#emphasis on male OR female

[princessofhollywood]

“Johansson has become Hollywoods highest grossing star, male or female”

[wonder-worker]

"Contemporaries acknowledged Bertha of Lotharingia's political ambitions and supraregional influence. Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus called her “the great Bertha” (τῆς μεγάλης Βέρτας) and highlighted that she reigned on her own (ἐβασίλευσεν) for several years after her husband’s death. ['Bertha’s quest for power also seems to have prompted contemporaries [...] to harshly polemicize against her in particular and against women striving for power in general.'] Liutprand of Cremona describes her negatively as a highly influential and scheming political actor, whereas the contemporary Gesta Berengarii accuses “the Beast of the Tyrrhenian, lifted up as usual by poison” and “pouring wild hisses from the mouth” of having impeded Berengar’s imperial coronation, among other things by employing “the wealth of neighboring Charybdis." [Bertha has also been identified by scholars as the figure likened to the sorceress "Circe", who the Gesta condemned for allegedly corrupting Berengar's wife with "venomous words"]. Much more positively, the epitaph on Bertha’s gravestone in the church of San Martino in Lucca underscores Bertha’s royal and imperial Carolingian pedigree as well as her transregional prestige and influence."

-Daniel G. König, "Bertha of Tuscany's Correspondence with al-Muktafī bi-llāh in the Version of Ibn al-Zubayr."

[vonkarma2]

on here the arcane tag is all jayvik posting. whereas on the reddit the top posts are all like memes about the plot or something + I would say majority are about the female characters its bechdel test central over there. and all the thirst comments are about caitvi. it makes the reddit seem so feminist it’s crazy

[heebsjeebs]

Is there a lolita to ftm pipeline or what the fuck is going on?

[celeryw]

god sometimes i forget how rampant homophobia is in like manhwa communities and then i see the comment sections

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

tfw a thing about your gender, and the seemingly unfitting terminology you've always felt most comfortable with, FINALLY clicks and you feel like you just discovered a fuckin prophecy twist

[purple-is-great]

i should be writing job applications but instead i just sent an email to the headquarters of Lidl Finland asking why they require you to select your gender on the job application form, reminding them that it is irrelevant and could very easily be used for discrimination

[euthymiya]

“Did you know—”

“I don’t care,” Sukuna interrupts, wholly disinterested. It’s half past three—(which is, of course, his fault, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less tired).

But you, wholly uncaring, promptly ignore him. “—That some female spiders eat the male ones after mating?”

“What do you want me to do with this information?” He looks at you irritably, glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. You flash him a grin—it’s a mischievous little thing, your lips curled in a cheeky, flirty way that warns him silently that he’s about to risk popping another vein. He seems to do that around you quite often, and it certainly feels like it’s underway once more.

(And, as it always is, his intuition would be right).

“It’s a warning,” you hum.

He snorts, raising a clearly disbelieving brow as he hums, “oh yeah? For what? Are you gonna—wha-hey!”

Not a lot catches Sukuna off guard. You giggle as he barks out a surprised yelp of your name, harshly shoving you away from his chest. There’s a nice, fresh, very crystal and very clear outline of your teeth marked right on the flesh surrounding his nipple.

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks incredulously.

You let out a soft, amused little giggle that sounds through the room before he feels your weight shift and fall onto him, making him grunt as his arms steady you and his eyes stare up at your hovering face with an agitated purse of his lips.

“I’m eating you,” you say cheekily, “see?” For emphasis, you leave an equally as shocking bite to his bicep, your head leaning down to get a mouthful of his bare arm. He lets out a low, startled grunt before one large and very firm hand grabs the back of your neck and yanks you off.

“Have you completely lost it?” He hisses.

“We just mated—”

“Who on Earth talks about sex like that? We are not animals who—”

“—And now I’m going to eat you after mating. Like a female spider.”

“If you’re going to be weird, just go the fuck to sleep,” he grumbles lowly.

Sukuna is tired.

(And yes, the reason is partly because he’s a bit inexhaustible once he’s felt the velvet heat of your walls, and yes, it’s technically his own greediness that’s worn him out so physically for the night. But that’s all been the cost for something of greater benefit to him. Something he doesn’t exactly mind draining his energy for.

Bur your odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird schemes are not a part of the list of things he’s willing to sacrifice his energy for. There isn’t much pleasure in entertaining your nonsense most of the time.

If anything, there’s pain—the stinging bite marks on his skin can attest to that.)

“I’m not tired,” you hum.

“Then let me make you tired,” he offers smugly, lips tugging into a cocky grin as he looks up at you.

“If you didn’t manage that the first time, what makes you think that’ll work the second?” You tease.

