond the physicality of a normal man, as if his body could no longer handle the brunt of his power and needed to evolve to fit the newly emerging shape of his soul. Once, before you first laid eyes upon him, Lord Sukuna had the appearance of a mere man. An unremarkable face and body. But now he has become something beyond the shape of a human. “A two faced demon with four arms,” as the members of your clan had called him when talks of appeasing the great King of Curses began whispering through the halls of your maiden home. Of course his rumored differences held no bearing on whether or not the clan would be willing to sacrifice a bride to satisfy the Disgraced One. His four eyes and black markings make no difference to your devotion. He is still the husband you’ve dedicated your life to.

Tentatively, you try to strike up a conversation as Lord Sukuna settles himself in the warm pool. “Has Fourth Mistress arrived yet?”

“Yes, she arrived before I did. I expected you to be with the others, fawning over her. Why weren’t you?” His tone is calculated as if he is trying to decide if there is cause for punishment. Your next words are chosen carefully.

“First Mistress did not think–it was requested that I not attend to Fourth Mistress’ arrival.”

“Are you not my wife?” Lord Sukuna asks, annoyance thick in his tone. Of course you are. In this life you are nothing if not his wife. “I expect that you’ll act your part. The lady of the house is meant to greet guests upon their arrival. I don’t care what Jurina says. You’re of noble birth. You know the rules on how to conduct yourself. Act like it.”

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, my lord, but I am not the lady of the house. That is First Mistress Jurina’s title.” To go against your husband’s word is wrong, reason enough for him to lash out at you, but it is the truth that Jurina is always reminding you of. She is First Mistress, the matron of the estate. It is you that is a lowly concubine in comparison to her status as a legal wife. Lord Sukuna bristles at your insolence and you duck your head to receive your reproach. He’s a short distance away, submerged to his waist in the warm water, but Lord Sukuna can move like a striking snake. It would only take half a beat of your heart for him to reach you and tear it from your chest if he so desires it.

Tonight’s admonishment is far less violent. Coming in the form of a disparaging growl before he snaps at you to undress. You do so with the same care that you disrobed your husband. As his wife, you are an extension of him, and you dare not mistreat his items in his presence. Once your clothes are folded you approach Lord Sukuna with hesitant steps. You’ve discovered that drowning and burning are the worst means of death and the boiling water of the hot spring is a combination of both. Still, if tonight will be wasted on death, at least it will come in Lord Sukuna’s arms. He reaches to help you into the water, drawing you close while his second pair of arms stay splayed on the rocks behind him. He moves you as he pleases like a doll being perched on a shelf, positioning you to straddle his thigh.

“Look at me, woman.” His tone doesn’t sound angry, but that has never been a successful way to guess at Lord Sukuna’s intentions. He can execute someone with a smile. You hope he’ll offer you that same cruel grin when he pushes hot beneath the bubbling water.

“I do not care what order I married any of you in. It should be clear by now that you are the woman of this house. First or third, it doesn’t matter. Jurina’s words hold no weight over you. Do I make myself clear?” There’s a franticness to the way you nod your head, chirping out a pinched “yes, Lord Sukuna!” as he holds your chin to keep your eyes on his.

“You’re the only wife that matters to me, stupid woman. The rest,” he scoffs, “I wouldn’t spit down their throats even if their lungs were on fire. Even the new one. Jurina is nothing and no one. I will kill her right now if it will please you.”

And that had been the original crux of Jurina’s jealousy. The priority with which Lord Sukuna always seemed to treat you. There were always rumors about the estate that you are the favored wife, the one that truly matters, but it is hard to believe rumors when Lord Sukuna hardly does anything to validate them. Though his constant quelling of his temper in your presence should be evidence enough. It’s a rare thing for your husband to lash out at you, but you always assumed it was simply because you were careful with your actions. Never giving him any reason to turn his ire against you. It’s plain to see now that the reason for your persisted well treatment is simple. You are his favorite wife.

Possessive as he is, Lord Sukuna has favorites in everything. Cursed weapons that he favors over all others, and servants that he calls on more often than the rest. To know you hold weight among his most precious possessions is dizzying. Of course, to Lord Sukuna, a favorite thing is a useful thing. It’s easy to imagine that you’re the most useful of his four wives. Neither of your seniors have remarkable cursed techniques despite hailing from quite notable families in the hierarchy of the jujutsu world. And any technique they do possess is woefully untrained as is expected of women in the world of sorcery. Women of jujutsu-laden clans are meant to be vessels from which the next generation of male sorcerers are born, not taught to be sorcerers in their own right.

It was only by a terrible coincidence that you were able to train your own technique. A jealous cousin and a well. A harsh push to your back after she whispered about how she should be the one to marry first despite her inferior talents as a homemaker. She got her wish, the husband she so covetously desired. Last you heard she’d been returned to your family’s estate after being set aside for a more fitting woman.

When she pushed you, falling felt like flying and dying felt like burning as your lungs filled with water. In the end you’d spent nearly a week at the bottom of that seldom used well, floundering for your life as your cursed technique kept you in a constant loop of dying and reviving, bursting back to life stronger than when you died. Chrysalis is what your family had taken to calling your ability when you were finally fished out with a bucket of water. Death was something impermanent to you, though the manner of which you passed holds bearing on how long you’ll be stuck in your “cocooned” state. You imagine being killed by means of jujutsu would kill you properly, forever, but no one has been bold enough to try. Certainly not now that you are a treasured wife of the King of Curses. Though you’re sure Lord Sukuna will kill you eventually, when your purpose has been served. For now, it seems your purpose is to provide him with the comforts a wife can offer her husband.

“Kiss me.” He commands, hand on your jaw already pulling you towards him. There’s never been anything delicate about Lord Sukuna as far as you could tell. He’s always had an air of harshness to him, something wild and untamed that bleeds into his every movement. You’ve decided it must be because he lives the same as you, unimpeded by the world around him. The King of Curses bows to nothing and no one, so why should he govern himself by the laws and morals of humanity. Kindness, restraint, it doesn’t seem to exist to your lord husband. The same way fear no longer exists to you. So when Lord Sukuna’s hand–large enough to hold your head in his palm–pulls you towards his fanged mouth, you feel nothing but unadulterated lust. It’s unbecoming of a woman to find herself so lost in her bodily whims but you’re no longer just a woman. You’re Lord Sukuna’s woman, and within the walls of his home, shame no longer exists. You melt against him as his sharp teeth find the softness of your lips. Blood spills between your open mouths, dripping down your bodies before dripping into the water with a soft tinge of pink.

“Sweet,” he hums.

It’s no secret that Lord Sukuna is prone to fits of bloodlust so blinding he’ll tear his teeth into anything soft he can find, no matter the origin of the flesh. Animal or human it’s all the same when he’s tearing his claws through a warm body. He’s mentioned sampling your body once. How he’s thought about tearing off bits and pieces of you to taste. Of course, he told you that he would only maim you in such a way as punishment for misbehavior–it hardly matters when death would only find you mended and made anew–though it hasn’t stopped him from sinking his teeth into you when he’s wrapped up in another kind of lust.

Usually imperceptible if you aren’t looking for it, the only sign of Lord Sukuna’s arousal stands proudly between your legs, so large they breach the surface of the water as he holds you steady in his lap. His upper arms are still splayed out on the stone behind him as he reclines as if he is seated on a throne. He’s shown you what a throne fit for the King of Curses would look like, but only once. In his domain. An infinite wasteland bathed in blood with a single shrine standing at its heart. A corrupted chinjusha of flesh and bone. All gaping maws and cracked skulls. A shrine dedicated to the only higher power Lord Sukuna will ever respect; himself. The strange mouth splitting a seam between his muscles always reminds you of his Malevolent Shrine, of the four grotesque mouths that stand where the four doors of a shrine would be. Its tongue is strangely textured, like that of a cat’s as it lolls out of his stomach to lap at your skin. Sometimes you find yourself wondering if Lord Sukuna has control over the appendage or if it acts of its own volition each time the grainy feeling drags over your body, but it isn’t your place to ask. Who has control or not, it doesn’t matter. Lord Sukuna is your husband and you relish even the smallest touch whether it’s intentional or not.

“Are you going to please your husband?” He asks. The answer is always simple. Yes. It is your sole purpose now that he’s taken you as his wife and torn your world into the smallest pieces until only this single scrap remains. It’s becoming so precious no matter how small and defaced it becomes. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you stepped out of line. Tried to leave the estate, tried to defy Lord Sukuna. In truth, you’ll never know. Your husband is your world and your world is your husband. Of course you will do everything within your power to please him. He seems satisfied with just the look in your eyes as you stare up at him, waiting for his next command. If it would please him you’d slash yourself open, spill your innards into his lap and watch him feast on your flesh. His true wish is far more gentle, something a more humble husband would ask of his bride.

“Touch me.” His clawed hand is already guiding yours to his stiffness, wrapping your fingers over the length of him. It’s so strange that curses can bleed, but Lord Sukuna isn’t exactly a curse nor is he a human. He’s something more but his heart beats just the same. You feel it in your palm as his cock twitches in your grip, thick veins thrumming under his skin. Perhaps it’s the water or more likely it’s something innate to your husband because he always feels hot to the touch, his skin is nearly scalding as you wrap your hands around his twin cocks, fingers spread too wide to touch around his girth. Lord Sukuna looks pleased as he leans back, eyes watching you as if to catch a flaw in your presentation. A rogue frown or unintended scowl that would prove your supposed dedication false.

Even after so long he’s waiting for you to break, to truly realize what you’re doing and be disgusted enough to shrink away. The only thing you feel at this moment is heady arousal. It pools like molten lava deep in your stomach, seeping between your legs and into the water. There’s been no permission given so you remain still, but your hips ache to shift against the strength of Lord Sukuna’s chiseled thigh, to relieve a bit of the tension his lingering gaze has caused. But his hand hasn’t strayed from your hip, in fact his grip has tightened with each stroke of your hands. There’s a stinging bite as his claws dig through your skin, burying deep enough to draw blood despite the composure still set in stone on his face. He is still a man in some regard. Still a husband enjoying the touch of his wife. The thought blooms sweetly in your chest, lifting a soft smile to your lips. Lord Sukuna notices in an instant, four eyes still trained on your face. He snatches your chin up, straining your neck with how quickly he guides your eyes towards his.

“What are you smiling about, brat?” Another attempt to catch you in a lie, to find some falsehood in your contentment. Even your lord husband finds himself questioning if your happiness is true. You thumb over the head of one of his cocks, bringing the taste to your lips. And because he is watching you so intensely you make a coquettish show of dragging your tongue over the pad of your finger, gasping when Lord Sukuna’s fingers bury deeper into your delicate skin. There will be cuts and bruises when he’s done with you. There always are. Then your maid–or, on some occasions, Uraume–will come to tend to your body marked by your husband’s touch. You like the way your body burns when he’s through with you, memories of his touch simmering in your mind. He scoffs when you wrap your lips around your thumb. With a cruel smile he hooks his own thumb into your mouth, talon scraping against your tongue as he pulls your jaw until your mouth is as wide as you can bear with only the slightest twinge of pain.

Drool pools in your mouth, dripping out of the corners as they sting with the strain of Lord Sukuna’s strength. He sneers, looking pleased with the mess you’re making as he leans down to lick it up before spitting it back into your open mouth. You nearly choke and rush to swallow with a rattling cough. It tastes like blood, likely your own though you wonder if your husband sank his teeth into something before coming to you. The blood on his clothes looked dry, though you can never be certain with Lord Sukuna. You banish the thought, thrilled with the way he no longer seems to be dividing his focus.

Before he had looked uninterested, as if his mind was elsewhere even as he looked at you servicing him so happily. Now he’s leaned in close enough for you to see his eyelashes, a rare treat with his immense stature. He’s nearly all you can see, all you can feel and you revel in it as your world shrinks to this tiny pinprick. There’s nothing outside this bathhouse. Only the infinite nothingness that surrounds a domain. The world could come apart outside these four walls and you wouldn’t care as long as Lord Sukuna keeps you in his arms. As if he knows your thoughts, the very deepest desires of your heart, Lord Sukuna drags you up his leg by the hand still embedded in the fat of your hips and the feeling sings through your body as your clit catches against the firmness of his thigh. Your hands tighten around his cocks still pulsing in your hands, though his only reaction is the slightest twitch of his lip.

“Am I doing a good job, Lord Sukuna?” You ask around his thumb, truly desperate for approval. If you were any more pitiful he might’ve pet your hair like a loyal hound. Instead he laughs, something short and sardonic as his teeth nip at your cheek. Warmth blooms then drips down the curve of your face and you know he’s broken skin once more.

“Enough with the stupid questions. If you want my praise you know how to earn it. Show me how badly you want it and I might reward your efforts.” You slip from his lap, mourning the loss of his leg pressing between yours as you kneel in the water. It’s up to your neck as your knees meet the bottom of the pool, steam billowing like a veil in front of your eyes as you center yourself at the apex of Lord Sukuna’s thighs. He’s spread out above you like a proud effigy, a statue meant to be worshiped. You feel a transcendent kind of devotion kneeling at the feet of your lord husband. The taste of him lands heavy on your tongue as your lips tease at the head of his dick, swallowing him in slow increments. Despite the harsh preparation of your mouth, you still wish to savor every moment spent servicing your husband.

His face is clouded in shadows again as he leans back, head tilted towards the ceiling. The lanterns flicker playful shadows across his body, highlighting and shrouding pieces of him as you bow to take him into your mouth in earnest. Your jaw still aches from the way he nearly unhinged it, but it works in your favor as your lips wrap around his length.

There’s nothing dignified about the way you’re swallowing his dick, little focus being allotted to your own comfort as you take him as deeply as his size will allow. His body is strange, of course, but it’s all you’ve ever known of a man. Aside from Lord Sukuna you’ve never seen any man bared beyond his chest, although you know innately that humans aren’t meant to have the endowments he does. His second cock presses against your cheek, dribbling over your skin as you hollow your cheeks until Lord Sukuna’s thighs twitch. Muscles seizing tighter as the head of his cock meets the tightness of your throat. Breathing is far from your mind, a need secondary to pleasing your husband. It’s a messy endeavor and you loathe to think of how terrible you must look. It’s always been a point of pride to preen yourself to perfection because husbands like their women to look beautiful when they arrive home, or at least Lord Sukuna seems to prefer it. Though he never seems bothered by what is surely a horrid display as split slicks down your chin and tears dot along your lash line as you gag around his dick.

Lord Sukuna flicks your forehead after a while, likely drawing another scratch between your brows. It’s a fraction of his power. It’s likely he could take your head apart as easily as squashing a peach under his heel yet he hardly puts effort behind the reproach. Only enough to draw your attention as he drags you, coughing and drooling, off of his cock. They’re both gathered into one fist so he can drag the taste of his leaking precum over your parted lips.

“You know better.” Lord Sukuna does not take things in half measures. His intentions are clear. If you’re going to pleasure him, do it right and do it well. Your jaw pops open again, wide enough to take his twin cocks into your mouth. He stretched and strained your mouth but there’s only so much that can be done with the sheer size of him. And while he does well to shield his thoughts at the best of times, you imagine he must be gleaning a fair bit of pleasure from your messy sucking as his hand remains in your hair. His claws scratch against your scalp, gentle enough to keep your skin intact as he keeps your mouth wrapped around him. A burning type of exertion settles painfully in your jaw but you’ll endure. Lord Sukuna never likes to keep you like this for long. With both of his weeping cocks tangled between your lips you can hardly take more than the head of each. In the end, his preference will always be the wet heat brewing between your legs. Another bout of pain sings through your scalp as Lord Sukuna pulls your mouth away from him, leaving threads of spit dripping between your bodies. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pressing against the grooves where his teeth bit into your skin until they begin to bleed anew.

He manipulates your body as if you’re merely a puppet dancing on strings. A flex of his arm and you’re lifting off your knees, hips stretched wide to accommodate the width of his body between them. His spit-laden cocks are pressed between your bodies, grinding into the soft expanse of your stomach as he pulls your bleeding mouth to his. He suckles at your torn skin, humming at the taste of your blood seeping onto his tongue. His hands find your hips, pressing into the marks he’s already left there as he hikes you higher against his body. The tongue lolling out of his stomach finds its way between your thighs, lapping at the mess that’s left after the water washed away the first wave of your arousal. It’s nearly too much with how textured the wide appendage is but you welcome any type of relief you can find as Lord Sukuna pulls your head to the side quick enough to send a stinging twinge up the column of your neck. The pain is only intensified as he noses against the soft curve where your neck meets your shoulder, as if he’s looking for something.

His tongue sweeps over your skin before his fanged teeth make a home in it. There’s a rippling groan that thunders in his chest as a true taste of your blood spills into his mouth. Before long, your head is spinning from blood loss. Lord Sukuna must feel the change in your pulse as it turns slippery, harder to catch beneath your skin. He pulls away with a satisfied groan as his hands press your hips deeper into the expanse of his lower tongue.

“Enjoying yourself, brat?” Lord Sukuna sneers, and because you have no sense of shame you find yourself nodding earnestly. He’s hardly touched you and what touches he’s shared have been steeped in equal parts pain and pleasure, yet you’ve enjoyed it all the same. It’s awkward and teasing because there’s no tact to the way his lower tongue moves between your legs. It’s like striking a flint without starting a fire, dull sparks of teasing pleasure that leave you wanting more. You’d rather have his face between your legs and a more dexterous tongue teasing you to the edge, but it would be presumptuous to make any kind of demands of your husband especially when he’s a man like Lord Sukuna.

In most regards, your pleasure is incidental. Secondary to his own. So when his teeth snap over his claws, biting the sharp points into flattened nubs, you feel your excitement growing. He’s learned from experience that his rough treatment of your body should not extend to certain places. After only a few times he pressed his clawed fingers inside you, Lord Sukuna learned that it would better serve him if his nails were dulled before he went poking them inside you. And they’ll be grown back to full length by night’s end. He can manipulate the shape of his body as easily as fire melting snow. His hand smooths over the side of your body, sliding against your ribs and hips as he makes his way between your legs. His fingers plunge inside with little warning, forcing you open with a swiftness you could almost call desperation. If something so undignified could ever be said about the King of Curses.

Lord Sukuna is a behemoth, dwarfing you in every regard, and his hands are no different. His fingers reach deep inside you, stroking over the place that has your back bowing as he makes space for himself inside you. He hums at how easily you take his fingers, sounding somewhere between amused and approving. It flutters through your chest and settles atop the arousal already building inside you.

“Give your body to me, woman. Open yourself to your king.” You try to say something as he slips another finger inside you but it comes out as little more than a breathy whine. This is already too much and yet it can’t compare to how full you’ll feel when he gets his cocks inside you. His fingers are a luxury offered in preparation for his true reward and you take it happily. He smirks at the way your thighs strain as you try to grind against his touch. The heel of his hand is pressed tight against your clit and you buck your hips against the feeling. Lord Sukuna’s skin is thick, nothing like the softness of your own and it feels just the right amount of rough against your clit. One of Lord Sukuna’s hands finds your hair again, yanking hard until you’re looking up at him with tears shimmering in your vision.

“There’s my spoiled brat. This is how you act. This is how the wife of a king is meant to be. Take what you want, woman, take everything I give you.” A dark laugh booms through the room as you whine and paw at Lord Sukuna’s chest. He adds another to the litany of scratches decorating your skin as his teeth nip at your neck, distracting you from the sting of another finger finding its way inside you.

“You were made for this,” he reminds you. “Made to be mine. My bride. You can take it.” He sounds almost patronizing, voice softening to a teasing lilt as his thumb presses against your clit. Like with everything, Lord Sukuna is harsh, forcing you to the edge quicker than expected. Each curl of his fingers yanks at the string tightening inside you, pulling you closer and closer to the edge as he moves his hands with inhuman speed inside you. Everything is hard and fast and your thighs start to tremble in his hold, body shivering as Lord Sukuna all but wrings the orgasm out of your body. You clench hard around his fingers, pussy dripping down your thighs as you try to steady yourself with your hands on Lord Sukuna’s shoulders. He allows it, revels in it as he pulls you into another bloody kiss. But even as you tremble in his arms, Lord Sukuna doesn’t stop. His thumb is still circling your twitching bud even as you try to whine out a plea for mercy. It only brings a fanged smile to his lips.

“Take it,” he grunts, “I know you can.” It really feels like you can’t. The tension brought on by your orgasm hasn’t dispersed and you feel like a knot being pulled ever tighter, back curling until your face is buried against his chest. He smells like the bath. Like sweet oils and wildflowers as your nose is buried against his scalding skin. With your forehead pressed against his chest your eyes have nowhere to look but down. Down at the way his cocks are straining to be touched, flushed and leaking just out of reach. You look up to distract yourself with the black markings etched into Lord Sukuna’s chest. Your kisses are sloppy, wet and open-mouthed as your tongue peeks out to trace the shape of each tattoo. It’s not until your teeth begin to nip at his chest that Lord Sukuna scruffs you once more.

“Trying to leave a mark on me, brat?” As if you could. Your teeth are likely no different than trying to pierce his skin with a blade of grass. “What a greedy little bride I have. So eager to defer to another wife’s authority when you’re this possessive of your husband. Isn’t that right, woman?” You try to shake your head. Of course, you aren’t possessive of him, you know your place. You are the Third Mistress. Perhaps you are his favorite but there is a hierarchy that must be upheld in the household. To so brazenly try to claim full authority over your lord husband would be lunacy. There is no higher authority than the King of Curses himself. You’re simply a pebble lingering in the shadow of the highest mountain.

“Yes you are,” he grins. You whine as he pulls his hand from between your legs. “Look at the mess you’ve made trying to mark me up like a bitch in heat.” There’s no sense of embarrassment welling at his degrading words. What sense is there in hiding how well your husband pleasures you? And Lord Sukuna seems proud as his tongue licks up the mess you’ve made on his hand before pressing a kiss to your parted lips. You taste yourself on his tongue. Your blood and your pleasure.

“You’re going to take me so well, aren’t you?” It’s hardly a question. Simply an ordered phrased as if you could deny yourself the feeling of being split open on Lord Sukuna’s cocks. He starts with one, always. Dragging the leaking head through the mess he’s made of your cunt, tapping against your clit until he finally presses inside. His body is a marvel and you’re blessed to be so acquainted with it as the length not pressing inside you grinds against your clit as he makes you take him as deep as your body will allow. Lord Sukuna has been known to be rash and unpredictable, a being of pure chaos when the mood strikes him, but when he’s with you like this everything he does is deliberate.

He’s rough but not destructively so. Yes, you’re bleeding as he bounces you in his lap, drawing a litany of breathless sounds from your lips, but he’s always intentional when drawing blood. You’ve been trained well in these years of marriage to take him. To weather any storm Lord Sukuna throws at you. His hands are bruising on your hips as he drags you up and down his length, hands that could shatter your bones with the slightest bit of effort and yet he only uses enough strength to hold you close. You’re not deluded enough to think that Lord Sukuna loves you, certainly not in the way a lover should, but he cares enough to treat you with a level of gentility.

“Thank you,” you babble it like a prayer, over and over. Worshiping at your husband’s altar for even the briefest thought given to your safety, your pleasure. It can never be said that Lord Sukuna is a neglecting lover, at least not with you. He’s everywhere all at once. Hands on your hips and at your breasts, pinching at the aching peaks of your nipples. His face is buried against your throat, teeth surely raising welts as his tongue laps at the taste of blood and sweat dampening your skin. You cling to him in turn, nails digging into the thick muscles of his arms with no hope of ever drawing blood. Still, he grunts out a laugh as you drag your dull nails across his skin, leaving nothing but the whisper of claw marks behind. An arm slips out from under your grasp, unbalancing you, but Lord Sukuna is quick to steady your boneless body as he reaches between you to take hold of his second cock. It’s thick and straining, leaking against your skin as he presses it in beside the first. The stretch is harsh, a stinging pinch between your legs soothed only in part by his thumb drawing shapes against your clit. He hushes you when your whining gets too loud, hands clamping tight to your hips to keep you from squirming away from taking all of him.

“Be a good wife and accept your reward.” Lord Sukuna hisses as he presses deep inside you. The weight of him settles like molten heat inside you, his hand pressing over the shape of himself through your stomach. “Hush, you can take it.” He hisses, biting at your cheek as tears well in your eyes once more. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s a strange feeling to be so full all at once.

“My pretty wife.” He’s only this sweet when he has you close to breaking, teetering on the edge of insanity from the way he’s taking his pleasure from your body. “Look at me, woman. Keep your eyes on your king.” It’s hard to look anywhere else. He isn’t sweating, this is hardly more than a leisurely stroll for him, but the humidity has left his skin beaded with moisture. It makes him shimmer in the torchlight like the divine being that he is, wasting his time on a creature as lowly as you. It’s your blessing that he’s so enraptured with you at the moment. Your eyes slip shut, tears streaming down your cheeks as every corner of your body feels lit aflame, the heat only made worse as Lord Sukuna’s hand finds your jaw.

“I said, eyes. On. Me.” He growls. With a bit of resistance, your eyes flutter open, white light swimming at the edge of your vision as Lord Sukuna drags you to the precipice of insanity. He’s close. Far less careful and coherent as he drags you up and down his lengths with startling strength. He’s pressing against every sweet spot inside you, igniting a thousand flames at once that threaten to swallow you whole. There’s a pitchy mantra of “wait, wait, wait” playing on your tongue but it only seems to further entice your husband.

“You gonna sing for me, woman? Go on, let me hear something pretty when you come for your king.” He’s taunting you, laughing at how shrill your voice sounds. It nearly does sound like you’re singing as you wail his name, back bowing as he rips another orgasm from your spent body. It’s as quick as a lightning strike and nearly as blinding, eyes clouding white for a moment as you fight to keep your eyelids from fluttering. From taking your eyes off Lord Sukuna for even a moment. You feel yourself clawing at him, clinging and grasping to keep yourself grounded as pleasure shatters through your body. Vaguely you can hear Lord Sukuna laughing, something tinged dark with amusement as he works you through your orgasm. He has no patience to wait for you to regain your breath, to see the light of coherence return to your eyes. Instead, his hands grip tighter to your waist, nails biting into your skin as he works you faster over his cocks. His voice dips low, a rasping gravel as he grunts, squeezing every bit of his own pleasure from your body. It’s barely a change, just the slightest shift, but you’ve done this so many times that you can almost sense when he gets close.

Lord Sukuna gathers your loosening muscles back into some semblance of an embrace, holding you tight to his chest as he pushes your hips low enough for your bodies to meet in earnest. The feeling is a wet slide of skin against skin, the mess of your joined pleasure slicking up your bodies. It nearly feels like choking as he holds you still, the shape of him pressing every so slightly against the softness of your stomach. He’s more gentle now, but only by a hair’s breadth, as he thumbs over the shape of his body making a home for itself inside yours. There’s always a hint of softness at the edges of moments like this. A bit of the darkness bleeds from Lord Sukuna’s eyes as he guides your hips to grind against him, thumbing where he sees himself beneath your skin. Lord Sukuna has always been smart, his intelligence far exceeding that of your woefully undereducated mind.

There’s never been a time where you were certain of his thoughts, but in moments like these you think there’s a hint of curiosity sparkling in his eyes. Something desirous of the unknown and intangible. He moves in shallow thrusts, thumb dancing lazily over your puffy clit for only a moment more before he’s spilling inside you with a satisfied groan. But, still, he keeps you there. As if forcing your body to take to everything he’s given you. If it were up to you, your womb would quicken to give him a child; proof of your devotion. But even the fantasy sounds impossible. Lord Sukuna has shed his humanity and with it, you assume, his ability to continue his legacy by way of heirs. Though he hardly needs them.

Lord Sukuna is a shining beacon of the height of jujutsu, proof of what greatness can be achieved when you’re willing to go beyond the standards set out by society. He’s immortal, indomitable. Children would only be another jewel in his crown, more pawns to serve his greater will. And it’s unlikely such children of greatness will ever come to pass. In all your years of marriage, there’s never been a single moment where you thought for even a moment that Lord Sukuna’s seed took. And it likely never will. It’s wasted as he lifts you off of his softening length, everything he gave you dripping out into the spring water. The light flickers and for a moment it almost looks like there’s a spark of disappointment in his eye, then the torches shift again and the shadows are gone.

“You did well, woman.” He hums, running his hands over the length of your body. The heat of his palms and the babbling water works to soothe the aches and pains of being so thoroughly used by your behemoth of a husband. “Who do you love, wife?” He asks after the breath finally returns to your lungs. Of course it’s him. There is no one else. No man could compare, like a pebble being compared to a shining jewel.

“Good girl.” He says when you’ve finished your babbling. Like a true king, Lord Sukuna loves to hear his own praises and you’re more than happy to sing them. Sometimes it’s startling how perfectly the two of you exist together. He’s the sun and you’re a flower turning your face to gaze upon him always. Which of his other wives could ever share in a fraction of your devotion? No one will ever love Lord Sukuna as you do, save for maybe Uraume. Perhaps they don’t love him, but there is a fine line between love and admiration. The loyal servant comes bustling into the bathhouse after Lord Sukuna has had his fill of soft caresses and breathless praises.

The fact that both of you are bare makes no difference to Uraume. They lift you from Lord Sukuna’s arms with startling strength, hands frigid against your skin as they guide you to sit and go about drying your body and combing your hair. It’s always strange to be tended to by someone other than your personal maid, more so when it’s by the hands of Lord Sukuna’s most trusted servant, but it seems Uraume sees you as an extension of Lord Sukuna as much as you do. They dry and dress you, sending you back to your room so that they may speak privately with your husband. Some time later when the bells of the estate are tolling for the Hour of the Dog, the strumming of your koto is interrupted further by screaming. Something bloodcurdling terrified as it rings through the house, echoing into the snow speckled night. Vaguely you think of how the screaming sounds like First Mistress Jurina.

#sukuna ★#sukuna x reader smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk smut #★ mine!

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astraystayyh · 7 months

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Burning in the winter wind

changbin x reader. (fake) enemies to lovers. hurt/comfort but it’s a light fluffy read!! college!au. lowkey romcom vibes (i tried 😭) wc: 4.4k)

summary : Sustaining an ankle injury during a ski retreat isn't fun. Especially when Seo Changbin volunteers to stay back to tend to you- the one man you can never get a read on.

a.n: sahar finally writing a fic that doesn’t take an emotional turn… we cheered!!!!!!!!!!!!! my 3rd fic for the winter falls collab with my writer :,) if u haven’t checked out xi’s fics yet what are u waiting for!!!!! please enjoy reading, i hope you’ll like this one too <3 i love you muah

“Are you okay?”

It is quite difficult to roll your eyes when your face is pressed against the snow, you’ve found, so much so you're sure you’re breathing in dainty snowflakes rather than the intended oxygen.

A dull pain emanates from your right ankle, the very one you just twisted while attempting to ski down a sled, making you plummet head-first into the hard ground. Despite how soft snow looks as it blankets the earth in a pristine white, it is quite incapable of cradling your fall. Instead, its snowflakes seem to liquefy, filtrating through your clothes and making a biting cold cascade down your spine.

Clearly, you are far from okay; hence, your eyes roll in a silent protest at the stranger’s questioning, though they cannot see you. If you further bury your head in the snow and do not move, would they think you are a collective hallucination and spare you the embarrassment of helping you?

“Um, should we call an ambulance?”

Clearly not.

“I'm peachy!” you throw a thumbs-up in the air, not bothering to lift your face off of the ground, you’re sure that by now the blank canvas beneath you has reluctantly molded itself to the contours of your face.

Much prettier than a snowman, you’d personally argue.

“Are you sure?” the tentative voice quips up again and you suddenly feel bad for ignoring this passerby, now stuck comforting an odd person whose limbs are not adequately crafted for skiing.

“Yeah,” you finally turn around, realizing that the pain in your ankle will not disappear, even if you choose to ignore it. “Just resting, on the snow. The view is nice from here, you know.”

The stranger backs away subtly at your words, and you chuckle inwardly.

“I got it.” Someone else speaks from your left and their voice carries a familiarity that drapes an uncomfortable weight atop your lungs. You pivot your head incredibly slowly, locking eyes with none other than Changbin.

You scoff outwardly.

“Need help?” he asks, hovering above you like a shadow.

Changbin was once your partner in a lab chemistry project, he is also the one person you now avoid most in college.

So, you do what any sensible person would in your place— you turn away, once again pressing your face into the comforting oblivion of the snow.

“I… can still see you.” His words linger, hesitating in the crisp winter wind, and you respond with a (now more effortless) roll of your eyes.

“I know.”

“Then, what are you doing?”

“If I pretend you are not here long enough, will you finally tire and leave me alone?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you huff, turning back once more. You summon the resolve to finally push your torso up from the pits of your embarrassment, before glancing down at your ankle, only to find that it has doubled in size. An angry scream bubbles up in your throat, but you will yourself to tame the fire within— if you think slightly more about your situation, you’d burst into tears right here and then.

“That needs to be treated,” Changbin states simply, his eyes also locked on your injury. You shut your eyes closed, forcing a deep breath to travel through your lungs. The oxygen you just inhaled seems only to fuel your anger more.

“I actually think it’s fine,” you put on the brightest smile on your face, yet your eyes refuse to follow the movement of your lips, making you look like a catatonic doll. You hope that’s enough to make Changbin go away.

“Who are you lying to?” he cocks an eyebrow at you.

You’re wrong. Again.

His self-assured tone further aggravates you, so you will yourself to stand up, wincing as soon as your right foot touches the floor. You bite your lip hard enough to draw out blood, the metallic taste of it coating your tongue uncomfortably.

“See, I can stand!” you say cheerfully and he crosses his arms before his chest, clearly unimpressed. “Try walking.”

“I actually wanna stay here.”

“Still as stubborn, I see,” he sighs, before bending his knees slightly. Next thing you know, you’re scooped up in his arms, your hands wrapping around his neck instantly.

“What are you doing?” you ask incredulously, eyes darting furiously over his face.

“Carrying you to the infirmary.”

“I can see that,” you say between your teeth. “I said I'm fine.”

“You clearly aren’t.”

“What are you? an ankle expert?”

“When your parents own the ski resort you kind of become one,” his eyes meet yours once, still as emotionless as they’ve always been when they gaze at you.

“Do your parents own this?” you clear your throat, surprise overtaking your tone.

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell them to upgrade my room to a suit, then?” you bat your eyelashes at him, your smile as sweet as saccharin.

“You literally buried your head in the snow two minutes ago because you wanted me gone.”

“Exactly,” you nod vigorously, “that was two minutes ago, I am a changed person now.”

“Yeah?” he smirks slightly, the corners of his mouth almost tugging upwards. “What changed?”

You shrug as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn't know your parents owned the resort.”

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“It's not broken, thankfully, just sprained. You need to ice it, and not put any pressure on it. Keep your leg elevated at all times, and avoid walking at all costs.” Maria’s voice reaches your ears in waves, the pain in your ankle making it harder to grasp what she’s instructing you to do. Still, you easily understand that all your winter break plans are now officially ruined.

“But I wanna ski,” you pout at the fifty-something nurse who smiles sympathetically at you, handing you a cooling balm.

“You shouldn’t have fallen then.” Changbin deadpans before she can reply and your right eye squints in annoyance. Maria catches it and winks at you.

“You shouldn’t have fallen then,” you mimic, voice high-pitched. He simply shakes his head, a ghost of a smile appearing for a second on his lips, before disappearing promptly.

“Thank you, Maria,” he bows slightly, his voice sounding kinder when it speaks to everyone but you.

“Welcome, baby,” she squishes his cheeks before patting them gently, and you stifle a giggle at the blush sprouting on his face.

Maria leaves the room, stating that she has another patient to check up on. Your eyes remain downcast, glaring at your ankle as if it’ll scare your body back to health.

“You'll burn a hole into your skin at this rate,” he comments, his hand suddenly appearing in your line of view. You sigh in defeat before reaching for his hand, intertwining fingers as he aids you in rising. His arm becomes a secure anchor around your waist as he guides you toward the elevator. There, he inputs a code on a small panel before pressing button 44.

“That's not where my chamber’s at.”

“I know, I had them move your stuff to the penthouse,” he explains simply as your heart skips a traitorous beat.

“Actually? I was just kidding; I don't want an upgraded room.”

“I wanted to,” his eyes locked on yours, a myriad of stars seemingly swimming in his pupils. “It has easier access for you since it opens up directly in the room.”

“I'll pay you back. How much is the difference?”

He leans in, whispering a six-figure number in your ear and you feel your knees buckle underneath you.

“That much?” your face pales and he nods. “You still want to pay me back?”

A nervous chuckle leaves you as you lock eyes with the camera in the elevator, “thank you Mrs. Seo for the gift,” you bow down to the best of your capacity. “Thank you, Mr. Seo.”

The penthouse is much more spacious than your previous room, vast windows framing breathtaking vistas of pristine mountains. The sound of a crackling fireplace tames the fire within you, morphing it into a harmless ember rather than scorching flames, soothing your soul. A chandelier right above the bed casts a warm glow on the room, that softens your heart and makes you less resentful towards the snow.

“Here,” he sits you down on the edge of the bed, before heading to the mini-fridge across from the room. He takes out a packet of ice before promptly kneeling in front of you.

“It'll be a little cold,” he reassures before placing the ice on your wound. the sarcastic retort you had withers at the tip of your tongue, like a candle flame blown away by a gentle breeze; because Changbin is being gentle to you right now. his eyebrows scrunching as he makes sure not to hurt you even more, his fingers encircling just above your ankle to hold you in place. Clad in his black hoodie and joggers, the tenderness of his touch is an echo of softness from days long past.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hoping your voice would get lost in the crinkling of the wood. It doesn’t, as Changbin looks up at you, pausing his movements. “For helping me,” you add, “you didn’t have to do it.”

“It's okay. You’re not a stranger, so…” he trails off, as a buried bitterness floods your throat, akin to downing a shot of acid. You withdraw your ankle from his hold, taking the ice packet from him.

“You can go, I got it,” you smile, yet your eyes flee away from him, refusing to catch his gaze, refusing to peer into that same void that once lured you in.

“Fine. I'll come check on you later.”

As Changbin swiftly exits the penthouse, you sink into the mattress, hands pressed against your forehead, squeezing tight. to Seo Changbin, you were not a stranger. To you, he might have been everything, once.

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

You first met Changbin on the stage of your nationwide rap contest, held within the confines of your campus.

You did not know he was, but you were instantly captivated by his incendiary stage presence, and so was everyone around you, gleaming eyes turned unanimously toward him, the air ablaze with loud cheers erupting like a bubbling volcano. The question at the tip of your tongue was a natural one— “Who the fuck is this gorgeous man?”

It was as though he had sensed your inquiry, because soon after he concluded his rap with a boastful line— “They call me,” a pause, his eyes meeting yours, “Seo Changbin,” he finished, a subtle smirk painted on his lips, as if he knew that his name would become a golden trademark, one that the music world would remember for generations to come.

His gaze lingered on you, but you did not shy away from it, you’ve never been one to run away from the things you want. Instead, you smiled at him, a toothy grin that left your cheeks slightly aching afterward.

He did not return the gesture fully, but the corners of his lips did tug upwards, as he dipped his head slightly forward in thanks.

Cute.

You stayed back long enough to witness Changbin accept his well-deserved first place award, clad in his gray joggers, a snug black tank top, and atop it a deconstructed hoodie boasting enticing holes on the side, giving you a generous view of his sculpted muscles. His silver chains glimmered under the resounding flashes, and you felt a surge of pride at this stranger basking in the spotlight.

Your smile only grew wider as Chan and Jisung ran to him, encircling him in his arms and shaking him with palpable happiness. Thunderous cheers erupted, a chorus of voices chanting 'Seo Changbin' at the top of their lungs.

His name will stay with you long after that.

“So, is he single?” you inquired casually a few days later in the university cafeteria, three cups of iced americano placed before you, Chan’s extra sweetened. The latter looked up from his phone, eyes slightly widening, before leaning in.

“You like Changbin?” he asked incredulously and you squint your eyes, moving even closer to him.

“Why? Shouldn’t I?”

“I'm just surprised because you’ve never liked any of the guys I introduced you to.”

“Because they’re all douchebags who can’t keep up with me,” you declared, tossing your hair over your shoulder as Chan smiled amusedly.

“Hey! He introduced me to you,” Jisung chimed in from your left and you rolled your eyes, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “We’re better off as friends, Ji.”

That was true, your first, and last date with Jisung, ended up with you ordering sushi and laughing at your Tinder matches at an empty parking lot. He's been one of your closest friends ever since.

“Are we?” Jisung made obnoxious kissing noises and you faked a gag, pinching his arm. Han retaliated by yelling so loudly the entirety of the cafeteria turned to look at you. Chan attempted to cover his face with his palm, a desolated look painted on his features.

“Anyways,” Jisung cleared his throat once he settled again, “he is single. But he’s not looking for anything right now.”

“Maybe he just hasn’t looked at me yet.”

Fate seemed to be on your side because Changbin did look at you after that. Your professor Kim, an unwitting cupid, paired you with him for your chemistry project, and for the following month, you found yourself meeting Changbin every day in the college laboratory, to work on the synthesis and characterization of aspirin.

Changbin was different from anyone you’ve ever taken a liking to. He did not stir violent butterflies in your stomach, nor made your palms sweat endlessly from nerves. Instead, he infused a peculiar serenity within you, enough to make you eagerly count down the minutes until your next meeting.

Contrary to the fiery persona he unleashed on stage, Changbin exuded a calming aura that held you captive each time he drew near. It was impossible to divert your gaze from him, especially when his loose curls cascaded perfectly over his dark brown eyes, ones framed by thick-rimmed black glasses. His scent, a captivating blend of pinewood and spices, lingered like a second skin on your body, trailing after him and enveloping you in its embrace, long after he was gone.

He felt like a winter wind brushing against your skin—strong enough to be felt, yet cool enough to be craved by each one of your senses.

You sensed his gaze upon you as well, felt the subtle brush of his hand against your spine when he moved around you, unnecessary yet deliberate. How he brought you hot chocolate every time you met up to warm up your icy fingers. He was sweet and caring; in a way you’d only notice if you paid attention to the things said silently.

Yet, he remained an enigma—warm on certain days, cold on others. It seemed as if he restrained himself from growing comfortable in your presence, as if you were a bad weed that’d spread through his roots if he dared approach you. Or maybe that was how he viewed himself— a delicate shell with a void inside, guarding itself against any perceived threat.

Who was Changbin, truly? What did he like and dislike? Why did he withhold his smiles, stifle his laughter, and avert his eyes after just a fleeting glance at you? Why did he draw near only to retreat each time you attempted to get close? The questions swirled in your mind, creating a tapestry of curiosity that begged to be unraveled by his hands.

“Wanna come to karaoke with me and hang out tonight?” Chan asked a week after the end of your chemistry project. You hummed non-convincingly, nose buried in your newly purchased book.

“Changbin might come too,” he sang-sung and you quickly perked up, much more interested in his plans now. He snorted at your reaction, and in response, you playfully flashed him your prettiest middle finger.

Chan's disbelief was right though. It was unusual of you to be so expectant of someone’s presence, for your gaze to flee to the door every two seconds awaiting their entrance.

Despite your high hopes, Changbin did not come that night, and as much as you tried to have fun, a sense of disappointment tainted your mood. That, and the realization that he wasn't a mere crush, but something much more to you. The man you couldn’t get a read on was already coursing through your veins when you thought he had only stopped at the surface of your skin.

Muttering a quick excuse about needing some fresh air, you left the karaoke booth, exhaling heavily, the warmth of your breath translating into silver gusts of air in the chilly night. As you descended the stairs, however, your ankle twisted on the slippery ice, and you found yourself falling, bottom-first, onto the unforgiving concrete.

An ugly sob caught in your throat as hot tears streaked down your cheeks, your palm now scraped and bloody from the impact of the fall, in a useless attempt to soften the blow.

“Let me see,” someone crouched in front of you, and you gasped softly as your eyes met Changbin's concerned gaze.

“Oh god, this is so embarrassing,” you admitted, clasping your eyes shut as he gently held your injured hand in his own, blowing air into the open cuts to soothe their burn.

“I didn't see anything,” he reassured, his tone overly sweet, and you squint your eyes at his obvious lies. “Definitely did not see you trip over nothing,” he added, a teasing smirk drawn on his lips.

“Hey!” you punched his arm playfully and he laughed, full-blown high-pitched giggles you did not think Changbin, out of everybody you knew, would be able to conjure. His eyes were squinted close, his apple cheeks raising higher as he laughed some more, and you felt an electrifying warmth flowing through your being. Suddenly, you were burning in the winter wind.

Suddenly, you wanted to confess.

“Did you just get possessed by a five-year-old girl?” you teased as his laughter quieted down, the smile refusing to leave his face, yet. His eyes softened as they found yours, a simple hum leaving his lips in reply. He applied some pressure on your ankle, checking if it is swollen, but that was the last thing you cared about. The sight of Changbin smiling so freely still running through your mind, again and again. You replayed it enough times since to make sure it was safely guarded in your memory, that the long march of time may not wear it down, graining its delicate edges.

“You should smile more,” you said softly and he looked up at you, a twinkle of gratitude gleaming in his eyes.

“Your ankle is fine. Stay here, okay? I have a first aid kit in my car.” He didn’t wait for you to reply as he jogged up to his vehicle, and you sighed, heart clenching at how affected you were by his simple touches.

“It will sting a little,” he spoke gently once he returned, before dabbing up your cut slightly with an alcohol-drenched pad. You hissed softly and he frowned, pausing in his tracks. “Okay?”

“Mm,” you nodded, a small smile playing on your lips, “Okay.”

He continued cleaning your cuts, before applying a cooling cream on it and wrapping it in a clean gauze. He hesitated for a few seconds and your breath hitched as he leaned forward, placing the faintest kiss on your palm.

“Healing kiss,” he said shyly, a blush blooming on his face and you giggled, bringing his hand to rest upon your cheek.

“I like you, Changbin,” you said truthfully, simply, even as your heart thudded in your chest. “Tell me, should I stop? I don't want to hurt myself.”

“I…” he began, his words trailing off, interrupted by Chan walking out of the karaoke booth.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked, worry clearly dripping from his tone and you cursed inwardly. You loved Chan but you’ve never been more annoyed to see him. Your eyes flee tentatively to Changbin as Chan takes your hand in his, inspecting it.

“Let's go inside, it’s freezing here,” Chan pulled you up and you nodded, as Changbin followed suit, before he stopped you by the door, his hand on your arm. “Come over tomorrow, please? We can talk then.”

“Sure,” you smiled and he nodded, swiping his thumb soothingly along your wrist. “Thank you,” he whispered, before walking inside.

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

The landline ringing snaps you away from that long-buried memory, as it disappears before your eyes like morning mist. You rub your forehead tiredly before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hello, I would like to inform you that we'll be coming up with food service shortly,” the sweet receptionist announces in a cheery tone, and you furrow your brow.

“I did not order anything, though.”

“It is on the house. Enjoy your food!” she explains gleefully before hanging up.

On the house meaning it is Seo Changbin's treat. You couldn't help but scoff at the array of food presented before you minutes later, including that damned hot chocolate he always used to bring you, complete with marshmallows on top and colorful sprinkles because why settle for plain when you could have rainbows in your drink.

“He remembers,” ou whisper to yourself before sighing. What was the point of him remembering now? Every bit of hope you had was dismantled two months ago, akin to a hopeful dandelion blown away by the bitter wind.

You bite your lip, contemplating for a few seconds before finally dialing Changbin’s number.

“The food will get cold. Come quickly. I won't wait for you,” you mumble before hanging up and tossing your phone away.

A few minutes later, Changbin enters your room, his cologne still following him like a second shadow. You avoid his eyes as you dig into the seafood pasta, the one he ordered for you.

“Good?” he asks, and you glance at him from the corner of your eye. "Yeah, good."

“Are you okay?” he inquires, taking a bite of the pepperoni pizza.

You knew he was asking about your ankle, and yet, in this moment, sitting on the floor of the penthouse Changbin upgraded for you, eating the food he bought after tending to your injury, you suddenly no longer cared about the state of your body. Instead, an exasperation built up in your throat, directed towards the man who had left you hanging many nights ago.

“You confuse me,” you say honestly, putting down your fork and he frowns. “I confuse you?” he repeats incredulously.

“Yes. You always confuse me and I hate it.” Sudden tears threaten to well in your eyes and you groan, burying your face in a pillow to hide it.

“I can't believe you are saying this,” he whispers, pushing away his plate and you scowl, lowering your silky shield.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You never came, y/n,” His voice, draped in heavy emotion, catches you off guard like a sudden storm in the calm of the night. “I waited and waited for you and you never came.”

“I came,” you say quietly, the hurt suddenly feeling fresh within the confines of your heart. “At the wrong time, maybe the right one, I don't know. But I came.”

“What?”

“I came to your dorm only to see you kissing a girl’s cheek and hugging her by your door. You told her you missed her and to come later once you sorted something out. Was I… What? supposed to enter and sit there to hear you reject me?” You say quickly, finally releasing the words that had long haunted you.

An incredulous laugh escapes his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, slightly pulling at its edges. “My god, that was my sister.”

“What?”

“She came over unannounced that morning. I actually told her she can't stay the night because I had someone important coming over. That someone being you,” he explains and you feel hot embarrassment flood your being, then relief. For what, exactly? Wasn’t it too late?

“How was I supposed to know?” you ask defensively and his eyes widen as he comes closer to you.

“You could’ve asked me!”

“I was embarrassed because I put my heart bare to you. I told you I liked you when I wasn't even sure you liked me back.”

“Of course, I liked you back.” His voice softens as if it were a truth known to everyone but yourself.

“Then why were you so… distant.”

“Because you scared me, you came into my life unannounced and everything changed around me,” he pauses, a shaky breath escaping him. “Because I wasn’t looking for anything but it turns out I just didn’t know to look for you yet.”

You giggle against your will at his words, shaking your head slightly. “That's exactly what I told Chan when I asked if you were single.”

“See, soulmates,” he grins, satisfied, and you feel tingles pulsate through your entire being at his words.

“Slow down Mr. Seo. We are not even dating yet.”

“Yet? So, is there still a chance?”

“I…” your phone rings and you let out a loud groan as you peek at who's calling— Chan.

“You have the actual worst timing ever dude,” Changbin nearly screams into the phone and you can clearly hear Chan’s confused voice asking “Changbin? Where is yn?”

Changbin hangs up on him without answering, before putting your phone on silent. Then his, for good measure.

“It's like he’s my archnemesis or something,” Changbin sighs and you laugh, amused by his exasperation.

“So,” he clears his throat, a bit shyly, “can we start again? Properly?”

“I don't know… I need to see if something’s still there…” you muse and he cocks an eyebrow at you, leaning even closer.

“And how will you do that?”

You throw your hands around his neck, before resting your cheek on the slate of his shoulders. He remains still for a few heartbeats, only to tighten his hold on you, his lips delicately grazing the exposed canvas of your neck.

“I knew it, you smell nice, and you are really warm,” you sigh contently, closing your eyes as a soothing peace wash over you, all the worries you harbored dissipating at his warmth.

“You smell really nice too,” he whispers and a grin lights up your face.

“I can hear you smiling,” you point out, leaning away slightly to look at him.

“I’m happy.”

“That's cute.”

“You’re cuter,” he says, nuzzling your nose with his own. “Your total for the food is 160 dollars by the way.”

“Can I pay back with my kisses?” you smile cheekily, bringing your lips a hair breadth away from his.

He’s breathless as he finally presses his mouth on yours, “Please do.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #skz angst #skz fluff #skz au #skz fanfic #skz reactions #stray kids fanfiction #changbin x reader #changbin fluff #changbin imagines

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bvidzsoo · 9 months

Text

Who am I?

Author: bvidzsoo

Warnings: mentions of a gun, cursing, smut

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader

Word count: 14,2k

Summary: Going through the dark passageway late in the night really wasn't your greatest idea, but the angels were on lookout that night and sent Jeong Yunho as your savior. But what happens when you realize Jeong Yunho isn't at all what he seems to be?

A/N: Uh...hi? This piece here really shouldn't exist, like the way I wrote it was so against the routine I have when doing stories, I'm even shocked it became real. It also was supposed to be a mere longer drabble but oh well, I suck at writing short stories either way. Also, Jeong Yunho is a constant in my mind lately so...ig it was inevitable that I write something with him. *sigh* There's smut in here and ugh...yeah, I tried again lol. Leave feedback, I very much appreciate it and stay tuned for the next chapter of the rockstar!au Mingi story! Enjoy now and tell me your thoughts!

⟨Masterlist⟩

It really was my fault; I should have been smarter before turning down the dimly lit passageway between the two tall buildings. But the path towards my flat was shorter this way, and I was in a hurry, desperate to finally get home after a long and busy day. The streets were quiet as night had settled upon the otherwise lively city and as I exhaled through my mouth, a little puff of smog appeared in the chilly air. My hands slipped deeper into the pockets of my black bomber jacket as I nuzzled my nose more into it, the tip of it unmistakably red. Winter struck upon us quite unexpectedly and the hope that we still had a few more days of sunshine and as little warmth as the sun could offer came crushing down when the wind picked up two days ago and snow started falling immediately. And what was even worse is that the temperatures dropped so low that everything had frozen over by now and it was slipper; in the past ten minutes I have almost fallen on my bum at least three times. But the little scare got my heart pumping faster, and I wasn’t feeling as cold as I was supposed to despite the layers of clothing adorning my body.

There was a light shuffle behind me, that was the first thing which caught my attention, and then suddenly, the dark figure standing a few feet ahead close to the wall, as if they were facing it, was the second thing to alarm me. My heart leaped slightly as my hands balled up into fists in my pockets, but I quickly tried to calm myself down. Not all men were evil and not all men wanted to hurt women, and I wasn’t even sure it was a man standing up front. My legs carried me faster and I gulped when the person whipped their head around to look at me. My hunch was right, it was a man, and he had a bloodied lip as I took in his face while still approaching. I quickly averted my eyes and quickened my pace, hoping that if I ignored him, he would ignore me as well. I had nothing on me if he decided to attack me, I could only hope my fists were good enough and I wouldn’t break my fingers if I was forced to use brute force. I only would have had to take three more steps to be past the man, but he suddenly jumped in front of me and I came to a halt as he squared me up. I tried not to let him see the fear I was feeling pulsing through my body as I clenched my jaw as my body lightly trembled from the adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream.

“Hey there, bunny.” My eyebrows furrowed at his raw voice, almost as if it was hard for him to speak as a disgusting smirk painted his lips. I suddenly wished I had taken the longer way, walked on the main road instead of this shortcut. When the man realized I wouldn’t say anything back, he tsked, “Are you shy, little bunny?”

Nicknames were annoying in a normal scenario and it was only making my skin crawl right now, but I remained silent, gripping the keys of my flat’s front door which I had in my left pocket. One wrong move from the man, and I wouldn’t hesitate to stab him with it.

“Why are you not answering me?” His voice got rougher and he took a wobbly step towards me, and without much thought, I whirled around with the purpose of walking back the way I have come, but another man was blocking my path. He looked lanky and was hunched over as his lips pulled into a scary sneer. I was cornered. My hands started trembling more as I took a deep breath, trying to think level headed, but my mind was clouded with panic as I searched for an escape route without much success. Before I could even react, the man with the busted lip approached me from behind and as I turned to be able to see him, his rough hand made contact with my left shoulder. I quickly yanked myself away and slightly crashed into the concrete wall of the building behind me.

“Don’t touch me!” I managed to snap out with a shaky voice, yet it sounded rough. It certainly didn’t match the way I was feeling, scared absolutely shitless.

“Is my little bunny scared?” If I wasn’t so scared I probably would’ve seen red at his claim over me, and it only made it worse as the other man chuckled. My eyes snapped towards him before quickly looking back at the other man when I realized he tried to grab at me again.

“I said, don’t touch me!” I shrieked and went to push him backwards, breathing irregularly as I was full on shaking, on the verge of a break down. But if I started crying I would look helpless, which I was, and I probably wouldn’t be able to see anything, so I willed myself to blink away the tears quickly.

“You little bitch, you wanna play rough?” The man spat as he had stumbled backwards from my push and I shrunk against the wall when the taller one suddenly started approaching, a hungry stare in his eyes. My lips started trembling and I went to yank out my keys and lunge at the taller one, but a very amused chuckle halted everyone’s actions. All I could think about was a third man coming to do vile things to me and at the thought, a few tears rolled down my cheeks, but I quickly wiped at them when I saw the battered-up man smirking in my direction at my distress.

“I thought I beat your sorry ass into unconsciousness.” At the hear of the third person’s voice, the battered-up man suddenly froze and his eyes widened as the taller one took a step back, leaving just enough space for me to run away, “What are you still doing out here?”

The battered-up one cursed under his breath before putting on a fake smile as he whirled around, facing the third man. I was too scared to look, shaking, as I pondered whether it was the distraction I needed to run away, “I was just playing with my little bunny, you should go on your way—”

“She doesn’t look like she wants to play with you, Siwon.” The third man snapped and my eyebrows furrowed at the familiarity of his tone. It resembled someone’s I knew from my university, but I remained unmoving as the tall man slowly backed away, “And you, Nikhun, I thought I said I didn’t want to see you around here, anymore…”

“I was just passing by.” The taller one, Nikhun, stiffly said before he abruptly turned around and took off almost in a run as the familiar voice just chuckled. My muscles slightly relaxed as I realized I could now just run back the way I had come, and moving slowly, I started heading just that way.

“I know I said I wasn’t going to kill you, Siwon,” The familiar sounding man tsked as I continued slowly walking with my back pressed up against the building’s cold wall, “But you’re really testing my patience lately.”

“Fuck you, man.” Siwon spat and I jumped when there was suddenly a loud crash and an exasperated scoff. I froze and didn’t dare breathe as I felt eyes on me. I didn’t know who was looking at me or what happened, I was scared to turn my head and look. I had to run. But as I pushed myself away from the wall, the familiar voice suddenly called out.

“It’s okay now, Y/N.” What—I whipped my head around and first took in the scene. Siwon, the battered-up man, was lying on the ground unconscious by the big trashcan. The loud bang must’ve been him. With wide eyes, I looked at the third man alarmed, and my jaw dropped as I stood staring at the familiar face of Jeong Yunho. Everyone knew him at university and everyone loved him. Jeong Yunho was like the sunshine. He was always smiling and laughing, cracking harmless jokes and hitting up a conversation effortlessly with anyone. He was kind and considerate, he always helped out anyone who needed help. He would carry your stuff if they were heavy and he’d walk you home if it was too late. He held the door open for anyone and he would make place for you at the Cafeteria if there were no more empty spots. The Jeong Yunho who was often found in the library with his nose buried in books, typing furiously on his laptop, and always turning in his assignments way before their deadline. He wore light colors and fluffy clothes, often paired with hilarious beanies and hats. But the guy standing a few feet away from me looked nothing like the Yunho I have taken glances at or heard stories about. Yunho and I weren’t friends, we were far from being acquittances even, but everyone knew him at our university and that included me. We were people from two very different universes and I had no idea how he knew my name. Yes, sure, we would cross paths in the library at times when I was in a rush as my deadline was a day or two away, and yes, I did almost spill my coffee on him once, but there was never a conversation involved or an exchange of names. Just a small, “Oh, my, God! I’m so sorry, that was a close call.”, and a “Don’t worry about it, you have great coordination, you stopped in time.” If I would have had great coordination, I wouldn’t have nearly ran into him, but I didn’t have the time to tell him that as I was late to work.

“Yun—Yunho?” I stuttered out finally once I was one hundred percent convinced it was Jeong Yunho. The dimly lit passageway made it harder to see his face from where I was standing and his clothes were unrecognizable, but it was his voice which confirmed his identity.

“Jeong Yunho in person.” He chuckled and I finally pulled myself together and slowly started approaching him. My legs were slightly shaky and I was still clutching my keys tightly in my left hand, but my heartbeat was slowly calming down. I passed by Siwon and took a peek against my better judgement, eyes widening when I saw the little trickle of red from the side of his head. Was he…going to die?

I looked up as I came to a stop a few steps away from Yunho and exhaled, coming face to face with a very unfamiliar looking Jeong Yunho. Despite the cold weather he was wearing a black leather jacket over what seemed to be a long-sleeved form fitting blouse with graphic design on it, and wide black jeans hugged his legs with the blouse tucked in, showing off his waist. His neck was decorated with various necklaces and as he extended one hand towards me, I noticed all the rings on his long fingers. I gulped as I looked back up at him, slightly intimidated and mostly confused. His black hair was completely pushed back and the usual fluffiness was gone from it.

“Come, you’re safe now.” Yunho encouraged me with his usual warm smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. My eyebrows furrowed as I reluctantly extended my hand and placed it in his palm, gasping when he yanked me forward, making me jump over Siwon’s slumped body. Yunho smirked as I somehow managed not to fall against his chest, big eyes staring up at him in shock, “Good thing I was passing by, angel, or else these two…”

He didn’t finish his sentence and he didn’t have to; I knew. I gulped and became aware of the awfully obvious height difference between the two of us and scrambled to pull my hand out of his, but Yunho’s grip suddenly tightened and he stepped closer, making me tip my head back as I tried looking in his eyes. My heart was racing once again and I could feel a blush creep up onto my cheeks as Yunho’s eyes examined my face with a small smirk, “What are you doing out here so late at night?”

“I—” My mind blanched for a second as Yunho’s cold fingers intertwined with mine, “I had the evening shift today, I—I was just walking home.”

“It’s unsafe at this hour.” Yunho’s voice turned stern and I averted my eyes, suddenly embarrassed that I was getting scolded by him, “And especially through this neighborhood, Y/N. You should’ve stuck to the main road instead.”

“I know.” I grumbled under my breath and Yunho chuckled, his voice deep, and it only made me flush harder as I avoided eye contact.

“Let’s get you home.” He said quietly and I looked at him alarmed, extracting my hand from his as he started walking us towards the end of the passageway.

“I can walk on my own—” I said in a panic, not wanting Yunho to walk with me. I wasn’t even far away, I have taken this route so many times before, I was going to be fine now that those two men were gone, but Yunho’s tone definitely made me rethink my words as he spoke up.

“You are not walking on your own, especially around here.” Yunho’s voice was sharp and he threw me a quick glare as he looked behind, at me, “Do you not know anything about this place?”

I shrugged and pushed my hands into my pockets again, “I do, but it’s not that big of a deal. I always walk home at this time and nothing has ever happened. I just had bad luck tonight.”

“Bad luck, you say.” Yunho scoffed, face contorted into disgust, “The things those two would’ve done to you would have been terrible, Y/N, and you call it bad luck?”

“Okay, fine.” I snapped and walked up to his side, giving him a wide-eyed stare, “Walk me home then, but this is fucking weird. How do you even know my name?”

Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed and his sharp stare made me gulp as I shrunk back, walking a little further away from him, “We go to the same university.”

“I’m not popular.” I deadpanned and Yunho shrugged, looking ahead as his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“You once scribbled in a book from the library and I was at the front desk when the librarian lost it. She rambled on about you for a good fifteen minutes before I was finally allowed to rent the book I wanted.” I cleared my throat in embarrassment, remembering well what the next day looked like when I walked inside the library. I have skipped going there for the next two months from shame as the librarian had screamed at me for ten minutes without even as much as taking a breath.

“Whatever, it’s still weird.” I muttered and nuzzled my nose behind the neckline of my jacket, regretting now that I haven’t worn a scarf. Yunho just chuckled and cast me a side glance as his longs legs carried him around faster than my shorter ones; it almost felt like I was jogging next to him. He must’ve been cold with how few clothing items he was wearing. I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander towards him as I took in his appearance again, deciding that this version of Yunho was intimidating and quite…hot. His bright persona was certainly eye catching but this felt different, alluring almost.

“It’s not weird,” Yunho said with a chuckle, lips pulling into an amused smile, “I’m just observant.”

I hummed, but didn’t look at him as I asked my next question while we crossed the road, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Yunho chuckled again, but it was lower and as we looked at each other briefly, there was a dark glint in his beautiful chocolate brown eyes, mischief written all over his face, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I rolled my eyes and quickened my pace, just wanting to get home already. I was tired and cold.

“Do you have the evening shift often?” He asked after a minute of silence.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I fired back and Yunho laughed, head tilting back slightly, “Don’t expect me to give you an answer when you evade mine with a question.”

“You didn’t look like you’d be this feisty, angel.” My steps halted as I stared at Yunho incredulously, eyes slightly widening in offense. What did he mean by that?

“I’m tired.” I called out since Yunho hadn’t stopped walking and now I had to jog to catch up with his long strides, “And you’re walking too fast.”

“My apologies.” Yunho suddenly slowed down and looked at me with a big smile, the first time he looked like the Yunho I knew from university, “Sometimes I forget not everyone has long legs like mine.”

“Yeah,” I rolled my eyes, “I wonder how’s the weather up there.”

Yunho suddenly laughed, pressing a palm against his lips as it was loud, “I haven’t heard that one in long.”

I just hummed and cast another glance at him, confused of our whole conversation and the situation we were in. To be fair, I was grateful for him, of course I was, but the shock still hadn’t worn off and I was still slightly thrown off by his demeanor and change of personality…and looks. We continued walking in silence, steps hurried as the wind started blowing harder and all I could think about was Yunho being cold and getting sick because of his choice of clothing. However, the quiet didn’t last for long around us as we heard approaching footsteps, it sounded like they were running towards us. Yunho and I looked back at the same time and I failed to notice the way his expression hardened and jaw set. Before I could react, a heavy arm was draped around my shoulders and I was pulled into a sturdy body, warmth wrapping around myself and a masculine scent. I looked up at Yunho flabbergasted before watching the running man again as he came to a stop a few feet away from us.

“Hey, Yunho—” He panted as he leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, “Finally found you, man.”

Yunho said nothing as he watched the guy, strengthening his grip against my shoulder when I tried to move away. My eyebrows furrowed as I struggled for a bit more, until Yunho clicked his tongue and I looked up at him, feeling his gaze on me already. His eyes were sharp and dark and I gulped as I looked away, stilling in his grip when he looked back at the younger looking guy, “What do you want?”

His voice sounded nothing like the friendly person I have been just talking to, it was ice cold and it made me shiver.

“Yeah, uh,” The guy glanced at me reluctantly, “Cheol wants the money. Soon.”

Yunho scoffed and rolled his eyes as I looked at him curiously, wondering where this conversation was going, “I thought I have made myself clear already, Chan.”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, alright?” The shorter guy scoffed and stood up straight, his eyes hardening as he looked at Yunho now with a slight glare, “You’ve been avoiding us for months now, Cheol is getting fed up…so is everyone else.”

“And I have a reason for that,” Yunho snapped, anger coating his voice, “which you all know of. If you want my money, do your fucking end of the deal for once.”

“Was the merch not good enough last time?” Chan raised an eyebrow. These two were acting like I wasn’t even there, so I tried to get out of Yunho’s grip again, but instead, he gripped my nape and roughly pushed my head into his chest, making me gasp. I clutched against the collar of his leather jacket and tried to pull away, but Yunho’s strength was immense, so, instead my cheek was mushed against his firm chest, his musky cologne invading my senses and making my head slightly dizzy.

“If it were good, you would’ve seen the money by now.” Yunho’s voice held no emotions and I watched as best as I could from my position as he reached with his right hand behind himself, moving at what looked like lightning speed to me, but with my vision obscured I wasn’t able to see what was in his hand, “Go back to Cheol and tell him to get his fucking act together before I take action.”

“Asshole.” I heard this Chan guy snap and then an unsettling silence followed. I bit my lower lip and wondered what was going on, and it didn’t take long to find out as he spoke up soon again, “Got yourself a shiny new toy?”

“She’s a person, not a toy, Chan. And she’s not mine.” Yunho’s voice was rough and my breath halted for a second as I felt Yunho’s fingers twitch against my skin. I moved my head slightly to look up at him and caught the quick glance he sent down at me. It was dark and emotionless, yet it held a clear warning that I needed to stay quiet. My heart skipped a beat involuntarily.

“You better claim her then, before Cheol gets his hands on her—”

“Get lost, right now.” I have never heard such a threatening tone from anyone before, and my blood froze over at the anger and sneer in Yunho’s voice as he grabbed onto the back of my head tightly, making me freeze as I heard the click of something. Was…was he holding a gun? I gasped quietly as my fingers dug harder into the fabric of Yunho’s jacket and I heard the Chan guy cackle before his footsteps stared fading away. Yunho, however, didn’t move and I was too scared to do so as I realized I had started shaking. Suddenly, my head was being pulled back by Yunho’s hand on my nape and we made eye contact as he looked down at me menacingly.

“Not a word to anyone.” I exhaled shakily and frantically nodded my head as I dared to take a glance at his other hand, which, to my horror, held a black gun. My blood ran cold as Yunho released me at the same time as he put his gun away, behind himself, probably in the belt of his jeans, “Let’s go.”

And the rest of the walk was silent and hurried as I almost ran to finally get home, confused and scared and needing a shit ton of answers to the questions swirling in my head, which Yunho was probably unwilling to give. I valued my life above all, and therefore I remained silent, besides, the anger oozing off of him was enough to shut me up despite my sparkling curiosity. Who the hell was Jeong Yunho?

The next day I did everything in me to forget about last night’s endeavors and about Jeong Yunho. I could act like nothing happened, like it was all just a dream. And everything was going well, until…until Yunho and I crossed paths in our university’s hallway. Well, we didn’t actually cross paths, but we saw each other briefly as I was walking with my best friend to class and Yunho was headed towards the stairs, the two of us on the two opposite ends of the long hallway. My friend was talking about the book she was currently reading and I would hum or nod along to her words, letting her know that I was paying attention despite being silent as we walked, my hands gripping the straps of my backpack. I nodded in agreement at her characterization of a character we both enjoyed from the book, when I finally looked ahead and my mind blanked. It certainly did feel like last night was a fever dream as Yunho stood on the other end of the hallway, black hair falling in soft curls against his forehead with his rainbow-colored sweater hanging loosely around his frame, big hands disappearing in the sleeves of it. His jeans were a faded grey and he was laughing as he talked to someone, eyes disappearing and cheeks puffed out. He looked nothing like the guy from last night and it gave me whiplash as his menacing and threatening eyes flashed before my eyes just as Yunho suddenly looked ahead, his eyes finding mine, looking at me with the warmest gaze anyone could muster up. I realized I was gaping, but I couldn’t help it when my brain convinced me that Jeong Yunho from right now and Jeong Yunho from last night weren’t the same person.

“Are you staring at Yunho right now?” My best friend’s voice finally snapped me out of my staring and I looked at her with the same wide eyes.

“I—yeah, but—” I needed to get it together, “That’s not Jeong Yunho.”

“Uh,” My friend looked at me like I had grown another head, “then who is he?”

“I don’t know, but—” I let out a long huff, eyebrows furrowing as I looked back at Yunho, “but that’s not the same guy from last night, I’m telling you.”

I could see the confusion on my friend’s face as she looked towards Yunho, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “He looks like—Yunho. I mean, what are we even talking about right now? Did you hit your head or something?”

“Stop it.” I snapped at her and pushed at her shoulder in frustration, making my friend glare at me, “He must have two personalities or something.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about someone, Y/N.” My friend chastised me and I groaned in frustration. Of course she wouldn’t understand. She wasn’t there. She didn’t see the Yunho I have. Coming to think of it…I don’t think anyone had from around here, seeing as everyone was flocking towards him and acting so freely with him. His laughter carried down the hallway and it was soft, his cheeks slightly rosy as a girl leaned too close to him and he averted his gaze shyly. He was void of all the accessories he had been wearing last night and his clothes were what I was used to seeing him wear on a daily basis. He kept shifting from one foot to another as a guy threw his arm around Yunho’s shoulders as the two giggled about something, Yunho covering his mouth before whispering something to him back with a cheeky smile. The image of him holding a gun suddenly flashed behind my eyes and I jumped, sucking in a sharp breath of air. My friend looked at me like I was crazy and I averted my eyes from Yunho, looking at her like I have seen a ghost.

“There’s something very wrong with that guy, I’m telling you.” I muttered as I grabbed her wrist and pulled her in the opposite direction, scared of facing Yunho after his weird personality shifts.

“You sound super crazy right now, bestie.” I rolled my eyes and huffed as my best friend taunted, cackling when she saw the discontentment on my face.

And the days passed just like that. Jeong Yunho, wearing every existing bright color, avoiding eye contact when he felt shy and hiding behind his hand when he laughed a little too hard. His cheeks had a flush to them constantly and he would carefully arrange his wavy bangs against his forehead. It was confusing. I was becoming convinced with each passing day that what had happened that night was just a fever dream, and that it was so real that my mind decided to believe it. Perhaps I was lucid dreaming or something, it wouldn’t be the first time. Two weeks had gone by since my strange encounter with Yunho and I have finally come to terms with the fact that maybe what happened wasn’t even real. It couldn’t have been, not when Yunho didn’t even glance my way once. Not when he remained the bright and lovely popular boy and I…continued almost missing my deadlines, which meant I was coped up in the library currently, searching for the book I needed without having much luck in finding it. I was too lazy to ask the librarian as I would need to descend the stairs, so I instead grew more and more frustrated as I stomped around between the bookcases. I was surely disturbing someone, but I didn’t care. Eyes set on the books, one title caught my attention and I stopped, hoping that it was the book I needed. It was at eye level and I pulled it back just enough to be able to see the cover and title of it. I felt like banging my head against the shelf when I realized it wasn’t the book I needed, and with a very loud sigh/groan, I pushed it back harshly, almost screaming when a human head was casually leaning against the bookshelf next to the book I had just examined. My heart beat like crazy as I gaped at Yunho, his warm eyes twinkling with amusement as his eyebrows were slightly furrowed. His baby pink shirt hugged his frame messily as the collar fell a little low, showing off the smooth skin of left shoulder, and his dark green cargo pants were an interesting choice to wear. Yeah, this was the Jeong Yunho I knew. Dressing quirky and looking almost like an oversized puppy as his lips were pushed into a pout. I couldn’t find any words to say so I just scrambled through my brain for something, pushing my hair behind my ears as Yunho continued staring. It was becoming too much, his gaze.

“What?” I managed to say, still at a loss and not knowing how I should approach him.

“Hi.” His lips suddenly pulled up into the brightest smile I had ever seen, and his eyes twinkled with so much warmth that I took a step back. I’m going crazy, aren’t I?

“Hi.” I willed myself to greet him back, taking another step back as Yunho took one towards me, smile still on his face. He didn’t say anything else as he proceeded to come closer and closer, making me chuckle nervously as I continued putting distance between the two of us, not for long though. My back soon ran into the bookshelf and I internally whined as it cut into my back sharply. Yunho came closer, caging me in between the bookshelf and his body, making my heart somersault as I looked up at him confused, but intrigued. He was still smiling, still looking as friendly as ever, still the bright and well-liked guy from our university. Suddenly, his arms raised and were placed on each side of my head, slightly above. Yunho went and leaned down a bit, crooking an eyebrow as my eyes widened and body shrunk against the hard shelf. His musky cologne wrapped around me once again, and the events of that night flashed before my eyes without a warning.

“What are you doing?!” I whispered, sounding panicked as Yunho looked almost confused by my reaction. Almost as if it didn’t make sense that I was reaction to him like this. But I had every reason to, I can’t be crazy.

“I’m looking for a book,” He said with a light tone, expression calm, “this is the medical section. You know I’m studying to become a doctor, right?”

“No.” My answer was instant; I had no idea what his major was. I only heard rumors about how great he is, not about what he does or studies here.

“Oh, now you know.” Yunho said surprised and looked above my head, grinning happily as he reached out. What the hell was happening?

“You’re majoring in architecture, right?” I nodded wordlessly, confused as to how he knew once again something about me. I never told him. Just like with my name.

“So, did the librarian tell you this too about me?” I asked, sounding a little accusatory, as I raised an eyebrow at Yunho. He chuckled and shook his head, looking down at me in amusement.

“Not quite, I figured it out when I saw you leaving class a good while ago.” Right. He saw me leaving class. Sure. My eyes narrowed at him and I licked my lips, about to slip away and go on my merry way as this whole interaction was weird and confusing, but as if Yunho read my mind, he stepped even closer, the front of our boots touching. I looked up at him alarmed, eyes widening as Yunho lowered one arm, holding a book.

“This is so weird,” I muttered to myself, feeling uncomfortable, “Is there something wrong with you?”

My question was quite offensive and I didn’t think it through before I said it out loud, but it didn’t seem to affect Yunho as he started giggling quietly, eyes becoming smaller as his cheeks flushed. How was this the same man from that night? Did he have a twin or something? Why would his name be Yunho too? Was he fucking around with me? Or did he just have multiple personalities?

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me, angel.” My body tensed at the nickname and I watched as Yunho composed himself, and yet, the Yunho suddenly caging me against the shelf wasn’t the same Yunho from just a second ago. The friendliness and warmth slipped from his face as his eyes slightly narrowed, darkening as a smirk appeared on his lips instead of the cute smile he directed at everyone. My heart started beating faster as he bit his lower lip, leaning down even more to be eye level with me, making my breath catch in my throat, “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“Something very wrong.” I managed to whisper as Yunho chuckled darkly, the knuckles of his free hand suddenly grazing against my cheek. I flinched, but didn’t pull away as his eyes ran over my face. The way his wavy hair fell in his eyes made them look sharper. He oozed danger and my mind screamed at me to high tail it out of there, yet my feet remained planted.

“There’s nothing wrong with someone who has a colorful personality, angel,” Yunho’s deep voice rang through my ears as he leaned in to whisper in my left ear, goosebumps erupting on my skin, “Have you told anyone about our encounter from that night?”

I quickly shook my head no and Yunho smirked, pulling back and gripping my chin tightly, yanking me forward and knocking the wind out of my lungs, “Good girl, keep doing that. I’m afraid something might happen to you if you decide to blabber on about it to someone.”

I shuddered as his piercing gaze kept me locked in, a whisper barely passing between my lips, “Like what?”

The sinister look which crossed Yunho’s face felt like a punch to my gut and I suddenly remembered the gun he owned. He’d shoot me. He’d kill me. Of course he would, something told me he wouldn’t hesitate or think twice about it.

“I would have to punish you—” He bit his lower lip as he paused for a second, making me realize I started shaking, “And not in the way I would love to.”

“Fuck.” I muttered, gripping his wrist and lightly pushing against it. His words were meant to be threatening, and they were, I was shaking after all…but his words also did something to me as my stomach twisted and body shivered, eyes subsequentially falling onto his red and plush lips. Yunho’s smirk widened and he leaned so incredibly close that I could feel his breath hitting my lips, his skin seemingly flawless from up close. My fingers closed around his wrist tighter as my back melted into the bookshelf behind me.

“Let’s keep it our little secret for now, angel.” His thumb swept against the skin of my chin, my face flaming at the motion, “And I shall reward you if you’re a good girl.”

“How?” I whispered, looking into Yunho’s dark eyes.

“You shall wait and see.” He winked and before I could think more about his words, he was gone just as quickly as he had come. I was left blinking confused at nothing and struggling to breathe regularly as Yunho’s warm, and big, hand left my skin burning where he had touched. What have I indirectly gotten myself involved into?

Things happened the same way like the first time after my strange encounter with Yunho in the library. He didn’t look my way, he didn’t acknowledge me, he didn’t speak to me for at least a good two weeks. It was weird, everything he was doing. I had so many unanswered questions, but I pushed them to the back of my mind and hoped that whatever weird thing going on between Yunho and I would stop for good now. I didn’t want to get tangled up in something which felt so unsure and dangerous. I still haven’t forgotten the gun Yunho owned nor the conversation between him and that Chan guy. Even a dumb person would’ve understood that there was something illegal, at least, going on between the two of them and I didn’t want to get involved. However, the radio silence didn’t last for long as it was another Thursday and I was closing up the small convenience store I was currently working at. I had the evening shift again; the clock was close to hitting midnight and it was snowing heavily outside. I sighed when I realized I would have to walk twenty minutes just to get home. There were no signs of snow half an hour ago, it came out of the blue and I watched as a group of teenagers ran past the convenience store laughing loudly and having a snowball fight. I couldn’t share their joy as I shrugged on my coat, the weather had been nice today, I thought it wouldn’t get cold and thus abandoned my thick winter jacket, which I came to regret now. I switched off the lights and braced myself for the cold as I pushed open the door and instantly shuddered. There was a freezing chill in the air and it clung to my body as I quickly tightened the scarf around my neck, at least I had half a mind to bring one with myself. I struggled for a few seconds with the lock, it's been acting up for a while now but the owner didn’t bother to fix it, until I heard a click and pushed against the door, making sure I have truly locked it. I whirled around to stalk off towards the bus stop, with little hope that the last bus hadn’t went by already. However, I was quickly forced to stop by the sight in front of me. Yunho, painfully underdressed for the current weather, stood leaning against a black massive car. It was an SUV, a very expensive looking one.

“Evening, angel.” My jaw shouldn’t have almost hit the pavement, but I couldn’t help but gape at him. What was he doing here? Why was he here? Was that his car? How? Was he rich? Now that I come to think of it, I have no idea what Yunho does outside of university or the type of family he comes from. The sudden realization of knowing exactly nothing about him besides the persona he paints himself as was startling as a sly grin crossed Yunho’s features. It made my stomach flip.

“What are you doing?” I managed to ask, reluctantly walking closer to him. Yunho pushed his hands inside the pockets of his leather jacket, which looked thicker than the one he wore on the night he had to save me from those two creeps. His jeans were ripped and black and a very tight, form fitting, white shirt clung onto his well-defined body. With a black baseball cap over his wavy hair he looked extremely handsome underneath the street light, I had to stop myself from letting my eyes wander all over his body once again.

“Saw how hard it started to snow,” Yunho spoke up casually, smirking when I stopped a few feet away from him, “Figured you might just take the shortcut again, so, I’m here to pick you up.”

“No, you’re not.” My answer rushed through my lips instantly and I looked at him startled, slightly taking a step back as Yunho pushed off his car, “I am perfectly capable of walking home and besides—I might still catch the last bus.”

“It went by while you were still locking up, angel, just accept my offer and stop being so stubborn.” Yunho sounded slightly irritated as he walked closer, head lowered so that I was able to see his eyes from this angle. They were narrowed and I gulped, realizing that he wasn’t playing nice nor would act goofy like at university, this was the weird and intimidating version of Yunho.

“Excuse me if I’m hesitant in accepting your offer, Yunho,” I snapped, slightly fed up with the constant whiplash this guy was giving me, “But I have no actual idea who you are and so far you’ve been acting like a stalker. You know my name, you know my major, you randomly show up when I’m in trouble and then you walk me home despite my complaints. You proceed to act completely different than the guy I’m used to seeing at university and you have strange conversations with weird people who are threatening you and are calling me yours like I’m simply just a piece to be put on display and you—you have a gun! And you’ve threatened someone with it. So, yeah, I don’t exactly want to get in your car for you to—drive me home? Or kill me. Or do something else to me.”

“If I wanted to do something to you or harm you I would’ve already done so, Y/N, I had plenty of chances for that.” My jaw hung open once again at Yunho’s instant reply, heart hammering at his admission. Is this seriously the only thing he’s taken from my rant? Which felt good to finally get off my chest, but it seemed to make no difference as Yunho shook his head lightly and suddenly invaded my personal space, taking me completely off-guard, “Who I am at university and who I am outside of it might seem like two completely different people to you, but it’s me. I’m not always happy, and goofy, and I’m not always in a good mood. I just don’t like showing the real me around people.”

“I am people, so what’s different?” I scoffed, glaring up at him, “We don’t even know each other so I don’t understand why you feel the need to drop your act around me.”

“Would you prefer me acting all fake, then?” Yunho’s tone was harsh and his face read displeasure as I allowed my eyes to soak in his expression. Would I prefer that? It was the Yunho I was accustomed to, but would I like that?

“I don’t know,” I managed to mutter out, averting my eyes when Yunho’s dark gaze became too much, “I guess I’m just used to that version of you and this—feels weird, perhaps scary.”

Yunho suddenly sighed and his shoulders slightly dropped as he looked up at the sky, his smooth skin glinting under the streetlamp, “I’m sorry if I scared you, that wasn’t my intention.”

I chewed on my bottom lip as Yunho looked at me again, our gazes connecting. He was sincere, his eyes were shinning with honesty and an almost innocent like gleam, just like the one I was used to seeing. I hummed wordlessly and looked away, feeling slightly more at ease in his presence. He just sighed quietly and I heard shuffling before I felt the weight of a big hand pressing against the top of my head. I looked up at Yunho wide eyed as he started patting my hair, almost as if he was flicking something out of it. The snowflakes, probably. My cheeks flamed at his action.

“Will you let me drive you home, then?” Yunho asked again, voice softer this time and features relaxed, “I don’t want you walking around late at night and in this weather.”

“Alright,” I gave in, clearing my throat as Yunho suddenly grinned widely, “But you should be worried more about yourself, you’re barely wearing anything.”

It made Yunho chuckle as he headed for the passenger seat’s side and opened the door for me. I muttered a small thank you as I carefully slid inside.

“I’m rarely ever cold.” Yunho said with a cheeky wink before closing the door and jogging around to the driver’s side. I allowed myself a quick check-out of the car, eyes widening when I saw the emblem on the wheel. I was sitting inside a Maserati Levante. Just how did Yunho afford this car? The seats were of black leather and it was definitely heated as I felt my body warm up quickly as the engine has been left on. Yunho grinned as he slid inside and quickly buckled his seatbelt, reminding me to do the same as he put on the blinker, signaling that he would drive off now. The car slowly started rolling, pulling away from the store as I gazed out the window, feeling slightly awkward that I was now enclosed in such a small space with Yunho. I took a quick peek at him and watched him gripping the steering wheel lazily, hair framing his face as tonight it wasn’t as wavy as usually. His eyes were set on the road and he licked his lips before glancing at me, making me quickly look back outside the window, hating the way my cheeks instantly flushed. And as we drove by the bus stop, my eyes widened when I spotted the bus which would’ve taken me home.

“You said the bus went by already!” I exclaimed and turned to look at Yunho slightly offended.

“Oh,” He hummed but by the smugness coating his face I knew he had lied on purpose, “my bad, thought I had seen your bus.”

I scoffed and shook my head, melting into the warm seat as I glared ahead, ignoring the fluttering feeling of butterflies in my stomach at the thought that Yunho only lied because he wanted to drive me home. Perhaps he wasn’t so awful at all times.

Despite me feeling like Yunho brushed over my outburst that night, he seemed to change a bit. He started gradually approaching me at university and even hung out with me during our shared lunch breaks. He also started stopping by the convenience store whenever he had free time and I soon came to know that he lived just a few blocks away from it. Which was a surprise because I have been assuming he lived in some fancy rich neighborhood due to the car he was driving. Nobody really seemed to question our suddenly blooming friendship, although I felt like we still had a long way to go, and Yunho also stopped being so mysterious. He still didn’t answer all of my questions and often changed the subject when I asked about that first night, so I stopped asking about it after a while. I figured that I might get him to tell me at some point, and if not, I could always start asking around. People loved to gossip and maybe they would know something about this Chan guy who had called Yunho a few times while we were hanging out, but he always declined his calls. Tonight was supposed to be a chill night, but my best friend decided that she has had enough of staying at home every Friday and thus dragged us to a house party not far from our university. It was a half an hour walk away from my flat, so we opted to walk and just grab a cab on our way back. The house was large and packed with people as we made our way inside and I sighed at the sight of so many familiar faces. Almost everyone from our university was here and I realized I was tricked into coming to a party organized for our university specifically. My best friend just giggled as I have her a glare, already hating the fact that I had to stay here for hours and hours as she was in the mood to party. The only savior I found at the moment was alcohol, so the two of us made our way into the kitchen, both grabbing some beer from the fridge. Apparently, my best friend knew the host of the party and got us invited easily.

“I really needed this.” My best friend said as she threw her head back, downing half of her beer in one go. I raised my eyebrows at her as I sipped on mine casually.

“I can see that.” I chuckled and allowed my eyes to wander around the kitchen, taking in the faces. A few people above our grade were gathered around the sink, laughing about something and pointing at something. I wasn’t further interested, so I averted my eyes and noticed two friends of Yunho’s. They were standing in the corner and laughing about something as the taller one had his phone out. My staring must’ve been insistent as he looked up and we made eye contact, a smile appearing on his lips. He smiled and waved as he called us over. Due to Yunho and I hanging out more often lately, he was quick to introduce me to his friend group. They were a nice bunch but a bit too energetic and happy for my liking. My best friend, however, was totally into their vibe and would beg me to hang out with them. It was fine, I knew she wanted to make some new friends and these guys were nice and…handsome.

“Hi!” Mingi was quick to greet us happily and I smiled at him, waving at Seonghwa as my best friend went and hugged him. The two seemed to click instantly, it was nice to see.

“Was it you who urged Sooyoung to come to this party?” I asked Mingi accusingly and he laughed as he looked down.

“It was actually her who gave us the idea of coming here tonight.” I hummed and threw a knowing look at my best friend as she didn’t bother focusing on Mingi and I, already wrapped up in a conversation with Seonghwa.

“I see, I should’ve known.” I chuckled and Mingi nodded while putting his phone away. It was a little unusual that these two were here without Yunho, but I didn’t question it. I knew he wasn’t a big fan of parties and besides, he didn’t tell me he would be coming. Therefore I didn’t expect to see him here.

“Did you finish your project?” I asked Mingi, remembering him complain about it two days ago. Mingi’s shoulder slumped and he started pouting as he stole my beer swiftly.

“Almost, I have to design the garden and then I’m done.” Mingi was a landscape architecture major and he was always busy with projects, barely out of the house if it wasn’t for Seonghwa and Yunho dragging him to places. He was quite dedicated to his work and it was admirable. Especially when I could barely find any inspiration to do my assignments. Whenever we shared a few of our classes I was amazed by his knowledge and drive to learn even more.

“That’s good, you’ve got this, Mingi.” I gave him an encouraging smile and he chuckled, looking at me knowingly.

“So, did you start your design?” I fake laughed and took a swing of my beer after taking it back from Mingi.

“You know me, I’ll do it two or three days before the deadline.”

“At this point I’m afraid you’ll fail.” Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed and I chuckled, shrugging.

“Don’t worry, I function best under pressure.” I saluted him mockingly and Mingi chuckled, soon our attention on Seonghwa as him and Sooyoung approached us.

“I really want to dance,” Seonghwa said, drunkenly gazing at Mingi, “Are you coming?”

Mingi just sighed but stood up, throwing an arm around Seonghwa’s shoulders, “Of course, I’m coming. Someone needs to make sure you don’t trip over your own legs.”

Sooyoung and I chuckled as we followed after the two boys despite me not being too fond of the idea. I didn’t feel like dancing tonight, but I didn’t want to leave Sooyoung alone, and besides, I could see it in Mingi’s eyes that he didn’t want to be alone with the two. Whatever was going on between them, which both were denying, was pretty obvious.

The music was loud in the bigger room compared to the kitchen and I looked around, realizing it must’ve been a sort of library hence the bookcases on both sides of the room were filled with books. My heart broke a bit for the books, I could only hope no one was stupid enough to damage them. Otherwise the room was cleared up and there was a table with a mixing console on it, the DJ standing behind it and playing trendy songs everyone seemed to enjoy. The bas thrummed against my chest and I downed my beer in one go before I pushed through the crowd, making way for myself and my friends. Somewhere in the middle we found a good spot and formed a circle starting to dance.

I couldn’t tell how much time passed before I needed to use the restroom, but just as I went to tell Mingi I would be leaving for a few minutes, he leaned in to tell me that he needed some air. And so, after telling Seonghwa and Sooyoung where we were headed, Mingi and I took off hand in hand towards the exit. We agreed on meeting in the kitchen in around ten minutes before heading back to our friends, and so we parted, going on our way. The bathroom was in the far back of the house and I was thankful as the music didn’t reach here, I could finally hear my thoughts. The air was gradually better too compared to the suffocating heath in the library like room. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long to make it inside the bathroom and I was quick in doing my business, washing my hands thoroughly before splashing some cold water on my face, tapping it against my flaming skin. Perhaps I should join Mingi outside for a second before grabbing another drink. I huffed and smoothed down the top of my hair, baby hairs all over the place, before I unlocked the door and left the quiet bathroom. The hallways had no lights but it was fine as the living room was well lit up and it poured out here too. There was a staircase leading upstairs, but it was barricaded off and I knew not to go upstairs even if I wanted to. Just as I went to walk past the staircase, someone collided into my shoulder, knocking me slightly backwards. I gasped in surprise and looked back, surprised to see a slightly familiar face. The guy was younger, and he quickly apologized before a look of recognition crossed his features. Despite it being almost two months ago, I remembered his name. Chan. The guy Yunho threatened with a gun. I gulped and accepted his apology, about to walk off when he spoke up again.

“Don’t I know you?” He asked with narrowed eyes and I cursed silently, facing him again.

“Uh, barely.” I offered with a small smile and Chan hummed, eyebrows furrowing.

“Weren’t you with Yunho once?” So he remembered too, huh.

“Chan, right?” I raised an eyebrow and suddenly the guy was grinning and extending his hand towards me to shake.

“Knew it,” He said with a chuckle as I reluctantly shook his hand, “I don’t know your name though.”

“It’s Y/N.” I introduced myself and Chan smiled, his grip lingering for a second longer than necessary. It unsettled me as I cleared my throat and very obviously made to leave, but Chan seemed like he wanted to talk a little bit more.

“I had no idea you knew Jeonghan.” My eyebrows raised at the name and I thought for a second until I realized he was the host.

“I don’t, my best friend does though.” I explained and Chan hummed, a small smirk appearing on his lips.

“Now that I come to think of it,” He took a step forward and I willed myself to not move backwards, “Yunho never mentioned you again after that night.”

Oh, well…that didn’t feel nice to know. I thought we were sort of friends by now, but maybe Yunho needed more time. Our relationship dynamic was still weird and most of times I didn’t know where to put us, so maybe Yunho was feeling the same way. Or maybe there was something dangerous about this guy and Yunho just simply avoided talking about me in his presence. Our encounter that night felt almost fresh in my memories and I willed myself to not think about the gun pointed at this younger guy.

“He must have a reason, then.” I found myself answering with a cold smile, ready to excuse myself finally, “My friend is waiting for me—”

“Just because he doesn’t mention you doesn’t mean we don’t know about you, Y/N.” His sinister smile and cold tone sent a chill down my spine and my eyebrows furrowed as I looked at Chan, “Do you have a tattoo?”

That was a very random question, one that took me off guard as my eyebrows raised, “Uh, no, I—”

“What a pleasant sight, Lee Chan.” A sharp tone cut me off and I turned my head to see Yunho approaching us in all of his tall glory. His glare was sharp and body stiff as he came to a stop next to me, instantly pressing his warm palm against the small of my back. It made me straighten up slightly as I gazed at Yunho’s profile, surprised to see him here.

“Thought you weren’t coming, Yunho.” Chan said with a chuckle, eyes falling between the two of us and the non-existent space between our bodies as Yunho pressed up against me, his musky cologne invading my senses.

“Maybe you should check on your friend, Chan, he might be unable to walk for a week or two.” The dark smirk which crossed Yunho’s lips made me gulp, and I watched as Chan’s expression fell, suddenly it felt like we were back to that chilly night out on the street.

“You son of a bitch,” Chan hissed and marched up to Yunho, who didn’t even as a little as flinched, “What did you do to Hansol?”

“Nothing he won’t survive.” My eyebrows furrowed as I looked up at Yunho, who seemed to be unbothered by my piercing gaze. Chan hissed under his breath and with one lasting glare quickly stormed off, grabbing for his phone as he raced towards the front door. I released a breath I didn’t know I had been holding just as Yunho faced me, and I took in his attire in surprise. His black long-sleeved blouse was tight and was unclasped down to his chest, blank ink peeking through from underneath on his left pectoral. His outfit was completed by black leather pants and his black hair, which fell messily against his forehead. I was snapped out of my staring the second I felt Yunho caging me in against the railing of the staircase, big palm still pressing against the small of my back, eyes very slowly dragging up from his exposed milky chest to his chocolate warm brown eyes, which were narrowed and carried a hint of frustration.

“What did he want?” His voice was low and it brought a flush to my cheeks as I looked up at him, suddenly all too aware of the lack of space between us.

“Nothing much.” I muttered with a shrug, but Yunho didn’t seem to believe me as he lowered his head, eyes boring into mine. His gaze made my skin crawl and my fingers twitched as I placed my hands behind my back, doing everything in me I could to focus on his eyes and not on his cherry red plush lips, which were too close to my face all of a sudden.

“Don’t lie to me.” His right knuckles grazed against the skin of my cheek and I gulped as something coiled in my stomach. Was I this transparent? He could read me so easily.

“He just asked if I have a tattoo or something.” I answered after a beat of silence and Yunho’s eyebrows slightly furrowed as I dared to peek at his chest again, the ink more visible because of his stance. The collar of his shirt fell lower and I could make out a thick line which went in a circle and the tip of a letter, perhaps A?

“And what did you say?” His forefinger was suddenly underneath my chin as he tipped my head back, pulling my eyes away from his chest. I blushed furiously because of the amusement in Yunho’s eyes and the wide smirk on his lips, I was caught staring. His voice was low and breathy and I bit my lower lip for a second, trying to ignore his proximity and scent as his head seemed to be even closer to mine right now.

“No—nothing,” I exhaled and licked my lips, “you got here when I was answering him.”

“Good girl.” My legs shouldn’t have almost given out at his praise, but my mind wasn’t clear anymore. Yunho’s scent and proximity were intoxicating and I sure as hell wasn’t drunk from one beer, but everything about Yunho made me feel like it. I don’t know when it happened, but I couldn’t pull my eyes off Yunho whenever we were hanging out. And when we were at university, I was just like the others, flocking towards his bright and warm aura, desperate for his attention at times. When it was just the two of us, I yearned for his warmth and dangerous eyes, often breathless when his voice dropped to chastise me for something. When we hung out with our circle of close friends, I wanted his undivided attention on myself only. I had come to realize that Jeong Yunho was insanely good-looking and his mysterious aura was nothing but a little spark which made him even more irresistible.

“Wanna get out of here?” I heard him asking once I was done daydreaming, “I know you don’t like parties.”

I nodded wordlessly and as Yunho slowly, without breaking eye contact, pulled away I almost chased after him, hands balling up into fists in order to prevent myself of doing something I might regret later. There wasn’t a label to our relationship, but friends certainly didn’t want to fuck each other, therefore I needed to keep myself in check and control my desires.