He doesn’t seem to like that very much, because with a growl, he pushes the back of your neck until your face falls into the crook of his neck, a strong, bulky arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place against his body.

It’d be awfully intimate, and awfully sweet if he didn’t mumble, “I love when you sleep because it’s the only few hours of the day I get to hear you shut the fuck up.”

“Maybe if you’d just appreciated my fun fact—”

“You bit my fucking nipple.”

“I could bite the other one, too, if you want,” you pipe up with an excited grin. He can feel it pressed against his skin as your face buries deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Sukuna is tired. Most of the time, it’s because of you. All of the time, he chooses to allow it because he likes having you around for a good fuck.

(And, of course, there’s all that bullshit about love and affection, too. But that’s just that odd stuff you like to babble about—that odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird emotional part of you that somehow ropes him into being the same way every once in a while.

He doesn’t like it.)

“You need a lobotomy,” he mutters, wincing when you bite the skin of his neck in response. Not in a manner he likes, either—very much in a manner that makes sure he feels the sharpness of your incisors.

“Don’t be rude,” you scold, “I’m biologically meant to be your predator.”

“You biologically give me fuckin’ migraines.”

You grin—it’s a smile that’s easy. Smooth. Maybe a little giddy, too. It comes out only around Sukuna. Him and his gruff, rugged way of accepting your affection, and his double as rough and crude way of giving it back. His callused hands and toughened knuckles that brush along your cheeks carefully. His crass and undignified words that are carefully thought out enough to never cross the line. His downturned lips and narrowed eyes that only ever soften at the sharp corners around you.

“Next time, I’ll eat you for sure,” you murmur, settling against his chest and getting comfortable. He wraps both arms around you, warm and tight enough that you almost think you can forgo the blanket altogether. “Assert my dominance.”

“You can’t even open the pickle jar.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s only a matter of time until natural selection gets you,” he snickers quietly. You huff, biting back a smile as he yawns.

Gently, with a kiss over the bite mark you left against his neck, you say softly, “goodnight. Love you.”

“Night.”

“I love you.”

“For the love of—love you too, holy fuck. Go to sleep.”

[teaboot]

transandrophobia isnt real the way transmisogyny is real because thats not how intersectionality works. transmisogyny is specifically the intersection of oppression transfemmes face of transphobia and misogyny. for transandrophobia to be real, androphobia itself would have to be real. men are not an oppressed class. there is no systemic disenfranchisement men face for being men when living in a patriarchal society. transmascs absolutely face transphobia, and there are certain aspects of transphobia that may be different between transmascs and transfemmes, but that is not transandrophobia.

This is a fantastic explanation for why the term faces skepticism and I appreciate it because it's finally made the argument against it click for me

The remaining issue is, I don't have a different word to use when I specifically reference "transphobia that is distinctly directed towards trans men in ways that combine transphobia bioessentialism and mysoginy, that is similar to but also slightly different from that which is directed towards trans women" that still acknowleges that trans men are not women

IE, "You're not a man, you just hate facing oppression as a woman", "You're not trans, you just have internalized mysoginy", "You don't have to be a man to accomplish your goals, You're just pretending to be one so you don't have to face female gender discrimination", "Transitioning to male means you're eager to oppress women", "Now that you're a man you don't have to deal with mysoginy or gender-based violence", etc

I think the men's rights movement is bullshit, don't get me wrong, but walking around being an openly trans man, emphasis on trans man and not just man, seems to read to a lot of people as "female gender-traitor pervert", and I don't have the VOCABULARY for that experience

[cosmicdahlias]

And They Were Roommates

Logan Howlett x Reader

MINORS DNI

Your roommate, Wade Wilson, brings home an alcoholic Canadian bastard with knifes in his knuckles. After a month of putting up with him, an argument between you two goes in an unexpected direction.

tags: hard drugs mention, marijuana mention, alcohol usage, age difference, enemies to lovers, slapping, claws, hate fucking, mdom/fsub, breeding, degradation, praise kink, belt usage, choking, p in v, knifeplay (counting claw usage as knifeplay lmao), blood, creampie, possible impreg, aftercare, oral, multiple orgasms (emphasis on multiple), overstimulation

i’ve recently started watching the xcu movies after deadpool and wolverine dropped on disney+ and MY GODDDDDD have i been missing out!!! i’ve been an mcu girlie for so long (plus deadpool). the x-men movies are so fun but alsoooooo uhhhh hugh jackman as logan??? HELLO??? i need this man biblically like it’s not even funny. i have yet to watch logan (2017) but i’ve seen edits on tiktok and WHOA MAMA talk about a silver fox!!! also fun fact male wolverines bite down on the female’s neck during mating and i couldn’t resist including that in this fic. animalistic logan is THE BEST logan 👌

You were Wade Wilson’s friend turned roommate. You first knew each other through your other roommate, Althea, a blind woman who went by Al. At one point in time you were Al’s dealer before giving up that life once you got your degree and found steady employment. You never dabbled in the devil’s dandruff like Al did, as with the rest of gen Z, your drug of choice was weed. Your friends often asked why you chose an old woman and a mutant in his forties as roommates, but honestly rent was cheap and that was all you cared about.