After letting our friends know that Yunho and I would be leaving we got our jackets and went up to Yunho’s car. It was slightly dirty, which made me wonder where he had been as he had a habit of keeping his car crystal clean, even just a speck of dust made him wash it. The car ride was quicker than I expected as we flew through the quiet city, lights blurring at the speed Yunho was driving. He wasn’t a reckless driver, but it seemed like he was eager to get home. I couldn’t blame him, there was nothing better than the feeling of finally reaching home after a long and tiring day. I could imagine Yunho’s had been the same after he texted me in the morning that he had some business outside of the city and wouldn’t attend his classes, therefore we wouldn’t meet up. It was a surprise that he even made it to the party. It wasn’t the first time Yunho and I hung out in his apartment, but it was the first time I had come here so late and without a real purpose. Usually we huddled together to study, Yunho’s determination finally rubbing off on me to do to my assignments in time or when our friend group wanted to hang out and have a chill night.

After Yunho and I got settled, he went and grabbed a bottle of red wine, saying he needed it after the day he had. I didn’t complain as I watched him from the couch, body turned around and eyes running all over his frame. The clothes he wore did an amazing job at showing off his forms and I couldn’t help it but linger on his shoulders and waist as he had his back to me, grabbing around his counter while he had the wine in front of him. He popped it open without much struggle and then poured some red wine in two glasses, putting the bottle away. I watched as he turned around and leaned his hips against the counter, crossing one arm over his chest as he grabbed a glass and raised it to his lips, closing his eyes. He took a small sniff of the beverage before taking a long sip, letting out a content sigh. The image shouldn’t have made the hairs on my skin stand, yet all I could do was watch and gulp, mind blank until Yunho’s dark eyes snapped open and he smiled. It was mischievous as he spoke up.

“Won’t you get yours?” He pointed at the second glass and I hummed, wondering whether I should mix beer and wine, but it’s been a few hours since I last had beer. Besides, I was feeling fine. It shouldn’t do any damage. So, I pushed off the couch and approached him carefully, feeling fidgety under his sharp gaze. His eyes followed my every step as I stopped next to him and grabbed the glass, copying him. I sniffed it before I took a careful sip of it, the sweet taste exploding in my mouth. I hummed and took a bigger sip, appreciative of its taste. Yunho was smiling as he sipped his, and we remained standing like that as I tried to find anything to look at which wasn’t Yunho. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was getting too much and I felt like I needed to break it, so I spoke up, “You never told me you had a tattoo.”

Yunho eyebrows slightly raised, almost surprised that I knew, until he glanced down at himself and chuckled, “Ah, I forgot this blouse was low cut.”

“It’s not low cut,” I snickered, “You’re just wearing it like that.”

“Are you saying I should button up?” He asked with a playful smirk and I just smiled while shrugging. If he did that perhaps I would stop staring, but I wasn’t about to say that to him.

“So…does it mean anything?” I asked nonchalantly, having now an excuse to look at his exposed chest as Yunho glanced down too. He remained silent as he looked up, eyes searching my face for a few seconds before he lowered his glass on the counter.

“Not one you’re expecting to hear.” He said lowly and I raised an eyebrow as he suddenly stepped closer, looking down at me with a serious expression and darkening eyes, “Do you want to know?”

I gulped and busied myself with the glass I had in my hand as I looked down at it, pursing my lips in thought. I was trying to ignore the rapid beating of my heart but Yunho took away my only distraction as he took the glass from my hands and placed it on the counter next to his, now I was forced to look at him.

“I guess.” I muttered, hoping he couldn’t hear the shake of my voice. His scent was once again all around me and it was hard to focus on anything he was saying.

“But if I tell you…” He took a step forward, making me step back and collide into the counter, “and you tell anyone…”

My body tensed as he reached forward and pressed his thumb against my lower lip, eyes focused on my lips, “I will have to kill you, angel.”

I gulped as I shuddered, and Yunho lightly dragged my lower lip down, licking his lips as we looked at each other. His gaze was challenging and dark, lips about to break into a sneer as I was scared but intrigued, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“How can I know for sure?” Was he testing me? His voice dropped to an almost whisper and he cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised almost mockingly, “You have a vengeful personality, who knows what you’ll blabber on about if I happen to hurt you.”

“Don’t hurt me then.” I snapped and Yunho chuckled, but there was nothing amusing about it.

“Are you reckless or simply dumb?” He was taunting me and I didn’t like it. I grabbed his wrist and glared at him, pulling his hand back and thumb off my lips.

“That’s some nerve coming from someone who was everywhere I went and knows everything about me without actually knowing me.” Yunho’s lips pulled up into an amused grin at the way I snapped at him, nose scrunched in annoyance.

“I’m in a gang,” He stepped impossibly close and placed both hands on the counter on both sides of body, “A very dangerous gang, the tattoo is to signify where I belong to.”

I gulped, slightly thrown off. I was expecting many reasons to answer the enigma around Yunho, but I didn’t exactly envision him being involved into gang activities or the mafia, even. Was he just simply not saying? Wouldn’t be the first time he lied to me.

“Why did Chan ask if I have a tattoo?” My voice was hard and I tried not to shake when I felt Yunho’s large hands gripping my waist. His hold was firm, like he was afraid I would run away.

“Because,” Yunho licked his lips as he lowered his head so I didn’t have to crane my neck up so high, “if you’re mine you have to get the tattoo as well.”

“But I’m not yours.” I quickly said as I tried to process everything and ignore the way Yunho’s grip tightened around my hips and jaw clenched, “And I don’t want to have a tattoo.”

“Then you won’t have one,” Yunho’s tongue peeked out as he liked his lips swiftly, his eyes glued onto my lips, “But you are mine, Y/N.”

Before I could ask him since when, Yunho closed the gap between us and pressed his plush lips against mine. I didn’t mean to flinch, but it was unexpected and rough as his hands on my waist pushed me up onto the counter, easing the height difference a little between us. I kissed back when I felt him about to pull back, probably thrown off by my lack of response, and Yunho was quick to smash his lips against mine with a fever, setting a hasty and messy rhythm as my head was tilted back and arms circled around his shoulders. It was everything I have envisioned and yet nothing like it. His lips were plush and warm yet rough and relentless as he bit at my lower lip, almost as if he was trying to inhale the whole of me. His scent was the only thing I could smell around us and my brain was fogged up as Yunho’s lean body pressed into mine, pushing me flushed against himself by placing his hand on my back. My legs parted wider, making more space for Yunho as one of my hands traveled towards his hair, gripping at the black wavy strands firmly. His warmth was overwhelming and it made me breathless as his large hand wrapped around my neck as if he needed something to hold onto. My lungs were screaming for air and I pulled back once it got too much, lightheaded as I leaned forward, teeth attaching against the soft skin of Yunho’s neck. His chest was falling and rising rapidly, just as breathless as I was feeling, the hand from my neck traveling to my nape as I pressed open mouthed kisses against his skin, lips trailing down to his collarbone. Yunho groaned when I bit lightly at it, teasing and licking, before I was pulled back and forcefully met with lips against my own. It didn’t take long for Yunho to push his tongue against my lips, asking for permission. I opened up without hesitation, letting him take the lead as his wet tongue licked against mine, humming, the vibrations traveling through my whole body as I pulled on the smaller strands of his hair. Yunho tasted like the red wine he just had, sweet and so intoxicating that I couldn’t get enough of him. His tongue explored my mouth as my hips bucked against him and I wasn’t surprised to find him just as affected as I was feeling. I could feel him through his leather pants and the friction was much needed against my throbbing core as I grinded against him once again, catching his lower lip between my teeth as he went to pull back. Yunho’s eyes were the darkest I had ever seen them and his cheeks were lightly flushed as he grabbed my nape firmly, jaw clenching and lips plump from the kissing.

“Bedroom, right now.” His voice was raspy and it sent a chill down my spine as I quickly clung onto him, legs firm around his waist as he walked us to his bedroom, large hands holding me up by my ass and allowing me to grind against him as Yunho groaned and nipped at my lower lip until we were standing in his dark bedroom. He carefully lowered me and onto the ground and I was quick to get rid of my jeans and shirt, helping Yunho in undoing the zipper of his leather pants as he had gotten rid of his blouse. I allowed myself to stare unabashedly at his body, taking in his lean but muscular form as he towered over me, stomach well defined and thighs thick. It was a sight worthy for drooling and I snapped out of it when Yunho started walking me backwards, not expecting me to palm him through his boxers. He sucked in a harsh breath and allowed me to feel him up and massage him before I was pushed down onto the bed by my shoulders. I scooted back before he crawled towards me and leaned down to press kisses against my neck and shoulder, tongue flattening against the flush skin of my collarbones before he sucked hard at a patch of skin, making me groan at the sting. His kisses didn’t stop there as he kissed down between my breasts, biting at the skin before he continued, all the way down to my stomach. I was panting and itching to grip onto his hair, but his face was in front of mine in an instant and he kissed me breathless once again. My nails dug into his back as my hands roamed over it, mapping every flaw of his skin, soaking in his warmth. Before I could register it, his fingers were ghosting over my thigh and slowly itching closer to my panties. I groaned into his mouth as he yanked them down, eyes opened as Yunho pulled back just slightly, hot breath hitting my face as one finger slowly slipped inside my wet hole. I gasped at the feeling and Yunho groaned, lips pressing against my cheek as he pushed himself up by one hand near my head. He slowly started thrusting it in and out, making my eyebrows furrow as he dragged the movement out, not waiting long to add another long finger. I grabbed his arm as my toes curled and hips lifted off the soft cover of the bed, trying to meet his lazy thrusts. They weren’t enough and they made my skin burn as my other hand tangled into his hair.

“Please, Yunho,” I whispered out, moan choked back as his thumb pressed against my clit, stomach coiling at the added sensation, “Faster.”

His teeth bit into the skin of my jaw, not hard enough to leave a bruise as he slightly picked up his pace, fingers curling against my walls and making my back arch off the bed as he rubbed harsher and faster against my clit, fingers thrusting in and out. A knot was forming in my stomach as more sound left my lips, sharp exhales and broken moans as Yunho’s fingers reached the spot which made my back arch off the bed, my own hips picking up its pace as I chased for an orgasm.

“Such a good girl,” Yunho rasped in my ear, making me moan as his finger grazed the spot again, “you were so patient for me.”

“Yunho.” Our eyes connected and I pulled his head closer by the hand I had tangled in his hair, “Please—”

“Not yet.” He bit my lower lip as his hand stilled, making me whine as my walls clenched down against his fingers, every nerve in my body burning. I tried to move my hips despite it, but Yunho’s fingers quickly were pulled out from where I needed him most and I watched helplessly as he sat back, the tent in his boxers obvious. He proceeded to pull my panties all the way down before getting rid of his own boxers, pumping himself as his head fell back. I watched with hungry eyes as his size came as no surprise, matching the massivity of his body. He reached over my head, holding a package as he opened it, putting on the condom before he hovered over my body. For a second he didn’t move and my skin tingled in anticipation as I reached my arms around his shoulders, pulling his hot body against mine, whispering in his ear.

“Yunho, just fuck me already.” I didn’t expect him to moan and before I could blink, his tip was at my entrance, slowly pushing in. My mouth opened as I clenched my eyes shut, surprised at the burn as he stretched me out more and more as he slid inside. He was bigger than anyone I was with before and I needed a moment to adjust to his size as Yunho pressed kisses all over my face, biting my earlobe.

“You can’t tell anyone.” He said lowly, and despite our predicament I heard the threat in his words.

“Which part?” I questioned despite knowing what he was talking about, hand trailing down his smooth back.

“The gang part.” Yunho clarified, as if I needed it, lightly thrusting up. I gasped and gripped his sides, walls clenching around him, making him groan.

“I won’t, I won’t, just—” My voice broke off as he did the same again, smirk on his lips, “Move, please, Yunho.”

“As you wish, angel.” He whispered in my ear before pulling out almost all the way and slamming back inside, making me gasp loudly as I didn’t expect it. Yunho’s smirk stayed glued to his lips as he did it again, ripping a loud whine from between my lips, nails digging into his skin as he set an excruciatingly slow rhythm. It did no good but rile me up and make me reach around for anything to hold onto as my body flamed, walls clenching more around him, desperate for more friction. But Yunho seemed to enjoy the desperate state I was in as he chuckled, and suddenly, I felt his big hands bringing mine together, pushed above my head as he pinned my wrists together and pushed them down harshly into the mattress. He suddenly was moving, getting up onto his knees and sitting back as his right hand slipped under my lower back, guiding me up, lower back hovering in the air. Yunho only paused for a small second, eyes connecting with mine before he moved, sharp and clear, pace nothing like the slow one previously. I moaned loudly as he started rocking his hips harshly, pace relentless and dick reaching deeper than before, making my hands ball up into fists as I couldn’t hold onto anything with Yunho pinning them above my head. It didn’t take long for Yunho to get vocal, cursing under his breath as his eyes were closed and he was biting his lower lip, pace picking up the louder my moans got. I couldn’t focus on anything else but the pleasure building up in my lower abdomen and the electricity coursing through my veins, mind wrapped up in the scent of Yunho, the feel of Yunho…Yunho.

“Yunho.” He was the only thing I could think about and at the desperation in my voice he got rougher, pistoning his hips at an unforgiving pace, making me cry out in pleasure as my hips thrusted up, chasing for an orgasm as I tried to meet Yunho’s frantic thrusts. He finally released my wrists and gripped my hips firmly with both hands as he helped me move against him, my head thrown back at the constant ripples of pleasure as my fingers tangled into the sheets above head and twisted hard, moans of Yunho’s name tumbling through my lips. He was panting loudly and whines left his lips as I could feel him throbbing and I knew he was close like I was.

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.” He moaned out as my walls clenched down hard on his length, toes curling and mind completely fogged up with pleasure. The second his cold thumb started rubbing circles against my clit I saw stars and I came with a high-pitched moan of his name, Yunho’s hips stuttering before he guided my hips, riding out my orgasm just as he muttered a quiet fuck before he came too, groan low and guttural, movements never ceasing until it became too much and I whined, gripping his wrist in an attempt to ask him to stop as I haven’t managed to find my voice yet. Yunho groaned as his hips stuttered and slowly stopped, panting hard as he stared down at me. My eyes took him in before they stuck to the tattoo on his left pectoral. It was big. A big circle going around the letter A and cutting into it at the bottom. I shuddered as he slipped out and got off the bed, leaving my limp body on the bed to recover as my fingers tangled in my hair in an attempt to tame the wild strands. Yunho got rid of the used condom before he stood by the bed, towering over me. We stared at each other for a few seconds before he leaned down and tucked the covers away, effortlessly picking me up and slipping me underneath them. He got in next to me and pulled the soft covers over our bodies. I sighed in content at the warmth spreading over my naked body and nuzzled my nose into the pillow which smelled so much like Yunho. I felt him shift behind me before the front of his big body was pressed against my back, a hand coming around my body to hold me. I didn’t expect him to grip my neck firmly and push me back even more into himself as he slightly leaned over me. I was able to look at him from the corner of my eyes and I watched the menacing look on his face and the darkness in his chocolate brown eyes as he leaned close enough to be able to whisper.

“You don’t have to get a tattoo,” Despite his expression, his tone was soft, “but you’re mine and everyone else will know about it. I’ll make sure.”

I gulped as Yunho pressed a chaste kiss against my cheek before his long fingers slipped from my neck, making me realize I had been holding my breath. I released it shakily and felt him settle down behind me once again, nose pushing against my shoulder blade as his arm was firmly planted around my middle.

“Alright, let’s say I’m yours for now.” I found myself saying, but didn’t expect the chuckle from Yunho. I didn’t like being called nicknames nor being claimed like I was an object, but they didn’t sound so bad coming from Yunho’s mouth, they held no menace nor ulterior motives.

I didn’t know what this made us, but I knew I had one or two secrets to keep and that Yunho wasn’t letting me go nowhere from his sight.

⟨Part 2⟩

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nvuy · 1 month

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poor provincial town — il capitano

summary. your father disappears suddenly, so you set off in search, and discover something much worse than the monsters you were warned about in your quiet little village.

notes. nvuy actually writing something holy shit we lost. it’s a beauty and the beast spin off. i want this man so badly i will trudge across the sahara desert just to lick off his sweat to cure my unbridled thirst.

warnings. 16+, mature themes, you can interpret capitano as yandere but he’s also implied to not be human (riding on the draconic capitano headcanons here) so in general he’s just a weirdo, he’s probably ooc because yeah, gn reader (any usage of the word ‘man’ is just another word for ‘human’), mentions of violence, threatening, violent threats can also be interpreted as sexy i guess, mentions of death, AU sort of because beauty and the beast spin off.

Your father had gone missing.

The news had shaken you to your core, and despite the wrangling on from the poor terrible and boring provincial town that you hailed from, you planned to set out almost immediately in search of him.

The people had warned you of wolves in the forest, flesh eating bugs that crawled in the winter snow, and men with pointy sharp teeth and large claws that could slice you to ribbons. All horror stories from children’s books; the same nightmares you had when you were little. Raging beasts within the trees to make sense of the shadows that moved strangely in the night.

You were warned, denied, almost locked away in your home for protection. But, you moved. You set out, for your father was already old and frail as he was. You couldn’t imagine him being lost to the woods. Not your father. He was wiser than to step out by himself, and especially so deep within the trees.

“It does not make sense for you to venture by yourself. Trekking through the woods is not for people such as you.” The older lady of the town library told you one day. “What lies out there… I could not tell you.”

You took the book from her hands and pressed your fingers into the hard cover. Your nails left a permanent dint in the laminate. “I do not fear death.”

“Not death,” she corrected. “Death is not what lingers.” She then glanced up at the ceiling, thoughtful. “Death is beautiful. What you should be afraid of are people.” She looked back down at you before a sad grin grew onto her lips. “Speak not to strangers, for you may provide dinner for the beasts that roam the woods.”

She did say beasts, you know. Monsters with fangs and fur and hooves that knew nothing but to bite and eat, eat, eat.

But there are various sorts of beasts. Charming, handsome quiet beasts. Kind and polite and patient.

“It is the gentle beasts that are the most dangerous of all.” The older lady sighed deeply, perturbed. She fidgeted in her seat behind the counter. “If you do leave, bring a weapon.”

You cannot fight, though you did pocket a small dagger.

And then you set off. Through the woods, down hills, across rivers, trying to piece together a narrative as to why your father had disappeared. It was winter — though, it did always snow here — and the winds were much more biting than usual. Thankfully, you had brought layers, and the thick hood that wrapped over your head did its job in banishing most of the cold.

It did not stop the lingering gazes of the creatures that crept along the trees, and lingered within the shadows.

You are soaked in snow and wind and cold, but you press on.

You eventually stumbled upon a castle. A grand one, with cracked and broken windows, thorny leafless bushes that surround the forked fencing, and a door so giant your hand can barely wrap around the handle. It is the only source of shelter for miles.

He must be here. Your father was ill. He needed a roof to sleep under. And possibly, despite its state, the castle could have food hidden away if looked for thoroughly.

You push open the doors, wincing from the loud creaking that alerts your presence to anyone residing inside. It looks abandoned. The once polished floors and mangled and ruined, and it a single candle flickers with life. The chandelier sits on the floor, smashed to pieces, and glass spills from every corner.

It is dark, and cold, but it is shelter.

So, you search.

High and low, wandering through the endless halls, trying to trace your steps. You search upstairs first. There are many levels, perhaps maybe five or six, and as you look, you find different rooms. Grand empty ballrooms, bathrooms that once had plated gold edging to every corner and crevice, bedrooms with torn sheets and broken wardrobes. Most rooms were empty — you cannot imagine being able to fill every single one.

Then, you search downstairs. You hadn’t wanted to go below the ground, but your father did not answer to any hushed whisper you called, and you were beginning to lose hope.

The deeper you go, the more you feel trapped.

There are cellars down here, and they stretch on beyond what your eye can see.

The cellars are dark and twisted and cold. It smells of mildew and mould, and every step you take emits a splash from the puddles. The walls are brick and cracked and covered in moss so old it has turned black with time. There are no little white flowers along the vines.

You step further along the wet stone, feeling along the wall blindly. Your nails scrape along, and you try to even your breathing. It’s cold. It’s cold. Frost and snow still clings to your clothes.

That’s when you spot your father rotting away in a cell, and you quickly take his hands through the bars. He’s frail and older now, and so much sicker from being locked away for so long.

You cry out pathetically when he struggles to curl his fingers around yours. Frostbite has taken the tips, and his skin has morphed to an ugly purple and black.

“You shouldn’t have looked for me,” he tells you. Then, he glances down the dark hall. He cannot see anything, for shadows linger across the walls like spiders crawling upon silvery silken webbing, but he knows there is something out there. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

You dismiss his concern. “You’re freezing.” You squeeze your hands tight over his thin skin before you shed off your hood and hand it to him through the bars. “Who did this to you?”

“You need to leave,” your father pleads.

“‘Leave?’” you echo. You try to see through what little light there is for a keyhole. You do not have a key, but the iron is rusted and weak, and you’re sure you can find something to smash the door through with. “I cannot leave. Not without you.”

You search around. You try to steady your racing heart, breathing deeply through your nose. Fog passes from your lips with each breath. Water drips from somewhere, and the constant ticking and creaking of the old bricks make you nervous.

You’re concerned the entire floor will collapse, so you work quick.

The cellars are empty and abandoned. Most of the doors are open, and there’s no keys in sight. There are no weapons, either, nor any long poles to smash the door down.

You panic.

It’s hopeless.

This place is completely empty.

You turn back to your father and try weakly pulling at the door. It does not budge. “Who locked you in here?”

“A beast,” he replies. It is said in a whisper, as if he’s afraid of even uttering the word. “It tore me off my path and brought me here.”

But beasts can’t be real. They’re just fairytales; stories your mother told you when you were little so you wouldn’t wander off by yourself. “Did it hurt you?”

“No. Not yet.” He glances down the hall again. “But it may hurt you.”

“I am not leaving without you. I have searched for days.” You stand up to search for something again, but you know deep down it is futile.

There is nothing.

There’s nothing here.

You want to weep, but that will not help.

It’s hopeless. It’s all so twisted and horrific. There is no beast here. There cannot be. You would have stumbled upon it by now. It would have sliced you to ribbons by now. It would have locked you away with your father by now.

“Listen to me,” your father whispers. “Return to the village and call for the soldiers.”

You shake your head.

“They will not listen to me. They think I’m crazy.” And they do. You briskly wipe at your tears and kneel down in front of the bars again. Then, helplessly you bash at the bars, and the sound echoes down the halls. “How do I get you out?”

Your father tries to quiet your sobbing. “Go back to the village. Find General Zasha, speak with the soldiers.” He grabs your hands through the bars. “The General will listen to you.”

“He will not.”

“He will.” Your father nods once, confident. “I know a man in love when I see it.” Your father kisses your knuckles once before he lets go. “I will be alright.”

He will not be, but you stumble to your feet and back away from the cellars.

And then you leave. You say not a parting word to your father. You pray and hope he remains alive for another few days. You can do nothing else but trek back up the stairs and return to the main halls.

You know they must have been beautiful once. Now everything is old and withered and etched away.

In another world, another life, just maybe, you would have loved to roam the halls of a castle and spoiled endlessly.

You walk slowly, beaten down, cold and alone. Your bones ache with exhaustion, but you will not rest here. You are determined to return to the village and speak to the general, even if you despise him with every inch of your heart.

Your hand reaches for the door handle.

“What’s this?”

And then there is a blade at your throat.

“Another thief roaming my halls?”

You swallow, but all that does is press the blade further into your skin. The discomfort sends you into a panic, and your breathing stutters. Your hand remains wrapped around the handle, but you cannot will yourself to move.

Escape is futile.

You should not have come here.

The blade is removed swiftly. So swiftly that the sharp end glides along your throat and leaves a shallow cut. It stings, and you try not to cry out in fear. Sweat pools down your neck and twists into the new cut. You hiss silently at the pain.

“What did you steal?”

You do not turn around. “Nothing. I am no thief.”

“Then you know the man I locked away.” His voice is deep, and it echoes in the hall. “Otherwise, you would never have come at all.”

You turn slowly, aware he is still armed.

It is a sword he holds, though it is hidden away beneath a large feathered and fur coat that rests upon his shoulders. Long black hair falls from beneath a mask that covers his face, and the shadows below disguise his skin, and anything that can identify him.

He is taller than you. Much taller, and much bigger. You cannot fight him.

“Why did you lock away my father?”

“Your father is a thief,” he replies easily. “And thieves remain thieves until they rot.”

There is no noise. It is just you, and him, and the constant dripping of water from your hair.

“My father is not a thief, beast,” you argue. “You are locking away a sick man.”

“I am no beast,” he denies. “I am man.”

“A man with a blade is no different to a beast.” He must be a beast. There is no reason as to why he would reside in a place such as this. “I will bring back an army.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure you will.” It sounds condescending, and you scrunch your face up when he leans down to scrutinise you. “That is if you can leave my grounds alive.”

“You will die before you lay a hand on me.”

You pull out the dagger residing in your pocket. It is a desperate attempt to create space between you, but the knife only manages to garner a simple tilt of his head.

It’s small, barely deadly, but if angled right, you could take out an eye. But the thought of that makes you crumble; you don’t fight.

The man simply tuts. “You are not even worth a chance to spar.” He simply plucks the weapon from your hands. “How you survived out there is both a mystery and a miracle.”

“I am not weak,” you say. You don’t feel it’s true.

“Stubborn. You are stubborn.”

Your finger twitches in frustration. “Free my father from his cell.”

“Bring your army,” he answers. “It has been a while since I’ve been faced with a challenge.”

“You will lose your head before you even unsheathe your weapon.” You’re not sure if it’s true, but you have to trust yourself. Just this once. “You cannot take on one hundred men.”

“I have once. I will do it again.”

“I will be honoured to have your severed head hanging as decoration in my bedroom,” you sneer. “You will not win this. Your arrogance will be your downfall.” You try to twist and make for the door again, but he holds steady on your wrist. “Unhand me.”

The man, or the beast, or whatever he is, does not falter.

“You are small. Whatever army you bring will be smaller.” He pulls once at your wrist and that silences your struggling. It hurts and stings in warning. “Puny. Is this the best you can do? What if you were to run into a real beast?”

“Let go of me!” you try.

His grip tightens. You fear your bones will snap into pieces. You’re unsure if the skin beneath his gloves belongs to a man or a beast. The tips are sharpened and metallic, and you’re sure they can pierce into your flesh.

He leans in close. Too close.

Close enough you can barely identify the outline of lips drowned out by the shadows that swamp his features. A big man, much too big for you, and he terrifies you beyond your nightmares.

You will dream of him.

Terribly.

“Let go of me,” you plead quietly.

“Let us strike a deal,” he whispers.

“I will make no deals with any man,” you defy.

You see a smile and a flash of sharp teeth.

“I am no man, nor beast,” he responds. “Send your men. Send one thousand. Send every man that has ever walked this plain.” He grabs you even tighter, and if the mask did not obstruct his face, your lips would have touched his, and the scar that runs across the vermillion. You share his breath, and you smell blood and ash. “I will kill them all.”

You feel he tells the truth.

Still, you insist. “You will die.”

“If I do so perish, then the wager is in your favour. Have whatever you wish from this place. Destroy it, restore it, it is yours.”

You want to tell him you do not want this terrible castle. You want your father home, but you are aware he knows this. You open your mouth to speak, but a hand abandons one of your wrists to grab your face and squeeze just enough to keep you quiet.

His claws press into your flesh. You try to wretch yourself free and rake your nails down his arm.

“And if I kill every man you send, I will return your father.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I will have you instead.” He twists you further towards him, and your lips touch. “I will decorate these halls with the heads of every man of your village, and I will ruin you.”

That is a promise. You know it is. You can tell from how he whispers it, and how his grip has slackened into something more gentle than it was before.

“You cannot–” Nothing comes forth from your lips.

“I can.” He lets go of your other wrist and twists his claws into your hair. “It has been so long since I have tasted the flesh on mortal bone.”

The man, whatever he is, releases you finally, and you startle backwards against the door. Blindly, you feel for the handle behind you, trying to keep your breathing even as you finally grip onto the cold metal.

The door swings open behind you and you step outside of the castle. The cold hits you instantly, and you double over in the icy strong winds. You abandoned your hood to your father, and have nothing to shield your eyes. They sting with tears and snow.

Something drapes over your shoulders, heavy and warm.

It’s a coat. The same feathered and furred coat, though it is not laid onto you out of concern or politeness. It is possession, and complete control, ownership when the beast grasps your chin from behind you one last time.

You stare out in fear into the forest ahead.

“Flee, little one.” You feel his lips on your ear. “Time slips away as the clock ticks forward. The world will stop for you, if I so choose it to wait.”

He is warm. Warm against your back, and it provides temporary, ill-fitting relief into your skin.

“I await your return, blade honed, and hungering for your skin.”

You slip from his grasp. “If I don’t return?”

“Your father will draw his final breaths in my cellar,” he tells you, “and once he does, I will chase you to the ends of the earth to deliver the good news.”

#✦ ( the macrocosmos. )#il capitano x reader #capitano x reader #the captain x reader #genshin impact x reader

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the-midnight-blooms · 20 days

Text

ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴛɪꜱᴛ'ꜱ ꜱᴛᴜᴅɪᴏ

pairing: painter!choi san x painter!reader

AU: historical au, joseon dynasty

word count: 10.5k

masterlist

I reach out to my lover, he’s trapped within a painting. The muse of a Renaissance artist- he’s so divine he may have even started the movement.

Her feet pattered down the cold floorboards, pushing through the salmun doors-the fabric of her purple hanbok bunched up in her palms. The midnight bloomed in the depth of the spring, where the cherry blossom trees roared with the wind. A captivating beam from the candle paved the way to the front doors, her heart lurching in her chest as she felt an enchanted soul beckoning her name; her vessel bowed in his essence as if the rapping of the door knocker was to the beat of her name, echoing every syllable. With her hand outstretched for the doors, she hauled it open finding a man whose eyes were squinting as the the coarse rain battered against his supple skin; his teeth chattering with the cold. With a brown leather bag sloped over the shoulder of his light yellow hanbok; hands gripped steely over the handle of his heavy cases. He was tall, with broad shoulders, she quickly discerned but his face almost seemed obscured by the dark clouds and the night slowly filtering into the star studded sky.

"Please, Miss, I'm here to see Mr Yim. I'm a new apprentice at the local government office." His voice was almost mellowed by the crash of thunder against the sky, which had them both flinching at its mercilessness. A surge of relief rested upon him as a slender arm in purple outstretched towards him; the warmth easing the shattering goosebumps bestowed upon his delicate skin. With a contented sigh, the figure in front raised the candle to his face; the soft glow illuminated his crescent eyes which bored into another's burgeoning with curiosity.

"Your name, Sir?" Her honey like voice, slid into his ears; lashes gently fluttering as he breathed in the sight before him the beaming light from the candle forging a halo around this angel. Her tight jaw and deadpan expression was immediately dissolved between the influx of enigma that flooded into her eyes.

"Choi San." Nodding diligently, she gesticulated for him to follow her to her father's study. The hallways of the Yim estate were particularly large, a few candelabras were perched on top of the drawers plastered across the panelled walls-the smoke infiltrating into the empty space. They graced the floor with minimal sound, as if there were ghosts traipsing the corridors rather than real people.

Stood outside the large door, she dipped her head in politeness as he gently caressed the lumber; soft knocks restituting off the walls. With the candle perched within a hand of his own, yet another door opened; the esteemed artist tumbled through the doorway into another life.

Just over two decades ago, on a winter night, where the trees were bare of crisp leaves and the ground was brazen with purest of snow; a couple sat by the fire in their bedroom: a new-born cherub encapsulated within her mother's arms. Mr Yim, the father of the child, was a member of a group of scholars who advocated the need for the government to foster commerce, industry, and technology. He was a part of one of the four schools of thought in Joseon that shifted from speculative theory to attending to more taxing socio-political issues. Therefore, despite being renown for his hard work, and steadfast nature, he was also known for being quite reserved- to put it nicely. There were no 'good mornings' or 'good afternoons' from Mr Yim. Nor were there dirty looks and unwelcoming mannerisms bestowed upon his acquaintances. He liked to keep to himself, Mrs Yim being the only woman in the world capable of seeing that man smile.

"Would you like to hold her, dear?" His wife called, the gentle babbling of his child sending a jolt of fear rushing through him. Eagerly, he dismissed the opportunity, to which Mrs Yim had sighed staring down at her beautiful daughter. "She is your daughter, too. You're going to have to hold her at one point."

"I'll hold her when she is a little older than what she is now."

"Before you know it, she will become a woman and you will reminisce all the opportunities you had to cuddle her when you could." Truthfully, Mr Yim was afraid of fatherhood; he never really understood the notion of it but if having a child would make his darling, Mrs Yim, happy then Mr Yim would give her all the children in the world. How could he raise a child when he was left to raise himself? What could he even teach except say to his daughter after every stumble, every mistake, every stutter, every cry for help but: 'find your way'?

Thus, his aloof nature extended to his daughter, who having been pinned by her mother's side until her unfortunate death, became wholly estranged from her father. He was no longer her mother's husband, but rather just a kind stranger who fed her, clothed her, kept her under his roof and gave her almost anything she wanted.

Miss Yim was rather bizarre.

Or at least, that's what the townspeople thought through her poignant introvertedness; maintaining scant friendships, rejecting all marriage prospects almost immediately preferring the confines of her large quarters-which in themselves were situated in the segregated division of the family home. Her rooms were not bright, but panelled with a dark wood that foremost created a dull atmosphere, there was minimal light other than what streamed in through the open doors and windows that overlooked the vast lawn. A porch ran around the whole building, where Miss Yim frequented, all year round, as she drew.

Oh! The most compelling thing about Miss Yim was that in contrast to her academic father, she had particularly excelled in the arts, often taking on commissions from local noblemen requesting venerated portraits of their wives. As well as the opportunity to put her skills to practise, she saw it as a way of putting a few extra pennies in her pocket. In alignment with her reserved nature, Miss Yim found that she preferred to draw using defined, darker mediums such as charcoal, ink and graphite pencils. There was something so true about the loneliness that could be felt from the intricate brushstrokes as the ink spilled across the page. As if the figurines were her, simply founded to be a mere prop in a large frame.

Smoothing down the hairs on her head, she snapped away her gaze from the mirror to the window overlooking the side of the garden, the silhouette of the hanok roofs, carving elegantly into the sky. The trees rocked and the grass rippled with the pending ferocity of the wind. Indeed, the storm would not subside within the next few days. The door to her bedroom slid open, the older maid stumbled in settling the tray upon her bench.

"Will I not be eating with my father today?" Ina looked up from where she was kneeled on the floor, settling the bowls onto the bench.

"Mr Yim is currently accompanied with Mr Choi. Your father requested that you eat by yourself for the duration of his stay, you know how it is." Nodding, she took her seat opposite Ina patiently awaiting for the maid to stop assembling her dishes in a neat line in front of her. Whilst women typically dined by themselves, her father had allowed her to eat with him almost daily; except when there were guests. Despite his neglect towards his daughter, he still valued her feminine dignity and did not trust the vulturous eyes of men that rested their predatory gaze upon her.

"Who is this, Mr Choi, and how is it that I wasn't aware of his arrival until he was knocking on our door?" She questioned, Ina's careful gaze flickered to her before staring out into the open space in contemplation.

"A new apprentice. He’s appointed here, on request of his father." Leaning forward, Ina's voice dropped an octave. "Apparently his father says he's been 'engaging in sin' so he's been estranged from his parents until he gets his act together." Raising a questioning brow, she looked down at her bowl.

"Is he a homosexual?" Immediately, she was wacked on the back of her head by the older maid who didn't miss a single second in scolding her. Her hand sped to the back, rubbing the jolt of pain that seared through her, a temporary look of irritation glazed over her eyes.

"You insolent girl! How could you say such thing, you know how disgraced that is!"

"You said ‘engaging in sin'. I can't think of anything more sinful other than fraternising with men or women." Ina's dirty look penetrated through her bones, provoking a sense of humiliation that would rattle through her in the depth of the night. Scowling at her mistress, she rolled her eyes before getting up from the floorboard.

“Hurry up and eat your food. You need to go to Mrs Kang’s today." Following Ina's orders she gulfed down her food, drowning out the maid's muttering about her being crude and dishonourable.

The light chatter from the front room fell deaf at her ears as she sauntered to the entrance, which the two kitchen maids scuttled in through. Bowing at their mistress, they made a fowl attempt at suppressing a fit of giggles as they subtly snuck a glance into the room. Following their gazes, she warily traipsed in, catching her father converse with their new guest.

"Ah, speak of the devil! Mr Choi, this is my daughter." He teared his gaze away from his mentor to draw his eyes across the room and find the infamous Miss Yim perched by the doorway, gripping onto her onto the full skirts of her dark blue hanbok.

It was hard to deny that Mr Choi was amiable. He was tall, well-built with a toned torso that was still perceptible through his uncreased peach coloured hanbok, dimples adorned his perfectly structured cheeks. He nodded with such elegant eagerness, at her father's command harbouring the position of an obedient son, almost leaving her wondering what was so 'sinful' about that man in the first place? What could he have possibly done so wrong that he had practically been disowned by his family?

"Miss Yim, it's nice to formally meet you." She gave him a polite nod, choosing to stay silent than say something and be met with her father's harsh stare.

"Mr Kang told me you've been over at his home, a few times." Her father spoke breaking the awkward meeting. A breath became lodged in her throat as she anticipated some sort of wrath, after all Mr Yim was supposed to be oblivious to her going out and painting other women for a light commission. She didn't exactly know how he would react to that. "He appreciates your help with Mrs Kang's pregnancy." Mrs Kang is pregnant? That would explain the engorging belly, the mood swings and the other number of odd behaviours that she was listing off in the past few weeks she had been challenged with drawing the difficult woman. At times, Miss Yim thought she ought to have more empathy, it wasn't that she lacked it, it was that she tended to not gift her empathetic abilities to the prejudiced. It was women like Ina, and the cooks that worked in the kitchen that deserved her compassion. Women who strived to be breadwinners, even if it was due to poor socio-economic circumstances. Because women like Mrs Kang were hypocrites to be preaching the old values, pre-Confucianism, when they neglected their own sex.

"Yes, she's been enjoying my company. I intend to go again to deliver herbs she’s asked from Ina’s garden.” She recalled glancing down the extensively large page, as Mrs Kang moaned and groaned when the servants were too late to serve her namul and kimchi.

"Red raspberry leaf, dandelions, echinacea." Grimacing, she looked over her sheet to give the woman a look. "You can just get this from the market, why do you need this from Ina's garden?" Mrs Kang simply pouted rubbing her belly. Now that she thought about it, how did it not occur to her that she was pregnant? Perhaps it was because they begged to slim down her figure in the painting.

"Fresh herbs are good for babies." Were the herbs from the market not fresh enough for her? “I need them picked before they’re here.”

"Perhaps I should add lemon balm to burn that fat." A discourse of exasperated gasps rippled over the room, Mrs Kang waddled out of the room wailing for her husband. It was ruthless and unkind, keeping the unsympathetic Miss Yim awake at night before she travelled back to the Kang estate to see a very unhappy couple.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Kang. You’re beautiful just the way you are, even more with the little belly.” The pregnant woman’s tight grip around her neck, as they hugged, almost choked her to death.

Mr Yim's eyes outcasted through the doorway, there was a light patter of rain yet the howl of the wind had subsided significantly. He let out a small hum before returning back to the young pair staring, ardently, back at him.

"I say Mr Choi, should be your chaperone. It's a little unsafe to be going out by yourself." Before she could open her mouth and argue, her father held out a hand to silence her thoughts. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she nodded once more, before dashing from the room to have a flustered Mr Choi following her.

Hitching up her skirts, she trudged through the field, the sun had filtered into the sky radiating its essence onto the young souls as they surpassed the reams of houses. Had it not been for the joyous discord of infantile laughter, it would have been quiet; San mustering the courage to initiate a conversation. He cleared his throat, she merely blinked at his futile attempt at grabbing her attention.

"Miss Yim, you must slow down I can't keep up with your pace." He declared, striding faster towards her, the tall grass brushing against his knees.

"I think you can cope, Sir. Your legs are longer than mine." Walking through the grass wasn't difficult but when her hanbok was floor length, lifting up the heavy fabric proved tiresome and not to mention her shoes were sinking into the muddy fields, squelching miserably under her heavy steps. Eventually, San matched her pace as they made their way up the steps to the Kang estate.

A shrill voice eructed into the airs, the domestic staff worked at a proficient speed as they amended the damages inflicted from the storm. As a group of servants raised the logs from the path, San ran to their aid significantly lightening their work load. His charity had left her silent contemplating her initial thoughts on his persona. There must be something impure under all that. Surely? There had to be some reason why his father practically disowned him.

Kang Yeosang stood by his front doors, watching as his staff worked the lawn and through the large home. He sought the enigmatic painter launch up the steps, with an unreadable look painted on her face.

“Good Morning, Miss Yim.”

“Morning, Yeosang.” She greeted, he laughed a little at her dull tone.

“I take it, there’s nothing particularly good about this morning.” He jeered, she huffed at his characteristically exuberant manner.

“Not when my father’s spy is here to be my chaperone.” She turned around on the steps, the pair looking down at San moving the heavy logs from the path, dirtying his robes at that. “He’s the new apprentice at the local office, Choi San, I think he said his name was.”

"Oh, the country boy." Country boy? "He's from Yangdong, have you not heard? His family is amongst the richest, they're both scholars and farmers, now." Across the country, Joseon farming techniques had taken a turn within the last few decades, especially with the establishment of irrigation and rice transplantation methods- bringing Joseon to a state of flourishment. It was safe to say, which farmer wasn't rich now? The admirable farm boy was pushed away by the servants, making his way up the steps. Leaving him with Yeosang, she made her way in the direction of the couples' shared quarters, Mrs Kang draped over her bed, her wrist dramatically resting on her forehead.

"Hello, Mrs Kang." The woman jolted up from her seat, an obnoxious groan emitted from her as she propped her back up against the wall. "I brought you your herbs."

"Thank you, my love. You left your paints, they're just on my dressing table." The herbs were exchanged from her paints, digging into the pockets of her hanbok. The older woman began to natter, the discordant tonality rattling in her ears. Mrs Kang loved to talk. Even if it was about absolutely nothing, that woman talked for the whole of Joseon.

I'm leaving this place with a headache.

She often wondered how it was that Yeosang put up with his insufferable wife. Was it love, or a promise that he had made to Mrs Kang's parents that he would never leave her? The thought made her sigh in pity- to be permanently bound to someone in matrimony seemed like too much effort at times. Perhaps the effort itself is what subdued her mother to misery, the poor Mrs Yim eagerly handing her soul to the Angel of Death. Or maybe Miss Yim had possessed a stone-cold heart frozen over by the neglect of life's intimate essence; overpowered by a sense of maturity held over by her mother's early death. She took it upon herself to make it clear that by the time she was thirty, if there was no proposal that had come around she was going to wholly abandon the idea of marriage and work herself to death.

"That man is so pretty." She spoke, dreamily, Miss Yim's eyes lazily fled in the direction of Mrs Kang's. Her head poked through the doorway where both Yeosang and San were travelling down, engaging in intelligent discourse. "Not Yeo, the other one." The pregnant woman clarified.

"He's ok, I suppose. Not bewitching enough to tempt me."

"That has to be the biggest lie I have ever heard."

"What is Miss Yim lying about now?" Yeosang provoked as both men entered the room. Both women shared a look before the painter slumped onto the dressing table chair. "I suppose you're awaiting your payment."

"Well, my services aren't free." She declared, pompously. Yeosang rolled his eyes before he moved to the opposite end of the room, San had almost drawn his body out of the bedroom, a little embarrassed as the pregnant Mrs Kang ogled her eyes at him. Stretching her limbs, she got up taking the velvet bag. "Thank you, Mr Kang. I'll visit when the baby arrives."

His perfection had her repleted with such distaste for him. Simply put, Miss Yim hated Choi San because he was loved by all. Her father loved him, Ina adored him, the maids were constantly drooling over him it shot her with a sense of annoyance. He quickly became a household name, spoken of when he was at the office with her father and even when he was at home. Everywhere she went it was just him, him and him. The worst thing was, was that he was even trying to be nice to her prevailing through her grim looks and hard words.

“San this, San that. Honestly, he’s not even as esteemed as everyone claims, Ina. He’s just a man, like every other man. And all men are the same. So what if he's good looking, does that suddenly make him god’s greatest gift?” Burying her face into the pillow, an exasperated huff escaped her lips. Ina fell onto her bed, reaching her arms out to stroke her mistress’ back. With a contented sigh, she felt her eyes drooping a little as the maid's soft caresses were gently lulling her to sleep. Her touch felt like that of her mother's, soothing the aches of her heart whilst simultaneously provoking the nostalgia of a mother's love. To have her mother again, to have that woman encircle her into her arms. Rock her back and forth. She longed for her mother's scent again, often chasing the whiff of her familiar saccharine redolence as one chased butterflies in an open field.

“Yet you think of him often. He occupies your thoughts as much as he occupies ours.”

“Hardly, I-,” She stammered in a desperate attempt to recollect her thoughts into a single ambience. “I envy him. How is that he steps into this home for a second and I see my father smile?” Ina’s face dropped, a breath caught in her throat as her mistress spoke aloud the forbidden words she denied her staff to even breathe. The older maid had been rendered silent for too long, giving Miss Yim all of the answers she needed to press forward with her wistful assumptions.

"Perhaps if you grew to understand him, you would know why your father has inhabited such emotions for him. Think of him like a son-in-law. He will love him but not as much as he loves you." The maid reasoned.

"Then that makes him my husband." She grumbled, pulling the duvet over her shoulders.

"Now is that so bad?” Ina teased, before pulling her weight off the bed. With no strength to argue, her eyes fluttered to a close; her soul being dissolved by the night.

The following morning, it was too cold to be even sitting on her porch and with eyes tired of the same dreary scene, she ventured out of her quarters, delving into parts of the home she had missed. By the kitchens, the late Mrs Yim had reserved herself a small room decorated with the tools of all her hobbies in order to enact time alone for herself, away from motherhood and social responsibility. The room was consistently cleaned but usually left empty having it being full of painful memories of the beloved mistress of the household. For the first time in a long time, Miss Yim had felt the drive to find the room again and read her mother's poetry she had spent hours pouring over in the rooms.

Yet it had been almost shot stone-cold dead when the door opened to find San sat by the window hands raised towards the canvas. The anger within her refused to simmer or boil, it was rather the smooth swaying of the soft waves lapping the crust of sand. Her hands feebly reached for the poetry book on the table.

"I didn't know you were a painter, Mr Choi." She proclaimed, her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes sought the intricate details on the canvas. Her eyes glossed over the colours, the succinct shapes, drawing on the brushstrokes herself with the sharp movements of her eyes. It moved her. When was the last time she had been left this breathless?

"You never asked, Miss Yim." Immediately she felt intimidated by his artwork, her own revered drawings felt meek in comparison to his. A mere apprentice in an important official’s presence. To even be this close to him was considered a blessing. "You can sit next to me. I don't bite." Tentatively, she drew closer seating herself on the floorboards next to him; the brush of their fabrics sending a tidal wave of timidness over her. Where was the bold, steadfast Mrs Yim? Long gone, lost to the large expanse of the sea. Drowning under the ocean of his perfection. She didn't even want call for help, allowing herself to be enveloped by his allure. You draw so beautifully, she wanted to say. It's perfect, like something-someone even.

"You should have been a royal painter." The remark was swallowed into a melancholic void within his heart. Sparing a glance, he dipped the tip of the paintbrush into the crevice of the cerulean blue paint before raising to illustrate the canvas.

"Don't say that to my father." She sought the gloom glossed over his brown eyes. Was he, too, held down by social responsibility and expectations? She didn't think it was possible for a man's dreams to be mauled over by society; for she saw it with her father who had the whole world at his feet-picking dreams as if he was picking daisies from a meadow. Dropping her book onto the floor, she rested her head on her knee, solicitude fulfilled the serene atmosphere. Her eyes fell over the fancy metallic pots situated around the easel, which she knew to be various colours of paint pigments. Resting her head on her knee, she tenderly rocked her body from side to side as she watched his hands elegantly work through the canvases.

"Did you ever consider pottery? That's supposed to be quite popular now." Her question breaking through the quiet airs, the delicacy of her voice startling San. It was devoid of boredom, or disinterest like he had always perceived. No lace of judgement like he was silently praying to be diminished from her soul.

"It'll grow out of popularity soon." He stated, resting the paintbrush down to exercise the tense muscles in his hands. "I heard this was the late Mrs Yim's room, I hope you don't mind me being here." It, too, came as a shock to her when she shook her head-with no care in the world that he had colonised the room that she was once sure was hers.

It was sunny for once, which was odd for this time of year-she thought throwing open the door to the porch finding San surrounded by a large number of logs and an axe.

"What's he doing outside?" She pondered, Ina folding up the washed bedsheets before tucking them away into the drawers.

"They stopped properly chopping up the logs so we can use them for the fire, so Mr Choi offered to help." Wandering out through the doors, a smooth current of air tousled her hair, a book held tightly against her chest.

God, he really was toned. Rolling up the sleeves of his hanbok all the way to his bulging biceps, the maids all stopped in their path to rest their elbows on the low garden wall overseeing the vast expanse of grass. Effortlessly he picked up the axe, raising it over his head to slice down the log of wood. She rolled her eyes at her maids, as they watched him with dreamy faces. They nattered in hushed tones, giggling amongst themselves unbeknownst that their mistress was stood behind them. Leaning down to where they were sat on the garden wall, she poked her head in between the sea of charmed maidens.

“What are we looking at?” They squeaked, jumping up from their seats upon sight of their mistress- flapping their hands as some rushed back into the kitchen and others tended to garden duties. “Well? I would like to know too.”

“You wouldn’t understand Miss Yim.” Yes, yes she was the narcissistic Miss Yim who harboured no feelings for men and couldn’t deduce their charming airs. She was the Miss Yim who rejected countless marriage proposals, not based on looks but merely because she found that no man possessed the kind quality in a man that she was seeking. No patience, no loyalty. They were not even ruled by a sense of ambition. So how could she be hypnotised by the sacred beauty of a man, specifically, Choi San.

“Yes, I don’t understand why you’re not doing the job that we’re paying for you to do. All of you, out of the garden, it’s already been tended to!” She shouted, in an instant all of the maids dispersed back into the home. Huffing, she slumped onto the garden wall, glazing her ink pen over the defined lines on the page. Occasionally, she’d peer her eyes over the pages at San, tending to the curve of his body, and the horrific cinching of his waist. When he looked to his side, she hastily returned back to her sketchbook, feeling a blush decorate her cheeks as his steady gaze burned into her skin.

“Very accurate, Miss Yim.” Jumping up from her seat, she screeched the pot of ink spilling onto his face and neck. Whoops.

“Oh goodness, I am so sorry. Ah.” She let out a pained sound, battling with her internal conflict as she grabbed his hand rushing them into the direction of the porch that led to her quarters. Powerfully, she slid the door open darting inside and towards the washroom. Hauling him down to his knees in front of the washing basin, with a soaked rag in hand, she scraped away the ink splashed across his face. “Take this off.” She ordered, signalling to his hanbok.

“W-what?” He stammered, his face heating red.

“Well you’ve got ink and dirt all over it. I can get a new one for you.”

“I can’t just return back to my quarters and change?”

“Well no because then my father will see you and he’ll know I stole his ink again.” An annoyed huff escaped from his lips as she handed him the rag to clean himself. “Here, I’ll go get you a spare set of clothes.” Jumping up from where she was kneeled, her foot slipped over a puddle of water his arms snapped out towards her waist. Gripping his shoulders for stability, a faint blush trickled over her face, their noses barely an inches distance.

"Be careful." Quickly unravelling her hands from his shoulders, Miss Yim ran out of the room towards his quarters. Slipping past the double doors, she rummaged through the drawers for his clothes-picking up a light green set.

"Mr Choi?" A maid's voice called out from behind the closed door. Discerning their shadow moving closer, she made a beeline through the open doors leading into the garden. Scuttling into her washroom, she practically launched the hanbok at him before hiding in her room.

A breath of relief had finally escaped from her when he left from her room, both of their faces burning red in the midst of this shameful meeting. Yet San seemed persistent to know her, feeling that there was still something beneath the stone-cold façade she had constructed; something emotional and raw that he had felt he had to know. And Miss Yim was too becoming more curious, by the day, as to what Choi San’s secret was and why his father perpetually hated him.

Ina had forced them to go on a walk together, she groaned, silently, as they left the home behind making their way down to the meadow. At first an odd tranquillity permeated the air, eventually she grew tired of the jarring dissonance of absolutely nothing.

“A penny for your thoughts?” She inquired.

“I’ll keep the penny. I almost feel you’d judge me for having thoughts.” San bemused, she rolled her eyes, a faint of a smile on her lips. Just the tiniest, but it was practically gone within the same second.

“I don’t judge you, Mr Choi. I do, however, envy you. You’ve taken the place I wanted in my father’s heart.” She confessed, he looked towards her sympathetically, with knowingness that she was indeed right and the Mr Yim, famous for being just as aloof as his daughter, had somehow softened a little upon his arrival. Perhaps it was a son that he had always wanted, not a daughter but the scholar was reserved; San being too terrified to pry.

“Your place is best occupied elsewhere. Somebody else has it, I’m sure. He keeps it safe with love that is too potent that even dreamers can’t feign.” Of course was reading her mother's poetry, she didn't think many could understand the abstract nature of her words; of course it was him out of all who admired her poetry as it was his own.

"I am not pretty enough for that." Miss Yim argued, looking down at her feet. After all, the marriage proposals were not because of her vague good looks, but mainly because Mr Yim claimed an abundance of wealth.

"I disagree with you on that." Her face heated with his affirmation.

"Well, I am no Jang Ok-Jeong."

"There are many beautiful women in Joseon, not all of them have ever been recorded."

"She caught the eye of the King, a man who has a kingdom at his feet, he is supposed to be too superior to even look at his subjects. And he looks at her? Is that not a beautiful woman?" They were both fuelled by this argument, the debate igniting a set of powerful emotions that roared within them. This, was what they both deeply felt conversations were supposed to be. Potent discourse about society, literature and art. Not idle chatter on the weather, marriage and the social laws that subdued them.

"A man is supposed to be ruled by his head, not emotions. I say if any man bestowed more than a single glance, on a woman, and his breath was taken away, then she is more gorgeous than Venus herself."

"Not that wretched painting. It's so...vulgar." San snickered, squeezing his eyes as he let out a melodious laughter. "It says so much about the male gaze." She spat out as they trudged through the fields back in the direction of her home.

“I wonder if you like any art, at all? Other than your own?” He questioned.

“Owon is good. Apart from the vulgarity of Renaissance paintings-,”

“Which I must say is the majority of the whole movement, pray, continue.” He teased, his pestering smirk seemed to stitch wings on her heart, for it fluttered at his amiability, his devoutness to mankind and all of its endearing qualities and his perseverance. Despite her uncompromising attitudes and distasteful demeanour, he seemed compliant with listening to her, talking to her, truly trying to understand her and not just turning a blind eye. Choi San truly wanted to know her, for her; and not follow some false allegation that she was devoid of a heart or soul. He commended she had both and they were wrought with an existentialist quality that he wanted nothing but to huddle in the corner of a library and read away his life until it dissolved under the cover of her persona.

"What about you?" She questioned, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her own ear. At once, San was drawn into the world of virtuosity describing each of his favourite pieces as if it could be encapsulated into a single globe. The sweet dissonance of his voice lugging her into a dreamscape as they gently glissaded through the empty hallways of the Yim estate. They sought their eyes over the panelled wall, following the intricate lines of carved wood. They could almost be called mad people loose from the dreaded ward. For their eyes did not see the same way a normal persons did. He saw the shimmer in the air, the light poring through the crevices, the faint blemishes on a skin unseen with a naked eye-too vague to be called a taint, a mark, a scar. And she would see what he saw, whether it was not there she could reach to the depths of her sanity and pour out the image before her eyes to satisfy him.

It became a wonder to her how they spent several nights, the light patter of her feet as she rushed to his quarters with fulfilling arguments over art pieces, sharing techniques, rifling through each other's sketchbooks. His style was a stark contrast to her own: luminous watercolours, velvety acrylic paints, oily crayons. His muses were full of life and wonder, the strokes brimming with fruition. It was if a single segment of his painting held more hope than what could exist in her whole being.

There was something about him, too. She could see it now, his compassion, his adoration. As the weeks spun by, she became less repulsed by his sincerity and opened up to it more, almost finding herself craving his attention. His affection was much welcomed; she often wondered what it would be like to be so loved by him.

In her mother's old drawing room, she found him again, his large hands drifting over the pages again. Peering over his shoulder, she softly blew into his ear; the warmth tickling him.

"What are you drawing?" Her eyes scanned over the cartridge sheet, its intimacy striking her. It looked like her. Every sketch line, every shade, every little detail, every little blemish on her face.

"You." He answered, he didn't dare tear his eyes away from her for her hair was falling down her face in perfect waves that lured him into uncharted depths.

"You drew me so pretty."

"I only drew what I saw." Her heart wavered in piety, his devotion provoking an arrangement of madness. He was going to drive her insane and she was content with it.

"I wonder, what was it that you were excommunicated for?" Her silence broke through the passionate airs, culminating the objectivity that fulfilled among them as his sins held heavy on his tongue.

"I am not a scholar, a farmer or a devout son. I am an artist, a man who sees the world despite all of its maliciousness. I see the world so raw, it almost disgusts me but I am not terrified by its honesty. I find it so beautiful, it belongs on a page: drawn." Her body swayed towards him, hypnotised by his delicate words drawn his intoxicating tenacity, filling her with such immitigable rage that within that severe moment all she wanted was him. "I was 'excommunicated' because I am not the man my father wants me to be. I return as soon as I am devoid of all the emotions he renders vile." Tentatively, her fingers curled through his hair his eyes fluttering shut under her gentle touch.

"What about you Miss Yim? Why are you so solitary?" He murmured, their quiet voices serenaded the room.

"I am not solitary by choice. It's been enforced upon me and I know nothing and no one else but myself." Her whispers, though full of hurt and pain, were seldom dulcet. He thrived himself upon her words alone, it was enough to send him into delirium but her whole unmatched beauty with her words? He was sure to be sent to the wretched institute.

With an envelope gripped in her hands, she made her way over to his quarters slipping into the warmth, his smile greeting her as she slumped onto the chair in front of him.

"Mrs Choi? Your mother?" She inquired, handing over the envelope. San snickered at her nosiness, rolling her eyes as he took the sheet from her grasp, ripping open the seal to reel his eyes down the page.

"Actually, it's my wife." He announced, sparing her a single glance as he continued to read the words sprawled across the page. A sharp pang penetrated through the barriers in her heart, she felt her feet slipping under the ground, the walls pulverising as they caved in on her. For some reason, the room felt much more smaller than it was. Her heart was beating faster than any poetic declaration he had bestowed upon her, any time he had made her feel as if she was truly a worthy soul of being loved. Her heart palpitated faster than when he made her feel she would not die from a cataclysmic loneliness.

"I didn't know you were married." She breathed out, gripping the sage green silk in hand; feeling almost disgusted with herself for fixating her whole being on a man who never belonged to her in the beginning.

"We'll be officially married when I return back home." With a teasing smile on his lips, he grabbed a clean sheet from his desk and began elegantly carving the characters onto the page. "I'll be sure to send you an invite, if you'll come?"

“Of course, I’ll come. You know, for the food.” She quipped, his dimpled smile shattering the months of pining she had set for this revered soul. “I’ll take your leave, San.”

She fled from the room her bare feet blessing the sweet earth, the velvety wisps of the wind taunting her as tears welled up in her eyes. With a breath hitched in her throat, she fell onto her bed; bottom lip quivering as pearl tears escaped from her eyes dribbling down her cheeks before splattering onto the bedsheets. Her painful howl terrorised the desolate quarters as she had done on several dispassionate nights, the skies mimicked her torment, the light patter of rain hit against the window as if it understood all her wretched emotions. As if it understood her anger, hatred and hurt. As if it understood how disgusting it felt be left vulnerable by a man who could never be hers.

Was it some false delusion that she had been seduced by? That he, who was carved from a sculpturers most wild emotions, by all of his tenacity and his violent rage that he wished to create a being made of light: could truly be hers? By his yearning and pent up sentiment, by his dying wish that this world was not at peace until some divine figure from a concealed land would touch her world? Her hands shook as she sought to remove the tears streaming endlessly down her face. After all it had now made sense to all of the sympathetic souls that had heard her be plunged through such pain, to read her tale and understand the reason for her aloof nature.

Up the walls went back up. Brick by brick.

Curse you, Choi San, for breaking them down in the first place.

San had not seen Miss Yim for the remainder of the week or the subsequent. Granted, he had been flooded with an overwhelming amount of work but such was to be expected with the incredible staff shortage and Mr Yim’s high expectations. Regardless, he missed the snarky comments and unrelenting stares from across the room. He missed her moodiness, how ever infuriating it was at times; he missed the sense of quietude she presented at his feet and its ability to render his mind numb. Overall, he missed her. Yet, she seemed to be nowhere in sight and in fact missing even under the cover of the night.

“Ina, do you know where I can find Miss Yim?” He questioned, the agony rupturing the sutures of his weak heart apart.

"In her room, Mr Choi. She's, specifically, requested not to see anyone." Oh. His mood deflated after that concession, wracking his mind for all the things he had said in their last engagement; anything potentially hurtful or offensive but he didn’t recall anything particularly endangering. His quest to venture into her quarters, despite her ruthless commands which had the servants petrified over her uncharacteristic (but not abnormal) behaviour, had been cut short by Mr Yim’s desire to keep a tightened hold on the apprentice. He thought about bringing it up as he ate dinner with his mentor.

“How is Miss Yim? I heard she’s isolated herself in her quarters?” He raised, tentatively, as Mr Yim’s eyes scoured down the reports. Her father was a little too quick to dismiss her actions.

“Never mind her, that’s not something new. I was surprised she was even roaming around the house when you arrived…” Mr Yim trailed off as a thought infiltrated his mind, shutting the book close, his furrowed brows silenced the questions in San’s mind.

The moonlight spilt in through the window, the luminous shadows dancing with the light breeze. With dried tear tracks staining her puffy cheeks, she circulated her finger around the cotton sheets pulling up the heavy duvet over her shoulders, a trail of heat comforted her. The door to her room, silently, slid open; oblivious to the soft bustling of footsteps she stretched her limbs sitting up in her bed.

“Miss Yim?” Her head snapped up at the deep voice, its familiarity sending an agonising wave of heartache through her being. There he was, the perpetrator himself, settling in front of her with a teacup in his palms as if nothing had happened in the first place. “Are you ok? I know you don’t like echinacea, so I got you lemon and ginger tea.” Placing the tea cup on her night stand, he rested his palm against her forehead.

“What are you doing here, San?” Huffing, she fisted up the hair in her palms before sticking a dry paint brush through it to create a tight knot.

“You’re burning u- were you crying?” His finger lightly smoothed her damp skin, shaking her head she pushed his hand away from her face. God, she felt awful for his wife who had to endure his infidelity. “What’s wrong, jagiya, speak to me?” Biting down on her lower lip, Miss Yim threw her gaze out of her window, she sought the light shimmering as her vision blurred.

“Just leave, please.” There was no more hostility left in her tone, a coarse throat lacerated with the phlegm that built up from endless nights of sobbing herself to sleep. Tiredness gnawed at her, she just wanted to dissolve back into the covers. Pleading, begging she’d do whatever she could to force him to leave because if he didn’t then she would tear down the path to the Angel of Death and beg him to take her dwindling heart. On her knees she would go, for the mere sight of her lover crumbled the steadfast walls she had tried so hard to rebuild.

“Are you upset because I’m going home next week? If that’s the case-,”

“San, are you dense?” She interrupted. He was subjugated to silence, a look of hurt flashing over his face. “Leave means leave.” Adjusting her body so she could slide under the covers, she stridently hauled the fabric over her head, gripping her lips tight shut, so no more pitiful sobs escaped her and she was no more a servant to his cruel love.

The Yim estate was left with a melancholic air as the venerated bachelor made his preparations to leave the home. The maids were forlorn as they’d no longer have the privilege of seeing his striking face to bless their monotone days. Miss Yim had finally mustered the courage to take a stroll through the garden, avoiding San's quarters at that. Lingering by the flowers, she wrapped her arms around herself to manifest a sense of warmth that failed to prevail with the awful weather. She didn't notice her lover tear down the garden to her, his heart leaping within his own chest.

"Miss Yim?" Her body whipped around upon his words, her hands balled up into fists the anger displaced by fear. "Do you know how painful it has been for me to go days without seeing you? I am leaving for Yangdong, today, and god knows if I didn't even so much as see your face I would have gone feral."

"I- why?" She stuttered, at a desperate attempt to collect together her words and form a sentence. How and when did he culminate such passionate feelings for her?

"Why? Isn't it obvious? I am in love with you." He declared, she shook her head, profusely, at him.

"How can you say that?" Her voice raised an octave, parrying against the harsh winds that blew at them.

“If being in love with you is a deadly sin, then I am the greatest sinner there is. I will walk up to the gates of hell and open them myself. Hand over my arms and ask them to bound me to its greatest depths.” His chest heaved up and down, tears brimming at the front of her eyes. “I cannot live without you. I would not even do so much as breathe unless you asked me to. If you asked me to stop breathing, I would!”

“You’re a married man, San. Do you know how god awful that sounds?”

“I’m barely married but engaged. When I go back home, I will once again beg to not be wed off to her. I don’t love her, how can my father expect me to marry her? How can you expect me to marry her?”

“I don’t think you understand, San. I can’t love you.” His arms outstretched for her waist, hauling her towards him, the rain beating down on them both. With the gentle flick of his finger, her head tipped up to peer into his eyes.

“Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t love me, or even feel as much as a small emotion for me. One word from you, would silence me forever.” She bit furiously down on her lip as his vehement fixation tore through the borders of her soul. When did she fall so vulnerable in his conquest for her being?

“I don’t love you the same way you love me. I am incapable of doing so.” His own brown eyes fulfilled with hot tears, pouring soundlessly down his cheeks. Her heart wavered with misery as he ripped away his grip, stumbling backwards upon her untruth.

“I understand. Thank you, Miss Yim. For the first time in my life, someone saw me for who I really am and not who I am meant to be.” Once again, the thunder cracked against the sky as San turned his back on her striding back into the home. The maids ran out to shut the doors, summoning their mistress back in but she sunk to the floor erupting into a fit of sobs; a wave of shock rattling through them. Her heart burned with such pain, even as Ina cooed lifting her up from the floor to guide her back into the home. Melting into the older woman's arms, her ears drowned out the distant sound of her lover ambling far, far away from her to a land in which even its notion would never grace the depths of her mind.

Her father's office was warm, but not the comforting kind as the biting airs of Joseon persisted. It was more suffocating as they sat across from each other in his office, discussing the state of her future now that he had managed to complete some of burdening tasks at work. He had several proposals lined in front of her, some prospects from his workplace, some from Mr Kang and even Ina had managed to find one or two seemingly agreeable men within their social class. A sigh fulfilled her, it would be a lie to say that she didn't look for the smallest hint of San within them all.

"I'm sorry Father, I don't like any of these men." He closed his eyes in indignation, rubbing his face before collecting the sheets from in front of her and throwing them into the fire. The embers cackled in a slow, seething ferocity as he leaned back in his chair.

"I honestly don't know what to do with you anymore. You won't marry, you won't leave your quarters. You've stopped helping around the house. All you want to do is sit in your room all day and stare into space." He scolded, she shook her head before raising from her seat. "You are becoming a burden to me."

"Well if I am such a burden to you, then just get rid of me." She taunted. An animosity truanted through him at her discourtesy.

“What do you think I have been trying to do since your mother left us? It should have not been your mother that had died! It should have been you! I would trade my soul to have your mother in place of you.” He blurted, before quickly slapping the palm of his hand to his mouth, cursing him for the spoiled words that left it.

“I would trade my soul too, to have my mother where you stand. You are a poor excuse of a man and to call you my father is an insult to me.” She hissed through gritted teeth, the shock reverberating at Mr Yim’s core; the severity of her words pulsating through his blood.

“You shouldn’t have been a father if all I was going to be to you was a pretty doll in a picture. The truth was she didn’t die because she was ill, it was the heartbreak of carrying a whole marriage on her back. It was the fact that you didn’t care about her wants, but your own.”

"You are in no position to say that to me. I loved your mother like it was breathing, I loved her as if she was the greatest blessing, as if God had granted me mercy for all the times I had done him wrong." His chest suspired, brittle hands shaking as a heavy tension remained suspended in the air between them; Ina loitering outside afraid to walk into the war zone.

"But you didn't love me! It was my mother who loved me, and I wasn't allowed to have her! I wasn't my mother's daughter, or my father's. I was a daughter of a servant with my name merely attached to you." At the end of the day, she was the figure in those paintings. Trapped within a frame, four equidistant lines on a piece of cartridge paper, bound by brushstrokes, sketch lines, constricted and held down by the artist. Subservient and stuck to a position in which she could not move.

Mr Yim deserved the brutal honesty of those words, no matter how harsh it was, and with a pounding headache, she ran out of his office ignoring her father’s calls for her to return to his side. This was it, there was nothing and no one by her side now and she was now the destitute figure that she had feared she would become.

“What’s wrong my dear? What’s hurt you so much?” Ina’s soft voice dilapidated at her mistress’ gloom, one she had seen prolong within her late madam too. Squeezing her eyes shut, she summoned the courage to spill her heart to her maid. She told her of how much she adored him, how deeply she wanted him and the ways in which he had made her fall in love with him. And how he had hurt her too.

“So call me heartless and apathetic all you want but I couldn’t take another woman’s man from her.”

“My love.” Ina’s weak fingers travelled through her hair. “You are far from heartless and apathetic. A man who you love is your whole life, you gave your life away to another woman.” She looked over to Ina, falling into her motherly embrace, breathing in her scent. There it was. The same scent that her mother had, the scent she was dreaming to come back to her in the midst of the night, and her a fool to dismiss that it was in front of her the whole time.

“What should I do now?” Her weak inquiry, breaking her heart, sinking deeper into the void than she already was.

“Go back to him and tell him you love him. He is a gentleman who accepts despondency like a soldier. So you, his general, must go back and tell him to return home to you.”

“Ina-,”

“Do not deny yourself of what you deserve. Your mother did, I won’t see you walk the same path.”

“I will let time run its cycle. Time will tell if he is meant to be mine.” She declared, to which the maid rested her palm on her cheek.

Mrs Kang’s baby boy, Kang Minho, was indeed a beauty. His bedazzling little eyes stared up at her in wonder, babbling as she lightly drew the tip of her finger over his chubby cheeks. It was astonishing for Mrs Kang to see that it was merely a little baby that would eruct a smile out of the secluded Miss Yim. It had been about four months since San had left the estate, and a while it took for her to leave the confines of her quarters. Once again, she took requests after requests painting and painting until her hands became stiff and sore. And so even more marriage prospects came, and her eyes lingered slightly over a potential husband. Both Ina and her father were pleased when she stayed a little longer at the doorway of their home talking to one of the young apprentice’s at the office. He was tall, handsome and kind; perhaps it was flickers of San she saw within him that had her thinking that spending the rest of her life with this man: wouldn’t be particularly gruesome. Regardless, she made no firm decision but still, for her father this was significant progress.

“He likes you.” Mrs Kang chimed, grinning down at her baby. She hummed carefully, softly tickling his smooth cheeks.

“Maybe I like him too.” Her gaze lightly flickered to the elated mother. “Where is Yeosang? I didn’t see him on my way in?”

“Oh he’s in his office with San.” Her head snapped up from the baby at the sound of his name. Goodness, how long had it been since she had heard that single syllable name, forever it seemed it would merely reverberate inside her head. “Did you not know he was in town? He came to see Minho.” Shaking her head, she got up from the bed consoling herself.

“I- I think I’ll leave now. I’ll come visit another time.” She announced, before awkwardly patting Mrs Kang’s head; a poor endeavour at affection but for Mrs Kang this affection was whole-heartedly appreciated. Her footsteps sped down the hallways, she came to an abrupt halt at the exist of the Kang estate.

There he was, stood there with Yeosang conversing if they were age-old best friends her heart palpitated with anxiety, knowing that she’d have to walk past him again. The sight of him almost triggered her, she gripped onto her deep purple skirts, his own yellow hanbok beaming like the sun.

“Miss Yim! I didn’t know you had arrived, leaving so soon?” Mr Kang chirped from the door. She shook at her head at him.

“I’ve been here for over an hour and a half. I’ll visit another time, especially since Minho is the only tolerable person in this household.”

“Just say you love him.” A grumble erupted from her lips, she rolled her eyes- with a delicate playfulness- before squeezing past the pair of men. A pounding of footsteps travelled after her as she trudged back through the fields in the direction of her home.

“Miss Yim, allow me to accompany you.” San professed, breathlessly. With a diligent nod, she transgressed forwards ignoring his burning gaze into her skin. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine. What about you?” He responded he was great all the same, reporting that the weather in Yangdong was a little warmer than in her hometown.

“When is your wedding date? I’m still awaiting on an invite.” It was a joke, nonetheless, but one that didn't hesitate to puncture holes in her heart.

“We broke off the engagement, it was mutual really. She was in love with someone else.” With a breath lodged in her throat, her stare tore away from the fields piercing straight into his eyes. It was then she had realised how burdened he truly was. Where was the San that always smiled and joked, and was so full of love it seemed inhumane to have so much of it? They didn't need to say anything to each other in that moment, they stopped walking subsided to a silent, paralysed position. "I think I'll just take your leave." His voice quivered, sending a jolt of agony through her.

Hadn't she made him suffer enough? After all he was the same man who loved her as if she was the vessel that kept the blood running through his veins, his heart beating and his feet walking.

Go back to him and tell him you love him.

Tell him to return back home to you.

His body almost disappeared behind the vast expanse of buildings, when she raced down the fields, as fast as her legs could carry her, ignoring the vicious ache gnawing at her muscles and the agitated pounding of her heart against her chest. Tearing down the path towards him, in the chance that if she didn't run any faster she was going to lose her lover to the wind.

"San!" Her shout echoed in the breeze, but reached to his ears anyway, a tug at the weak strings that had barely held down his soul. He turned, so desperate that she would come to him like she had done in the dead of the night. Feeling his lover crawl into his arms, pledging that she would never leave from his side.

"Miss Yim, what's wrong?"

“I lied to you, when I said I didn’t love you. I really, really do, I almost feel disgusted by it. I never thought, that someone as ruthless and as cold as me would be privileged enough to fall in love but when you entered my life I felt like my mother.” She sucked in a deep breath, her lover making gentle steps toward her as the wind whipped their hair. “I felt like her when she said: ‘If he was the muse in a painting, to be an object, a fleck of paint, or even dust on it would be my greatest honour.’” Warm tears forged in his eyes, biting down his bottom lip to prevent them from escaping. She wanted to outstretch her arms towards him but it was too soon.

“So, Choi San, it’s an honour to be loved by you. I came back, because I had to tell you that. I hurt you so much. I was scared that being vulnerable to love would only hurt me but the only person who gave me such torment was myself.” Her confession disturbed her, yet it was the unspoken truth that only he was entitled to. A tense silence suffused the air as she pended his response, but all he could do was try to convince himself that it was not a dream and she really had said all of the words he had spent countless nights praying that she would declare.

“I love you, Miss Yim. I loved you yesterday, I love you today and I will love you for eternity. There is simply nothing that one can do to tear my heart away from yours, not even you.”

"Do you mean that?" It was a stupid question, but she could not help the words be spilled from her mouth. He nodded violently.

"I do. With my whole entity." Choking back on her sobs, her arms reached out for him throwing them around his neck. Nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck, her grip tightened as he ensnared his hands around her waist; breathing in her scent as if it was oxygen. "Come home with me my dear, come home and be mine."

•••

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

'Yim' meaning light

A/N: the long awaited painter!san fic (with a twist 😏) that i've been waiting too long to put out. I hope you liked this one. :))

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tags: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho

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thewriterwithnoplan · 8 months

Text

THE WINTER KEEP (2/2)

Summary: You have fled the Red Keep, the Greens and Alicent's poison. It is time to play your hand and herald your mother's ascension on a larger scale. You will fly to Winterfell, treat with the Lord Cregan Stark and await your brother. You are weak and a girl, no longer. You are a dragon ready to spill blood to ensure your promises are kept.

[Part 2 to The Highest Tower]

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader

Word Count: 5631

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd, pretty sure I'm missing something...

Masterlist

Laesuvion had taken to the skies through a hole in the dragon pit. Swift and lethal and stealthy as a white dragon against dark clouds could be. Come morning the whole of Kings Landing would know that you had fled. Come morning the usurper King and his council of snakes would be plotting your demise. You would need every advantage, every inch of distance you could gain before they found the wherewithal to send men after you. The Queen could protect you no longer, your time as her ward had passed. As Laesuvion crested the skies above the Red Keep, and you urged him north, you left just as you had arrived all those years ago. Rhaenyra’s only daughter. Her greatest supporter. Her most loyal weapon.

It took some days to fly north, you rested only once. On the second night of flying, setting down in the swamplands just beyond Greywater Watch. You swaddled yourself in your flying cloak and huddled in a hollow tree as Laesuvion hunted. Sleep came in fitful bursts, each gust of wind and animal sound convincing you that despite your head start from having flown through night and day and night again, the king's loyal men had somehow found you. You awoke around dawn to find Laesuvion’s bulk curved around your tree, his breathing deep and rhythmic in sleep. You crept toward his front claws and the charred mass caged there.

Your first food in some hours, since the day prior when you had polished off the meagre supplies you had smuggled out of the Keep. You tore charred clumps from what might have once been a deer or livestock from a nearby farm. You set these aside in case Laesuvion woke hungry, as you shredded his offering until– There, protected by the cocoon of hardened char, well-cooked meat. You gorged yourself.

You took to the skies an hour later, dehydration your greatest enemy so close to the searing sun. You wrapped your cloak around you, tied yourself firmly to the saddle and tried desperately to catch another snatch of rest. Through that morning, that evening and night, Laesuvion tore through the skies of Westeros.

You landed in the Northlands on the third dawn of your travels. The south gate of Winterfell rose to greet you, a small host of men waiting under its shelf. Dehydrated, exhausted, terrified, you could have wept with joy.

“Holt!” You startled. It was a woman.

“I mean no harm.” You dismounted Laesuvion carefully, moving purposefully to disguise your limb's feeble shakes. At eye level, though separated by a good fifty yards you repeated, “I mean you no harm.”

“Your dragon?” The woman demanded.

The men shifted nervously as Laesuvion gave a chest-deep rumbling purr. “Merely glad to have found our destination.”

“Come forward.”

“To whom do I speak?” You inched forward, Laesuvion nosing at your back.

“Sara Snow.” Up close you found Sara Snow to be very beautiful. With ebony hair twisted in intricate braids and eyelashes so long they caught snowflakes. A true northern beauty, with a sword strapped to her back and a pelt secured to her shoulders.

“I seek an audience with Lord Cregan Stark.”

“He is in a meeting with his men.”

“He will want to speak to me.” You smiled pleasantly, “He owes loyalty to my mother, the Queen.”

“House Stark owes loyalty to King Viserys.” Sara jutted her chin, “No oaths were sworn to his lady-wife.”

“You misunderstand me, Sara Snow. I speak of my mother, the Realms Delight. Queen Rhaenyra to whom Lord Rickon swore fealty.”

The men sent furtive glances to one another. Sara paused and then curtsied. “Forgive me, Princess. The North had not heard word of you for some years now, we feared you had been lost.”

“Ah, I have been kept to the Keep for some time.”

“Winterfell is most honoured to–” Sara turned.

The sound of crunching snow, hurried footsteps, quickened breath. One of Sara’s men toppled to the ground as a dire wolf barrelled through his legs. Pitch black but frosted with snow, it careened toward you. The man giving chase shouted the wolf’s name, skidded around the line of men, and stumbled to a stop mere inches in front of you. In what seemed to be perfect, practised coordination, Laesuvion jammed his snout into your back as the dire wolf danced around his owner's legs. In a heap of limbs, winter cloaks, and riding leathers, you collapsed on the man and fell to the snow.

You wheezed; the air knocked from your lungs. Your limbs shook as you scrambled up, plating a hand on the man's face as leverage.

“Sir.” You hissed; with all the royal poise you could muster. Alicent would be appalled. Your mother would be beyond amused.

“My apologies, lady.” The man grabbed your hips to lift you from him. Mortified you slapped his hands away and fought to your feet. “If you would just let me–”

You struggled, “Unhand me!”

“Here, just–” You planted a knee in his groin. He tried to curl up beneath you.

“Get off me!” You gave him a harsh shove and fumbled to your feet. “How dare–”

Sara Snow launched into raucous laughter. Hand clutching her side as she howled in delight. Her men shuffled as if wondering whether to intervene. Your assailant hobbled to his feet, one handheld protectively over his front, the other outstretched toward you as if to keep you at a distance.

You whirled toward Sara, “What is the meaning of this?”

“Apologies, lady.” The man heaved, his dire wolf prancing about his feet. “It was an honest accident. Shadow has been tense of late.”

“You let your wolf run wild in such a way?” You sneered.

“As wild as you allow your dragon to be.”

As if on cue, Laesuvion pressed the length of his head to your back again. The dire wolf herded his owner.

“Laesuvion?” You turned, pressing your freezing fingers to the scales of his nose. “Lykirī, iōrās aril.” (be calm, stay back).

He huffed and shoved at your hands. You toppled again; this time the man caught you against his chest. Laesuvion shuffled back, his tail swishing through the snow in a great arch. A growl rumbled up his throat as one of Sara’s men tried to approach.

“Ah.” The man smiled down at you in understanding.

You tried shoving at him again, but his grip held firm. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I am a wolf pup or a precious stone, or some covetous thing.”

“You are more precious than both I fear, and certainly something to covet.” He held your forearms to contain your struggle. “I have waited many years to find my Promised. I did not imagine you would be so violent.”

Sara coughed, “Welcome brother. Might I be the first to introduce you to our Princess, daughter of Rhaenyra. She has come from King’s Landing to treat with you.” She sketched a bow, her lips still trembling, “Your Highness, my brother, the Lord Cregan Stark.”

You gaped, your mouth opening and closing. A myriad of emotions warmed your face. Bone deep mortification. The purest delight. Wonderment. Utter confusion. Behind you, the dire wolf, Shadow, ran playfully around Laesuvion. Your dragon moved to face the tiny yipping creature, stealing his warm breath from your back. You shivered the cold striking through you like a physical blow.

“Princess?” Cregan Stark asked softly. “Are you well?”

“I am cold and hungry and tired, and I wish to bathe.” You said in a rush, utterly horrified with yourself.

But your Promised only smiled, “Of course.”

Cregan Stark was a most gracious host. In the hours since your arrival, you had been given quarters in the same hall as that of the Starks. A maid had gone about filling the tub in your rooms with water warmed on the fire, to which she added fragrant oils and sweet-smelling soap. As you bathed the maid returned – Atara, you learned – to ply you with cheeses and fresh bread, soft meats, and stewed root vegetables. Once you had been thoroughly scrubbed and fed, you dressed in the soft night clothes Atara had brought with her and curled up in the thick expanse of blankets atop your bed.

You were allowed to sleep for far longer than you might have suspected. Only being roused by Atara once the sun had well and truly set.

“Your Highness, Lord Stark asks that you join his family for dinner.”

You tumbled out of bed, and over to the dresser where you let her braid back your hair in the northern style. She handed you a thick winter dress that Sara had sent for you to borrow and allowed you to don it yourself. Stepping in only to tighten the taught laces at its back. You delighted in the simple joy of dressing yourself, so used to the Queen’s maids who scrubbed you raw and laced you tightly into dresses all shaded the same insidious green.

Atara whispered to you as she led you through the halls of Winterfell, “Lord Stark is a good and generous man. He has been Warden of the North for some years now, he is a just leader and kind to those in his employ. It is his uncle, who was his regent, and his power-hungry cousins you must watch.”

“Will they be at dinner?”

“No, they are north and east in Karhold. Though his sister will be present.”

“Sara Snow. She is his sister born? I assumed the Lord was her brother-at-arms, not a true blood relative.”

“Indeed,” Atara corralled you down another cavernous hall. “She is his sister and among his most trusted advisors.”

“Why does she bear the name Snow?”

“It is the surname given to those born out of wedlock in the north.”

“And this is not an issue in the north?”

Atara considered it for a moment, “For some it is. But Lord Stark is a better man than most.”

You wondered if she had been sent to sing his praises or if the people of the north were truly so enamoured with their lord.

“Is he not married?” You asked hesitantly, the thought had not yet crossed your mind.

Atara grinned, “He is not, Your Highness.”

“Nor betrothed?”

“Nor does he have a lover.” She assured. “We servants would know.”

“Thank you, you have been most enlightening.” You smiled as you reached the Stark’s private dining hall, “I will see to myself tonight. Please, enjoy your evening.”

Atara curtsied, “Have a most wonderful night, Your Highness.”

You most certainly would.

The Starks took private dinners in a humble hall. Three places had been set at the far end of the dining table with a generous spread laid out between them. Cregan and Sara looked up from their conversation as you crossed to your seat.

“My apologies, Lord Stark, Lady Snow.” You bowed your head. “I did not mean to keep you waiting.”

Sara snorted into her cup, “Please, Princess, formalities are for the feasting hall and for those whose names you cannot remember.”

“Sister,” Cregan hissed.

You fought a smile, “Forgive me, Sara, I would not have you think I had forgotten your name already.”

“How does the dress fit?”

“Wonderfully,” You swished from side to side, “You are most generous.”

“I have never had a sister,” she said thoughtfully.

Cregan spluttered into his cup. You grinned, “Nor I.”

You thought only briefly of Heleana and her mother and their glittering cage.

Cregan leapt from his seat to pull yours out for you, “Please, ignore my sister, she is overly friendly.”

“Please, ignore my brother,” Sara mocked. “He is overly nervous.”

“Tis not everyday one meets their Promised.” He met your eyes fleetingly.

What a soft demeanour for the Warden of the North, you thought. Though you supposed you had smiled more today than you had in all your years in the Red Keep, so perhaps today was not a good judge of anyone’s character. You allowed him to serve up your plate as Sara kept up a steady stream of conversation. First marvelling at the fit of her dress on you, then the colour of your eyes, your hair in northern braids, your improved state after some well-needed rest.

“Is she not a sight, dear brother?” She teased.

“I apologise for my earlier state of unkempt.” You winced. You had hit the Lord of this castle, your Promised rather hard.

“I thought you looked marvellous.” Cregan argued, then seemed to realise what he’d said and hurried to add, “We have received reports that your dragon has taken to the Wolfswood.”

You exhaled slowly, “Laesuvion flew through day and night twice over to get me here so swiftly. He will be in need of food and rest as much as I.”

“Laesuvion. That is a beautiful name.” He said softly. “We can send meat if you wish?”

“He is a good hunter; he has fed himself since I was ten.”

“Still to have flown so fiercely, with so little rest…”

“It does not do well to deprive a dragon of its hunt. Especially in such times as these.”

Cregan placed his utensils down carefully, “Princess, what has brought you to Winterfell?”

You lowered your fork. Good, time to stop dancing around the subject. From the pocket of your skirt, you withdrew the King’s missive.

“I am not sure how far and fast word has travelled,” You looked to the siblings and frowned. “King Viserys is dead, and Aegon has been crowned in my mother's place. The night of his coronation Queen Alicent gave me this letter for you, Lord Stark, she wishes for us to marry.”

Cregan broke the seal of the King’s letter and read silently.

“There are worse things than to be told to marry ones Promised,” Sara joked lamely. You smiled weakly in the tense silence.

Finally, Cregan folded the letter and turned to you, “Why were you with the Queen, not with your mother on Dragonstone?”

“I have been the Queen’s ward for some nine years now.”

“And are you loyal to her?”

“As a dog is to its owner.”

“They are very loyal in the North,” Sara said.

“I was traded to her as reparations when my brother gorged her son's eye.” You said plainly, “I was her possession, but I remain my mother’s daughter.”

“House Stark swore fealty to Princess Rhaenyra when she was made heir,” Cregan watched you carefully. “There has never been a Stark who has forgotten an oath.”

“I too have made a promise to my mother. I intend to keep it.”

Cregan brandished the letter, “This offers your hand in return for the North’s neutrality in the coming conflict. Is that what you wish?”

“May I speak plainly, my lord?”

“Please.”

“That letter is likely a forgery by the Dowager Queen’s hand. She is mistaken on many fronts, I fear, the least of which was Aegon’s ascension to King. I do not wish to go to war with my kin, but if it becomes inevitable I would rather do so with strong allies and in support of my mother.”

His head tilted, “House Stark is already an ally of your mother.”

“Yes,” You folded your hands on the table. “I should tell you, Lord Stark. My mother has sworn to marry me to my Promised for my service as her spy in the Red Keep.”

“You wish us to marry?”

“I wish to offer you my hand, outside my mother’s promise or the Queen’s demands.” You cleared your throat, and just as you had carefully prepared on your journey here you said, “I have been trained in the ways of the court, I will be of use to you in councils and in handling the affairs of your territory. I am of royal breeding, you will be made Prince-Consort, our children Princes, and Princesses of the realm. I have dragon eggs for their cradles and Valyrian blood for their veins. I would ask only that you allow Laesuvion to stay with me in the North. If not, I shall wait here until such a time as my brother Jacaerys comes to treat with you, that I might return with him to Dragonstone.”

You watched the Lord, his eyes dancing with an unnamed light as he listened to you. “I will need time.”

“Of course, my Lord, speak with your advisors.”

“You misunderstand him, Princess.” Sara grinned.

Cregan smiled, “I will not marry you hastily. I will need to summon my family and prepare a feast. It is a special thing, for those of our station, to be given leave to marry our Promised.”

“I–” You were unsure what you expected. “I suppose it is.”

Sara clapped gleefully, “Shall we call for dessert?”

You wore the soft nightclothes once more as you sat at your vanity and penned your mother a letter.

Mother,

How I have missed you. Know that I have thought of you often and never strayed from my mission nor my loyalty to you.

I have fled King's Landing and taken the Lord Hands life with me. Though the smallfolk have no mind to protest whichever Targaryen collects their taxes, you have many allies in the Red Keep. I have interred a list of those Lords and Ladies who remain loyal to you as well as those I have heard of beyond and some whom we may turn with careful diplomacy.

I am at Winterfell with my Promised, Lord Cregan Stark, whom I will marry in the coming weeks. With your blessing, of course. I await Jacaerys, with news of our family and our strategy. In the meanwhile, I intend to discuss what supplies and men Winterfell may have to offer you.

Mostly I am writing to you because I can. I am overwhelmed with the freedom to do so, to be able to tell you once more how much I love you. I cannot imagine how this week has been for you, know that though we are separated I am your most fierce supporter.

I have had a thought, in my hours here, about how far Winterfell is from the capital. How far we will be if we are forced into battle and bloodshed. Perhaps you might consider sending Joffery here, to mine and my soon-to-be Lord Husband's care.

I hope you are well, Mother. I love you from the very depths of my heart.

You signed the letter with a careful flourish and set it aside. You would ask Atara where you might find a raven-master to have it sent. You touched your fingers to it softly, your first contact with your family in nearly a decade. To tell your mother that you were preparing for marriage and war.

As you blew out your candles and settled into bed, you hoped your mother would like Lord Cregan Stark.

On your fourth morning in Winterfell, you took morning tea with Sara. She had taken lengths to make you comfortable in the days since your arrival, and you took great joy in breaking your fast with her each morning. Today, you spent the early hours humming and haring over the tiny sample cakes you had been sent to taste for the upcoming feast. As you ate, Sara told you all that she could about the castle, the arriving lords, the Stark territory, and their histories.

Northern marriage traditions, you had learned, were not so different from those celebrated at King’s Landing, there would be the exchanging of cloaks and binding words spoken before gods but there would also be a hunt. Women such as yourselves would not be invited but you would find your own fun, Sara assured.

“It is tradition to have the pelts in your quarters and the meats on the feasting table.”

You lifted a citrusy cake between your thumb and forefinger, “Husband and wife share quarters here?”

“Most,” Sara said thoughtfully, “Though I’m sure Cregan would accommodate you if it is different in the south.”

“What happens if their hunt is unsuccessful?”

“I imagine there will be much embarrassment among the North, that we could not bring our Princess quarry for her wedding table.” Sara snatched the half-eaten cake from your hands and winked, “Fear not, Cregan is a good hunter.”

“If he is not,” You smiled fiendishly, “I suppose the two of us will have to find meats for the feast ourselves.”

Sara snorted, “I think my brother would be rather put out at being unable to provide you with a gift on your wedding day. But the look on his face as we return from our own hunt is almost worth it.”

You jolted, “Am I to bring him a gift?”

“You have brought him dragon eggs.”

“For our children.” You argued.

“For his heirs,” She assured, “I think he is already downtrodden at the idea of only being able to bring you fur and meat.”

“I bring only scales and fire.”

“You will be a very warm family.”

“And very well-fed.”

Sara snatched another cake from you, “Only if you keep eating all of these before I get a taste!”

You guffawed. “I am hungry, and they are so tiny!”

“They need be, so you can keep eating.”

“And I shall!”

“Your Highness, Lady Snow,” Atara curtsied as she entered, “Lord Stark has requested your presence in the courtyard.”

“Another lord has arrived?” Sara sank her teeth into another teacake. “Which house does he hail from?”

“No Lord, my Lady.” Atara looked to you uneasily, “A Prince. Of House Targaryen.”

After nearly nine years kept apart by the waters of Blackwater Bay, and three long days separated by your duties, the time had come. You caught your first look at your eldest brother as you left the comfort of the Great Keep and nearly crumpled to the ground. Sara laid a steadying hand at your shoulder as Atara whispered sweet comforts. But nothing could prepare you for the sight laid out in the courtyard.

Jacaerys, with Vermax perched atop the walls of the keep. Jacaerys, with tousled dark hair. Jacaerys, once the awkward boy you followed dutifully, now an emissary of the Queen. Jacaerys, your brother. Jacaerys, your mother’s son.

“Jacaerys!” You ran. Past Sara and Atara, past Cregan and his warning cry. You ran. Almost straight into the end of your brother’s sword. You pulled to a halt, the blade a whisper away from your sternum, “Jacaerys?”

“Sister,” He sneered. “How far you are from your castle.”

“I have escaped.”

“You have been sent as an emissary of the usurper and his cunt-mother.”

“She did not tell you?” Your arms slumped at your side. “Mother sent me as a spy, she and Daemon trusted me to–”

“Her trust was misplaced. You have betrayed us.”

“I have come here to rally the North for our mother’s claim, just as you have.”

“You have come here to better your station.”

“I am a Princess.” You hissed, confused, and insulted.

“You are Princess of nothing, of no house.”

“I am of House Targaryen,” You pressed forward until the tip of his sword tore through the bodice of your dress and blood welled. You turned, held out your hand and gave Cregan a pleading look, he shifted but stayed back. “I am Princess of loyalty, of oaths and duty. I have come to the North to escape the Greens, to tell our mother, the Queen, all that I have discovered these years.”

“Where was loyalty,” Jacaerys shook with rage. “When they dragged us before the Iron Throne and called our mother a whore and our brothers bastards? Where was duty, when Lucerys was nearly stripped of his birthright? Where were you when Laenor died? When Rhaenys flew to our mother's side to tell her of–”

“Our father is dead?” You whispered.

“Your father is Daemon.” He growled under his breath.

You reeled back, “My father is Laenor Velaryon.”

“It is Daemon. He told us so himself when he married Mother.”

“Daemon and mother are married?”

His sword sagged slightly, “The Greens did not tell you? What of Viserys and Aegon?”

“Our grandsire and uncle?”

Jacaerys looked pained, “Our brothers.”

You fell to your knees, shoved your face in your hands and wept. Jacaerys jerked his sword backward and staggered away from you as Cregan rushed to your side.

“Princess?” He wrapped a protective arm over you. “What is the matter?”

“The question of Driftmark’s succession,” Jacaerys stared at you in horror. “Where were you?”

“I did not know!” You sobbed. “I did not know!”

“Otto Hightower said you would not see us, that you felt abandoned and betrayed when Mother gave you to the Greens.”

Cregan pulled you closer to him as Jacaerys inched forward. He growled, “Stand back. You have no enemies among the Starks. Do not make one.”

“I went willingly, for mother, for Lucerys.” You glared up at your brother. “You watched me! I traded my life; you watched me do it!”

“Otto Hightower–”

“Is dead!” You bared your teeth. “I fled King’s Landing, and I killed the man who usurped our mother, and you as her heir. I am loyal, I am steadfast, I am your greatest supporter as heir.”

“Tis true.” Cregan attested. “She has come to the North in support of your mother's claim. She has offered her hand to me, and we have talked much of giving your mother’s children sanctuary here.”

“You are betrothed?” Jacaerys whispered.

“I am.” You said proudly.

Cregan smiled at you softly, “The North is yours, my Prince. So long as my Promised wills it.”

“Sister.” Was all Jacaerys could say. “Sister.”

“Come,” Cregan lifted you to your feet. “My betrothed will catch a cold out here, let us speak inside.”

Cregan sat you gently by the fire swaddling you in the great expanse of his cloak. Sara brought tea to your side while your brothers sat at the other end of the room to discuss politics.

“Did you hear?”

Sara blew on her cup, “I heard a lot.”

“Did you hear what he said about my father?”

“That you lost one? Or that…” She pursed her lips.

“That I am Daemon’s bastard.”

“I did.”

“Do you think Cregan heard?” You burrowed into his cloak.

She gave you a secret smile, “Does it matter? You are a Princess, twice over. And Cregan keeps me around, does he not?”

“I only meant…” You turned away. “I fear he may think me liable to follow in my mother’s footsteps.”

“Will you?”

You stared at her, “Cregan has been kind to me, listened to me, protected me – given me more than anyone has ever offered me. And he is my Promised. Why should I stray from him?”

“Then there is no reason to fret.”

“And the King’s Hand?”

“What of him?”

“I killed him.” You half hid your face in your teacup.

“Do you regret it?” Sara asked curiously. “It is no small thing, to kill a man.”

“He has haunted my family for generations. I would do it again.”

Sara shrugged, “Then we will speak no more of it, justice has been served. I’m sure Cregan will more than agree.”

“Will he?”

“He has been forced to make decisions even further North of here, at the wall.” She took a long sip of tea and stared into the flames. “Some even I do not agree with. But we are family, and he is your Promised. So, it does not matter, does it?”

“No.” You stared into your cup. “I suppose not.”

“Princess!” The man in question came over with a charming grin, “Your brother has offered to escort you at our wedding.”

Jacaerys looked at you timidly, “If you will have me, sister.”

You looked first to Cregan who nodded, and then to Jacaerys with a soft smile. “Of course, brother. Nothing would please me more.”

The letter from your mother arrived another four days later. It came to you clutched in Jacaerys’ hand with the seal broken. He had caught the raven just south of Winterfell as he, Cregan and the Northmen returned from the ceremonial hunt.

“I apologise, sister, I have never been accused of being patient.”

You scoffed, “Some things do not change.”

“Indeed,” Jacaerys said rather gravely. “I must ask a small favour of you before I give you this letter. It is on behalf of myself and our mother.”

You straightened, “Of course brother.”

“You will not open it until after you have been blissfully wedded to Lord Stark.” He paused at your dubious look, “Mother has words she wishes to share only after your wedding. Congratulations and such.”

“I suppose that is agreeable.” You took the letter carefully, “Though we require her blessings to move forward.”

“And you have them.” He tapped the letter. “In there. You shall marry your Promised tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

And so, you married him that night.

The Godswood was eerie in the darkness of night. Though lit by the torches of countless Northmen, it felt as if the darkness were reaching cool unnatural fingers toward your procession. Coaxing you, in your red-black Maiden Cloak toward the foot of the weirwood heart tree, where your Lord-Promised, his uncle, and the dire wolf Shadow wait. Jacaerys held your hand tightly as if frightened to let you go. Around you, Lords and honoured guests planted their torches in the snow, lighting the way for you and your brother. The wind whistled through the silence, broken only by the great rumbling in Laesuvion’s chest where he perched on the lip of the keep’s gate.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Called Bennard Stark.

Jacaerys whispered your name, then cleared his throat in embarrassment and announced it proudly, "Daughter of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Cregan, of House Stark,” Your Promised sent you a small secret smile, “Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. Who gives her?"

"Jacaerys, of the House Velaryon, who is her brother and Prince." Jacaerys gave your hand a firm squeeze as he gave you to Cregan.

"Princess,” Lord Bennard made an admirable effort to say your name without disdain, “Will you take this man?"

You took Cregan’s large warm hands in your own and smiled, “I take this man.”

Silently, hands joined, you knelt to the cold earth. Around you, the Lords of the North fell to their knees and bowed their heads in deference. Foreheads pressed together, you and Cregan offered silent prayers to the Old Gods. When you stood as one, Sara was there in her uncle's place, a cloak of thick, luscious fur in the silver-grey of House Stark.

You tipped your head back as Cregan fiddled with the ties of your Maiden’s Cloak. You smiled at the sky as he struggled gently against your neck. Finally, it loosened, there was a brief shock of cold and then there was wonderous heat, the furred collar tickling your chin. You look to Cregan then, donned in his colours, wrapped in his protection. You smile softly at one another and lean into a soft kiss.

The black sky lights up with swashes of red as Laesuvion spits fire at the stars.

All at once sound returns to the Godswood as the witnesses of your nuptials cheer, chief among them is your brother. You laugh in delight as Cregan grips your cheeks and plants another kiss on your lips. Shadow yips at your heels as your husband sweeps you up into his arms and carries you toward the Great Hall.

He whispers sweet promises for your future, and you have never been more grateful to know how fiercely a Stark is at keeping their word.

It was the wolf’s hour when the festivities swelled through the Great Hall and you found yourself drawn to a quiet corner. You excused yourself from your husband by pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. He smiled softly at you and trailed his fingers from yours as you walked toward the hearth roaring at the far end of the hall. You pulled your mother's letter from your pocket and pressed your fingers against her seal as if you could fuse the two halves back into a whole. She and Jacaerys would not mind, you were sure, it was your wedding day after all, and you craved an inch of your mother’s presence.

You unfolded her letter and read:

My dearest girl,

I have never doubted you and I do not do so now.

You have my blessings. Marry the Lord Cregan Stark and take joy in your Promised. I will entrust Baela and Rhaena to bring your young brothers into your care.

You have served me well, which is why I write to you now, though my heart tells me to spare you.

Aemond has taken Lucerys’ life. War has come.

You looked up gripping the letter until your fingers drew indents in the paper and made desperate eye contact with Jacaerys’ pained face. A sound halfway between a scream and a sob tore from your throat, drowned by the thundering roar of Laesuvion overhead. Cregan stood, fighting to stumble his way toward you, as the walls of Winterfell rattled with your fury.

Nine years you had spent in the Red Keep, learning your enemies inside and out. Carefully ushering pieces across a board too vast for you to comprehend, hoping desperately you could stop a war conceived long before you. It all narrowed to this moment. Wrapped in the cloak of your husband’s house, framed by the hearth fire, as your dragon raged above.

Your Brother. Your Dragon. Your Husband.

By Blood. By Fire. By the Old God’s Promise.

You would avenge your brother and bring war to the Greens.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #queen alicent #alicent hightower #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #otto hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #soulmate au

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97keanu · 10 months

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winter-themed phone sex w/ Dave Lizewski? like, y/n and Dave had plans to see each other but then a snowstorm hits and both of them are stuck in their own houses, so they have phone sex?

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳WAIT I LOVE THIS ONE!!! A few years of a LDR has me basing this one on some experience... 🤭

. ｡✩Tags/CW: dave and reader college au, boyfriend!Dave, circa 2010s vibes, skype s*x, mutual m*sturbation, dirty talk, I think usually Dave is a sub but today I'm feeling surprising dom!Dave(oh the confidence you can find behind a screen...), belt kink, talk of spanking/choking/slapping, semi aggressive talk, d*ldo use, cozy end.

"So, I'll see you tonight after your last class?" Dave asks, pushing his glasses up and leaning against the wall near you to try to ask suave.

You've both just exited your last shared class of the day. You reach up and pull his hat down over his ears, knowing he's going out in that cold weather today. It's been freezing, but no sign of anything else.

"Yes! I'll be headed over to your dorm soon as my night class is done." You smile, fixing your own cold weather garments before leaning in to sneak a quick kiss.

Dave's eyes flutter behind his glasses as you kiss him, practically melting into your lips. He knows it's kind of embarrassing to kiss in front of all the other students trying to get out of their own for the day, but he also kind of likes than everyone can see someone as gorgeous as you being the one to kiss him.

You give his hand one last squeeze and head off so you aren't late to your next class.

You're checking the clock over and over, practically aching to get out of class. Night has set so early as it does in December, and from your seat by the window, you can see the flurries of snow getting larger. Everyone is rushing, packing up quickly to try to beat the snow, but by the time you get outside, there's already more than a few inches.

You fight against a wicked wind that blinds you in a cloud of white as you try to get to your car. Your cheeks burn red from the cold, and you quickly brush off as much of the heavy blanket of snow on your car as you can before it starts to fill up with white again.

You weren't one to keep an eye on the weather, but when you finally hop into your car, you check your texts, seeing a million from Dave asking if your class was cancelled or not. You crank the heat of your car and wait for it to warm up, taking a moment to call your boyfriend.

"Babe! All you alright? Should I call a snow plow to come save you?" Dave's voice is half alarmed, half joking when he answers.

"No, no, I'm fine!" You laugh and assure him, knowing your big truck has four wheel drive and you're not unused to this weather. "But I'm not sure I can make it over tonight..."

"I totally understand..." Dave says, despite the pouting tone in his voice. "But I'll miss you..."

"I feel the same way," you say, leaning against your foggy car window. "Maybe I can make it up to you later this weekend if the snow clears."

"Yeah," Dave says with a sigh, then begins again as if he's had an idea. "Well, hey! Maybe we could try out having one of those virtual dates if you can't physically come!"

"Oh really? And what does that entail?"You laugh, not someone who's super tech savvy yourself for these things.

"W-Well," Dave says nervously, unsure it this would interest you. "We could each set up a little dinner in front of a Skype call and watch each other through our webcams? Maybe watch a movie together if we hit play at the same time?"

You think for a moment. It actually doesn't sound like a bad idea, and it's not like you really have much to do when you get home either besides maybe study and bundle up from the cold.

"That actually sounds really sweet..." You say with a smile into the phone. "I'm going to drive home, but you get it all set up for when I get there!"

"You got it!" You can tell just by his voice how excited Dave is.

. ｡✩

You finally arrive home, taking twice the time as usual from the low visibility and your cautious driving. You're lucky to have made it, there were a few cars on the side of the road having had swerved and gotten stuck in sudden snow banks. You pound your boots on the entrance mat, trying to get as much snow off them as possible. You shake a flurry off white off your body and peel yourself from your scarf, hat, and coat.

Finally, you're free, taking the time to send Dave a text about your arrival and your plan to make dinner then meet him for your Skype date.

You settle upstairs with a big mug of cocoa and a few slices of left over pizza finally, and get set up in front of your computer. The good news about dating Dave was that he had helped you completely outfit and build a PC that could do just about anything, despite the fact that you only really use it for school, YouTube, and the occasional minecraft server with him. He also had a webcam installed so that you could take your online classes as well, or give him a call if you felt the need.

You strip down to just a big comfy sweater and a pair of lacy red panties, happy that the webcam only sees your upper half. You made sure to turn up the heat in your apartment, so with the vent beneath the desk, you feel perfectly cozy after a rough time in the treacherous snow.

You quickly figure out how to use Skype once more, and before you know it, Dave appears on your screen. He's in his dorm room, outfitted with only the most prestigious nerdy memorabilia on the walls and shelves behind him. He looks more than happy to see you, giving a big smile.

"It worked! Awesome! You ready for our dinner date, babe?" His voice comes through your headphones, and for a moment, a chill runs down your spine as you remember how sexy you find it.

"Of course," you say with a smile and raise your plate and mug to the camera.

Dave does the same, showing a can of Coke and a bowl of Mac and Cheese. Then he pauses as if he forgot to mention something.

"Oh! Of course, our dinner wouldn't be a date if it wasn't candle lit!" He pulls a tiny candle into frame, its small light flickering on the screen.

You laugh, finding the effort a tad romantic, and mainly happy to still be able to spend some time with him.

"So, I picked out one of your favorite movies for us to watch. I'll send you a link!" He works something on his keyboard and screen and you wonder if he really knows you well enough to find a favorite of yours.

You click the link he sends and audibly squeal.

"What! I love The Princess Bride! How did you find it?" You hadn't seen it on any streaming service in so long, so you were surprised he could pull it up with ease.

"I have my ways..." Dave says with a small blush then pressing his glasses back up once again.

The two of you chat about your day, you telling him about the wicked snow storm, and how you barely made it home. He tells you about his latest comic he's been reading, and you enjoy hearing his interest in things he's passionate about. Your mug of cocoa warms your hands and you find your little date to be not quite as good as just being together, but the next best thing.

Eventually, you two start the movie by counting down and pressing play at the same time. You get comfortable, and find yourself loving this time together while the wind rages on outside your bedroom windows.

About half way through the movie, you get up to grab a pillow from your bed to get comfortable with, and forget that the camera can see much more than it did before when you walk away from it. You hear Dave's breath catch in your headphones.

"What?" You laugh, still bending over your bed to grab your pillow, ass now completely void of any sweater coverage.

"I-um..." Dave clears his throat nervously, then tries to be a bit suave. "I didn't know you would have worn those to see me tonight, they look good on you..."

Your body freezes and you turn to the camera, where your lingerie is overly apparent. You're not sure if you should be embarrassed or not! Dave is your boyfriend, so of course he's seen you naked before, but something about the fact that it's on camera has you pulling your sweater down and heat in your cheeks.

"Aw, c'mon, you don't have to hide it..." Dave continues, his nerdy voice obviously entranced by your form.

You carefully get back in your seat, not showing anything uncouth anymore.

"Oh my god..." Your face is so red, you wish he couldn't see it right now. "I can't believe I flashed you like that, I'm sorry, I forgot how much this thing can see."

"Hey...I think it's kind of hot that I can see you like that, even when you're far away..." Dave smirks and you have to admit, the thought is starting to turn you on too.

You decide to toy with him, leaning back in your office chair so he can just barely see your thighs. You watch as Dave leans closer to the screen, obviously entranced by your figure. You lift your sweater ever so delicately, slowly revealing those panties that made him so interested in the first place.

"Like this?" You ask coyly, as if you're completely innocent as to what you're doing.

"Y-yes." Dave stammers out, and you think his glasses will practically fog up from how red his cheeks are getting.

"If you want to see more," you say with a smirk playing on your lips. "I think it's only fair I see some of you..."

You didn't think it was possible, but Dave's blush deepens even more. He pulls back a bit from the screen and tries to laugh it off how worked up he is right now.

"O-oh! I mean, I uh..." Dave's hand reaches back and gives his dark curls a toss. "If that's, wh-what you want..."

"Now who's the one being shy?" You say, raising an eyebrow and letting your sweater drop back onto your thighs in protest.

Dave tries to come up with answer to that one, and fails. He clearly wants to see more from you, however, and he repostions his webcam so you can see more of his body. Particually, his lap. Through his jeans, you can see just how hard you've made him with so little. You love how easy it is to rile him up like this.

"Sh-should I do a little striptease for you?" He jokes, but you think that's actually not a half bad idea.

"Maybe...at least take it off slowly..." You reply.

Dave begins to lift his shirt, but you stop him.

"Let's start with your pants. That way, we're even..." You play with the hem of your sweater while giving him your best doe eyes.

He concedes, standing so that most of his waist takes up the camera. You find yourself leaning in now, a wetness growing between your legs as he takes off his belt in such a perfect way. He snaps it jokingly and laughs, but pauses when he sees your reaction.

"What? Should I spank you with this next time I see you?" Dave snaps the belt again and watches as you bite your lip coyly.

"I wouldn't say no..." You say appreciating your boyfriends figure as he slowly unbuttons his jeans.

His confidence continues, and you find yourself being turned on more and more as he unzips and slowly removes his jeans.

"Maybe I will bend you over my knee and treat you like the bad girl you are..." You know he still has a wave of laughing it off just in case you're not into the dirty talk he's starting, but you sense he's also getting into himself, especially with how hard and large his cock looks beneath his underwear.

"I'd like that..." You murmur, entranced by the screen before you. "I think you should tell me how you would punish me if you were here..."

"I would, um..." Dave tries to find the words, working it out. "I would turn you over and spank you until my handprint remains..."

You give a small moan to what he's said, your hands gripping your breasts and thighs over your clothing. You hear Dave's breathing pull in sharply, and you know this must be turning him on as much as you. You pull back your sweater once more, those red panties looking tantalizing on you once more.

"T-that's right... Take more off for me..." Dave's voice wavers as he tries to find a commandeering tone, but you oblige your sweet boyfriend just this once.

"Do you have any uh, toys?" Dave questions you, voice getting huskier by the second.

"Oh...? Why, do you wanna see me play with myself?" Dave is already nodding before you're finished, and you can see the need filling his blue eyes.

You stand, letting him get another view of your ass as you pull your typical toy from your nightstand. You see Dave blush once more as he gets a gander at your large pink dildo.

You sit, opening your legs so Dave can get a good view of your cunt, your red panties already starting to be soaked through. Dave had been rubbing himself over his boxers, but upon seeing so much of you, you watch with excitment as he slowly lets his cock flop out. You know youve seen it before, but his fat cock always surprises you with how girthy and thick it is.

"Take off your sweater." Dave commands, his deep and voice full of want.

You do as he says, realize the air of being unserious about this has shifted. Suddenly, you feel very inclined to do whatever your boyfriend tells you to.

You watch as Dave strokes himself, the tip of his cock growing wet just from seeing your tits fall out of your sweater so nicely. You weren't wearing a bra underneath, so he gets a nice view of them immediately. You hear him hold back a moan, his hands working just a bit faster once he sees your full figure.

"Tell me what you want to do to me..." You whisper into your headset mic, and you watch as Dave struggles between his own pleasure and dirty talking for a moment.

"I...I want to lay you on your bed and fuck you harder than I ever have..." He says it as if he's admitting it to himself his own dominating tendency.

Usually, Dave was pretty submissive in bed, and you liked that about him, but right now, something inside both of you wanted him to be the one to take control. You slide your hands up and down your body, feeling your own tits and pretending it's him.

"I want to be on top and see your face when you take such a big cock..." Dave mutters while biting his lip to keep another moan back.

Your legs feel tingly, and a shiver runs up your spine as you hear such little whimpers from him so close to your ears right now.

"Oh yeah? Tell me more..." You encourage him, and he takes it happily.

"I want to grab you by the neck, and make sure you know that it's me who's fucking you so good... I want to watch you choke a little while I fuck your brains out." You're a bit surprised by his new wants, but you don't mind.

In fact, you wish he would say more, say something really dirty and wrong that he would want to do to you.

"Let me see it..."

You already know what he wants, but your still tease him by slowly dragging your red panties to the side so he can get a good look at your glistening cunt. A groan escapes him when you do.

"Fuck...I need to fuck you so bad..." You love how easy it is to get him here.

"What else would you do?" You let your pretty pink dildo slide up and down your slit, teasing but not entering.

"I want to see you stuffed and filled with my cock, I want to slap away any moans you make from it, even though you can't help expressing how badly you want it..." Dave leans back into his chair as he speaks, hand still working himself, but getting lost in the moment.

"I want you to slap me until my cheeks go red..." You admit, and you can tell by his little sounds how much he wants that too. "Tell me what a dirty whore I am..."

"God, you're such a dirty whore...my personal little slut that I use up when ever I want to." Dave opens his eyes and watches you play with yourself for a moment.

"Put it in. I want you to stretch yourself out on your toy and imagine it's me, slut..." He finally commands you in such a way that there's no thought of even denying him.

Not with how badly you want this right now.

You let your toy slide in deeper to your folds, going past your most precious point, and deeper. You let your legs open wide for the camera, showing off your little cunt taking such a big dildo as yours. Dave watches intently, loving seeing you do exactly what he says, loving seeing you so filled up when he can't do it himself.

"Fuck yourself for me. I want you to moan my name and beg me to let you cum..." Dave is getting closer himself, the tip of his cock red and engorged as he strokes on.

You let your free hand play with your clit, slow circles quickly getting faster and faster as you take more and more of your own pleasure. You fuck yourself deeper, letting your toy really work your cunt in ways only you know feel best. You feel your skin prickling against the cool air now that your sweater cannot warm you against the cold of your apartment. You hit just the right spot inside of yourself, and Dave's name comes from your lips. You imagine it's him, fucking you into this computer chair, his hand around your throat.

"That's it, be a good little fucking slut and show me how you play with yourself..." Dave continues to entice you towards cumming.

"You better not cum without begging me though...you got that, bitch?" You can't believe your sweet, nerdy boyfriend could growl something so mean to you, but that's what makes this even better.

"Yes," You moan, agreeing to his terms.

"Good. You know how to be a proper whore then..." He sighs while he takes a moment to watch you, his own cock wanting nothing more than release right now.

"And if you don't cum for me now, I'll have to edge you relentlessly later." Dave threatens, and you feel yourself getting closer.

"Fuck, Dave..." You squirm in your seat, your cunt overwhelmed and swollen from how much attention you're giving it right now.

"That's right, baby girl..." He encourages you.

"I'm...I'm going to cum..." You whisper as you find yourself coming undone. "Please, please let me cum...!"

Your voice quivers and begs, your body spasming but holding off as you were told. Dave let's you keep it up for a few moments, stroking his own cock harder than ever, before groaning out.

"Cum for me..."

You feel those three magic words work their way against your skin, and suddenly, you're falling over the edge, waves of pleasure across your body, blossoming from your tender cunt. You watch as Dave finds his own pleasure, cum leaking out and eventually shooting down his hand, a low moan escaping his lips. You both ride out your orgasms together, and when you're done, there's nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and the snow storm raging outside.

You both take a minute, before agreeing to take a moment to clean up. You both snap off the camera. You trot on liquid legs to your bathroom and for a moment, you can't believe you just did that. You had never had phone sex, let alone letting Dave see you so vulernable with yourself. You're still surprised by his sudden dominating energy, but you find yourself now yearn to enact what you two talked about. You'll have to bring it up next time you're over. You hope he isn't too shy when the camera isn't on.

Eventually you come back to your virtual date night, having a new mug of hot cocoa ready, and half of The Princess Bride to finish. You get the pillow you originally were going for before being sidetracked, and feel cozier and more close to Dave than ever despite the physical distance. Dave doesn't even mind when you fall asleep in your chair just before the credits roll. He leaves his computer on, but snuggles up in his bed, telling you goodnight from there and leaving his headset on to hear your soft breaths.

Maybe the snow storm wasn't so bad after all...

Taglist: @lazyneonrabbitt @nikistan @remuslupinsno1slut @haha-im-dumb @shakedogshake @beep-boop-baby @aesniri @pinkyyy666 @lpeanut-butterl @shrekscrustybudassy @lookatmelookatme @dreary-salem @almostjollypizza @boo8008 @arabellacrybaby @imaslutforcuddles @yasugardaddieshouse @real-sharena-h @stilloverthinking @tvgirlsbluehair @magicalgoopdeanhuman @jazmin25 @sknnylgndsstuff @lenasdmns @iluvkr @d3psta @sinjinpools @whotfistaylor @mut4nts @loser-lover0527 @vselva-blog @adrienette715 @jayjay57 @gildedgwen @izzyisstuff @casuallycruel-tswiftie13 @winter-bearv

#dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski #dave lizewski fanfic #kick ass fanfic #my writing #dave lizewski smut

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ciy0 · 9 months

Text

☆*:.｡. MY ANGEL .｡.:*☆

Summary- Mingyu’s heart always had and always will belong to one girl. No matter how much she pushed and kicked him away he would always come back crawling on his knees gladly, because to him she was his everything.

Word count- 9.8k 💀💀 [say sike rn]

Content Warnings- 18+ Sexual Scenes and Vulgar Language, Angst!, Romance, Some Humor, Hurt and comfort, POV changes, Y/n is a ice queen/tsundere, Implied Foreigner, Mental health, Idol au!She is also apart of Le Sserfim, Nayeon & Mingyu date, other idols appear, Cheating mentioned, Insecurities, Breakups and Makeups, Verbally Abusive Parent, Mingyu begs on his knees, Head over heels inlove with Y/n, Cutting mentioned, Soulmate type beat, Y/n has it rough pls be nice to her, Pet names [PLS BE SAFE AND INCHARGE OF THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME]

A/n BRUH i WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS TO BE SO DAMN Long. I just wanted to write one scene i swear but then i had to make it make sense so then it jus kept getting longer and longer then i got invested oml. Anyways i used to write fics for anime’s but i retired that hat a while back, i’ve been inlove with Mingyu since forever so i felt compelled to write a fic about him bc he’s my comfort space :3

☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆

To many people being able to win the affections from Kim Mingyu was seen as a blessing from God and it was - atleast for Nayeon- but as her rose tinted shades slowly began to dissolve around month 3 in their fresh relationship she begrudgingly noticed many things in which she had not before (curse her attentiveness).

Finally getting to proudly proclaim Mingyu as hers within their idol friend circle was a dream come true. And to her he was nothing less than perfect, always attentive to her wants, needs, and desires and constantly showering her with boundless amounts of affection. But even she couldn’t fool herself as the new relationship smell began to waft away, and despite her desperate attempts to be as wonderful to him and he was to her one thing became painfully clear; Mingyu was not inlove with her.

Well obviously he didn’t hate her, nor did he make her feel less then. She’s sure that he had some sort of love for her since they were friends before becoming lovers but it wasn’t the kind that would lead to the house and the kids and the big white picket fence she so often dreamt about. It wasn’t the kind that she held for him.

In the beginning it was hard to tell, being so blinded by finally being able to be by his side. She had finally gained the courage to confess when he walked her home after an outing with mutual friends, ever the gentleman. Maybe it was the shots of soju at the time or maybe it was time of year where everyone wanted a lover for the winter holidays. She remembered faintly hearing a corny christmas song in the distance, probably from inside a nearby store, and the snow gently pattering on her face as they walked in a comfortable silence.

“I love you,” she whispered meekly seemingly out of nowhere. Her cheeks heated despite the cold weather as she stopped walking, eyes glued to the snowy ground. She worried maybe he didn’t hear or thought she meant as a friend but she heard a long exhale of breath from her left as his footsteps also came to their own halt a few paces ahead of her own. It was quiet for a bit, the only sounds being a distant holiday tune and the wind accompanied by snow. She squeezed her eyes shut preparing for the embarrassing rejection she foolishly set her own self up for. Mingyu always treated her well but never treated her more than a friend or different than anyone else and she knew that so why did she have to go and say something so dumb, so stupid! Was it because he offered to walk her home? Well he’s always like that it’s nothing special, ugh what if she ruined-

“… Then,” Large feet suddenly appeared right in front of hers jolting her out of her spiral of thoughts and a large warm hand rested on her cheek, gently urging her head up until her eyes met with his.

“…Are you busy tomorrow?” He grinned wolfishly with a small tilt of his head.

A few weeks of courting and cute dates led to him casually introducing Nayeon as his girlfriend at a friend’s dinner party, hands held together. It was so sudden but she couldn’t help but cheese goofily as he sat her down on his lap before smoothly joining into the rooms conversation. He’d softly caress her thigh and give her chaste kisses periodically throughout the night. She was happy, very happy in fact, happy and inlove. She finally had what she thought she always wanted and wished she could’ve lived in that bliss for forever but alas life was never that simple nor accommodating.

The first thing she noticed was the zoning out. The times when he’d be aimless staring at some spot in the room completely lost in a daze. It honestly didn’t happen too too often, a soft tap of the shoulder would instantly bring him back to her but she noticed it regardless. But one time it happened during a night of passion that often plagued her thoughts more than she’d like.

Nayeon buried her head further into the pillows as Mingyu rolled his hips languidly into hers. She gasped softly as she angled her head to gaze upon the adonis behind her only to see that far away look in his eyes again.

“ Fuuuuck,” He groaned throwing his head back,” Angel - ah sh-shit!” He shook his head as she squeezed him tightly from the endearing new petname [presumably meant for her] kicking him out of his stupor. He took a second to catch his breath, blinking in quick succession before laying his body on top of hers leaving a wet smooch on her shoulder.

“ That’s new” She moaned seductively before he drew his hips back to resume his pace from before. All he gave was a breathy laugh and more kisses as he focused on pleasuring her until she couldn’t think anymore.

She quite liked that nickname honestly, and the way he said it too “Angel”. He never called her so desperately before and quite frankly it turned her on so much— too bad she never heard it again though. Well not aimed at her.

The second thing she noticed was his chest. Well moreso his heart beat or lack there of? Whenever she was with him her chest would always be a mess of butterflies, hands shaking, breath short and yet when they’d cuddle on the couch, head pressed to his toned chest there was… nothing? Well aside from a very normal beating pattern which gave signs of life of course, he was as cool as a cucumber.

The involuntary signs of love weren’t there for him like they were for her despite kissing the ground he walked on. He never struggled to stare her deeply in her eyes, his palms never sweaty when holding hands, kisses- albeit plentiful and wonderful -never starved and desperate. She knew he’d been with many girls before her and that he was use to female attention so maybe those intense signs of love weren’t appearing because he had a lot of experience, or atleast that’s what she told herself to cope until she could no longer.

Nayeon hung out back stage as Twice just finished their performance followed by Seventeen at the MAMA awards. She giggled softly as her members poked fun at her pink cheeks watching Mingyu onstage from the TV in the break room.

Soon after they finished Super the thirteen membered group filed in the break room, mingling amongst the various groups, getting snacks and cooling down. After grabbing a bottle of water Mingyu made his way over greeting Twice along the way before wrapping his arms around Nayeon and snuggling into her.

“Ewww you’re so sweaty” She teased pretending to be grossed out when it was the quite the opposite, the sweat glistening off his caramel skin doing sinful things to her.

“Hehe hi baby,” He scrunched his nose as he kissed her cheek playfully.

They bantered back and forth amongst the low chatter in the room watching as the next group went up to perform. She wasn't quite sure when his side of the conversation had quieted down but when she looked to her side he was staring intently at the live broadcasting. She too aimed her attention towards the TV to see what had him so preocuppied.

"Ohhh Le Sserafim?" She nodded knowingly, " They're your label mates now right? They are so popular these days, I'm a big fan too haha my bias is Chaewon!" She danced a little in her seat as the point choreo of Antifragile came up in the performance, " Which one's your fav?"

She leaned her head on his chest, cheerful humming coming to a quaking halt when she felt the thundering pulse of his heart beat blaring against her eardrum.

"... Y\n" he murmured mindlessly, eyes never once leaving the Tv.

" Ohh um yeah!" she sputtered quickly trying to regain her cool, "She's a really popular member, her stage presence is really solid too for only being active for about 2 years i think its been... she's very beautiful, uh she's cool with Jihyo and Somi they hang out sometimes..."

Nayeon wanted to slap herself for the needless word vomit but she couldnt help it. She was pulling for straws, not expecting the reaction she's been trying to pull out of Mingyu to happen now of all times and apparently not because of her. Perhaps he was just tired from his performance still, maybe his was just a big fanboy - men will be men even Mingyu it seemed, perhaps she was reading all too much into it. She decided not to say anything more and just stayed cuddled up to him. He smoothly brought his left hand to her arm rubbing it gently pressing her into himself chuckling softly at her frazzled manner.

" You did well today babe, go ahead and rest for a bit" He whispered as he pressed a kiss to her hairline, " I'll be right here."

Maybe she did need a nap she thought to her self but even as she yawned sleepily she couldn't help but notice the thundering in his heart rested only when their performance finished.

But what really nailed it in the coffin was what Nayeon saw later that night at Somi’s after party, and moreso heard. It’s one thing to come to the conclusion that the man she loved didn’t love back in the same caliber as she did but atleast he chose to be with her right? Atleast he only looked at her and only cared about her. Right?? She could work with that at least even if it was one sided but there’s another level of pain when the reason his palms don’t get sweaty, the reason his eyes don’t glaze over in adoration, the reason he’s never said “i love you” back is because he’s so hopelessly inlove with another that he could hardly contain himself.

The venue was crowded with so many different faces, some known and unknown coming from various groups and companies. Owe it to Somi to know everyone. Nayeon and Mingyu were together as always, a few drinks in watching as Hoshi spoke animatedly making the group of friends laugh. It was a start to a great night after the adrenaline rush of their earlier performances.

“Oh wait! Y/n” Somi suddenly shot up running over to you as you jus entered the venue before dragging you into their circle , “Everyone say hi, Y/n say hi too!”

Nayeon watched as you smiled softly at Somi’s antics before bowing and greeting the people around you. You had a naturally alluring vibe to you that made it hard to not look away. She wasn’t a hater, you were stunning. And as she followed the harsh intake of air next to her she realized she wasn’t the only one who felt the same.

Nayeon gave it to Mingyu for trying but she wasn’t a fool. She had spent so long looking at him like he was the only person in the world that she quickly surmised he was only zoned in on one thing that night, that thing being you. You were a bit harder to read but woman to woman she could tell that you skillfully avoided eye contact in their general direction. And from the lovesick face he pathetically failed to conceal and longing gaze; this went above petty attraction.

Suddenly feeling lightheaded Nayeon excused herself to the bathroom, her mind bombarded with questions. Is he cheating one me? How do you know each other? Who is she to him? Do they have history? Is she… the reason he never looks at me like that?

She felt her eyes burn as she gazed in the bathroom mirror. She felt pathetic. It takes being in love to know what it looks like and Mingyu was looking at you like how she looked at him. Like you were his world. He was trying to hide it, desperately so, often cutting his eyes away from you if he caught himself staring for too long or boisterously jumping into the conversation to distract himself from you, giving Nayeon’s hand a squeeze every now and then but she saw through it all. And she loathed you for it.

By time she calmed herself down and made it back to the table her heart fell to her stomach seeing as the two people plaguing her thoughts were both suspiciously missing. Of course no one picked up on the disappearance act of the two but a quick check in with Somi directed her to the direction Mingyu excused himself too. With a quick thank you she followed swiftly, anxiousness pooling in her gut

Following down the hall the sounds of the party quieted until she heard a pair of new voices a little further down out on the balcony. The voices she had been looking for.

“You did amazing today, Angel”

That burning sensation returned to Nayeon’s eyes as she discreetly listened from inside. Angel. That was undeniably Mingyu’s voice.

“ Mingyu, i told you to stop calling me that” you corrected with a sigh, “ and thank you.”

“Fuck- I know i’m sorry, It’s still a bad habit,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly , “ I-I miss you, you know… I know we didn’t end on good terms but-“

“Is this what you followed me out here to say? If so i’m going back to the party-”

Nayeon heard your heels swiftly clack shocking her thinking she would’ve been found out but then they suddenly stopped. She dared to peek over to properly view you both.

Mingyu grasped your wrist firmly, brows furrowing in frustration, “ Why are you being so cold to me? Do you get a kick out of hurting me like this huh? Is that it? I know you- look at me y/n” he tugged you softly yet firmly to face him again, eyes gazing into yours desperately look for anything, “ i know you wanted to ended things with us but do you really have to treat me like a stranger, did you really forget everything, do you really feel nothing for me anymore? I still-“

“Sunbaenim,” you looked up at him icily yanking your arm from his grasp ,” This is hardly appropriate, you have a girlfriend. It’s been months, let it go. It would’ve never worked between us anyways, Nayeon is good to you don’t be reckless over a little fling”

“Fling?! H-how could you- a fling doesn’t last for over year, a fling doesn’t make love like we did, a fling doesn’t meet your family, a fling doesn’t talk about moving in and getting married in the future dammit y/n i was inlove with you!, “ his voice trembled, fists shaking by his side, “You just iced me out of no where, ignoring my messages, stopped answering my calls, and then suddenly breaking up over text?! You keep playing down our relationship as if all of it never happened. You never even gave me a proper reason, I’m supposed to hate you for casting me aside like nothing by and yet why can’t I huh? Even while you’re glaring at me like that with those big beautiful eyes all i wanna do is make them roll back.”

Nayeon couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw his knees hit the floor, You pulled at his shoulders with a curt “enough of this” but he shook you off in favor of furrowing his head into your stomach .

“ Youre so cruel Y/n, how can you show a man heaven then yank it away from his grasp like this. You’re going to drive me insane. You know I can’t live without you, you’re the one who ruined me like this and you can’t even take responsibility for it…”

Nayeon wasn’t able to see your conflicted expression as Mingyu grasped at your waist sniffling onto the fabric of your dress but she didn’t need to.

She moved to the exit as she couldn’t bare to hear anymore but she wasnt quick enough to escape the last words Mingyu whispered.

“Fuck-I…I love you so much, Angel”

Heartbreak doesn’t even begin to describe Nayeons current emotional state. She dashed home without a word, cried in the shower and then curled up on her bed in a pile of misery. Mingyu didn’t stop by to sleep over like normal that night and it drove her mad. All she got was a goodnight text saying he was gonna stay with wonwoo. But is that really where he was? Maybe he was with y/n, moaning angel [she mocked in her head] and giving her all of himself forgetting he had a whole girlfriend. So when ever he got that distant look in his eye was he thinking of her? When he moaned angel, was that what he’d moan in her ear? Was he wishing to be inside her instead? When he was backstage did his heart beat out of his chest just by the sight of her? The reason Nayeon feels like shit is all because of her.

It took her a while before she decided to respond to Mingyu. She ignored his texts and inquiries for about a week before she sent him the “we need to talk” message. She didn’t know what to expect or where to start but she was hoping that their previous friendship would be enough for him to not completely run over her feelings anymore than the whole situation had.

He came over the the next evening after his gym session sporting a grey sweatshirt and pants combo. She couldn’t tell if this was on purpose but she had to stay strong to find the answers she so desperately needed. He gave her a quick kiss to the cheek that still made her heart jump after everything that she’s heard before promptly sitting on the couch.

Nayeon sat down awkwardly across from him not sure where to start. “um do you want anything to drink? i think i have-“ she started looking anywhere but at him.

“Nayeon,” he called gently making her look up hesitantly, “ Ask me anything, I won’t lie to you.”

He looked her earnestly in the eyes and it took Nayeon a second to come to the conclusion that he knows that she knows. Before she could question how he answered for her.

“ Somi told me you were looking for me that night,” He started slowly, “ You suddenly going home, not answering your phone, and then saying we need to talk… i pretty much guessed what was up… so ask me anything and i’ll tell you everything, you deserve to know”

She felt her eyes well up in tears at his honest reply not being able to stop herself from the question she wanted to know the most.

“Did you sleep with her while we were together?!”

“ No, I hadn’t talked to or seen her for months before we got together. I don’t know how much you saw the night of the party but I didn’t sleep with her then either.”

“…Did you want to?”

“N-Nayeon-“

“ Please just a-answer the question”

“…yeah”

She felt the frog in her throat at that but kept the questions searing her heart coming.

“ How did you two meet?”

“ I heard her singing in the practice rooms at Hybe before her debut, but i first saw her physically shortly after her debut at Mnet”

“ H-how did your relationship start?”

“ I think i was drawn when i first heard her voice from way back then, when we officially met I-I wanted to get close to her and the more time we spent together the more harder it got to stay away”

“ We’ve been friends this whole time, how come i’ve never met her?”

“ She didn’t want anyone to know we were dating. So we never interacted in public only wonwoo really knew. Since we live together”

Nayeon tried to think back to around the time they were supposedly dating. She’d sometimes catch hints of hickies on his neck or him smiling at his phone but she just thought he was just fooling around and not committed to anyone. She remembered feeling severely envious though, because that was the happiest she had ever seen him. And if everything he says is true it matches the depressive episode he was in months before they got together, if that’s when she cut him off from what he said that night.

She wiped her tears feeling a bit more whole to look him in the eyes again, “ But why her? Don’t get me wrong she’s pretty and all but you’re not the type of guy who only cares about that. The way she talked to you at the party—she seems like a fucking bitch”

He actually laughed out loud at that, a soft look taking over his face, “Yeah i know, she’s hardheaded, mean, and rude but that’s just one aspect to her. She’s also creative, headstrong, caring, and sensitive… Nayeon I’m sorry,” he switched suddenly, “ I might’ve not physically cheated on you but i still disrespected this relationship and our friendship. I enjoyed our time together and i really wanted it to be you, I wanted to forget about Y/n and live a nice easy love with you b-but seeing her at the party reminded jus how far gone i am. One look and i’m back where I started” He lowered his head in his hands, “You don’t have to forgive me but please know nothing is wrong with you, you are amazing I just- I’m-“

“In love with Y/n right?,” Nayeon finished tears flowing freely at some point. She wish she could yell and scream and call him names but even now she felt his apology from the bottom of his heart. It was never her, it was never gonna truly be her.

She felt the couch next to her dip and the warmth of his embrace. She couldn’t help but fall into it, her cries tumbling into hiccups, mourning of her love lost. “S-So are we done? You’re breaking up with m-me? Are you going to her now?”

He patted her back softly, “ I don’t want to hurt you anymore, knowing i can’t give you what you want and deserve… and even though i love Y/n as i’m sure you heard she’s adamant on pushing me away. We haven’t even talked since that night… plus i’m pretty sure y/n still has my number blocked lol”

“I d-didn’t know you liked emotional unavailable girls Mingyu,” she tried to joke between her gasps, “i would’ve changed my tactics” she wailed into his sweatshirt.

She felt his chest rumble in suppressed laughter before whispered apologies into her hair. It hurt so bad but she could never hate Mingyu. You on the other hand is a different story but she knew albeit not anytime soon she’d eventually have to come to terms with this and hopefully one day her and Mingyu could get back to how they were before, as friends.

☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆

Mingyu left Nayeon apartment guiltily feeling lighter despite breaking his friends heart. In times like these he cursed you so much for causing all this chaos in his life and at the same time he imagines you in his embrace, whispering sweet everythings into your ear.

He threw his keys in his dish tray once reaching his apartment before grabbing a beer and joining wonwoo in the living room.

“…Well you don’t have any scratches on your face,” Wonwoo analyzed, “ So i’m guessing things went well i hope?”

Mingyu scoffed sarcastically while cracking open his can, “Hyung what the hell am i doing, something must be wrong with my head…” he pouts before taking a big gulp.

“Yeah they say love is one hell of a drug,” Wonwoo offers, “But honestly are you really okay with ending things with Nayeon, it’s safe and certain unlike Y/n”

Mingyu takes a deep breath before answering, “ As long as Y/n exists I don’t think i can truly be happy with another. I don’t know what she slipped into my food when i wasn’t looking but nothing compares. Nayeon is everything right on paper but why…. i jus can’t- It’s ugh,” he gives up and ops for his drink again.

Wonwoo ponders for a moment, “ You are a bit of a masochist,”

“Ya.”

“ So when are you gonna talk to Y/n? Makes no sense breaking up with Nayeon because of her if not to work things out right?”

“ But hyung, that’s what i tried to do at the party, literally begged on my knees and she still left me there,” he laid back in the couch as if he were in a therapy session, “ I jus don’t get it, we were doing so well. As long as we were together everything was gonna be alright, the power could be out and she’d find flashlights and build a pillow fort. She’d find the coolest art pieces and trinkets and gift them to me, she’d always be my second hand in the kitchen even if it’s jus stirring and taste testing. Everyday felt like a dream, there was never a dull time. We could literally have the time of our lives trapped in a cardboard box. We’d spend nights just drinking wine and talking about our hopes and aspirations and everything under the sun, i’d do anything to make her dreams come true and she had the nerve to say it was a fucking fling??”

Upon reminiscing he couldn’t help the tightness in his chest and on top of that the resurfacing of anger because how can all of that happen and you act as if it didn’t. No matter what you tried to paint it out as he knew it was real for both of you.

Wonwoo patted his shoulder reassuringly feeling him getting worked up again. “ Didnt everything change after she came back from visiting her family after the Le Sserafim mini tour? I remember didn’t all her members go visit her family too?”

“Yeah why?” Mingyu questioned not understanding what he was getting at.

“Try asking them, maybe they know something you don’t. I’m not judging but I always thought it was weird how she never talks about her family. Whenever you’d ask to meet them she’d change the subject. Maybe it’s got something to do with that,” Wonwoo was really wracking his brain overtime trying to find some sort of lead. He’d seen Mingyu and Y/n before all this mess and he was convinced they were soulmates then so maybe they just needed some guidance now.

Mingyu drunk in silence as he thought over Wonwoo’s words more. He remembered how scared you were when you first met his family despite his adamant affirmations that they already loved you. You were so jittery and out of your element telling him later that night you’ve never seen a family so loving. He considered his family pretty average though. He remembered the fear in your eyes when he asked to meet your family only for you to pull him in for a hot kiss purposefully rendering his brain off course. He didn’t think much of it at the time but now he’s starting to see Wonwoo’s train of thought

“I’ll try contacting Yunjin”

After asking around in a couple of friend groups he finally was linked to Yunjin’s Kakao. Despite being head over heels in love with a member in her group she had little inkling about the severity of his and Y/n’s relationship until the end that is. Normally Y/n would sneak out to his place which was why Wonwoo knew her pretty well, but her members only found out when Mingyu barged into their dorms demanding to talk to Y/n after her casual “let’s break up” text those many months ago. He had no idea how the explaining went after that but Yunjin didn’t seem too surprised at his, “Hey yunjin, this is Mingyu… do you think we could meet up and talk soon. I’m sure i don’t have to tell you to keep this between us.”

A couple hours later he received his reply.

“Sunbaenim! Ofc we should be back in Korea in a week. Cafe by hybe sound good?”

A week came sooner than one would think, his mind giddy because maybe he could finally get some progress in understanding why you left him. He waited patiently at the back of the cafe with a baseball cap tapping away at his phone. He opted to swipe through his secret gallery of pics he saved of you even after the break up, thumb running softly along the pixels of your cheek.

“Sunbaenim!”

Mingyu jumped at the sudden appearance of fiery hair as Yunjin sat down. He greeted her before calling the barista over to get her drink settled along with his.

“ How were the concerts in Paris?” He made small talk.

“ It was our first time going, it’s so beautiful there and God the food was amazing,” she spoke animatedly before squinting her eyes knowingly,” but i know that’s not what you messaged me for.”

He held his hand ups in defeat with a sheepish smile, “How is she?”

“ Honestly… Y/n-ah is normally the one who brings us all together and the glue to our group but she’s been so quiet lately which is so unlike her, “ Yunjin eyes glossed a bit, “I worry about her a lot because only few know how much she cares and how much she hurts. She never lets us in and that’s why i was so shocked that she was seeing someone but i was glad because she was so happy. Her smile really reached her eyes you know, even though at the time i didn’t know who it was and i only found out cause she left her phone in the living room and i saw the name “Nose Picker🩵” and you messaging you loved her and for her to get some rest.” She giggled softly at the memory.

Mingyu’s heart squeezed at the stupid nickname he asked her to change a million times. “ D-did she tell you anything after i stormed into your dorms, sorry about that by the way,”

Yunjin looked hesitant not sure how to phrase what wasn’t in her place to say. “Um- after you left she just got so quiet b-but that night i heard her crying and so i went over to her and held her. But she jus kept saying so many negative things about herself and repeating the things her mom-“ Yunjin clasped her mouth feeling wrong for exposing your problems like this without your consent. You explicitly told her to never talk about that night but Mingyu staring at her with desperation in his eyes was breaking her resolve.

“Yunjin what is it?! Please tell me, more than anyone i want her happiness Yunjin please,” he grasped her hands tears threatening to drop,” Please”

Orbs shaking Yunjin sighed in defeat before continuing in a meek voice ,” The other members didn’t really understand because her family speaks english but I understood…. I understood e-everything…”

Yunjin followed as you led the girls into your childhood home. That morning you were on edge but since the last touring city ended up in your home town everyone insisted on meeting your family and sleeping over that night. Yunjin was excited to see a part of you you don’t normally share in hopes of getting closer to you and bragging about you to your family.

Your family were relatively normal looking and kind enough to them as everyone gathered around the dinner table. The spread of food was vast for such short notice, not having to worry about diets since you all were on break after this was a nice bonus as well. Everyone fell into a lull of conversation but something felt strange to Yunjin. You were so quiet, just poking at your food aimlessly. To liven up your spirits she was about to compliment your parents home until your mother finally directed her attention towards you.

“What why aren’t you eating, i cooked all this food for you and your little friends the least you can do is eat it.” Your mom stated quite abrasively.

With out lifting your head or taking a moment to breathe your responded, “ I’m not hungry”

Your mom laughed condescendingly at that, “You? Not hungry, ahh come on you use to be so big when you were younger you’d eat up everything. You afraid to blow up like that again? Actually maybe you shouldn’t eat, you don’t want to look like that again right. Oh my i remember I used to be so embarrassed taking you anywhere with me. All your cousins were so small and here you were taking up so much space. It’s good you finally stopped eating so much, you’re so pretty now too! You really take after me now ya know-“

Yunjin watched in complete horror as your mother rambled on stabbing knife after knife into your esteem with no care in the world as you just sat there taking the public embarrassment. You always stood up for the girls against the strict dietary guidelines and always reassured them how beautiful they were and yet here you were, eyes listless as you absorbed everything your mother spewed like a sponge.

“-You know i was so worried about you, especially when you use to cut yourself in highschool. I mean who does that do you know how bad that made me look and you missed so many days of school doing Lord knows what. You almost got me in trouble it was so humiliating when your teacher had to visit our home, you know everyone in the neighborhood saw that. And then you randomly wanted to go to korea to become a performer, Haha that one gave me a good laugh for the longest time but hey who knew there was actually something you were good at, i’ve been spending your monthly checks at the new med spa that opened down town-“

Yunjin felt her own tears welling up in her eyes, she wish you’d say something, she wish she could say something but she was in such shock. She grew up in a loving family, albeit they had their problems but she’s never witnessed a catastrophe of a dinner like this. She glanced back at you and reached for your hand under the table but you didn’t react at all. Until the next batch of words your mother had for you.

“ And why didn’t you tell me you were dating! I was worried you’d end up alone you know, you never brought a boy home, i mean i know you were a bit chubby but atleast one boy had to have liked you,”

“…How did you know i’m dating someone?,” You finally spoke breath caught in your throat.

“It was about a week or so ago, i ran out of the money you usually send so i was calling for more which after all i’ve done for you raising and keeping a roof over your head i don’t know why you have me on such a small stipend but anyways a man picked up. His english was a little choppy but he introduced himself as your boyfriend ha! can you believe that. I was curious how he looked so i googled his name and I have to hand it to you, i don’t know what he sees in you but make sure you keep that one, he’s one hell of a catch. I bet you havent told him about your little stunt in highschool or how huge you used to be, makes sure he never finds out or else he’s not gonna want you anymore, okay honey, men like that like their women with no baggage and i want grand babies before i die, all the nurses at the hospital are always bragging and showing pictures and i have nothing to show” your mother finally finished

You were shaking. Yunjin was holding your hand so tightly. Chaewon picked up on the unpleasant vibe but knew better than to say anything. Dinner concluded, you all thanked your parents for dinner and cleaned the table before all the members packed up in your childhood bedroom for the night. When she was sure everyone was asleep Yunjin turned to you.

“Y/n-ah I’m so s-sorry,” she weeped into your side. But you didn’t say anything, you jus hummed before turning over and going to sleep.

The next morning you all packed up to head for the airport. Yunjin overheard your mom asking for more money before giving you a hug after you wired it. She told you she loved you but you didn’t reply.

“A few weeks a-after that, “Yunjin hiccuped,” is when you barged in the dorm. A-and that night Y/n-ah finally cried and she-“ Yunjin was full on bawling , “ She was saying s-so many bad things about herself a-and i didn’t know what to s-say. I’ve never seen h-her like that.

She buried her face in her hands recollecting that night. And Mingyu… he was furious. Furious for entertaining that witch on the phone, furious for not seeing sooner how far your insecurities went, his face red in anger but also guilt for being so blind. So much made sense about you. You would never fully finish your meals, you always wore such baggy and covering clothes when not on stage, you hated when he took pictures of you and you hated smiling critiquing how your cheeks spread, you always were one to listen to others venting but never partook in your own, you always talked about dreams of the future cryptically as if you’d never be around to reach them, when he tried to be affectionate with you in public you’d always slink away from him and last and not least you pushed him away in fear of revealing the bits you so desperately wanted to hide; afraid it’d affect his perception of you.

But you were so so wrong. He needed you to understand, he saw you, his angel. Maybe it wasn’t as clear in the past but he saw you now and it changed nothing. He loved you with all his being and God he really fucking needed to see you-

“-Where is she?” He demanded determinedly already packing his cup and phone getting ready to go.

“I-I don’t know,” Yunjin answered honestly,” When we aren’t on schedule she leaves her phone at the dorm and just l-leaves-“

“ What! Do you know how dangerous that is, why hasn’t anyone stopped her!” He could feel himself falling apart, he needed to see you very badly, he needed to make sure you were okay with his own eyes, and if you weren’t he needed to make you okay somehow.

“ She always leaves at the most random times, she normally gets back in the e-evening?” Yunjin wiped her red eyes for the umpteenth time.

He didn’t know what to do, he wanted to run around Seoul like a chicken with its head cut off but he had no clue where to look. He felt like he was going to hyperventilate at this rate, he felt like such an idiot, he should’ve fought harder if only he had known how deep the hurt went. He couldn’t help but curse out loud.

“W-Wait Sunbae,” Yunjin spoke up with a revelation, “I’m checking our group chat, I-I think she might’ve taken her Apple Watch, look”

Yunjin turned her phone around showing your supposed location. He looked at the map on her phone, the glowing dot was resting in a building in Myeongdong. He quickly took a screenshot of your location, thanking Yunjin before sprinting to the company car he brought with him that afternoon. He was pretty sure he spilled some of his drink and stepped on some toes on the way to the vehicle but he couldn’t be bothered to even look back.

☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆

To say you were surprised to receive an invitation from Nayeon of all people would be a complete understatement. You never gave her your number so it was probably received from Somi. But here you sat at a fancy restaurant awkwardly staring at each other in silence. You normally just wandered around till it got dark when there wasnt any schedules but you decided to bring your watch just in case your body goes missing. You are aware her and Mingyu broke up and you are pretty sure this invitation out wasn’t to begin a beautiful friendship with the way she was glaring at you.

“ So-“

“ I-“

You both tried talking at the same time. Cringing inwardly you bowed your head for her to take the lead.

“ You know i don’t like you right.”

Oof straight for the throat but you didn’t have much to say to that, cause you didn’t like you either.

“Yeah i figured as much,” you sipped your water, “ so why the invitation?”

“ I wanted to see for myself what’s got Mingyu so wound up,” She tilted her head scrutinizing you, “ So far i’m unimpressed.”

“ Listen if you just invited me here to take jabs at me-“

“ You’re pathetic.”

Okay that one made you roll your eyes. You gathered your purse ready to get up and leave until she continued.

“ You have an amazing man so completely enamored with your very being and yet you are stomping all over his heart. At first i thought you were just a bitch-“

You put your purse back down, uncomfortably shifting as she stared you right in your eyes.

“ I’ve been watching you ya know, you walk around like a pile of self loathing on a stick, it’s so hard to watch. I don’t know your story but I can assure you right now nothing will change how that man thinks of you. And as his friend you hurting him is a me issue now. That fool is so hard headed i’m pretty sure if i told him you murdered puppies he’d still love you” she scoffed, rolling her eyes as the waiter finally came with your appetizers.

You weren’t good at conversations like this. Well was this even a conversation moreso you were being aggressively spoken at. “Stalking is a crime you know,” you mumbled stabbing a fork into your salad.

“Is that really all you have to say? Don’t play with me, we are not friends. Do you even love Kim Mingyu?” she frankly asked with a chicken wing pointed straight at you.

“Loving him has nothing to do with-“

“ I didn’t want to have to do this but you are being so difficult,” with her clean hand she opened her phone pulling up a compromising picture of Mingyu asleep in bed with Nayeon snuggled to his side. It was clear what they finished doing before it was captured “Answer my question or i’ll keep swiping”

Your nose flared at the photo, jealousy swirled in your stomach even though you had no right. You pushed him away so you had no right to be envious but nevertheless you were. You remembered how that use to be you, losing track of what time you had to sneak back to the dorms because he was so warm and safe and so- Mingyu. Your eyes darkened as she swiped to the next photo, him sucking a hickey onto her inner thigh, looking up at her with those beautiful brown eyes. Your self esteem might’ve been in the gutter but you knew how to be shameless too.

“ Delete all of those pictures right now and I’ll answer,” you challenged staring her right back down.

She picked at some stuck chicken in her teeth with her pinky acrylic, “ Wah you’re so easy, fine fine i’m deleting them. Wasn’t that many anyways- he didn’t like me taking pics,” she mumbled the last part as she clacked away on her phone.

Once you were positive they were all gone your expression finally softened, lips parting, “I love him so much that i’m scared. I’m scared because i can take when others hurt and abandon me… but if Mingyu does… if he ever gets tired of me or casts me aside i really won’t be able to survive it. That’s the one thing i won’t be able to bounce back from. When i’m with him my heart is no longer my own and that terrifies me. Trust isn’t something that comes easy but i have no control over myself because of him. I’m used to everything blowing up in my face, always being the butt of the joke, nothing ever working out in my favor so why should i believe for once that the good that is Mingyu isn’t going to turn on me one day as well?”

“ Because it’s fucking Mingyu,” she stated matter of factly , “ Gods apology to man if you will.”

You huffed at that, finding it hard to disagree with that childish logic. After that you both jus ate in silence, probably both thinking of Mingyu to some compacity. By time the entré came out Nayeon was ready to talk again.

“ I knew he never loved me,” she sighed,” but even then he tried his hardest to. Gosh i wanna jus cry, the sex was so bomb too — i hate you so much” she pouted as she cut into her steak rather aggressively.

This time you actually laughed. A real one that touched you eyes. You held your stomach finding it hard to stop, lost in your mirth. In that moment Nayeon felt like she caught a glimpse of the Y/n he described a week ago.

You both payed for your separate meals, Nayeon left with a “I would offer you a ride but i still don’t like you” so you made your way down the street, no destination in mind, shaking your head softly at the fiasco that dinner was. You didn’t make it far before a pair of large arms wrapped around you from behind. You should’ve screamed for help if it was anyone else but you knew this embrace.

“Angel,” he whispered against your neck out of breath

“Mingyu what are you doing,”. You tugged on his arms to avail, “I was about to call the police on you, you can’t just grab people like that in- hey are you listening to me”

No he wasn’t in fact. To busy burrowing his head further in the crevice of your neck, humming softly as he pulled you flush against him. You tried to atleast to turn around in his hold but was met with a stubborn whine.

“ Mingyu, people are looking.. s-stop before someone recognizes us,” You try to shrink away from the onlookers.

He intakes your scent with a deep breathe before finding the willpower to release his limbs before dragging you to what seemed to be a parking lot. You don’t fuss much at that point letting him tug you along until you were seated and buckled safety in to his passenger seat of his car. You kept your eyes forward as he ran to his side and slid in himself. Before he moved to pull off you felt him staring shamelessly at the side of your face. Your own face starting to warm at the intensity of his gaze.

“ What is up with everyone today,” you rolled your eyes before turning in your seat to face him square on, “Care to explain to me how you knew exactly where I was? Are you stalking me too??”

His eyes were still darting around every inch of you with that silly expression on his face, “You look so nice today, did you go out to eat? Are you still hungry? What do you mean too, is someone bothering you? Also I know this nice spot by-“

You move to unbuckle your seatbelt but his hands beat you there, grabbing both your wrists in one hand. “Mingyu let me-“

“Gyu.”

“What?!” you huffed failing miserable against his hold , “ This is not the time to act cute, I’ll scream I swear I-“

This time he yanked you forward by your wrists and slot his lips against yours in a searing kiss. Instantly your body like muscle memory became liquid in his grasp no longer caring to escape him. With his free hand he held your chin between his thumb and pointer finger angling you side ways so he could eagerly push his tongue past your soft lips. He didn’t mean for things to happen in that order honestly. He wanted to make sure you were safe and okay but seeing you always scrambled his thoughts and now he’s sucking on your tongue in the parking lot getting high off your breathy moans. Lost in the nasty wet tongue kiss he subconsciously loosened the grip he had on your wrists in favor holding both sides of your face as he swirled his tongue around yours.

You cursed yourself in your head for clutching onto his tshirt pathetically as you let him defile your mouth. At the rate he was going you were gonna pass out from the lack of air and intimacy of it all. You dragged your fingertips up to the juncture of his jaw line and neck before giving a firm enough pinch. Understanding you immediately he pulled back just to give you a couple more passionate smooches, eyes low as you both watched the string of saliva slowly give way between you. It’s landed on your chin which he brazenly licked off before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. Finally done with the impromptu makeout you both gazed at each other out of breathe, periodically looking back down at each others lips.

He caressed your cheeks with his thumb softly, something he’d been dreaming of doing again for months , “Hi” Those charming canines of his flashing at you.

You didn’t have it in you to play aloof with him in that moment, not after you jus swallowed an embarrassing amount of his spit. “Gyu how’d you find me?”

“Yunjin,” He answered quick leaning back in ready for round two, tongue already sticking out but you pushed him back by his forehead.

“ …Gyu you’ve been wanting to talk to me about the breakup since it happened right?,” you closed your eyes in defeat, some of Nayeons words urging to on, “I’m giving you the chance now, so are we gonna talk and i can’t guarantee if there will be later. I know you didn’t come all the way here just to make out. ”

“Shit fuck that’s-“ he rubbed the back of his neck in shame, “I’m sorry I just got so carried away, yes we need to talk please. Can i take you back to my place?”

You sighed but nodded turning your head to focus on the road. He quickly started up the car not wanting to ruin this chance but not before pressing a chaste kiss to the side of your forehead, hopefully you’d let that one slide just for him. You made no comment on it as he sped back to his place in silence.

Always the gentleman he kept your door on child lock so you wouldn’t get out without him opening the door for you once you reached. You couldn’t help the small smile at his childish mannerisms. Such a big baby. You allowed him to hold your hand as you both made your way to his place. Once inside you were hit with the nostalgia of his apartment, his heady scent was everywhere already making your heart race.

He locked the door behind you before getting you something to drink, “Wonwoo is out on a brand trip,” He offered once he’d heard you sit down on their couch.

You hmed at the information too busy looking all around the apartment you use to frequent. It brought back a lot of memories of the past from the chaotic cooking dates, snuggling on the living room floor staring up at the cheap star projector, to fucking like teenagers in your epic pillow fort till all the sheets collapsed around you both.

The sound of your cup of apple juice being placed down on the table took you out of your reverie as Mingyu sat down next to you. Ever the offender of having no sense of personal space, he situated him self directly against you despite the plentiful seats in the living area. You felt like you should’ve told him to move but you found yourself being honest for once; you didn’t want him to.

“So um,” he decided to break the tension, “C-can i hold your hand again while we talk?”

You relinquished your hand to him, both of you angling you bodies inwards to each other before you looked up at him waiting for him to ask his questions.

His heart compressed painfully at the sight of your big eyes but he forced himself to stay focused.

“ As i’m sure you know me and Nayeon broke up.” He waited for your acknowledgment before continuing, ” I won’t lie and say our meeting at the Somi’s party wasn’t the catalyst for alot of things but it made it clear especially despite trying to move on I physically can’t. I can’t move on from you and I don’t want to move on from you.” His thumb brushed your over knuckles, “When you broke up with me like that I wanted to be done with you, you hurt me Y/n… so so bad.”

Your eyes reflected the same glistened look as his as the guilt of carelessly casting Mingyu aside finally was catching up to you after all those months of dodging feelings. You bit your lip waiting for him to proceed.

“I just wanted to mean something to you, and when i finally was getting back to myself one look from you and back to begging on my knees like i was months ago.”

“G-gyu” you sniffled and went to cup his face in your palms. He probably didn’t even realize the single tear you were currently thumbing away at. “I- no amount of apologies will ever equate to how i treated you. But regardless I’m sorry for taking out my insecurities out on you. God knows you’ve been nothing but amazing and i still desperately tried to sabotage that all. I still think you deserve a better girl, don’t settle for me Gyu you deserve the world.”

He held onto your hands to keep your touch on him. “ I don’t care what you think i deserve, I want you. Even after everything I forgive you whether you want to be forgiven or not a-and Yunjin told me about seeing your parents-“

You sharply sucked in a breath before trying to yank your hands back to your lap but he held them firmly bringing them to his chest, “Don’t do that Y/n, don’t try to close up on me like that please. Not again, Don’t- shit angel don’t cry”

His heart broke at your vulnerable expression, lip quivering as you tried to lean away from but he wasn’t having it. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled your securely into his chest, caressing your spine while cooing into your crown.

You hiccuped uncontrollably into his chest, “ Sh-she promised she wouldn’t saying anything, she promised!”

“Please don’t blame Yunjin, I didn’t really give her choice, I just needed to know why you came back to me so closed off. Im sorry for picking up your mother’s call back then, I had no right to but Y/n don’t feel ashamed please. You are so strong, so beautiful, so worthy of everything despite what she says. My mom loves you ya know, you can share her if you’d like,” he peppered kisses across your face, “you’ll just have to marry me of course…”

You choked on a laugh between the ugly cries that wracked through you. Maybe it was the tears but your mind felt a bit lighter, “Gyu… I-I love you but i’m terrified. “ You admitted “after years of constantly being ridiculed and belittled as if im nothing i can’t help but believe it. I’m so embarrassed about having a mother like her and i’m ashamed with myself. But wh-whenever im with you i feel alive but she always finds a way to say the exact words to knock me all the way back down. For my own mother to think so lowly of me how am i s-supposed to stand proudly by your side. You are so blinding, so kind, so talented, so honest, so good; everything i’m not.”

“But to me you’re all those things and more. I’m only my best self when i’m with you, because of you. You really have no idea the power you hold not just on me but the people around you. Your mother doesn’t deserve you and she doesn’t define you. How someone can treat such a wonderful daughter like you like that still blows my mind. You deserve to be valued and praised just for existing simply because you are you. ”

By this point your foreheads were pressed together, your hiccups finally simmering down. He kissed your nose softly before wiping away your tears. “I know years of hurt can’t be done away in one night but can you promise me something Angel”

You sniffled cutely before looking up at him again , “Mmhm”

“Let me see the ugly, it’s okay if you cry, scream, yell but do it to me. Let me share your burdens, you don’t have to do it all alone. Please rely on me, it’s what i’m here for”

You wrapped your arms around him sighing into his chest. You felt so drained and lightheaded so tired but still you couldn’t deny the immense relief you felt off your heavy heart, “… You love me?” you whispered timidly.

“More than you’ll ever know,” He kissed your brow sweetly.

“Okay then… I’ll be in your care from now on” you unhurriedly pressed a kiss to his jaw before yawning,” I know there’s still so much more we have to talk about but can we talk more in the morning?”

He smiled fondly as you rubbed your eyes sleepily, nose still stuffy from your tears. He leaned down to press a proper kiss on your plush lips, “Of course my Angel,” You both gazed longing at each other a bit longer neither making the move to get up. He took the bait again and gave you a languid open mouthed kiss before whispering dreamily against your lips, “I love you.”

#mingyu x reader #mingyu #mingyu fic #mingyu angst #kpop fic #seventeen x reader #mingyu x y/n #mingyu smut #svt x reader #svt angst #kim mingyu x reader #svt fanfic #mingyu fanfic #mingyu scenarios

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bloodyknucklesforme · 5 months

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Red Summer | Ghoap x F!Reader | Slasher!AU

After breaking up with your long term boyfriend you take a job working as a camp counselor in Northern Vermont. Seven weeks of swimming, volleyball, archery and hiking. There's even a hot lifeguard. It seems perfect until you find something evil is lurking in the woods

Tags: Slasher AU, Ghoap x Reader, intro chapter, nondescript reader, dark fic

Chapter 1: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

5.5k words

It smelled like Summer. Ozonic and earthy, carried into your car by the breeze as you drove North through winding roads. Montpelier was two hours behind you now.

Despite the eighty degree heat, Vermont was lush and green. Only a couple more miles of shaded forest roads before you reached camp. At least you hoped so. Your maps app had been slow to load the last twenty miles.

The place was North, nestled between the border of Canada and the New Hampshire state line. It was gorgeous though. Anytime you thought about moving out of New England to somewhere cheaper the next season changed your mind. The trees just didn’t look as pretty in fall or the snow as splendid in winter. You just wished it was cheaper.

Suppose that’s why you took this job, as much as it didn’t appeal to you. Camp counselor for seven long weeks, the pay was shit but your food and board came free. After a bad breakup you didn’t have time to find a new lease so your life was packed up into a rented storage box with anything valuable shoved into the back of your car.

A friend of a friend recommended it. She’d been working here for years, attended for even more. She was an old money New Englander. Boarding school outside of Boston and all that. She was nice though. Got you the job over any qualified candidates. It wasn’t nepotism but whatever it was called you wouldn’t complain.

Your car dinged. Low gas. Shit.

Scrolling quickly through the map you saw a gas station up ahead. You’d just make it… hopefully.

You let out a sigh of relief as you pulled into the station. It was older with dusty windows and sun-faded posters for cigarettes.

A piece of paper was taped to the pump.

“Reader broken. Pay inside” scribbled in sharpie.

You sighed and headed inside.

It was dusty inside too. A couple aisles of brightly packaged food and walls lined with fridges filled with beer and soda. The man behind the counter glanced up from his book when you walked in.

He was handsome. Black with dark, short cut curly hair and big brown eyes. Much too handsome to be working in the middle of nowhere. He’d look more fitting in the corner of a bar, buying you a drink. He smiled up at you and your heart might have skipped a beat.

“Pump three? How much?” He was English… strange.

“Just…uh… ten bucks.” You stumbled out.

“It’s the accent,” he chuckled. “It throws everybody off the first time.”

“It’s a strange place for an Englishman to be, I guess.” You swayed awkwardly.

“I go to Middlebury. Easier to get a summer job than fly home.” He shrugged.

“Understandable.” You weren’t an expert on Vermont geography but you swore the college was on the other side of the state.

“Ten on three.” He said, nodding his head towards the window.

“Oh yeah. Thank you.”

“You still got to pay, love.”

“Oh fuck, yeah. Sorry… uh… Kyle.” You read his name tag before digging through your tote bag, finding the last bit of your cash.

“No worries. What brings a girl like you out here.”

“I’m working at the camp.”

“Weldon lake, right?”

“Yeah. First time… I’m going the right way, right?”

“If you continue up the road. There will be a sign when you need to turn.” He handed you your receipt.

“Thank you.”

“Hey!” You were half way out the door when he called. “Stay alive out there. Heard the campers can be down right evil.”

“I’ll try!”

The rest of the journey was smooth, there was a sign just like Kyle said. Another one after that taking you down a long gravel drive and into a dirt parking lot. A couple other cars were there already.

You made sure everything important was locked up in the trunk before grabbing your duffel bag and tote. You hoped you brought enough sunscreen.

The sun was warm on your back as you made your way up to the main building. Two other girls were hanging around on the porch. They each wore matching white baseball shirts with red sleeves and trim, each labeled with STAFF on the back.

“Hey, you’re Sophia’s friend, right? I’m Janie.” She jumped down from the porch fence. “I love your braids by the way.”

You’d done your hair before leaving, figuring it’d be easier to keep clean braided than fight for limited shower time.

“I’m Natalie,” The other girl greeted. You introduced yourself, thanking Janie for the compliment.”

“I think your cabin is next to mine. I can take you over once you check in.” Janie said.

Check in was easy enough. Sign a couple more papers, show off your ID to prove you were you and get your cabin assignment, key and two staff shirts. Tomorrow was orientation before the campers arrived Monday morning. Tonight was for getting to know everyone.

“So, where’s this cabin?” you asked, walking outside.

The girls grinned and led you down the path. Everything seemed to branch off from here. They pointed out where the dining hall was just past the main office next to the nurse’s station.

“Don’t expect much. They’re still recovering from when Covid almost killed this place.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. They had to raise fees and a bunch of parents freaked out. Guess an extra hundred dollars really threw all the millionaires off.” Natalie laughed.

Next was the pool, fully fenced in and surrounded by two tennis courts and two basketball courts on either side.

“Hey lasses!” A man called from the pool, leaning over the chain link fence. Natalie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Who’s the new girl?”

He had a thick Scottish accent. Lots of transplants for the area, you guessed. He was also handsome. Muscular with a dark mohawk and light eyes. He was shirtless with very short and tight red shorts on and a silver whistle around his neck. He was dripping water over the ground.

“You say that like you aren’t also the new guy, Johnny!” Natalie called, clearly annoyed already.

“Nat hates him.” Janie giggled.

“It’s been three hours and he’s already tried to fuck half the counselors. He’s a dog.”

“One I’d put on a leash.” Janie laughed.

Johnny walked over, still dripping wet. His crocs squeaked with every step.

“Johnny,” he grinned, holding out his hand to you. You introduced yourself as he shook your hand excitedly. He had a tattoo on his side, up by his ribs. You couldn’t see all of it but it looked like a heart with someone’s initials in it. S and something else, you couldn’t tell for sure. “Beautiful name for a beautiful gal.”

Your cheeks felt hot as his blue eyes traveled over your body.

“It’s going to be a fun seven weeks with all you bonnie lasses around.” He grinned. Nat looped her arm around yours.

“Down dog. We still have half the camp to show off.”

“You know where to find me. Pool looked like the lake when I got here.” He raised his hands up as he walked backwards towards the pool again.

“Come on, before we lose Janie.”

“He’s hot!” She defended.

“You just like him because he got your name right on the first try.”

“He’s intelligent too!”

The cabins were next. Ten white painted buildings split in half with about eight beds on each side and a shared bathroom in the back. They formed a circle around a fire pit with log benches.

You had cabin room 14. Janie was the building next door in 15 and Nat with 16 sharing with her. They took turns explaining everything.

“Your bed is the only non bunk and the chest underneath locks so anything you don’t want the campers to find should go there.”

“Basically all your shit. I had a copy of Crime and Punishment stolen last year. Fucking Crime and Punishment like any of these kids could read Dostoevsky.”

“Showers are in the back. Hot water is sparse so if you want some, move quick and early.”

“Breakfast is at 8. Coffee tastes like shit unless you pour half a pound of sugar in it.”

“You can vape just outside but if you smoke you gotta ask your neighbor counselor to watch your kids. At least thirty feet away or they’ll snitch too.”

“Weed is only for days off because they'll either snitch or demand you share. That goes for kids and counselors.”

“Days off are randomly assigned but you should get one every other week.”

“I don’t recommend sleeping with other counselors but if you must, go to your car.” Natalie said.

“We’ll leave you to get settled. Dinner is in an hour. You can meet everyone else then.”

“Thank you guys for everything.” You felt overwhelmed just a bit.

They left, still arguing about Johnny. He was cute but the break up wounds were still fresh. You didn’t want to sneak around either. You weren’t a teenager anymore.

You haphazardly dumped the contents of your duffle into the lock chest before shoving it back under the bed. You had seven weeks to organize it.

The bed was okay. A plastic covered mattress with an old sleeping bag. You should have brought your own pillow. Maybe a Target run on your next day off whenever that was.

The ache in your muscles from driving all day hit hard the moment you sat down.

There was a knock on the door.

“Hey sleepyhead!” Sophia came in. You rubbed your face as you woke up. Out the window you could see the sky looked darker, a blue summer evening. “I’m glad you ended up coming.”

“Yeah. Thanks for getting me the job.” You stretched, your shoulders cracking. “It’s nice to get away.”

“I’m sorry about you and Ale.” There it was. She was nice but always craved gossip.

“It’s okay. Just wanted different things.”

You shrugged. It wasn’t a bad breakup, no arguing, just a slow and painful demise. He’d even offered to let you stay with him when the lease ended and he found out you didn’t have a place to go. You chose this instead.

“Well, let’s get you something to eat. The food is incredibly mediocre but I heard a rumor that the lifeguard has beer and weed for the fire pit.”

She was not wrong about dinner. Hot dogs with a slice of Kraft cheese melted on top with a bag of chips as a side.

You sat with Nat, Sophia and Janie.

“There are my lovely ladies!” Johnny sat down, forcing his way between Cel and Sophia. Nat looked like she wanted to kill him. “Coming out to the lake tonight? Hope you all brought swim suits or birthday suits.”

“Jesus Christ.” Nat groaned.

“I think we’re gonna have an easy night. Some of us had long drives.” Sophia motioned to herself and you. “Just some girl time.”

Johnny pouted.

“Fair enough but I do expect all of you at the bonfire tomorrow.” He pointed at all of them, even Nat. “Especially you new girl.”

He got up and jogged off to another table of girls.

“Am I allowed to call him a slut?”

“What happened to dog?” Janie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Dogs can be trained.”

You all laughed. You’d been worried that you wouldn’t fit in. All the other girls knew each other for years at this point. Janie and Sophia had been coming here since they were kids. Nat met Janie in high school and got a job as a junior counselor with her the first chance they got.

It wasn’t a super attractive job and the pay was shit but it looked good on resumes and college applications apparently. Showed responsibility. Most of your experiences with camp were from horror films.

The sun was still out as the four of you walked back. Sophia was your cabin neighbor, taking care of room 13. It’s where you all gathered.

Sophia and you sat on her bed while she did your nails.

“Red looks nice on you.” It was a bright cherry red. She’d picked it out, saying they should all match.

The evening was spent talking and laughing. You asking questions about camp life and getting advice from the other girls.

You had friends back home but you were glad you fit in so fast. Any anxiety and fear for the Summer slipped away as the sun set.

“I’m beat.” Nat yawned. It was almost midnight now. Janie agreed and the two wandered off back to their cabin.

“I’ll head back too. Thank you for being so welcoming, Soph.”

“Absolutely! It’s nice to get fresh meat every once and a while. It can be tough with the kids so some people get jaded. I hope you have fun this Summer and if you don’t you can blame me.” She laughed.

The air was cool on the little porch out front. Most of the other cabins had their lights off by now and the center was lit up with fireflies, neon yellow dots.

There was an orange dot out towards the back of one of the cabins across the way. A cigarette. The man smoking it seemed larger than any counselor you’d seen but it was dark and he was half hidden behind the building. It was Johnny’s cabin, you think. He was big.

He waved and you waved back. He dropped the cigarette and stamped it out. The little corner fell dark and you went into your side.

You didn’t realize how quiet the world could be as you curled up in your sleeping bag. No hum of electronics or cars. No people yelling above or below you. Just the stillness of the stars.

It was an early morning. Johnny was running around the circle of cabins playing music to wake everyone up. He was shirtless again and his shorts seemed shorter than the day before. You wouldn’t complain.

“So why did you choose this wonderful vista as a summer job?” Johnny asked, jogging up next to you as you made your way to the dining hall.

“Needed a break. Get out in nature for a bit. I grew up in the suburbs and just broke up with my boyfriend so I guess I wanted to breathe for a bit. You?”

“Running from my previous life of crime.” He smiled. “Nah, just also trying to get away. Was military back home, knee injury did me in. Didn’t know what else to do. Hiked part of the Appliachian trail. You know, it's the same mountain range as the Highlands. Felt like I had to see them. Haven’t really felt like going back home yet.”

“You hiked alone?” You raised an eyebrow. You knew that it was one of the longest and hardest trails in the country.

“Had a mate with me but I’m on my lonesome now.” He opened the door for you. Sure, he was boisterous but he seemed harmless one on one. Maybe a little dogish but he wasn’t going to hump your leg unprompted.

“Shirts are needed in the dining hall, Mactavish!” Sophia called. He held up his hands in surrender before fishing out a cropped muscle tee that had been shoved into his pocket. It was a nice change of pace to be around a man that wanted to show off his own skin rather than try to get girls to show theirs.

You told yourself before you got here that you wouldn’t look for that kind of distraction. It wasn’t worth it, especially not this early. You could look though. No harm in that.

Bacon, Eggs and self-serve cereal was today’s breakfast. You joined back up with the girls from last night. Orientation was supposed to take up most of the day so they encouraged you to grab a couple pieces of fruit and a protein bar.

“Only fill up your water bottle in here. There are fountains elsewhere but I think they taste weird.” Said Janie.

You were put in a group with Johnny, Sophia, and another guy named Warren. He and Sophia were long term counselors so they gladly took on the role of being you and Johnny’s tour guide. Johnny had been hired because of his lifeguard training so he already knew the layout of the lake and pool. You were scolded for not having proper shoes for hiking.

“What’s your size? I might have an old pair in my car.” Sophia offered. “If not I think there’s an L.L.Bean like two hours away. We can go on our next day off.”

You weren’t sure if you could afford brand new boots so silently hoped that Sophia did have that old pair and they fit.

“Don’t want ya getting blisters all summer.” Johnny said. He was doing the hike in crocs but apparently did have boots back at his cabin.

You didn’t do the full trail but Warren pointed out the different routes and how difficult each one was and which ones kids could do by themselves and which ones they couldn’t. The fields were next. A soccer field and baseball field were across the way from the cabins. It was a loose definition of each. One was a huge patch of grass and the other a diamond of dirt. Both looked a little off size wise. There was the sports supply shed that had all the equipment in it. Only a couple counselors had keys to it.

“People kept using it inappropriately.” Sophia smiled.

There was the art building, the rec hall, a path leading towards the archery field and riflery field.

“Riflery?”

“Yeah. We used to teach kids how to shoot. Mostly clay pigeons but it was one of the programs cut after Covid,” Warren explained.

“Shame I missed it. Could have taught the kids trick shots.” Johnny joked, pretending to aim a rifle backwards over his shoulder.

The horse stable was also closed. Too expensive to have horses here for even half the season.

The Lake was the last part of the tour. It was on the other side of the road so to get there was an underpass to get there. It was large enough for five adults to walk side by side comfortably but the yellow light from the lamps gave it a sickly vibe.

It ended a little ways before the beach. There were several rows of Kayaks and another shed filled with life preservers and paddles.

“Wow Johnny! You cleaned it up well.” Warren clapped him on the back. For a moment Johnny looked irritated that he’d been touched but he shoved that emotion out of the way to make room for his usual excited self.

“Yeah. Cleaned up the best I could.”

“It looks great, Johnny.” You were impressed. He’d even sprayed the kayaks down, bright clean plastic in a rainbow of colors.

“Yer making me blush.” He laid a hand over his heart.

The lake was gorgeous. Cream colored sand feeding into sapphire waters. You could just see the beach on the other side, a small empty dock with a path leading into the woods. The camp side had a floating platform about thirty feet into the water.

“Campers have to swim there and back to pass the swimming competency test.” Sophia explained. “If you can’t swim on your own you’re stuck in the buoyed area.”

There was a ten by ten foot area cordoned off by buoys, keeping to the shallow end of the lake. Made enough sense. No one wanted to fish a dead kid out of the water.

“Let’s head back. We don’t want to miss lunch.” Warren clapped his hands together.

The four of you made the trek back to the dining hall. You did feel like blisters were starting to form on the back of your ankles. You’d have to put band-aids on them later.

The rest of the afternoon was spent going over itinerary for the following week. Campers would arrive tomorrow between ten and six. It was a day mostly planned out for settling them in with an inaugural bonfire that night. After that it was seven weeks of regular old American camp adventures.

You went back to your cabin the moment you had free time. Your ankles hadn’t started to bleed but they were bright red and throbbing. You applied the bandaids and grabbed another pair of socks to wear the rest of the way.

There was about an hour and half before dinner and final orientation from the camp managers, who, you had been told, often made themselves scarce throughout the summer to avoid having to do their jobs. You settled on top of your sleeping bag. A nice breeze came in through the screen door. Janie had told you that it was the best way to keep the building cool.

You thought about Ale. His smile and deep laugh. How he’d wake you up in the morning with kisses to the back of your neck. How he loved your hair and ass. How he’d whisper in Spanish to you. You still had the English/Spanish dictionary he gave you shoved in a box back in the city. You missed him. Your cowboy. He would have been so disappointed to hear the stables were closed. Maybe you’d call him after all this. Ask to work something out.

You drifted off daydreaming about the scent of his cologne.

“Bonnie! You’re gonna miss dinner!” Johnny was knocking on the screen door. Maybe Nat was right in being annoyed by him all the time.

“I’ll just miss it.” you sighed, rolling over on the bed.

“You never know which meal is your last. Best not to skip any! C’mon or I’ll drag ya myself.”

You would have thrown a pillow if you had one. How did he always have so much energy?

He jogged literal circles around you on the way to the dining hall.

“How are your feet?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“You were limping on the way back to the cabins earlier.”

“Oh…yeah just blisters.”

He tutted at you.

“Got to get you some good shoes soon.”

Dinner was the same hot dogs as the previous night with a bonus of a bowl of lettuce, cherry tomatoes and a slice of cucumber.

There was an excited energy in the room. Most people who’d snuck in alcohol or drugs said tonight was the best night to use it all. An unspoken competition of who could drink the most and still function when the first campers started to arrive. It could be fun, you mused. You were never a big partier in college and what was this if not a perfect chance to make up for that.

The boys built up a nice fire, each poking and prodding their own side with their favorite stick. You sat on one of the log benches next to Sophia and Janie. Johnny was across the fire, his arm around the waste of another girl counselor. Ceilidh you think it was. Pronounced like Kay-lee, she’d said. Pretty name, Gaelic. Made sense for him to go after a piece of home.

“Glad he’s finally left us alone.” Nat chuckled.

“I think they’re cute.” Sophia said. You pushed down the twinge of jealousy you felt seeing her giggle at his joke.

Warren came around with a cooler filled with a hodgepodge of beer. He was his fraternity’s president and one of his responsibilities was to get rid of any extra at the end of the term to avoid trouble. Dry campus issues.

You grabbed a Modelo. Ale’s old go to and one you’d gotten used to drinking. It left a familiar warm feeling in your stomach.

You drank, you danced, you ate s’mores, you laughed with your new friends. The stars seemed so bright and clear out here. Janie had you all lay out on your backs in the grass nearby as she pointed out each constellation.

“That’s the big dipper and above it is the little dipper but Draco is the constellation between them. If you guys tell me your star signs I can point it out for you.”

There was laughter nearby and you glanced up to see Johnny and Ceilidh sneaking in the dark towards her cabin.

You had another beer. And another. Maybe one more after that.

Someone offered you a hit off a joint so you did that too.

The four of you were laughing and stumbling back to Sophia’s cabin. You had no idea how late it was. The fire was dying out. Warren said he would make sure everyone got back inside all right. The designated driver of drunken counselors. He was a good guy.

You found yourself laying on your side on one of the empty beds. Sophia and Janie were on her bed, half asleep against each other. Nat and you were talking about your childhoods.

“I broke a bone three years in a row, each time in May. I missed field day every time. My mom once pulled me around in a wagon so I wouldn’t feel left out,” She laughed.

“How did you break so many bones?”

“Catholic school where the playground was just a parking lot. I was a wild kid. I broke my arm tripping and falling against the priest’s car. I dented it too. I thought I was going to hell.”

There was a shrill noise. Loud and stomach dropping. A scream cut off. You and the other girls all jumped to attention. It was silent except for the crackling of the fire outside.

“Fisher cat.” Janie said, trying to convince herself.

“Or a fox.” Sophia added.

“Did you guys hear that?” Warren said, coming in.

The four of you nodded.

“It sounded close. I’m gonna check it out.”

“By yourself?”

“One of the other guys is gonna come with me. It’s probably just an animal. If you see Johnny tell him to go check on everyone. I want a headcount before we all go to sleep.”

You all watched from the window as Warren met another guy holding a flashlight and a baseball bat. Sophia turned on the porch light. They disappeared between the cabin’s across the way.

“Johnny and Celilidh went off together. Should we try to find them?” Sophia offered.

“Maybe we should just stay here. Safety in numbers.” Janie answered.

“Safety from what? It was just an animal.” Nat insisted.

“Didn’t sound like an animal.” You thought. No one else would say it but you were all thinking it. A slide show of clips from horror films played through your mind.

Four sets of eyes darted around, looking out windows and the front door, waiting for some masked killer to seep through the walls.

Bang!

You all screamed as Johnny flew through the door, clutching his stomach.

“We have to go now!” He grunted. Blood was pouring between his fingers.

“Oh my god. What happened? Where’s Ceilidh?”

“Dead… fuck.. She’s fucking dead. Fucker came in through the window in the bathroom. I tried to fight him off. I’m sorry.” He gulped. “We have to go now!”

“You’re bleeding. Please let me look.” Janie reached out and he pushed her hand away.

“Don’t have time. We have to go. Get my car keys. I can fit us all.”

“What about everyone else?” You asked. There was so much blood, it was dripping on the floor now.

“I don’t know… when..when’s the last time you saw anyone?”

There was another scream from outside. Silence took you over again.

“Please… we can get out and get help but we have to go now.” Johnny pleaded. His bright blue eyes were watery and his tan skin was stained red down his legs.

“I’m going.” Sophia said, grabbing her backpack. “Fuck this. I’m not fucking dying like it’s a movie. We’re all going. Johnny, do you need help?”

“No, I can manage. I need to get my keys though.”

“I have mine. We can just take my car. It’s an SUV.” Sophia urged, crouching down to look out of the door.

“No…no…I…I uh…I have a gun in my car.”

“You brought a fucking gun to camp?” Nat’s jaw dropped.

“Old shotgun. It works. I’m trained for this. Get to the car and I… I can kill him.”

“You’re bleeding out, Johnny.” Janie cried, reaching for him again and once again being pushed away.

“Come with me.” Johnny looked at you.

“I…I…I don’t know.” You were shaking. It didn’t seem real. Too cliche. A real life spree killer running around the woods of a Summer camp. Sophia was right, you didn’t want to die like it was some movie.

“He knows I’m weak. He’ll go after me first. We’ll get my keys and if he shows up… you take them and run.”

“You..can’t sacrifice yourself.” Your voice warbled.

“It was my job to do that. If I can’t die saving my country, I’d like to die saving a group of pretty girls.”

Johnny was pleading. He seemed to know he couldn’t do it on his own. You thought about Ale saying you needed to stand up for yourself more. You never did. You didn’t stand up to bullies in high school, rogue professors in college or shitty demeaning bosses. You didn’t even stand up for yourself when Ale said he wanted a break.

Nat was saying how you should all just run to Sophia’s car. She had her keys. Sophia was agreeing. Janie was crying silently.

“I’ll go.” You forced the words out like vomit. It was that or actual vomit.

“Okay.” He almost smiled. “Sophia, turn off the lights. We’ll give you a signal when it's safe to come out. Then we all run to the parking lot.”

“What’s the signal?” Janie sobbed.

“I’ll whistle.”

You were shaking so much you worried you’d fall right down the front steps of the cabin. Johnny was in front of you, shoulders hunched up, his eyes darting everywhere. Sophia turned off the lights, leaving the two of you in near darkness. The fire was nothing more than orange smoldering logs.

“You seem like you’ve done this before.” You said quietly, finding yourself holding the bottom hem of his shirt.

“Like I said. It was my job.”

You walked on your tiptoes, trying not to make any noise. Your heart cried for the others. Even if you didn’t know them. You didn’t hear or see anyone. Maybe they all got out? They escaped already…or the killer was chasing them deeper into the woods.

You didn’t want to die. In the movies it always seemed so prolonged. The stabbings and bleeding out. Johnny had been hurt and he was still going on, trying to save you and everyone else.

“Stay here. I’ll go check to make sure it's clear.” He said. You’d made it to his cabin, whole body still shaking just on his porch now. Your heart leapt into your throat as the door creaked open.

“Be careful, please.”

He winked at you before heading in. You picked at the skin around your nails, a nasty old habit that you tried so hard to kick. You could forgive yourself for this relapse. It seemed an appropriate time to scratch out anxiety.

The step behind you creaked. Any light from the fire was blocked out. A arm wrapped around your neck and pulled you flush with a wall of muscle. You screamed for Johnny as a knife cut into your stomach.

It hurt worse than you thought it would. He was stabbing you over and over. All those movies and none prepared you for the sound that came from being stabbed yourself. The rush of blood in your head. You kicked and scratched the best you could, catching the gap of skin between his gloves and sleeves. Flesh caught under your nails and tore. The knife cut sideways across your stomach. Something wet and heavy hit the floor by your feet.

“Fucking cunt.” The man growled. You could have thrown up if it didn’t feel like your stomach had been torn open.

You hit the porch face first, no strength left to even try to hold yourself up. Blood pooled in your mouth. He stepped around you and in the corner of your eye you could make him out.

Large, well over six feet and bulky with large shoulders. A half skull mask covered the top part of his face. His head was buzzed. He had a hunting knife in his hand and it dripped your blood onto the wood and onto your face.

“Johnny!” Your killer called. You’d doomed him too. He could have gotten away. Johnny would die and it would be your fault. They all would now and it was your fault.

You closed your eyes as the throbbing subsided. You didn’t want to listen. He was so nice. He didn’t deserve it.

You didn’t deserve this.

You closed your eyes and let yourself slip away.

You heard music. Loud obnoxious music and singing from an off key baritone scot.

You opened your eyes and you were in your sleeping bag in your cabin. It was Sunday morning again.

Shout out to @ceilidho for being an inspiration to me to write darker fics and letting me use her name for a counselor.

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i-am-still-bb · 2 years

Text

Deano Bingo 2022 - General Prompts Card - “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

DarkHawk, T

Despite the Winter Winds series (Tumblr / Ao3)

Length: 3,803

A/N: The series itself has some inconsistencies and repetitions. I have not been keeping good notes on it. I should fix those one of these days.

There is a planned second part to this that will be rated E if I can get my brain and fingers to write some sexiness.

Read on Ao3

New York, 1966

The hotel for the UN’s peace dinner was over the top. Ross had never seen anything like it. He could see almost all of New York City from his bedroom window. There were lights as far as the eye could see, and the snow twinkled as it fell. He could not remember the last time that he had thought of Russian snow as twinkling. Usually it just gleamed dully and piled up in corners only to melt, refreeze, and make you slip when you were least expecting it. Or it would simply melt and get your socks wet. It would also build up on the bottoms of your shoes until you had to stop and scrape it off or risk falling flat on your face.

Ross had been downstairs earlier to see everything. The floors were polished within an inch of their lives, Ross could easily see his reflection in them, and there was a massive American and a gargantuan Soviet flag framing the entrance into the ballroom. Soon it would be filled with men in tuxedos and women in evening gowns. Then they would eat and make small talk all while pretending like their countries were not trying to steal each other’s secrets while preparing for mutually assured destruction with hydrogen bombs should one of them look at the other funny.

But right now Ross was struggling to tie his bow tie.

The room that he was sharing with Oleg had two beds. It smelled strongly of oranges and spice. A member of the American delegation that he had spoken to yesterday had said that it was for the Christmas season, so that everyone would feel festive. It was nice, but not particularly festive for Ross since he did not associate it with Christmas. Not that he associated anything with Christmas. Yes. They put up trees in December, but the tree was for the New Year, not any sort of religious festival.

Oleg was presently sitting on one of the beds and making impatient noises while Ross continued to pretend to struggle with his bowtie. He just needed Oleg to leave, to leave him alone for a few minutes.

“They're all downstairs by now, Ross. If we don’t hurry up there will be no champagne or caviar left for us.”

“Sorry,” Ross apologized. “My sister always does this for me.” He tugged the sides of the bow to make them as even as possible.

“Of course she does,” Oleg said, pushing himself to his feet. “Let me see.”

Ross turned and let Oleg tug at the sides of the bow for a moment.

“There,” Oleg said with satisfaction. “You’re ready.” He clapped Ross on the shoulders. Then he strode purposefully towards the door.

“I have to use the restroom,” Ross said, halting Oleg, “I’ll meet you downstairs.” He turned to look at Oleg and gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Oleg sighed and dropped back down onto one of the beds. “Directive Twelve,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“What?” Ross asked with a frown.

“Directive Twelve,” Oleg quoted. “No member of the Soviet delegation is to be left alone on American soil.”

“Can I at least shut the door?” Ross joked, trying to hide his growing unease.

Oleg nodded with an amused snort. “Of course.”

Ross closed the bathroom door firmly. He leaned heavily on the sink, hands braced on either side. And he looked at himself. He thought he looked normal, and that was the point, he wanted to look like everything was fine, not like he was going to defect or die trying tonight.

He took a deep breath and then turned the faucet on. He splashed his face with some of the cold water and then patted his face dry. He grabbed his comb and roughly combed his hair again before tugging his tuxedo back into place.

Now or never.

—

The rest of the Soviet delegation was already in the foyer. Ross’ boss Dmitri Annishin was mingling and talking with a member of the British delegation.

“Hopefully we’ll see you in two years in Moscow,” he was saying as Ross and Oleg approached. “Ah, there you are. I think someones going to give a speech of some sort soon. You might want some champagne for that,” he lifted his own glass.

Shortly, someone clinked silverware on a glass. And the general murmur and hum of the room grew quiet.

One of the Americans mounted the dais. “I’d like to extend a heartfelt welcome to our Soviet guests. What I’ve seen here so far tonight gives me hope for the future. So here’s to peace and warmth between our two great nations.” He lifted his glass in a toast and everyone else followed.

“To peace.”

And then the music resumed, something classical that Ross did not recognize, not that that was surprising, and people began talking amongst themselves again. Oleg and Dmitri drifted off and left Ross alone in the crowd.

He took a sip of his champagne and considered his options. Someone was supposed to make contact with him, but that could only happen if he was alone. He watched Oleg and Dmitri on the other side of the room and positioned himself on the edge of a cluster of individuals so that he would look like he was engaged rather than just looking and watching.

Someone cleared their throat just behind him and Ross turned. A woman in a blue dress and fur stole was standing there. The woman looked at him expectantly.

“Ross Poldark, Department of Foreign Affairs.”

“Jackie Nathan, State Department,” she said with a smile.

And then Oleg was standing at her elbow.

Ross must have looked surprised because she added with a laugh, “I do more than just make coffee.”

She turned suddenly and spilled her champagne all down the front of Oleg’s tuxedo. She gasped. Oleg jumped back and brushed at the spreading liquid.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Can I—”

“Go and change,” Ross told Oleg.

Jackie turned back to him. “I can’t believe I did that!”

Maybe this was not his contact after all.

Then she looked briefly to either side. “I have instructions for you.”

Ross gave the smallest of nods.

“After the first course, get to the kitchen. It’s at the end of the main corridor on the first floor.”

Ross’ breath accelerated as she spoke. He looked nervously around them checking for Dmitri, Oleg, or anyone else from their delegation.

“Take a breath. Relax,” Jackie said, resting a hand on Ross’ forearm. “This is what you wanted.”

Ross opened his mouth to speak.

“Just keep your head,” Jackie said in a low tone, before returning to the slightly too loud and cheerful voice. “So nice to meet you. Roger, was it?”

And then she was gone.

“Who was that?” Dmitri asked when he found Ross a few moments later.

“Some secretary from the Americans’ State Department,” Ross said.

Dmitri snorted. “And they let her come to this? She must be friendly with someone high up.”

Ross nodded and turned his attention to his drink.

“Champagne?” A waiter asked, holding out a silver tray.

“Yes. Thank you.” Ross took one of the flutes and put his empty one in its place.

—

The banquet room was adorned with red and white poinsettias and ivy was twined about the columns that frame the doors. They all had assigned seats with their names. Someone from their own delegation on one side and someone from another UN member nation on their other side. Ross talked with Oleg and a representative of the GDR. He talked. Even as he was talking he could not have told you what he was saying. It was just the standard pleasantries, families, children, hobbies, and the weather.

But Ross was too busy waiting for that first course, and terrified of it at the same time. He was tense. The left side of his neck ached, his arm felt a bit numb and stiff. His hands shook just a little bit. He hoped that it was not noticeable or that it would be dismissed as jitters since this was his first significant international event.

The first course was a salad with onions and walnuts and an oil based dressing. Ross cut up the lettuce and pushed it around the place. He was too keyed up to eat.

Oleg leaned over. “Are you feeling alright?”

Ross nodded tightly. “I’ve just never been one for salads.”

Oleg laughed. “And you can save room for the meat in the next course. You have the right idea.”

Oleg positioned his silverware to indicate that he was finished and was ready for the next course.

Ross did the same. He saw many people were done with the first course and were waiting for the fish. Did Jackie mean right after the first course? Or did she mean while the second course was benign served?

It did not matter. Ross could not stand sitting there for a moment longer with tension zipping down his nerves. He pushed his chair back and left the table without excusing himself. He buttoned his jacket out of habit when he stood. He was several steps away from the table when Dmitri and Oleg exchanged a look and Oleg rose to follow Ross. “I’ll just be a moment,” he said, excusing himself.

It was torture not to run, but Ross’ heart was already beating like he had been running a marathon. He saw a waiter enter the main corridor from a side hall. Ross turned abruptly and jogged down that hall. He sped up when he reached the steps.

He was brought up short when he saw a man in a black suit standing near the base of the stairs. Ross slowed, he forced himself to take normal steps at a normal speed, a pace that felt abominably slow. He straightened his jacket. He felt stiff and conspicuous. Surely the man would notice his nerves.

“Toilet, Comrade?” the man asked.

Ross was entirely certain at that moment that the man was KGB there to keep all members of the Soviet delegation in check. Ross nodded.

The man gestured to his left.

Ross was past the man. He could see the kitchen doors. And he was silently praying to any god that might exist that the man was looking in another direction.

“Ross, wait for me!” Oleg called.

Ross looked over his shoulder to see Oleg bounding down the stairs.

Ross did not even think about it then.

He ran.

His dress shoes did not have the greatest traction. And he could hear two sets of footsteps behind him. Oleg and the KGB officer.

Ross launched himself through the kitchen’s swinging doors. The organized chaos was disrupted by the running men.

“Stop!”

“What are you doing?”

“What the fuck!”

Ross did not look at any of the staff. He shoved them out of his way. He yanked whatever looked easily throwable off the counters; bowls, vegetables, stacks of crockery. He even pulled one of the workers into Oleg’s path.

Exit? Where was the exit? Ross felt like his lungs were about to burst.

There.

He yanked a kitchen cart out. It spun and fell on its side. It took Oleg down.

Only the KGB man left.

Ross seized a pan from the stove as he ran past. He turned and swung the heavy skillet. He caught the KGB man across the face. He didn’t even take a second to hope that he had not killed the man.

And then he was through the door.

Outside.

Hands were grabbing him.

“Get off! Let me go!” he struggled with the man.

“Get in the car!”

Ross was shoved into the backseat of a waiting sedan. The door slammed shut. Tires screeched as the car took off.

Ross looked behind him. Whoever had shoved him into the car was already gone. Oleg and the KGB man, blood trickling down his face, were running after the car and shouting.

But the driver kept accelerating. The driver did not brake as he took the turn onto a main street from the alley. The back end swayed hard from side to side..

Ross’ chest heaved. Those lights he had been admiring earlier were too much now. They blinded him. They made him dizzy and sick.

“Take a deep breath.”

Only then did Ross notice that he was not alone in the back seat. Jackie in her blue dress and fur stole was seated by the other door.

“It’s over. You’re free.”

Ross looked at her.

Over.

Free.

His chest squeezed in apprehension.

“What happens now?”

“Tonight we’re taking you to a safe house that we have. You’ll stay there a few days. You’ll be debriefed and then we’ll start ironing out the rest of the details.”

Ross nodded and looked ahead at the streaming headlights and receding tail lights. He tried to calm his heart rate.

“And I believe a friend of yours will be waiting for you at the safe house.”

Ross snapped his head back to look at her. He did not dare ask who the friend might be.

—

The car drove for several hours. It looped back and took many detours to confuse and loose anyone who might be following them.

By the time the driver put the car in park and turned off the engine Ross was drained, but his body was still wired with tension.

“We’re here,” Jackie said.

Ross nodded and looked out the window.

They were in a suburban neighborhood. The streets were quiet, tree lined with neatly maintained sidewalks. The houses were set back from the roads. Many of them had neat white fences. “

It looked like a movie set.

“Do people really live here?” he asked in a daze.

“Of course?” Jackie said. “Come on. Let’s get you settled in.”

The house they were parked in front of was white with black shutters, a cheerful green front door, and a light to one side. Ross could only see this because of the warm glow of the streetlights and the porch light. He looked up and down the street, not a single light was out.

Jackie knocked on the front door.

It opened and they were greeted by an older man wearing a shoulder holster.

“Is it safe here?” Ross asked, looking pointedly at the man’s weapons.

“Of course,” Jackie assured him. “Rob is just here to make sure of that. He’ll switch out with Steven in a few hours, but there will always be someone here with you.”

Ross nodded. “Nice to meet you, Rob,” Ross extended a hand.

Ross looked around the foyer that opened onto a living room. It was sparsely furnished, but everything was neat and clean. It still felt surreal. He was sure that it would take a while for it to feel real.

Then Jackie spoke, “There you are, Jim. I was wondering where you had gotten to.”

Ross turned then to see Jim standing in the doorway.

Two years was a long time.

Two years felt like eternity.

“It’s been a while,” Jim said with a good-natured smile.

“It has,” Ross replied.

Yes. He was free. But in this they were still hiding, still being watched.

Ross offered a hand, Aching for Jim’s touch, but more than willing to settle for a slide of palms after two years of nothing. No contact at all.

“You look good.” Jim took Ross’ proffered hand, but pulled him into a rough hug. Friendly, but it lasted a heartbeat too long.

“You, too,” Ross said softly. He hoped that it was too quiet to be overheard, or could be dismissed as a reciprocal compliment. Then louder, and more light-hearted “I’m sure that’s not true.”

Jim clapped a hand on Ross’ shoulder. “Well, things seem to have improved for you. I didn’t know that you even knew how to put on a tux,” he teased.

“I’ll have you know that Oleg did the bowtie.”

Jim laughed.

Ross had missed that sound for so long. He was sure that he was going to wake up from this dream any moment and find himself back in his gray Moscow apartment with the cracks extending from the ceiling corners and the damp on the window ledges and nothing but his memories for company, if you did not count the family of 5 that he shared the a common room with, which he did not.

“It is late. Jim here will get you settled. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about,” Jackie interrupted Ross’ thoughts. “You should be debriefed in a few days.”

“How long will that take?” Ross asked.

“That depends on how much you have to tell us, Mr. Poldark.”

Jackie returned to the car to be driven to home, the office, wherever it was that she was going.

Jim led Ross to an upstairs bedroom that looked out over a spacious backyard. There was a patio with a grill, a porch swing hanging from a metal stand in the far corner. The house behind them could barely be seen for the trees and the distance in the dark.

Jim shut the door quietly behind them. “So this is where you’ll sleep. I’m across the hall and Rob insists on staying in the living room, first point of contact. Steven will do the same I expect.”

“Will you be staying here as long as I am here?”

“Only if you want me too.” Jim’s words were shy. He lingered by the door with his hands stuffed in his pants’ pockets.

“I would like that.” Ross sat down on the narrow bed. The only other bits of furniture were a bedside table, a chest, and a secretary desk with a chair. “I was not expecting you to be here.”

“I wanted to be the one to go to the UN dinner, but I was voted down. Something about possibly being recognized and not being able to keep it together under the pressure.”

Ross scooted over on the bed to make room for Jim.

“But I would have fought them to be here if they had said no. “I wanted to make sure that you were okay. You are okay, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Ross nodded, “It is likely best that you were not there. I may have been too distracted to do what I needed to do.” Ross smiled. He placed a hand on top of Jim’s and wound his fingers between Jim’s.

“I think they were more concerned with me shooting somebody if something went wrong.”

“What would have happened if things had gone wrong.”

Jim squeezed Ross’ fingers. “Since this never officially happened the Americans wouldn’t be able to extract you by force. You could have fought, but nobody from our side would have been able to assist.”

“I did hit someone with a frying pan,” Ross grinned.

“Did he deserve it?”

“Most certainly.”

“Then that is completely understandable and excusable,” Jim said confidently with a hint of amusement.

“KGB.”

“Completely excusable then,” the amusement was gone and Jim’s face had turned serious. “They’ll look for you, you know.”

“I know.”

“You’ll probably be given a new identity and set up somewhere in the Midwest as soon as they feel like they can move you.”

“Can’t I stay here?”

“Here? No,” Jim stood and started to pace. “This is just a temporary safe house, one of many that they have around the city.”

“That’s not what I… Can’t I stay with you?”

Jim stopped pacing to look at Ross.

“A new identity would be far safer.”

“I don’t want to be safe. I want to be with you.”

Jim sucked in a sharp breath. “Ross…”

“That’s why I’m doing this. I don’t like the Soviet government, but I would have never thought of spying and selling secrets if it weren’t for you. I would not have defected if it weren’t for you.”

“But you didn’t know if I’d even be here. I was stationed in Shanghai for 15 months after I left Moscow, and…”

“I would have waited. Insisted. Refused to tell them anything until I saw you.”

“That would have been a very dangerous game.”

“Yes. But one that was willing to play. But I don’t have to.” Ross stood. “You’re here.”

“I am,” Jim said quietly, eyes fixed on Ross.

Ross lifted a hand to cup Jim’s cheek. Jim leaned into the touch and Ross stroked Jim’s cheekbone with his thumb.

“Ross…”

Ross lowered his lips to Jim’s. Jim stretched to meet Ross. He made a soft noise. His hand automatically found Ross’ hip. Ross brought his other hand up to cup the other side of Jim’s face, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. Ross traced Jim’s lower lip with his tongue. Jim gasped and then he was tasting the remnants of champagne on Ross’ tongue. Jim’s fingers tightened on Ross’ hip and he groaned.

Their breath was the only sound in the small room and it felt like it was as loud as a plan coming in for a landing.

Jim abruptly broke the kiss. His chest heaving, eyes wide, pupils dilated. “We can’t. There’s… We… I…”

“I know,” Ross said quietly. “I just… I’ve dreamed of doing that again. I never really thought I would get to.”

Jim licked his lips and it took all of Ross’ willpower not to push Jim against the wall and kiss him again. Damn Rob, Steven, whoever was on guard duty downstairs.

Jim looked at his feet. “I… I felt the same. Just, we can’t. Not here. It’s safer than—”

Ross lifted Jim’s face so that their eyes met, “But still not safe.”

Jim nodded.

“I know.”

Jim took a deep shuddering breath. He rose up to press a soft kiss to Ross’ lips. “Soon. I’ll see what I can do. It’ll take some doing, my job… This was all a bit last minute.”

“I wasn’t even supposed to be on the delegation, but George got sick.”

“Poor George.”

“Fuck him,” Ross said passionately.

Jim laughed. “Is that the same George—?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck him is right.”

Ross nodded firmly and pressed his forehead to Jim’s. “So what do I do here if I can’t have you?”

“There’s plenty of books. And I’m sure you could use some sleep after tonight. There’s some pajamas in the chest. I guessed at your size, so I hope they fit.”

“If they don’t then I’ll just sleep naked.”

“Are you trying to torture me?”

“Maybe.” Ross suppressed a yawn.

“You should sleep,” Jim stepped away from Ross. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Ross nodded.

Neither of them had to say that they wished they could share the bed together, to draw comfort from each other.

Not now.

Soon.

Soon they’d be free.

#deanobingo2022 #deanobingo #bb writes #darkhawk #despite the winter winds #despite the winter winds au

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thisreadswhatever · 11 months

Text

The Chase: Part One

Pretty Sweet

series masterlist

[description]: jax teller x female reader

[wordcount]: 2.7k+

[summary]: Jax Teller is used to getting what he wants. At least that was the case before he met you.

[cw]: 18+ only minors do not interact - AU, follows some canon characters & themes but timeline is different. otherwise none yet, but stick with me, I have a smutty plan!

[authors note]: this has been really fun to write. thank you so much to this anon for requesting this idea! I plan on writing a good few parts of this.. as I am really loving writing this reader insert. if you have any ideas or suggestions on where you would like this to go, please let me know! I absolutely love getting your suggestions. I really hope you enjoy!

It had been a long sixteen hour drive. You sighed with relief as you sped past the large wooden slice, “WELCOME TO CHARMING”. You rolled your windows down, the wind blistering through your hair as you took in the warm California sun.

You turned the music up, attempting to drown out the events replaying in your head that led you here in the first place.

Charming wasn’t exactly on your bucket list of places to travel. Your parents had split a few years back, after your mom decided she could no longer handle the baggage that came with the Sons of Anarchy MC. Your Dad was an avid member of the Denver Charter, and she soon realised she couldn’t sit back and watch as he grew deeper into the Club. It was a quick and amicable divorce, made easier by the fact you were an only child and more than understanding of why the relationship had to end. You were old enough to see the pain your mom went through trying to make it work, and you knew that it was the best decision for them both. Your Dad on the other hand, never really got over it.

When your mom remarried last year, he decided to leave Colorado and transferred to the SAMCRO Charter. Charming was his home now. He’d been begging you to visit him for months, and despite the fact you were genuinely pleased that he was happy, seeing him so far from home and content without his family wasn’t something you’d looked forward too.

Charming was a small place, and from what your Dad had told you, it had never really left the seventies. Denver was the total opposite, a city full of life and people, and ever growing with new expanding chains of business. Even with the freezing winters, there was always something to do in Denver. But Charming? They barely had a population of fifteen thousand.

You had evaded the trip for as long as you could, blaming college assignments and exams for the reason you couldn’t make the drive. Now that you’d graduated, the excuses had run thin, and it was time to visit your Dad in Charming.

You pulled into the road of the address he had given you, entering a long unpaved driveway that ended on the outside of a dainty cabin. Your Dad’s bike was parked stagnant on the dirt. You dug your suitcase out from your trunk and walked up the wooden steps to the porch, bringing your hand to the door to knock. Before your knuckles could meet the wood, the door flung wide and your Dad lunged at you with open arms.

“You’re finally here!”, he squealed in excitement as he grasped you into a giant bear hug.

“‘Finally’ is right. That was a serious drive, Dad.”

He took your suitcase and carried it through the entryway. “Sure is. I’m so glad you got here safely, kiddo. Come on, let’s get you settled. You hungry? I was just about to make some lunch.”

You followed him inside as you observed the interior of the quaint, dusty cabin. “I could definitely eat.”

—

Your Dad showed you to your room and then became sidetracked from lunch, giving you a full tour of his new home and the complete low down of all things SAMCRO. He’d explained that the place was owned by the Club, but nobody ever frequented it unless they were in hiding. Your Dad was housed here for the long term, or at least until he could find something he liked better inside the Charming suburbs.

Once he’d caught you up, he made his start on lunch. You watched as he strolled throughout the kitchen, sitting patiently at the small round dining table.

“It’s a nice place, Dad. Not sure how I feel that you’re out here all alone though.”

“I’m barely here, kiddo. Spend most of my time down the Clubhouse.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued to make sandwiches, dropping a piece of turkey in the process. “I can’t wait for you to meet the guys, y/n. A lot more warm than the ones up in Denver. Some of them are your age too.” He placed the plate in front of you, and you grimaced at the site. Your Dad had never claimed to be a great chef.

“Thanks.” You smiled at him politely, taking a bite and struggling to swallow down the piece of dry sandwich. “I’m sure they’re great, Dad.”

“So, how’s your mom?”

You shrugged dismissively, unsure how to broach the uncomfortable topic of the newly weds. “She’s doing well. Mike is good to her.”

He nodded. “That’s good. I’m really glad she’s happy.”

It was hard to see your Dad try to be okay with the fact that your mom had moved on. The awkward silence was interrupted by his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up from the table. “Finish lunch and we can head on out. The guys are getting together at the Clubhouse tonight, you can meet them all there.”

You knew an evening with a bunch of Californian bikers was going to be inevitable during your trip. At least you could get it over with on the first night.

“Sounds great, Dad.”

—

You weren’t thrilled to be back in the confines of your car so soon after your long road trip, but your Dad knew better than to ask you to sit on the back of his motorcycle.

You rolled the windows down of your car as you followed his bike through the winding road from the cabin. As you re-entered Charming, you passed by locally run stores and cafes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was a quiet, peaceful town. But you did know better. You knew what the Club’s presence actually meant for a small community like Charming. If SAMCRO was anything similar to the Denver Charter, the underworkings of this town would be anything but quiet and peaceful.

You pulled into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive Repairs, instantly drawn to the huge row of Harley motorcycles lined up on the inner bays.

Your Dad parked up and met you outside your car, telling you all about his new job in the garage as you walked together. He led you across the lot towards a small black door, entering into the SAMCRO clubhouse. It was impressive, a comfortable space with its own bar and lounge area. The place was full of MC memorabilia and pictures from the club’s long history. The furthest wall was centered by two large double doors that were surrounded by mugshots of the SAMCRO members. You had visited the Denver Clubhouse enough to know that room was where the decisions were made.

Your Dad introduced you one by one to several members that were there, a few of which he’d mentioned to you that afternoon. Bobby, Chibs, Trager, Juice and Opie all greeted you with open arms. They were extremely friendly and welcoming, just as your father had promised. The one your Dad called Trager seemed very pleased with your arrival, hugging you for a little too long. Your Dad managed to break the long embrace, pulling you away to start touring you around the building.

“Don’t get too close to that one, kiddo. He’s a little out there.”

You giggled as you nodded in agreement, “I’ll keep my distance.”

—

You sat alongside the club’s Secretary, Bobby, on a leather bench that faced out with a view of the entire room. You observed as the Clubhouse filled with more members and women, a handful of which were old ladies. The rest of them, very clearly single. Of all the members you’d met so far, Bobby had been the easiest to talk to. He clued you in on some of the Club’s legitimate businesses, Cara Cara and Red Woody Productions. You figured that’s where most of the girls came from, retired and current porn stars.

It was a little strange, and anyone else may have felt uneasy seeing their father in this kind of environment. But you were used to the life of girls and guns from growing up with a dad in a motorcycle club. The Denver Charter had its fair share of women in and out of their doors, but mainly just bartenders and the odd crow eater looking for a way in. These girls were more forward, scantily clothed, makeup on point, and obviously comfortable with their surroundings.

Bobby nudged your shoulder, regaining your attention from the party happening around you. “You know your Dad talks about you constantly. He’s so happy that you’re here, kid. We all are.”

You glanced over at your father, a huge smile forming as he collected a drink from the bar.

“He does seem happy. Just weird seeing him away from home.”

“You got a home here with us too now, y/n.” He placed his arm over you and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, “we’re your family as much as we are his.”

“That’s really sweet, Bobby. Thanks.”

He pulled his arm back as he chuckled to himself, his large stomach bellowing as he laughed. “I am pretty sweet.”

Suddenly, the front door opened and a roar of drunken welcomes filled the clubhouse as two more members entered. The President of SAMCRO, Clay Morrow, walked in smiling ear to ear, hands held up as though he was a celebrity greeting his adoring fans. You’d heard a lot about Clay from your father, mainly that he was the initial sponsor for his transfer from Denver, and some remarks about what an ass he was. Behind him, a much younger member followed, embracing Opie as he entered. He was different from the other members, not totally clean cut, but you could at least tell he had showered. Not only was he bathed, he wasn’t harsh on the eyes either. You watched as he talked with Opie, his hands pushing his long blonde hair behind his ears as he spoke.

“Who’s that?” You asked Bobby, your eyes never feigning from the man.

“That’s Jax. Club’s VP.”

As you watched him converse with Opie, he suddenly glanced your way, locking eyes with you. You quickly turned away from him and back towards Bobby.

“He looks a little young to be Vice President”, you mumbled as you took a swig from your beer, still conscious that he was looking at you.

Bobby laughed, “Yeah, well, he’s a Teller. His Dad was First 9 alongside Clay and Piney Winston, Ope’s pops. Jax has been SAMCRO since he came out of the womb.”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing back over your shoulder. Jax’s attention had now been obtained by one of the Cara Cara girls. She was pulling him in by his cutte, batting her eyelashes at him as she leaned against the bar.

Bobby watched as you observed Jax. He sipped his drink, amused by your interest. “He’s known for his way with the ladies.”

You wanted to press Bobby further, but your Dad suddenly was stumbling over beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Come on over here, kid. I want you to meet my sponsor.”

“The asshole?”, you whispered to him as you stood up from the chair.

He snickered back at you, patting you on the back. “He’s having a good day.”

—

You were impressed by the brotherhood the Redwood Originals shared. It wasn’t unfamiliar to the Denver Charter, but the way the members of SAMCRO loved one another was palpable. You observed quietly throughout the night as they all ripped into each other with lighthearted banter and spilled beer all over the place. You were conflicted by the fact your Dad fit in so well here. It was painful to know he had chosen this life over one with you in Denver, but you still felt at peace knowing he had found a place in this family.

He was now slumped over a leather armchair in the lounge, snoozing after one too many beers. You nudged his shoulder, trying to wake him. “I’m gonna head back to the cabin, Dad. I’ll meet you here in the morning?”

“You sure, y/n?” He tried to stand up as he slurred, but his balance failed him, collapsing back into the seat. “I can lead you back-”

You chuckled, placing a hand on his head as he closed his eyes, “No way are you getting on a bike in this state. I remember the way.”

Tig overheard and slid himself beside you, placing an arm across your waist. “We’ll take care of him, sweetie. Don’t you worry. Get back safe, okay?”

You unwound from his grasp, collecting your bag from the coffee table as you searched through the contents for your keys. “Thanks Trager.”

A strange laugh left his throat as he watched you leave, before his face turned straight as a board. “Call me Tig.”

You said your goodbyes to the members that were sober enough to communicate, and made your way to the parking lot.

Jax Teller was sitting outside the clubhouse, journal and pencil in hand. He glanced up at the sound of the door opening, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

He smiled boldly, in a way that perplexed you. Almost like he was happy to see you, even though you’d never met. He took the cigarette from his lips as he asked, “you’re Ralph’s kid, right?”

“I usually just go by y/n.”

He placed his pencil inside the journal and tucked it snug in his cutte, standing from the bench. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing, coming all this way to see him.”

You nodded, “had to make sure my Dad wasn’t living with some crazed psychopaths, you know?”

He exhaled, his lips forming a perfect O as the smoke left his lips. “Pretty sure a few of those knuckleheads could pass for psychotic”, he teased. His mouth pulled into an infectious smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

Jax walked closer towards you, your bodies now inches apart. He held out an open pack of cigarettes, prompting you to take one. You shook your head, declining the offer.

“And what about you? How’s your level of sanity?”

Jax hesitated. “A work in progress.”

You smiled politely as you walked past him, making your way to the car. “Anyway, I was just leaving. Was nice meeting you.”

Jax’s brow creased in concern, “you heading to the cabin on your own?”

You looked over your shoulder to see him pacing behind you, flicking his cigarette to the cement.

“My Dad’s not exactly in riding order.”

“I can take you back.”

You stopped outside your car and turned to him, scoffing at how forward he was. “I met you thirty seconds ago.”

“So?” He shrugged.

“I don’t really think that’s appropriate.”

“I’m not asking to get in bed with you, y/n. You can ride the Harley with me and I’ll leave the second you’re in the cabin.”

You opened the car door, sliding into the seat. “Not gonna happen.”

“I won’t lay a hand on ya, darlin’,” he raised his hand up, smiling, “scouts honor.”

You pressed your lips together, suppressing yourself from giggling at his innocent gesture. “I don’t ride bikes.” You affirmed.

Jax cocked his head at you, confused at the statement. “Denver girl’s scared of bikes?”

Your eyes rolled at his assumption. “No offense, but I just met you. I’m not sure my safety is your concern.” You shut the car door, realising your window had been left ajar from the way there. You wanted to curse aloud that the good Californian weather enabled the opportunity to ride with the windows down.

Jax didn’t push further, nodding his head as he watched you settle into the driver's seat. “No offense taken.”

Jax leaned his head into the open window, resting his arms on the roof of the car. You turned the ignition, letting the engine roar to life. “Nice to meet you, Jax.”

“You too, darlin’. Will I see you again?”

You were looking directly at him, your faces parted only by the frame of the window between you. “I’m here for the week, darlin’.”

His lips pulled from ear to ear, smiling playfully as you put the gear in reverse, forcing his hands off the car as you pulled out of the parking lot. You peaked in the rear-view mirror, finding Jax still watching you drive away into the Charming night.

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djarincore · 8 months

Text

The Object of My Desire

SUMMARY: You're a hardworking scholar and the spoiled daughter of a corrupt nobleman.

The mercenary hired for your protection is more than willing to take your father's money, just not your bratty attitude. Luckily, he's got a few ways to deal with spoiled little girls like you.

PAIRING: fighter!price x wizard!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

TAGS: DND!au, porn with some plot, f masturbation, dirty talk, cunnilingus, he bends you over a desk, PIV, rough sex, unprotected sex, slight breath play, creampie, slight jealously, reader gets called a bitch (not by Price but he does call you a brat whoops)

A/N: this is just a silly little idea that popped into my head while I tried learning more about DND! I actually rolled some dice to make some decisions/outcomes and it made the writing experience way more fun 10/10 recommend

Winter’s gray sky cast a torrent of rain against the cobblestone roads and blew frigid winds through the streets of Moongarde. Despite the relentless weather, citizens continued to migrate towards the town's center in attendance for the annual Heroes Feast.

You clutched your cloak tighter against your chest as you weaved through the crowds of people heading in the opposite direction. There were more important things to deal with than a stupid celebration—like the supposed danger you were in.

Having a father who enjoyed making enemies in high places certainly made your life interesting. Though, the threats on your life were, frankly, a nuisance. You had much better things to do than worry about silly threats from cowardly, old men. But, your father worried; he worried enough to hire a mercenary to guard you.

You hoped he wasn't old and boring like the last one you chased away. Any guard who succumbed to simple illustory spells like fear weren't worth the gold your father spent.

Ahead, a hanging sign swung forward in the wind. Carved into the wood was a crow perched on a branch, staring off beyond the borders of its design. The Ivory Crow—a dingy, little establishment you loathed to enter.

With a grimace, you made your way up the creaking wooden stairs. Already, you could hear rowdy, clamorous songs and bellowing voices seeping through the cracks of its shabby, wooden walls.

Before you could reach out to push open the swinging doors, they burst open and a man stumbled out, his weight nearly toppling onto you.

“S’rry ‘bout tha’, m’ss,” he slurred, hiccuping as he ended his sentence. He grabbed onto one of the doors to steady himself, though he still swayed.

“Move,” you demanded. His body blocked half the entrance and you weren’t interested in squeezing past him. He was covered in stains, presumably sweat and booze from the acrid smell of him.

He lifted his head towards you, eyes half-lidded. “Hey, don’ tell me wha’ ta do,” he hissed.

You rolled your eyes and raised a finger towards the man. The familiar warmth of magic pooled at your fingertip and was dispelled when you tapped his forehead.

He crumpled to the ground, eyes closed with his chest still rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

You wiped your finger against your velvet cloak and stepped over the unconscious body into the tavern.

The inside was warmly lit by a large candle chandelier hanging from the tall rafters and more candles decorating tables. No one in the tavern seemed to have noticed your exchange. They were all absorbed in their own ideas of fun.

A dwarven bard strummed her lute on top of a table, singing an unfamiliar tune and absorbing the adoring applause of drunken patrons who chimed in off-key. Couples, locked in heated embraces, cozied themselves to dimly lit corners of the tavern.

If it wasn’t singing or lovers, there was plenty of conversation floating through the air to distract from anything outside.

Your eyes scanned the tavern’s edge, looking for a lone figure at one of the tables.

The mercenary gave your father instructions for you to find him at the Ivory Crow. Look for a bear on the pommel of his sword, your father had said.

In the far corner of the room, you finally spoted a vaguely familiar figure matching your idea of him, sitting on a stool with his back facing the wall and nursing a pint of ale between his hands. His eyes were downcast as he stared at the overflowing foam sliding down the metal pint.

He seemed to be the only lone figure in the tavern, everyone else was joined by at least one other companion.

His attire was shades of muted green and brown, darkened by grime and dirt. A sword tucked in its scabard leaned against the table. The pommel bore the crest of a roaring bear head.

You approached swiftly, maneuvering your way past the overflowing tables filled with patrons and stumbling drunks trying to get to the bar.

When you reached the mercenary, you stood at the edge of his table. His gaze lifted from his drink to you. Blue eyes met yours.

He wasn't as old as your last guard, and he certainly wasn't as boring to look at.

There was no surprise on his face as he looked at you, no glimmer of recognition; his stern countenance gave away nothing of his thoughts. His gaze was almost intense, discerning, and calculating.

You broke eye contact first to look down at the round stool opposite him. It had a spot of liquid on the edge that made you grimace.

All the other surrounding chairs looked occupied. So, you dug through your leather bag and pulled a purple cloth from it.

You wordlessly conjured up a spectral blue hand and offered up the cloth for it to wipe away the liquid. The hand dried up the liquid and deposited the cloth on the table before vanishing.

The mercenary had crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall to watch you, legs spread wide. Inquisitive eyes followed as you took a seat, back stiff with hands tucked into your cloak, clutching it tighter to your body as if it were shielding you.

“Ser Jonathan Price, correct?”

He nodded once and said nothing.

You fished a hefty pouch from your leather bag and tossed it towards him. The platinum pieces inside rattled as they hit the table.

His eyes fell to the bag for a moment, then slid back up to you, not attempting to reach for the pouch.

Maybe he was unimpressed.

“There's your payment for today—one hundred platinum pieces,” you stated and cleared your throat. “Now, the rules for this arrangement are simple: protect me and stay out of my way.”

You think he understood. He didn't say anything otherwise. There was a slight twitch in your eye when he tilted his head like he was looking at an amusing, little oddity.

After another moment his arms unfurled and a hand reached out for the pouch. He cradled it in his palm, hefting it for its weight. The coins rattled. When he pushed two fingers into the closed seam and spread it open, you scoffed.

“If you think I'm lying, don't. Your coin is there.” You crossed your arms, in an attempt to be as nonplussed as he was—it was a poor attempt. You couldn't help the frown that stuck to your lips.

He removed his fingers from the pouch and rapped his knuckles down hard against the wooden table twice, making you flinch and catching the attention of a passing barmaid.

Their exchange was quick. She turned her head toward him with a bright smile, flirty even as her eyes roamed down his figure. He pointed a finger down at his pint and flicked his wrist up to call for one more. She nodded and flitted back to the bar.

“Easy enough,” he said when he turned back to you. His voice was smoky, low. Probably caused by too many cigarettes and shouting. He rested his forearms on the table, one hand still gripped around the pouch. “But drop the ser, m’ not a knight.”

Your brows furrowed. You recalled the description your father gave you of him. A knight who served under the King’s banner for twenty years. “But you’re-”

“I was,” he interrupted firmly, leaving you with no room to argue.

Your mouth remained open, wanting to bite back, but when his brow raised slightly at the hint of a challenge, you clenched your jaw. Any attempt to delve further into the topic would only prove futile and a waste of time.

You took in a deep breath through your nose and exhaled through your mouth. “Fine,” you acquiesced. “How do I address you then?”

“John’s good enough for me."

“Okay, John,” you ground out and stood from your seat. “I want to leave before nightfall.”

He held his hand up, stopping you in your place. “We're not going anywhere yet, love.”

You bristled at both the nickname and his order. The arrangement was supposed to be the other way around. You give him orders and he follows.

“Sit, drink—I already bought you a mug.”

On cue, the barmaid returned to the table with another overflowing pint in her hand and set it down on your side. She wiped her hand down on her apron and looked at John, her charming smile returning. “Anythin’ else I can getcha?”

“No, thank you.” He returned her smile with a grin of his own. He dug into the pouch and pulled out a platinum piece, setting it in her outstretched hand.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head. “This is too much! The drinks are only ten silver!”

You crossed your arms and interjected, “I agree. That's far too much.”

“Keep it,” he assured, waving her off.

The barmaid scurried away with an even wider smile than you thought possible. Her hair and skirt bounced as she went.

With her gone, he turned his attention back to you and gestured back to your stool. “Drink with me.”

The foam dribbling down the sides of the metal pint made you grimace. You didn't drink ale; it wasn't to your taste. You preferred the rich, sweet taste of Evermead.

But, another part of you was tempted, not by cheap ale. It was the mercenary, the ex-knight, Jonathan Price. Stern to you, yet kind to the barmaid. Silent but still expressive. You felt the tug of curiosity, the desire to learn everything about this stranger and unfold his secrets.

You sat, watching as he took his ale and the bob of his throat as he drank.

He set down his drink, now half full, and nodded his head toward your mug. “Don't be shy, love. Go on.”

Your hand snuck out from your cloak and grasped the handle, cold and slightly sticky. Slowly, to not spill, you lifted the mug and took a sip. Cold liquid slid down your throat. The ale was bitter, watered down, and made your mouth twist with disgust.

“That bad, eh?” He chuckled. You were alarmed to find his low, raspy chuckle disarming. Surely, the ale hadn't got to your head already.

You set the mug down, pushing it further away with your fingers, and wiped your lips clean of any foam left behind with the back of your hand. “I can't believe you like this.”

“Oh, I don't like this garbage.” He laughed, grabbing his mug once more. His thumb idly ran down the handle, throwing a glance out to the crowded tavern. “Just drinking to pass the time.”

“Surely there are better taverns to drink in.” You glanced around at the rowdy patrons once more. Two men were standing toe to toe at the table across from you, exchanging heated words.

When he failed to respond, you tried following his eye. It led you to the opposite side of the room toward the barmaid who served you earlier tending to a group of adventurers. She pressed her hip against the table and chatted with them, laughing.

“So, it’s not the drinks that bring you back,” you muttered to yourself, moving your gaze back to him.

The small smile that tugged the corner of his lips as he watched her caused a strange feeling to stir in your chest. You clenched your hands together, forcing away the uncomfortable squeeze.

You stood abruptly from your seat, ignoring your chair tipping backwards and hitting the floor. His attention was on you again. The smile was gone.

“We’re going.”

“Haven't finished your drink,” he called as you stormed off.

You ignored him, pushing straight between the two quarreling men. Your hands pressed hard against both their chests to pry them out of your way.

The two men stumbled back, caught off guard.

“Hey!”

“Don't touch me, you little bitch,” the other snarled. His hand shot out to grab your wrist, narrowly latching on.

His movements were sloppy, most likely from all the ale he'd been drinking. You were quick enough to snatch your hand away before he could restrain you.

You were beginning to really hate this tavern.

More patrons were beginning to watch the exchange, sitting back like it was some spectacle.

But, you saw John rise from his stool. His hand grasping his sword as he approached the men from behind.

“Let's settle down, gentleman,” he said with a tired sigh.

The man who tried grabbing you turned his attention to John. “Stay outta this,” he hissed, clenching his fists and setting his shoulders back. He was much larger than John, towering at least a head taller.

You didn't want to find out how well a brawl between the two would end.

“Obtempero."

The spell sliped from your lips and the man stiffend. In that instance, your mind was linked with his as you forcibly erased any free will he had.

Shut up and sit down, you commanded.

The room went silent as the man lowered onto his seat. You clenched your jaw when your head began to throb, a sign of him fighting against your control.

“Quickly,” you beckoned to the mercenary. Your control over the man’s mind wouldn't last long and you didn't want to stick around to face his wrath.

You turned and dashed out the tavern doors, followed closely by John who was laughing to himself.

“Clearly you can handle yourself. Don't know what you need me for,” he said.

A light rainfall had started, coating you and the streets in water. You raised your hood over your head to shield yourself.

The street was still bustling with citizens with their umbrellas. A good cover in case the man tried following the two of you.

“I only agreed to a guard to appease father’s worries,” you muttered, sidestepping a pair of children running past you, chasing each other with wooden swords. “But, dealing with pea-brained oafs is easy compared to defending myself from someone with a dagger.”

He only hummed in reply, walking in stride with you up the cobblestone street. The rain was beginning to dampen his hair and clothes, but he didn't seem to mind.

You could feel your concentration on the spell waning the further you got until it snapped. You tensed and reached to grab John’s hand. His fingers wrapped around yours without question.

“We have to-”

“You bitch! I'm gonna tear you apart!”

Your head snapped around to find the man burst from the tavern door with a roar. Your heart jumped. The man almost seemed to burn with fury as he barreled up the street in search of you.

“This way.”

John tugged your hand and you allowed him to pull you through the street, weaving your way through throngs of people. He pulled you through unfamiliar streets that passed by in a blur before taking a sharp right into an alleyway, tugging you into the shadows.

Your back was against the stone walls and you heaved a sigh. Your heart raced with adrenaline. This certainly wasn't anything you'd experienced while nose-deep in a book. “Gods, I-”

“Shh,” he hushed, placing a hand over your mouth.

Your eyes widened. He was looking out towards the street and you realized how close he was standing, nearly pressed against your front. Your hand gripped his wrist; to pry it off or hold him close, you didn't know.

When he deemed the coast clear, his hand fell away.

“Don't do that again,” you said weakly.

He looked down at you, an amused smile forming. “Understood. Mind giving me my hand back then?”

You didn't realize your grip on his wrist remained. You released him and slipped away.

“I'll lead us home.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was just setting by the time you returned to the manor. John had followed you silently the whole way.

“Welcome back, ma'am,” Ann greeted once you entered the foyer. She was a maid you'd known since you were a child. Her warm smile was akin to that of a mother’s, though you'd never call her such.

“Ann will run you a bath and get you some new clothes.”

She was already moving up the left side of the split staircase to fulfill your request.

“What's wrong with my clothes?” John glanced down at his attire, smoothing his hand down the front of his doublet, now soaked with rain.

“They're filthy and soaked. Now go.” You used your hand to shoo him off and he followed Ann with a sigh, ascending the stairs.

You went off to another area of the manor where you could take your own bath and wash away the grime of that tavern.

When the bath was filled and ready, you shed your robes and stepped into the warmth, sighing as the warm water enveloped your body. You ran your hand up your arm, over your neck, and down your collarbone.

While you washed, your thoughts wandered back to John. A hand slipped down the valley of your breasts and between your thighs.

There was no question that he was attractive. The mercenary was new and surprisingly exciting—an experiment to toy with. You wanted to win him, have him in the palm of your hand and study what made him tick.

Your index finger brushed against your clit. The first hum of pleasure bolted through your body. Slow teasing circles were drawn over your clit until you ached for more. Two fingers parted your folds to allow your middle finger to dip in.

You sunk lower into the water, chin rippling the surface, and let your eyes fall shut to embrace your own touch while imagining it was someone else's.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you slipped out of the bath, satisfied, you redressed into a new robe. The loose low neck reached your abdomen, teasing the inner valley of your breasts.

As you made your way to your room, you noticed the door was left slightly ajar. When you pushed open the door, you found John standing at your bookshelf, his fingers running down the spine of a tome.

He was in a fresh set of clothes, loaned from a butler by the looks of it. The untucked, white dress shirt clung to the curves of his muscles, growing taut when he folded his arms. The black pants fit his form enough to show off the thickness of his thighs.

You shut the door and leaned against it, eyeing his form. The ache between your legs was growing again, wanting more than just your fingers this time.

John turned around at the noise and you could see the buttons of his shirt were halfway done, revealing his toned chest with a smattering of hair.

“Impressive collection,” he remarked. “I’d expect no less from a wizard.”

“I spent my entire life building this collection,” you replied absently. Your mind was wandering to other things—the veins on his arms, the bulge of his pectorals in the shirt. You were unashamedly staring through lowered eyelids, greedily taking in the sight.

He was just as interested in your low cut robes. It was obvious in the way his eyes roamed your chest.

You chose to close the gap until you were beside the bookcase, just a foot away from his side.

He leaned his shoulder against the shelves and looked at you with a sly smirk. “Trying to charm me?”

Magic would make your game too easy.

Your hand moved to caress his jaw, smoothing over the soft hairs of his beard. He didn't move away, choosing to lean further into your touch.

“I don't need to,” you hummed. Your fingers clawed up the slope of his neck and into the short strands of damp hair, drawing his face closer. “You're already mine.”

“That so?” His words fluttered along your lips in warm breaths. Strong hands fell to the curves of your waist, smoothing down to your ass and pulling you against his front.

You felt the growing stiffness of his cock, trapped in his pants, press against your abdomen which only made the throbbing of your cunt worse. Instead of responding, you leaned forward and sealed your lips tightly against his, tasting smoke and bitter ale on his tongue.

John was quick to respond, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip to get you to open up for him. His grip slid down your ass, roughly squeezing the soft flesh in his large palms.

You rubbed yourself against his bulge, trying to satisfy the need growing inside of you. There was a needy, animalistic frenzy in his low groan, vibrating in his chest.

He backed you up towards your desk. It was cluttered with more tomes you amassed over the years, threatening to spill at the slightest touch. Your prized spell book, a gift from your father, was also sitting open, flipped to the enchantment spell you used earlier at the tavern.

John didn't seem to care much for your precious collection as he swiped the books off your desk to make room to set you down. They scattered to the floor.

You pulled away, intent on telling him off. That spell book was one of a kind—

He didn't give you room to argue, much less breathe. His lips were already diving forward to capture yours again, dizzying you, driving any thought out of your head. Your legs spread around his to accommodate his body as he forced your attention back on him.

John’s hands pushed aside the fabric of your robe which easily fell around your waist, exposing your bare breasts to the cool room air. Your hardening nipples rubbed against the coarse fabric of his shirt.

Your hands roamed his chest in turn, running over the coarse hairs and clawing down his exposed sternum. You worked quickly to unbutton the rest of his shirt and pushed it off his broad shoulders.

Once revealed, you trailed your eyes over his chest and down to a nasty scar sliced from his upper torso across his stomach. It was old by the scaring. You briefly wondered if it was the reason he was no longer a knight as your hand reached out to brush over it.

John caught your wrist in an iron grip. When you looked back at his face, his stern expression told you enough to stay silent about it. With your short nod, the tension in the air lifted and he was back to work on you.

Another night then, you thought. You'd unravel his secrets eventually.

When he released your wrist and pulled away, he moved down to his knees, untying the knot at your waist and pushing aside the rest of the fabric to reveal the rest of your body. With your thighs spread, he could fit his hand between your thighs, feeling the arousal leaking from your cunt.

“So wet already?”

His middle finger parted your folds, dipping in ever so slightly, causing your hips to shift forward, but he pulled away before you could feel him any deeper. He got to his knees, grunting as his settled.

Your legs hooked over his shoulders, leaving him face to face with your cunt. His heavy breath fanned over your exposed cunt.

“What a sight,” he muttered to himself before leaning in to flick his tongue over your clit again and again.

Your body trembled with static after every stroke of his tongue. Your fingers locked through his brown hair, tugging sharply at the roots. He hissed through his teeth at the sting, but even that didn't stop him.

His hands gripped your thighs around his shoulders, digging into the soft flesh and then smoothing up until his hands cupped your ass to push you further into his mouth.

One of your hands rested on the table to give yourself leverage as you rode his face. The hair of his beard burned against your inner thigh.

The pleasure thruming through your veins forced your legs to lock around his head as your orgasm came to its peak.

“That's it,” he coaxed. “Come in my fuckin’ mouth, love.”

John kept his mouth on your fluttering cunt, refusing to pull away until he had taken every last drop of your cum. Your hands weakly pulled on his hair, but his fingers dug deeper into your thighs as he forced his head back in.

“Gods,” you panted, looking down at him between your thighs, devouring you like a starved man. “Fuck me already.”

“Patience,” he huffed, flicking his tongue languidly over your clit once again. Your body stiffened again. “You think you can take me after one little orgasm?”

As you clenched around nothing and his tongue continued to take long strokes over your cunt, you rolled your eyes and snapped back, “Don’t be so cocky.”

He rose quickly after your remark, yanking your body off the desk as he went and forcing you around. One of his palms met the back of your neck and pushed you flat against the desk. His cock pressed against your ass. The fabric of his pants were rough against your bare skin.

“Let-"

His other hand clamped over your mouth and he growled into your ear, “No—no more orders. I'll give you what you want, but don't start cryin’ when it doesn't fit.”

You ached, wanting to rub your thighs together but his legs were in the way. His hand moved from your mouth to the button of his pants to pull himself free.

You could feel his thick cock press against your ass. Even without looking, you could tell he was nothing like the other wizards you'd have meaningless flings with in school.

His cock notched at your entrance and he asked lowly, “Ready, love?”

The hand over your mouth moved to caress the valley of your knuckles as your hand clasped the edge of the desk. Such an intimate gesture you almost wanted to embrace by turning over your hand and intertwining fingers.

But, you didn't have time for much thought before he buried himself into you as deep as he could go without resistance. Which was only the tip of his cock.

Your walls clamped around him, refusing to let him bully his way deeper. You whimpered, white-knuckling the desk, and shut your eyes. Gods, he was too thick.

“Shh,” he cooed in your ear. His fingers slid across your temple and into your hair, keeping your head against the desk. “You wanted this, right? You can take more.”

And he did give you more—and more, and more. Your clawed at the desk, welled up tears spilling down the side of your face, as he stretched you around his cock. You didn't breathe, not until his hips met your ass and you were completely filled to the brim.

You gasped, filling your lungs with air. The edge of the desk pressing against your abdomen allowed you to feel him deeper.

He grunted as you clenched around his length. “So fuckin’ tight,” he muttered to himself as he slowly rocked into your fluttering heat.

The friction wasn't enough for you. As always, you wanted more. You wanted to be fucked, ravished, devoured completely and thrown into a sickening rapture.

“More,” you moaned as his cocked dragged against your walls. You were needy and hungry for him to take you harder.

“Does a brat like you even know how to say please?” He slipped out of you completely instead.

You whined in protest, moving your hips back to fill the empty ache he left behind. His hands moved to grip your waist, holding you in place. “No, don't.”

“Too good to beg for it?” His fingers prodded at your entrance before he slipped two inside. They weren't comparable to his cock though—not as thick, not as full. “Come on my fingers then.”

His fingers curled against the sensitive spongey spot inside of you.

“F-Fuck you,” you ground out between your teeth, biting back a moan.

“That’s not what I asked for.” His voice was stern; there was no room for arguments, no room for demands other than his own.

You bit your lip. You weren't the one who was supposed to be begging—he was. Having John wrapped around your finger, desperate to please you like everyone else, was the end goal. But this?

Strong, commanding, taking what he wants—that was who John was. And even you couldn't help but relent to that dominance.

“Please.”

“Speak up, love.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

Bastard.

“Please,” you repeated with a little more desperation than intended.

“Good girl,” he praised. His fingers slipped from you, pulling a string of your arousal with them, and he licked them clean. With his hands back on your hips, he lined up his cock and thrust back into you.

Your mouth hung open as your back arched into the desk. The pace he set was relentless. It rocked your desk, sending any books and papers left on it to the floor. But you didn't care anymore, not when he found that perfect spot inside you again and again. Your toes curled as warmth pooled in your stomach and your core tightened.

A hand wrapped around your neck once again, wrenching your back against his chest and forcing your head to the side. The sweat of your bodies melded you together. John’s fingers pressed on your throat with enough pressure to make you see stars. His gruff pants burst along the shell of your ear. His lips grazed the back of your neck as another hand moved to toy with your clit.

You cursed as your body seized up and you came around him. You held onto the arm pressed against your chest as you rode out your orgasm.

With a few more sharp thrusts, he spilled inside of you, flooding you with warmth. As you caught your breaths, he cupped your jaw and turned your head towards his to pull you into a searing kiss, still full of passion just like the first.

You were almost boneless, sinking into the kiss and his arms. “Bed,” you murmured, resting your head against his shoulder when he released your jaw. “Now.”

John clicked his tongue as he slid out of you. A mix of your arousal begin to leak down your leg. You flinched when his hand cupped your sex to stop anymore from escaping.

The action felt more possessive than anything else—something you weren't used to. Interest stirred in you once again.

#john price x reader #john price smut #cod smut #cod x reader smut #cod fanfic #cod x reader #john price fanfiction #mw2 fanfic #captain john price #cod mwii

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sp4ceboo · 5 months

Text

Stray: Lee Dokyeom x Cat Hybrid!Reader

A/N: so there are a lot of hybrid AUs out there where the members are the hybrids but it got me thinking about dk with cat hybrid reader (i heard dk was allergic but dw i got it covered)

tw: 18+ because of eventual smut, swearing, hybrids are not treated well by society, a bit of trauma from reader being treated badly, reader doesn't have a home or food at the beginning, reader is extremely emotionally repressed whoops, mentions of death + starving, not really slow burn it's just long and has weird pacing because i refuse to cut out some bits, dk is a huge ball of sunshine, it starts off waffly but gets sm better i promise, cheating and breakup (not dk and reader),

wc: 11.7k (oops)

you'd had your dealings with humans, and most weren't pleasant

as a hybrid, you didn't fully belong with cats or humans

the latter often thought you were inferior, and treated you as much

you find your fully cat form is much more agreeable to your human form with ears - it feels less obvious that way, even though normal cats can smell that you're a hybrid

still, the world isn't kind, and you don't have a home

you'd stood up for yourself at your last job - a secretary in a huge office block - pointing out that you got a much lower salary than the comparable human employees, and had been promptly fired

briefly, a human couple had taken you in, but once they realised you were a hybrid, they kicked you out

which leaves you where you are now, wishing that you were just one or the other and not both

the winter is especially harsh this year, and your soft coat, matted from too many days on the streets, doesn't do much to keep out the cold

the wind is cutting, and you find yourself slinking through the back gardens of some low rise flats, wondering if anyone will spot you and think you're just a stray cat

you can't believe you're stooping this low, but you'd rather this than death by frostbite

like hell you're just going to give up now

it's not like you'd stay permanently without the home owners knowing you're a hybrid, anyway - you know how that ended last time

the muffled sound of laughter floats towards you, and you scale a fence, following the noises until you make your way into a rather overgrown garden

warm light spills through the glass doors, and you curl up on the patio, at the edge of the beam cast by the full kitchen

by full, you mean full

there must be over ten guys in there, all crammed shoulder to shoulder around the dining table, laughing raucously

they're all human, from what you can tell

you can feel a bit of the warmth seeping out from the miniature crack under the door, but before you dare inch forward, further into the light, one of them turns around

he's got a sweet face, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he laughs at one of his friend's jokes

the hackles on your back rise as you feel his gaze on you

you've learnt that when humans smile it doesn't always mean they're good people

retreating quickly, you find yourself thankful for the crowded garden, slinking behind a bush to get out of sight

you immediately feel the lack of warmth, the laughter more muffled from here

for some reason, an empty feeling wells up inside you, like you lost something

like you strayed from the path of your destiny

but deep inside you, the survival instincts tug you away from the warm kitchen and the warm smiles

those instincts haven't failed you yet, so why would they fail you now?

however, despite your so called survival instincts, you find yourself in the same garden a week later

again

you'd visited a few times, but they didn't really count, because all you did was peer furtively over the fence, ears swivelling vigilantly

you'd caught sight of the guy who spotted you before, peering outside and frowning

you assume he's the one who owns the bottom floor flat

you hope he was wondering if he should get his garden in order, because if he was, you whole heartedly agree - you almost poked yourself on the brambles a few times

right now, the Guy is washing up, his sleeves rolled up and his hair a bit of a mess, elbow deep in the soapy sink water

his glasses keep falling down his nose

the kitchen lights are on - it's almost dark, and the night's chill is creeping further into your bones

it's been so long since you've been inside that you find indoor lights kind of... mesmerising

it might seem strange, but you almost crave the fake yellow light the light bulbs give off

the Guy suddenly stops washing up and you almost fall off the back fence that you're perched on, thinking he's seen you

then he bobs his head in time to a beat you can't hear while busting out some quite respectable dance moves, and you realise he's just listening to music

it must be some pretty good music - now he's singing, and you can hear it faintly

wow, he's good

he also looks pretty engrossed

that's your queue; you jump down from the back fence, your paws pattering against the frosty patio as you approach

there's something that always draws you back here

and it's not just because of the warm air radiating from his badly insulated flat

still, you're wary - he might seem friendly, and you might feel a certain pull towards him, but that doesn't mean anything

lots of things have felt right that weren't

you're not making any mistakes this time

you're tired of being mistreated because you're a hybrid, and tired of being seen as a pet and not a person

never mind if this ends with the Guy feeding you caviar some cats could only dream of, if he looks at you funny, you're not going to even set foot in his mess of a garden again

with that thought, you curl up beside the glass door, happy to bask in the lingering warmth from the kitchen and enjoy the artificial light

turning your head, you peer at the Guy over the lip of the door

his shoulders are turned in your general direction, but he's looking studiously at the dishes in the sink, shimmying his shoulders and tapping his foot along to the rhythm of the music, so you decide to stay a little longer

that's when the grey clouds coalescing above you decide to start snowing

you feel the fur on your sides fluff up in response, and you wrap your tail around your paws, edging an inch closer to the door

the air is bitingly cold, and you wonder if you'll make it through the night if the snow settles

you haven't eaten a real meal in ages, and you're suddenly aware that it means your poor little cat body has even less insulation

you're certain that if you don't find shelter soon, tonight will be your last

but do you really want to seek help from some random human?

it's ended badly before, but you know it could have ended worse

you won't let that happen again

abruptly, you stand up, tail lashing in irritation at yourself - like hell you're going to come crawling into some human's home, ears pinned back like you need their help

it's not your fault you were born a fucking hybrid

you're halfway down the patio when a warm gust of air blasts down your spine

you wonder if hallucinating heat is an early symptom of hypothermia but continue resolutely making your way towards the back fence

'hey,'

you whip around, a snarl half forming on your face in shock, but it's just the Guy

he leans in the doorway, a smile on his face and his eyes sparkling

'you can come in, if you want.'

the warmth coming from inside his flat is absolute bliss

you're a metre away from the open door, but you can feel your bones defrosting, and you know however hard you try, you can't leave now

not now that he's offered

not when his kind smile triggers not zero, but minus one alarm bells in your head

you approach but hesitate, knowing you're being too quick to give in - he doesn't know you're a hybrid, and you don't know if he's secretly evil and plans to skin you as soon as you step through the door

just to be safe, you stop just out of kicking distance, staring up at him quizzically

surely, he wouldn't voluntarily let a hybrid into his house - you're much more expensive to look after than pets, because you'd basically be another human in the house who can't earn enough to pay bills

you're considering backing out, even with that delicious heat emnating from his kitchen, when he moves to the side so you have a clear path in

your eyes widen a little

you feel like he's being too nice

he laughs a little at your indecision, squatting down so he looks smaller and less intimidating

'come on. i know it must be way too cold out there. i'll let you out whenever you want to leave, if that's what you want.'

that's the final straw

you step over the threshold and bolt

you're not even sure where you're going, but you swerve away from a room where there are clothes strewn over a chair and the desk filled with clutter - that's definitely his bedroom

the only other room that isn't the bathroom or the kitchen is a dusty room full of cardboard boxes and a bed with no sheets on it

a guest room, you assume

flattening yourself against the floor, you crawl under the bed

quickly, you tuck yourself behind one of the boxes which had been artfully stuffed underneath the bed

once you're settled, it occurs to you that that was frankly rude of you

the Guy let you into his flat, and the first thing you do is sprint past him and invade his guest room

but then again, he probably thinks you're just some feral cat who he saved from becoming a feline icicle, so your behaviour would make sense

you tense when you hear footsteps pass the door, but he doesn't come in, just walks into what you assume is the bathroom

a few minutes later, you hear the shower turn on, and you relax a little more

maybe he'll let you be for now

curling your tail over your nose to stop yourself from snorting in the ridiculous amounts of dust under the bed, you wedge yourself further behind the box and close your eyes

it's amazingly warm in the Guy's flat, you'll give him that

warm enough that despite the hunger that's been gnawing at your stomach for the past week, you find yourself falling into a sleep deeper than you've been able to reach for ages

you'll get to sorting out the details of your little invasion of his flat in the morning

for now, you're happy to sleep

when you wake up, he's gone

understandably, though - he must work pretty hard to afford a nice-ish flat like this, and it is also twelve noon

unfortunately, he doesn't appear to have any cat flaps, so that means you'll have to momentarily shift into your very naked human form to let yourself out the back door

you wonder if you should check in his fridge if he's got anything to eat, but then you decide against it - he's already given you a place to stay for the night, no need to eat his food as well

ignoring the call of the fridge and the shower, you pad over to the back door, pausing when you see something propped against the glass

it's a little whiteboard, and as you approach, you make out the writing

it's got 'hi, i'm dokyeom, dk for short :D' written across the top, with a little flow chart beneath

it starts with two options: 'are you a hybrid' with a box for ticking under 'yes' and 'no'

under the option for 'no', it says 'i'll buy cat food' and under 'yes', it says 'there are spare clothes in the guest room and towels in the bathroom (both clean, don't worry), help yourself to anything in the fridge'

you sit down on your haunches, shocked

so he did consider that you could be a hybrid?

and he's alright with it?

plus, he managed to leave clothes in the room you were sleeping in, and you didn't wake up?

maybe your instincts aren't as good as you thought

or maybe your body thought you were safe last night - safe enough to not wake you up when the Guy (dokyeom, you've learnt from the mini whiteboard) came in

you cock your head, staring at the whiteboard for a few moments longer before making your decision

honestly, it's not hard to choose

you make your way to the bathroom, already eagerly anticipating a shower

sure enough, he's left a towel on the rail, and you're quick to hop into the shower, shifting into your human form and turning up the heat high

it's strange to be out of your cat form, your body suddenly seeming too large and ungainly, your senses immediately dulled

but in a way, it's also freeing - you haven't been able to be like this in ages, as clothes unfortunately don't shift with you from cat to human form

you feel more real this way

that's the problem: you can't exist as just one or another, both animal and human are part of your soul, your essence - you can't just pretend that one half of you doesn't exist

eventually, you drag yourself out of the shower

you're aware that he might have limited hot water, and what kind of guest would you be if you used it up before he even got a chance to get home?

wrapping the towel around you, you slip into the guest room to put on the clothes he'd left there

it's a pair of black tracksuit bottoms, a large white t-shirt and a grey hoodie, all obviously his

even in your human form, you can smell the mixed scents on his clothes

there's the fresh smell of clean laundry, a hint of aftershave, and his own unique scent: you can't quite put your finger on it, but it feels... cosy

it's a smell that's all over his house, actually

barefoot, you enter the kitchen again, scooping the whiteboard off the floor so you can write on it

you tick the box under 'yes'

underneath that, you write a quick note:

'thanks for letting me stay. i'll be out of your hair in no time, i just needed somewhere for the night. you're very kind, dk. thank you so much :))'

signing your name and setting the whiteboard down on the counter on the way to the fridge, you rummage around, wondering what you can cook

you're pleasantly surprised - the contents of his fridge aren't awful, and although they could be organised a little better, it's thankfully not full of expired ready meals or anything like that

feeling better than you've felt in ages, you wander around his kitchen until you find his rice cooker, and then you get cooking

you're absolutely ravenous, but you make sure to make enough for him too - he's been unnecessarily kind to you, this is the best you can do for him

you're just finished washing up your dishes when your instincts prickle

it's a sensation that happens a lot when you're in your human form - it means that your cat form would be picking up something that your human senses are too dull to detect

rushing back to the bedroom, you slip out of the clothes he laid out for you, hastily folding them before shifting back to your cat form

logically, you have no reason to fear

he's been nothing but kind to you, but he's still a human

and humans aren't always as nice as they seem

you feel so much more secure in your cat form - smaller, faster, better at avoiding sticky situations, better at surviving

your ears twitch as you hear a key scrape in the lock

that must be him - dk

you stand indecisively in the middle of the guest room, your claws sinking unconsciously into the carpet before you hastily retract them

by then, he's toed his shoes off and is in the kitchen

you hear a soft 'oh'

he's probably found the whiteboard on the counter, moved from where he left it, and the dinner you cooked for him

he calls your name then, and you almost jump out of your skin before you remember you wrote it on the whiteboard

feeling far too nervous, you trot out into the corridor, nudging the kitchen door open before entering

he's right there, leaning against the counter, his smiling eyes bright as he looks down at you

this is the first time you've really seen him, really realised you let your guard down and allowed some random guy to let you into his house

he looks absolutely huge

like, he could crush your cat form in his bare hands if he wanted to you, although you realise that's not that great of a feat considering your small stature

he would also tower over your human form, but then again, that's not much of an achievment

still, it makes you take a small step back

humans have unquestioned power over hybrids - you're pretty sure if he killed you right here and now, no one would know or care

and if someone did know, the case would be as likely to make it to court as you are likely to become a billionare next week

your hackles begin to rise, and you mentally run through your escape options

unfortunately, none avoid you shifting into your naked human form, even if it's just for a few seconds

you're beginning to panic

a lot

but then, he crouches down, just like last night

slowly, keeping his movements predictable, he reaches his hand out towards you

'i won't hurt you,'

you relax just a tiny bit, ears twitching, waiting to see what he'll say next

'promise.'

of their own accord, your hackles lower, and you find yourself inching towards his outstretched hand

'you don't have to leave, you know. it would be nice to have some company. plus, i don't want to make assumptions, but i'd rather not let you go if you have nowhere else to stay.'

part of your brain wonders why he's being so nice

the other part, the part that you've shoved down for so long, surfaces like a long lost ache, reminding you how lonely you are, reminding you how much you miss simple human interaction

dipping your head forward, you sniff at his broad palm, before lightly licking his fingertips

he chuckles, albeit a little nervously, as if he's scared you're going to bolt at any second (to be fair, if you were him, you wouldn't write off that option either)

his other hand comes up to rub behind your ears, and your eyes close at the feeling

the beginnings of a purr start to form in your chest, and you know that's when your fate is sealed

the permanence of that thought unsettles you

pulling away, you head towards the radiator, settling close to it, glad that your cat form means that you don't have to talk to him

he grins brightly at you, picking up the plate you left on the counter and putting it in the microwave for warming up

'thanks for the dinner, but you know you don't owe me anything, right?'

you blink up at him from your spot on the floor

he's literally the kindest human you've ever met

then again, you haven't met very many kind humans

that night you sleep curled up on the sofa - it's much more comfortable than wedged underneath a bed, and his cushions smell nice

in the morning, you hear dk get up, but he tip toes around quietly

cracking an eye open, you yawn, eyes blinking into focus as you watch him quickly scribble on the whiteboard, his brow furrowed in concentration

he glances your way, and for some reason, it shoots a bolt of panic through you, and you duck your head back down, closing your eyes

it's not that he's threatening - quite the opposite

it's just that you're not used to this; not used to being in such close proximity with another being for prolonged periods of time, not used to interaction with humans after avoiding them for your own sake for so long

you hear some shuffling, the sound of the fridge door, and then his footsteps approach

as he walks past, he brushes a hand lightly down the soft fur of your back, as if in greeting

you almost twitch at the feeling

you wonder how long it's been since you've let anyone come that close

not daring to move a hair, you wait until you hear him ease the front door shut

the second he's gone, you jump up, eager to see what he wrote on the whiteboard

it's on the counter, so you shift into your human form and put on some clothes - you're not sure what his rules about paws on tables are

there's a fresh t-shirt on the guest room bed, but you opt to wear the one you wore yesterday

a smile plays on your lips as you read what he wrote

it's a short but sweet message extolling the virtues of your cooking and telling you to help yourself to the fridge again, followed by a question asking if what food you would like and whether you prefer cat food

still grinning, you write your reply, explaining how you can eat both human and cat food and how you love tuna in either form, adding a short shopping list of ingredients and asking how his day was

once you're done, you decide to explore his flat properly

it consists of two bathrooms, two bedrooms, a tiny room with a washing machine and various bits and bobs crammed inside, and the kitchen which sort of melds with the living room (if you could call the couch and TV in one corner a living room)

you spend most of your time snooping around his bedroom, just to sate your curiosity

it's not neat, but it's not messy either, and the smell of him is strongest in there

you're sure his desk should be buckling under the combined weight of his pc and the impressive amount of paraphanalia that's collected upon it

it's not that it's dirty - it's actually pretty orderly, there's just... a lot of stuff

there's a mug full of pens which says 'dude kisser' on it (you're not going to question that one), a haphazard stack of books - the top one of which has a fuzzy bookmark sticking out, a pile of mismatching keycaps, a group photo of dk and twelve other guys with moustaches and other flattering things lovingly drawn on, and tons more stuff you couldn't explain even if you tried

the chair has a lot of clothes draped over it: nice, comfy clothes, like the ones he's lended you

you're tempted to explore further into his room, but you feel kind of rude so you scuttle back to the kitchen/living room to make the happy discovery that he owns a nintendo switch

that means he probably has some more complicated games lurking around but you're happy to settle with mario kart for now

it's not something you've played before, although you've heard some of your human ex-colleagues talking about it

by the time dk returns, though, you're a pro

well, maybe not a pro, but not inept, either

by then you've made dinner and left it out for him like yesterday - you feel kind of weird doing nothing but playing video games while he goes to work, and at least cooking for him makes you feel a little useful and not like some awful parasite taking advantage of him

he tells you about his day as he eats at the dinner table while you sit in cat form on the chair next to him

he smiles the whole time, and you find yourself relaxed and content, infected by his happy virus

once he's done with his debrief, he unthinkingly asks how your day was

you look at him and give him your best deadpan meow

he laughs and you find it a bit dazzling - he hands away smiles as if they're free, and honestly it kind of restores your faith in humanity

'what if you blink twice for yes and once for no? how about that?'

you blink twice at him

dk grins, his eyes lighting up; he's so excited you can almost imagine him clapping his hands and kicking his legs like an enthusiastic little kid

'do you like pineapple on pizza? is it wrong to wear socks and sandals? how about socks in bed? are tomatoes a fruit? is it right to have toilet paper over? or do you like it under?'

he bombards you with random yes or no questions, each one getting weirder than the last, but you find his delight in your answers is more than enough to let him continue

after about half an hour, he either runs out of questions or decides to spare you, asking instead whether you want to watch a movie

that's how you end up curled up on the sofa beside him

he'd insisted on a horror movie, even though you'd said no, very clearly blinking only once

you would leave but you think it's kind of entertaining how bad the makeup and plot are and how violent his reactions are (they consist of a lot of flailing and terrified squeaks)

despite your reluctance to watch a horror movie, he's actually more scared than you are

the poor thing is tense as anything, his mouth hanging half open as he stares wide eyed at the tv, transfixed

you're actually too busy watching him that when the jump scare pops up on screen, you jump about a foot high, landing hissing on his lap with your tail all fluffed up

your claws accidentally come out and prick him through his jeans and he yelps

'ouch - shit - ow - '

you hop off his lap and watch him dramatically curse and pretend to be wounded, both of you distracted from the movie now

eventually he calms down and goes back to watching, but not before he picks you up and plops you back on his lap, one hand anxiously smoothing down your back as you both wait for the next jump scare

after a while he goes so far as to pick you up and hold you to his chest, hiding his face in your fur every time the music warningly crescendos, whispering to you how utterly terrified he is

even still, his grip stays loose enough for you to move away at any time if you want

you'd think that after your previous experiences with humans, you'd hate him anywhere near you, but you don't

you don't mind it at all

it's kind of ridiculous actually, the way you feel safer than you have in months when he clutches you to him while watching a literal horror movie

you don't think much of it though

he's just a guy who's letting you stay for a bit

you don't plan to stick around

a week later, you find yourself writing an apology on the whiteboard that you'd been putting off since watching the movie

dk is welcoming and warm and friendly but you're sure he must be wondering why you haven't shifted into your human form yet

sometimes, you wonder that yourself - there's something in his eyes that instantly puts you at ease

the day before yesterday, you'd planned it, changing into your clothes - his clothes, and sitting on the sofa, ready to greet him, but the moment you heard his footsteps up to the front door, you just couldn't

your cat form still feels so much safer, even though you have nothing to fear

well, apart from all the explaining you'd have to do once you shift into a form with a tongue that can talk

you don't want to see the pity that would spring into his eyes, or worse, disgust

you're scared of the change it will bring

you're scared to let your walls down

you're scared to bare the soft, vulnerable part of your heart

clenching your teeth, you force yourself to relax, the marker in your hand shaking from how hard your fingers had been clenching around it

you lean against the counter for a while, writing messages then rubbing them out, needing to tell him why but also terrified of what he'll say

solitude has been your only companion for so long, you find that you don't have the words to express what you feel

you don't know how to tell him how you hadn't realised how lonely you were until he let you in

you don't know how to articulate the warm feeling inside you when he smiles at you, as if he doesn't care whether you're a human or a hybrid - because he doesn't

you don't know how to say how eternally grateful you are to him for finding something soft and gentle and innocent within you that you thought you lost years ago

in the end, you decide to keep it short, an apology that feels more like an excuse, but it's the best you can give him

sure, you don't plan to stay here with him forever, but you owe it to him anyway

your restless for the remainder of the day, pacing around the flat and the garden for a little too, tail lashing agitatedly

you've almost convinced yourself to go and rub out your message completely when you hear the front door open and dk comes in, calling out that he's home

peeking around the corner, you see him down the hallway but he doesn't spot you

he's got a strange look on his face, one you can't decipher yet, and there's a flowery scent on him that you've smelled only one time before

you wait just out of sight, not wanting to see his face as he reads

slowly, you venture out, feeling far more nervous than you should be

he sits down on the floor opposite you as soon as he spots you, signalling for you to do the same by patting the spot in front of him

you sink down on your haunches and curl your tail over your feet, nerves a tight ball in your chest

'you don't have to shift if you don't want to.'

the words immediately give you space to breathe, and you feel kind of silly for being so worked up about it all day

'i know hybrids aren't treated well at all, and i'm okay with whatever form you feel most comfortable in, you know? you can shift when you're ready, and whether that's tomorrow or in a decade or never, that's fine. you don't owe me anything.'

your chest feels tight at the earnesty of his words, and you know that if you were in your human form right now, tears would be welling up in your eyes

getting up, you close the gap between the two of you and rest your shoulder against his knee, needing to show your gratitude, needing to be closer to him

he rests his wide palm on your back, a silent assurance

'it's nice to have you here. i used to share with a bunch of my friends - the ones coming over tonight that i told you about this morning, actually - and sometimes it gets lonely in a flat all by myself. i like talking with you.'

you meow, nuzzling against his other hand as he lifts it to stroke the silky spot between your ears

it's amazing, how simple his words are but how he can use them so well, articulating how he feels so boldly

he smiles down at you and you look back up at him, leaning against his hand before he gets up, groaning and cracking his back

his friends will be here soon

he'd warned you this morning, informing you they were noisy but harmless and that if you didn't want to see them, you could hole up in the guest room

they're the first people he's had over since your first night in his flat, and you feel kind of nervous about so many humans, but dk will be there, and you're determined to at least attempt to meet them

anyways, if they're all anywhere close to him, you'll have no problems

still, you stay in the guest room, ears twitching with each arrival

they laugh and chat, their voices carrying through the flat as they jokingly rib each other

occasionally, they have a little karaoke break where they all stop talking to sing along to the song playing on dk's speaker

then there'll be peals of laughter that follow, usually after an exaggerated falsetto note or a scuffling noise which you assume is dancing

it's after their laughter dies down a little when you finally whip up the courage to approach

poking your head into the kitchen, you peer in

there's twelve of them, not including dk, all sitting around the dining table, an array of soju bottles and mainly empty takeaway boxes arranged around them

you're pretty sure they're the same group that you saw the first time you found yourself in dk's garden

one of them spots you in the doorway, and he grins, leaning with his elbows on his knees and opening his palms to you

cautiously, you trot over to him, and he scoops you up, tickling your chin

one of dk's friends across the table gapes at you - he's a bit more drunk than the others (or he holds his liquor less well), and the guy you're sitting on chuckles at his expression

'dk, you got a cat?'

that's the drunk one speaking, his speech a little slurred as his eyes well up with tears

he's a sad drunk, it seems

'dk, you're a dad - '

dk scratches the back of his neck, watching his friend sniffle

'well, hoshi, not a dad, but - '

the guy still holding you adjusts you in his grasp, letting you catch the thoughtful frown on his face

'why didn't you tell us? i thought you were al - '

he's cut off by a sassy looking guy

'jun, just because you want to have a baby shower for a cat doesn't mean all the rest of us do.'

this causes absolute chaos, and the one holding you - jun - lets you down on the floor so he can stand up in order to argue with the sassy guy about the benefits of cat baby shower

navigating your way through the mess of legs under the table, you make your way over to dk

he grins and rubs the spot behind your ears, and you lick his palm before someone grabs you around the middle and cuddles you

you hear dk telling the boys to be careful and it warms your heart a little that he's still looking out for you

he doesn't need to be worried, though

dk's friends are as sweet as he is

you sit with the boys for the rest of the evening

they all leave eventually, trickling out in ones and twos

the last one left is the one they call cheol - he seems to be the protector of the group, and he makes sure dk is alright and helps him clear up a little before he leaves too

once he's out of the door, dk crouches down in front of you

'you okay?'

you blink twice and he grins

'they can be pretty overwhelming and noisy at first, but they're my best friends.'

there's pride shining in his eyes, and you can't help but agree with him - despite their banter, you could tell that they care so much for each other, and for him

'i didn't know whether you wanted them to know you were a hybrid or not, i hope you don't mind that,'

you blink twice again, meowing and padding forward to rub against his shins

you're not quite sure what makes you do that, what primal part of you tells you to put your scent on him, but he chuckles, smile as bright as the sun as always

he scratches at the spot behind your ear and you purr, leaning your head into his touch

'oh - '

you look up, the wonder on his face making it seem like he just made you sprout wings and flash neon

it's cute that he's so proud that he's made you purr

it's been a few months since you first started staying with dk, long enough for the two of you to have a little routine

you cook and clean and generally try to make yourself as helpful as you can around his house while he's at work

he'll write a message for you on the whiteboard every morning, and you'll write your reply during the day

you always come out to greet him at the front door, no matter what

then he'll eat the dinner you made and answer your whiteboard message

from then on, you'll watch a movie with him or just chat

your communication has become easier - sometimes, he'll get his laptop out and you'll type what you're saying, but recently he's gotten scarily good at reading your body language

and no, you still have not worked up the courage to shift into human form yet

you're studiously ignoring the fact that the longer you leave it, the harder it gets

you're also ignoring your previously stated intentions of not staying

you know that this can't go on forever, and even if dk can understand you to an extent, that's not enough and you cost him extra water bills and food

you know he's too kind to bring it up but it eats away at you inside

you're happy to remain blind to the fact that you can't have a proper conversation with him until you shift into human form for now

you tell yourself that you'll deal with it later, whenever later is

another thing that you refuse to acknowledge is your feelings

your fear that you won't be good enough if or when you show him your human form, your fear that you're a dead weight, and worst of all, the growing realisation that he's stupidly fucking handsome

you'd realised but you hadn't realised until one day, after he got back from the gym

his skin had been covered in a light sheen of sweat, and he told you he was going to shower before eating

you'd kind of just blinked at him, too entranced by the amount of skin his tank top was showing

like, what does this guy not have?

he took a little longer than normal in the shower - you heard him absolutely belting out the lyrics to some ballad you'd never heard before, so you trotted down the hallway to listen more closely

and then the door to the bathroom popped open, along with a billow of steam and a delicious lee dokyeom

there was a towel around his hips, low enough to make your stomach twist, and the water rolled down the planes of his chest in a way that made you want to shift into your human form right then and there, just to wrestle that towel off him and kiss him until you ran out of breath

instead, you yowled and jumped about a foot in the air

he just laughed, running a hand through his wet hair to push it out of his eyes before crouching down, telling you he didn't mean to scare you

you meowed and kept your eyes on his face, not on the gap that had opened in the towel due to his bent knees, and definitely not on the wonderful sliver of tanned thigh that showed

the image of dk, damp and glorious under the tinny light of his bathroom, cloaked in steam, often circles around your mind to this day

and it's not just that either - he's also funny and kind and sweet and you feel yourself drowning in his eyes when you look at him too long

just as a reminder: cats do not like water

let alone drowning

the sound of footsteps on the pavement outside dk's front door shake you from your thoughts

there's clearly two people, and you hear dk's voice as the key scrapes in the lock

he's speaking in a tone you've never heard before, low and emotionally charged, like he's angry

you peek into the hallway as the front door opens

dk steps in, followed by a girl you've never seen before, but her scent matches that flowery scent you've smelt on dk a few times before

something sinks inside you

you didn't think he had a girlfriend, which now, in hindsight, seems like a really, really stupid assumption

he's handsome and kind and considerate with a smile brighter than the sun

but then you notice something else - the obvious frown on dk's face

there's a sort of tension in the air, crackling and heavy, like a storm's brewing and there are dark clouds swarming above

she ignores it, instead spotting you and immediately crouching and patting her thighs to try and entice you over as dk shucks off his shoes, face like thunder

she says something to him in an airy voice about him not telling her he had a cat

he shrugs, not mentioning that you're a hybrid and staying silent, which kind of alarms you, because the dk you know is friendly, warm - even when he's angry, it's always firey, nothing like the frigid detachedness in his eyes right now

cautiously, you approach, not really sure what to expect - you're sure she's his girlfriend; now you think about it, you did hear dk's friends discuss it briefly, you just didn't understand at the time

she reaches out to stroke your back, but it brings the cuff of her oversized leather coat near your face

you get a smothering whiff of heavy, masculine cologne that you know is not hers and is definitely not dk's

there's no hint of aftershave, no smell of fresh laundry, and not even a trace of that scent on him that makes you feel warm and comfy

and if this isn't her coat, and it's not dk's, then who's is it?

cheater

hissing, you recoil, your hackles up as you swipe at her hand with your claws out before she can lay a finger on you

you're kind of taken aback by the violence of your own reaction - the tension in the air must be getting to you, too

'oh. it doesn't like me much, you're sure it's not one of those hybrids, right?'

dk's frown deepens into a scowl you've never even seen a hint of on his face, his eyes flashing, filled with something absolutely livid

'let's talk in the kitchen.'

he doesn't even look at her when he says it, and as he turns to go, you can see how hard he's clenching his jaw

you head to the guest room to give them privacy while dk's girlfriend slinks after him

even across the apartment, you can hear too well

it's partly your enhanced cat hearing and partly that new timbre in dk's voice - he's not yelling, nowhere close, but his words carry through the walls

it's the angriest you've ever heard him

you've seen him angry before; frustrated, annoyed, down right incensed, but it always passes quickly, the sun breaking through the clouds with ease - dk doesn't hold grudges

you catch 'cheating' from his sentence, and then suddenly, his girlfriend raises her voice, like she's the one who should be angry, screaming that she doesn't get why he's so worked up over this

that's the exact moment where you want to march into the kitchen and fucking injure her, somehow

punching her in human form would be preferable but you'd be down to claw her eyes out in cat form too

who is she, to cheat on dk, the kindest man alive, then tell him it's nothing? tell him she doesn't know why he's worried?

she doesn't know what she's taking for granted, and she's a fool for that

plus, from what you can hear, he's being half as angry as he really deserves to be, anyway

you sit there in a tense, seething ball of rage, protective and furious on dk's behalf until he puts his foot down

his voice is quieter, more subdued, but he's moved to the kitchen door and you hear him clearly

'get out.'

mentally, you pump your fist in triumph - he should have kicked her out the moment she had the audacity to tell him he shouldn't be getting so worked up about her cheating

in fact, he should have never have let her in in the first place

you hear her screech something over her shoulder about breaking up, as if that wasn't already obvious

honestly, you're kind of embarrassed on her behalf

she should be winning awards for how far her head is up her own ass

dk shuts the door behind her

he doesn't even slam it, just eases it closed like he always does and plods to his room

you hear the rustle of the blankets as he slumps down on the bed, hear the shaky sigh he lets out, and then the heavy silence

you get up and go to his room - the door is ajar, so you peek in

you don't go in; he has every reason to want to be alone, so you hover in the doorway

he lifts his head up and gives you a valiant smile

he looks exhausted

you hop up onto the bed and wait, not wanting to crowd him if he doesn't want contact, but he picks you up and sets you on his chest

you can tell he's fighting with his words as he formulates something to say to you

he stares up at the ceiling, avoiding your eyes until he covers his own with his arm, hiding the upper half of his face in the crook of his elbow

'i found out she was cheating this morning, but i'd suspected it for a while before. i wanted to talk it through with her, give her a chance, you know?'

he squirms and you realise your claws are coming out and poking his chest so you withdraw them and attempt to relax

'she told me i was overreacting, and... yeah. i guess i should have listened to my mum. she's always right.'

he laughs, but it's a loose, raw sound that echoes weakly around the room, and he still won't look at you or uncover his eyes

there's a moment of silence, thick and suffocating with heartache

a sob wrenches from his chest

it's a sharp, painful sound, like he's been holding it in for hours

the floodgates open

dk covers his face with trembling hands, tears leaking out from under his palms

you never thought seeing someone else cry would hurt this much

nudging his hand with your nose, you let him hold you close, rubbing your cheek against his and gently lapping the tears off his face, even as they soak your fur

you feel helpless, like the pieces of his heart are in your hands and you don't know how to fit them back together

he just clings to you, eyes tight shut as his sobs begin to subside

you stay there with him, wishing you could do more as he hides his face in your fur and hugs you close to him

you don't know what that girl was thinking when she decided to cheat on dk

actually, she probably wasn't thinking at all

you kind of want to tell him he's too kind and trusting for his own good, but you know that even if dk was capable of not being like that, he would choose to be the way he is

his hand strokes down your back, and you watch him from where you rest your head on his collarbone

he's staring at the ceiling, and although his eyes are red and a bit puffy and he's sniffling, his crying has subsided a little

dk props himself up on his elbows and gives you a sad smile

'sorry about that. and thanks, too, i - i needed that.'

you huff, tail flicking and smacking against his abdomen - as if he needs to be sorry

nuzzling into the hand he brings up to rub your head, you lick his palm, nudging it with your nose

then you hop off the bed and wait for him to follow you into the kitchen so he eats his dinner

you don't take your eyes off him, not even when he goes to sleep

you curl up in the corner, happy to sleep on the carpet, but he pats the mattress next to him and you can't refuse

it's nice, to sleep beside dk, his body warm and near as he reaches across the bed to run his hand down the fur of your spine and beckon you closer

over the next months, you watch dk heal

you help him heal, too

at least, you hope you do

you make sure to stick close to him

you've slept curled up at the foot of his bed every night since the day of the break up

he calls his mum the day after, and a few of his friends too

he stays strong and determinedly brave in front of the boys, not shedding a tear, but he cries on the phone to his mum

he also cries over a few emotionally fraught kdramas during the first week before you sit on the remote and refuse to move until he chooses another genre

truth be told, you were getting kind of sick of the same plot with different characters, and the pile of tissues on the coffee table in front of the sofa was growing frighteningly large

exactly a month has passed since the break up when, over his dinner, dk announces to you that he's finally installing cat flaps for you

he also mentions that he wants to introduce you to his friends properly, as who you are

the latter comment kind of makes you nervous

his friends are some of the most welcoming, commendable men you've ever interacted with, but a niggling part of your brain wonders if they'll be more sceptical than dk

what if they tell him you're taking advantage of him?

or that you're just a hybrid and don't deserve the kindness he's giving you?

because after all these months with dk, you realised you're not just staying for the roof over your head or the warm meals

you're staying because of dk

you care about him

a lot

not just because you're sort of a little bit hopelessly in love with him, but also because he's kind of... your best friend

he's so sweet and silly and and considerate and funny it makes you want to punch a wall sometimes

you'd protect him with your life

you don't really know how to say it to him, though

there's nothing more you can do in the house, and the words don't seem right on the whiteboard

you wait out the hours until he gets back from work, doing chores around the house or out exploring the neighbourhood through the newly installed cat flap in the back door

or singing in the shower, like you are now

dk's bathroom has very good acoustics

it means you can belt your heart out, happily knowing that dk won't be home for another few hours

you're singing one of the songs dk's friends had been singing the other night

it's kind of sad but also kind of a hoe anthem and the chorus has something about not understanding something - you don't remember the rest of the lyrics

it has a good tune, though, and your own singing combined with the splashing of the shower seals you off from the outside world

which means that when dk gets home early, you don't hear

originally, the only explanation for a female voice coming from his bathroom that he can think of is his ex, but that's dumb because she never had a key in the first place

also, her voice can't even compare to yours

because it is you, he realises

it's you in the shower right now, oblivious to the fact he's home early and is hearing your voice for the first time ever

a little bolt of nervous energy shoots through him, and he panics

what's he supposed to do? should he shout that he's home?

he decides he doesn't want to scare you just in case you panic, so he approaches slowly, hoping to knock on the door and let you know

he soaks up the sound of your voice, a smile playing on his lips, because of course you sound amazing

he's about to knock on the door when the handle turns

wait is all he gets out before suddenly, there you are, right in front of him, wrapped in a towel, cat ears peaking out from your hair that's dripping onto the tiled floor

his brain freezes

shit, you're pretty

you gape at dk

you didn't even hear him come in, let alone him walking down the hallway

this is probably karma from that one time you saw him fresh out of the shower

you'd known that it was inevitable for him to see you in human form at some point, whether it was intentional or not

you just didn't expect it to be so soon, and definitely not like this

oh no

he didn't hear your singing, did he?

instinctively, your hand comes up to make sure the towel around your chest is secure

you're seconds away from shifting and running, but you're rooted to the spot, paralysed by his eyes on you

he blinks a little, as if he's coming to his senses

'...hey,'

that's all he says, his voice soft and wondrous, his eyes sparkling the way they always do, sweet and inviting as the smile pulling at his lips

'hi,'

unfortunately for you, it comes out half strangled and breathy, but a grin immediately appears on his face, his eyes scrunching with happiness

he hasn't looked away once, gaze roving over your face as if he's committing you to memory, and you feel a hot blush begin to creep over you

'i, uh, let me go change.'

you scurry back into the bathroom, almost tripping over the bathmat as you shuck on a shirt and trousers, small tremors going through your hands

you tell yourself it's fine

because it is fine - you're not scared of dk, you trust him, it' just... you should have shifted for him ages ago

placing your hand on the door handle, you take a deep breath

turning back to the mirror, you hastily fix your hair before biting the bullet and opening the door

dk waits outside, leaning against the wall, still smiling

when you peek out, half hiding behind the door, his grin widens, and he opens his arms

you barely need to think, your body just moves, and then he's got you tight in his embrace, your nose pressed into his chest: just like that, any semblance of unease or self consciousness you were feeling evaporates like the space between you

slowly, you breathe in, then out

he smells like he always does - laundry, aftershave, and the scent that you've begun to associate with home

you sigh, resting your forehead on his chest so you don't have to look at him when you speak

'well, that wasn't so hard for me, was it?'

he laughs, eyes dancing, and with that, everything is back to normal

it doesn't matter which form you're in, it's still dk, and it's still you

you talk to him for ages - first over dinner, and then the two of you move to the couch, losing track of time as you fill him in, answering every question he fires your way

his sincerity makes your heart flutter: he clings onto your every word as if it's precious

in the end, you wind up telling him how you got to the situation you were in before

you lay yourself bare, letting your walls down for him to see the scars on your soul

you're not sure when the tears pricking at your eyes spill over, but dk wipes them away gently, spreading his arms for the second time tonight, letting you soak the front of his hoodie with your tears

he tucks your head against his shoulder, his hand rubbing up and down your back the way he always does

his heartbeat is comforting under your ear

you fall asleep like that, held safely in dk's embrace

things continue as normal, even with your human form revealed

you realise how stupid you were for worrying so much about things changing when you shifted into your human form

you talked to dk about how you feel like a burden, how although he doesn't mind, you don't like relying on him to pay the bills, and how you want to get a job

he reassured you that it was fine but after seeing the look of determination on your face, he realised there was no point in opposing you

so he pulls some strings (more like cheol pulls some strings) to get you a part time job in the local library

it's just three days a week, but the important thing is that you get paid and treated the same as any human would

your boss is a little old lady with very thick reading glasses

she bakes you cakes sometimes, and once she's fed you a slice or two, she forces you to take the rest home

it's not anything like your old job, but neither would you want it to be

it doesn't pay your bills either, but it's a happy compromise

dk claims that coming home every day to a meal that you cooked is worth the money of those bills a hundred times over, anyway

you also officially meet his friends

they're sweet, a bit noisy and chaotic at first, but they make sure to keep you included in the conversation despite all the private jokes that they seem to have

they act a bit like a huge family unit (they bicker like brothers)

despite their closeness with each other, it doesn't push you away

they didn't even care that you were a hybrid

you caught a knowing look pass between the one called joshua and the one called jeonghan when dk introduced you, but you're not really sure what it could have been about

you were probably just imagining it, to be honest

anyways, aside from occasionally attending their boys nights (on demand, they always clamour for you to join them), the little routine you and dk made is still very much the same

you still cook for him, except now you wait and eat dinner with him

there's never a dull moment with dk, and he makes you laugh until you can't breathe

he's made it his personal goal over dinner to make you laugh so hard you snort food up your nose again

you talk about everything and anything to him

he'll tell you about a funny thing at work and you'll tell him about a customer at the library and somehow that will bring you to a debate on hogwarts houses

today he sits across from you, the food on his plate already all long gone and eaten while you're just finishing up with yours

'you know, i'm allergic to cats.'

you gape

because he's what now?

'you're what now?'

'well, not to you, i guess. maybe you're hypoallergenic?'

now you think of it, you do remember one of his friends almost saying something about that the first time you ever saw them

it might have been jun, you can't quite remember

'you know, when you first sat next to me on the sofa, i was panicking because i didn't know what to do with cats.'

you snort

you address him as you get up, dumping your plate in the sink before proceeding to dive onto the sofa

'you didn't know what to do with cats? you just stroke us, dk.'

he follows suit, and you're propelled upwards due to the force that he lands on the sofa cushions with

'yeah, but it's different from how you stroke dogs. it doesn't matter, anyways, because i still got you to purr.'

he crosses his arms and smiles smugly

you throw back your head and laugh, realising why he looked so proud when he found the spot behind your ear

actually, you laugh so hard your stomach hurts, and it's only egged on by the small indignant noise that leaves him at your reaction

eventually, you need to catch your breath, and as you wipe the tears from your eyes, you glance over at dk

your heart lurches

he's staring

there's this look on his face, in his eyes, that burns

his lips are slightly parted, and suddenly the air between the two of you is charged in a way that makes your heartbeat pound loud in your ears

his gaze flicks down from your eyes, down to your mouth, then back up, and all of a sudden, you can't breathe

you can't even think as he leans closer, his breath ghosting over your lips

your head spins, fear and elation fighting for control

is he... is he going to kiss you?

his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his slender fingers warm and so undoubtedly right

like it's meant to be

'can i kiss you?'

his words come out so softly that you could almost believe you imagined them, if not for that look in his eyes

it's deep and immense, full of want, full of longing

it sweeps you up in its arms, promising you the love you only dare to dream of

it's beautiful

it's everything

also, it's fucking terrifying

panic grips your swelling heart and crushes it

he can't want you, he shouldn't - you're a hybrid, he's a human, it will never work, you'll just get hurt when he realises you're not good enough, when he realises how much harder it is to be associated with your kind, you can't disappoint him -

leaping off the sofa, you shift into cat form and sprint for the back door

you shoot right through the cat flap and run, legging it to the end of the garden and launching yourself over the fence

despite your speed, you still spare dk a backward glance

he sits, frozen on the sofa, his head turned towards you, eyes wide and bewildered

they're brimming with regret and what you'd like to imagine is sorrow

you never thought the ache of yearning in your chest would be returned, so you let it carve out a space for him in your heart

you didn't think he'd try to fill it, you didn't think he'd be dumb enough to want a hybrid like you

that night, you try to leave

you try to walk down the road, away from dk's house, away from dk and his comforting scent and warm hands

you can't

your soul seems tethered to his, and you can't bring yourself to cut the strings

you spend the night sitting in the garden next to his, tail curled around your paws, bathed in the glow of his kitchen lights that don't turn off until around three am in the morning

you shiver in the dark, fighting with yourself until you decide to go back, to talk it out with him because that's what he deserves

you hate to slink back to him after being such a coward, but you need him to know that you do want him, that if you were a human, if you were good enough for him, you would have kissed him in a heartbeat

quietly, you slip through the cat flap make your way into the guest room

it's changed so much since the first night you spent in it - dk moved most of the boxes out of it, making it your room, even though you sleep in his most of the time

there's a selfie of you and dk, wrapped up in blankets for movie night, and a group photo of you and the boys halfway through the most chaotic game of cards you've ever participated in

you're determined not to lose this, lose them

you're determined not to fuck this up more than you already have

quickly, you shift and change into your clothes, just to stand in the middle of the room, not entirely sure what to do with yourself

you remain there, silently fretting, until there's a soft tap on the door

your breath catches in your throat but you manage to wheeze out a somewhat convincing 'come in'

dk peeks in and leaves the door open - you're aware that he's left it that way to give you a clear escape route

he chews on his lip, running a hand through his hair, and you notice that he looks tired, as if he hasn't slept all night

'i heard you come in, and i just wanted to say that i... i'm sorry. i didn't mean to overstep the boundaries. i just - you're... i'm sorry i messed up. asking to, um, you know, wasn't a good idea on my part, i don't - i didn't know what i was doing, i kind of just...'

he sighs, looking at you sheepishly once he realises he was rambling

'please don't go?'

that's the moment you give in

you let go of it, of everything, and let yourself fly into freefall

stepping forward, you hook an arm around his neck, sinking your other hand into his hair, bringing his face down to yours to fit your lips to his

he makes a soft, awed noise, his fingers curling around your waist to press you closer to him

he tastes divine, like heaven, like the best kind of destiny

the feel of his lips against yours becomes everything you'll ever need

hesitantly, you begin to pull away, words already forming on your tongue, but then he darts forward to steal another sweet, sweet kiss from you, and then you're drowning in him again

he tangles his hands in your hair, his fingertips brushing over your ears, tracing their shape as if to show you that he doesn't care what you are

when he eventually breaks the kiss off, he presses a finger to your lips before you can draw a breath

'don't tell me i don't know what i'm getting into. i thought i lost you, i thought you were leaving, and i couldn't... please, just let me love you.'

he immediately cringes at his own words, and you let your head fall forward until your forehead rests against his chest, huffing out a laugh

'i'm sorry i freaked out before, i - i got scared. then i didn't know what to do so i just kind of ran. i didn't mean to scare you.'

he pouts cutely, in a way that makes you want to poke his cheeks

'well, you did. i - '

you cut him off with a kiss, just to taste him again if not to shut him up

his hands find your hips, drawing you closer to him

'i think i love you.'

the confession slips out of you, mumbled onto his lips before you can stop it, but all he does is smile into the kiss

'i think i love you too.'

when the boys find out, they tease dk mercilessly while somehow also hyping him up

seungcheol, jeonghan and hoshi all claim to have known about it from the start, although everyone knows hoshi is just saying that

jeonghan purposefully sits next to you just to quietly tell you about how he managed to get dk drunk enough one time for him to confess that he was in love with a cat

dk gets pouty about it later, so you kiss his face all over until he smiles again

in fact, he pretends to sulk a lot to get kisses from you

sometimes, you'll catch him just staring at you with a huge grin on his face

he makes a point to hold your hand in public, telling you that he's proud of having you

his sweet words make it easy for you to brush off the stares of the people on the bus, easy for you to ignore the way they whisper

sometimes dk kisses you and loudly calls you disgustingly sappy pet names in front of them, just out of spite

you realise now that they don't really bother you, not when dk doesn't care about them and not when he loves you the way he does - unconditionally

he shows it in the way he hangs onto your every word, in the way he cooks your favourite dishes for you, in the way he holds you, in the way he kisses you as if you're the most precious thing in the universe

you take every opportunity to show him how much you love him, too

hence why you're up early, cooking breakfast for dk

it's a saturday, and the sun leaking through the curtains woke you, even though it didn't even affect dk - he remained snoring beside you, his legs tangled with yours and his arms locked around your waist

you'd eased your way out of his grip and replaced yourself with a pillow, pressing a light kiss onto his forehead before shifting into your human form and pulling one of his t-shirts over your head

most nights, you sleep in your human form, but he'd been hogging the blankets so you'd shifted into your cat form in a desperate effort to make it easier for you to squirm into his blanket burrito

'what're you smiling about, huh?'

you almost drop the pancake you were transferring to a plate already heaped high and steaming with others

his arms wrap around your waist, and you sigh as he kisses your neck

'actually, i was thinking about how rude it was of you to steal the blankets last night, you sneaky little bastard.'

'hmm, my bad.'

he nips at your neck before his tongue flicks out to brush over the same spot

his hands wrap around your hips, and you sigh noncommittally as he sneaks his fingers under the hem of your - his - t-shirt

'babe, the pancakes will get cold - '

'don't care.'

you don't even try to shake him off as he continues to kiss at your neck from behind, nudging the collar of your shirt to the side so he can suck a hickey onto your shoulder

the air of the kitchen is cold on your bare legs, but he's nice and warm and solid, and you lean back into him, eyes closing as he laves his tongue over your skin

a low purr emnates from deep in your chest, and you feel him pause at your back

'that's never happened before,'

'and?'

'it was kind of hot.'

you huff out a laugh, but it's cut off as he spins you around, gripping your chin so he can kiss you

dk kisses you passionately, like he woke up with the one desire to taste every inch of your mouth, his teeth grazing dizzyingly over your lower lip

he grins against you when you moan at the feel of his tongue against yours

hooking your arms over his shoulders, you draw him closer

picking you up, he deposits you on the island, not breaking the kiss

he slots himself between your legs, his fingers skimming over the tops of your thighs, pushing the hem of your shirt a little higher

hooking an ankle around his hip, you nestle your heel in the small of his back, nudging him closer

something in your stomach pulls wonderfully tight when you feel the grind of his hardening cock against your clothed cunt

he chuckles at the involuntary noise that leaves you, one of his hands coming up to cup your breasts as he leans down, palms dragging down the length of your thighs as he hooks them over his shoulders

he helps you shimmy out of your underwear, chucking them carelessly over his shoulder

and then, just like that, he's got his mouth between your legs, spreading your pussy with his fingers, his eyes disarmingly guileless

his tongue is divinely velvet as he sweeps it through your folds

he tastes you as if your essence is the nectar of the gods, teasing the pleasure out of your body, holding your trembling thighs up with his big hands

as you come, convulsing around his tongue, he looks up at you with stars in his eyes, as if you're a goddess

it's ridiculous, the way he can make your heart flutter while fucking eating you out like a man starved

he straightens, kisses you with honey drenched lips that bear a virtuous smile, and lifts you up in his arms so he can make love to you on the sofa

he makes your eyes roll, makes your toes curl, makes you cry his name, sets you alight with his touch

and when he sends you over the edge, coming with you, when he scoops you up in his arms, sets you on the bathroom sink to clean you up, when he kisses you in the shower, you know one thing

you are willingly trapped in his gravity; you orbit him as if he is the star at the centre of the universe, yet somehow he looks at you with a light in his eyes, like you are the sun, the warmth on his skin, the reason for life

you love this man, irrevocably so, and somehow, miraculously, he loves you back

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