You hadn’t seen Wade in a few days, he mysteriously disappeared during his birthday party. Neither you, nor any of his friends had any idea what had happened to him. You knew he’d kinda hit a rough’ish point in his life, giving up his assassin alter ego by the name of Deadpool for becoming a car salesman. You wondered if he had gone off on some sort of bender, but you honestly didn’t know.

You had just gotten off of work and opened the door to your apartment. Getting home took longer than expected, half of your street was cordoned off, from the damage looked like a bombing was the cause. You sat on the couch and pulled out your phone, trying to see if the local news had covered what had happened when door unlocked and swung open.

Wade walked in, sporting the iconic red suit you hadn’t seen him wear in six years. He was carrying the most… unique looking dog you’d ever seen and he was accompanied by a man with a rugged appearance who was wearing pants of similar material as Wade’s suit and nothing else. The stench of blood permeated the room.

“Al, I’m back.” Wade said.

“She’s out. Dude, where the hell have you been?” You asked.

“Oh no big deal, just saved the entire multiverse from total annihilation. I’m Marvel Jesus now.” Wade answered.

You elected to ignore his explanation. You never knew why you asked what he’d gotten up to whenever he wore that suit, none of it ever made a lick of sense to you.

“Who’s the dog?”

“Her? This four legged scrotum is Mary Puppins, or as I like to call her, Dogpool. Something… unfortunate happened to her last owner, so I’m her papá now.” Wade said cheerfully.

Knowing him, he definitely had something to do with whatever happened to her previous owner, but that wasn’t what you were asking about.

“Cute, but I was talking about the washed up Abercrombie & Fitch greeter next to you.”

The man rolled his eyes.

“Ohhhh, yeah that’s Logan. He’s gonna be crashing here for a while.”

“Wait, hold the fuck up. You disappear for days and you just show up in the suit you haven’t worn in years, reeking of blood, telling me some shirtless dude who also smells like blood is gonna live here like it’s no big deal?”

“Well funny thing is he doesn’t exactly know anyone else around here, not really his fault since I had to pull him from his universe and bring him here to save ours. May or may not have done so to a choir rendition of Madonna. You know, typical multiverse stuff and whatnot. I mean we’re Disney property now and that’s the horse they’re beating to death at the moment.” Wade answered.

Once again ignoring the exposition dump, you continued to protest.

“You can’t be serious, Wade! This is a two bed apartment. You and Al already share a room, so where the fuck are you gonna put him?”

“Isn’t that a couch you’re sitting on?” Logan scoffed.

“Oh perfect, so I can’t even use the goddam living room anymore?” You asked, growing even more irritated by Logan’s input.

“Jesus, you’re just a fuckin’ princess, aren’t you?” Logan huffed.

You glared at him before turning your attention back to Wade.

“Do I literally not get a say in this like at all? Even though I live here and pay my share of the rent?”

“Look, I promise it’s temporary. Just until he gets his footing in this universe. It won’t be so bad, I mean look him, total eye candy.” Wade said, gripping Logan’s face and turning his head to you.

Logan gave him a look that could kill. Long metal claws sprung out from just below his knuckles. Your eyes widened.

“THE FUCK ARE THOSE?” You shouted.

“Riiiiiiiight, so those are adamantium claws. They ain’t vibranium, but hey, can’t always be the number one. He’s a bonafide animal, in more ways than one, maybe you’ll find out for yourself.” Wade said, you could tell he was winking underneath his mask.

“The fuck do you mean by that?” Logan growled.

“Yeah, what?” You asked.

“Hey, I know sexual tension when I see it.” Wade retorted.

“I literally just met him.” You said.

“Yeah and with Hugh Jackman’s face and body, the time between introduction and need for face riding is a matter of seconds.” Wade said.

You gave a quick glance at Logan. Sure, he was incredibly attractive, but you sensed a sort of emotional unavailability that put you off. You had standards.

“You know my type and he’s not it, Wade.” You insisted.

“Forget type, he’s THE Wolverine. You know how many fanfics people read about this guy? Lookin’ at you, reader.” Wade said.

“Whatever, I’m not getting into a debate over my preferences for men.” You said, walking to your room and slamming the door.

“I think that went well.” Wade said.

-

A month had passed and much to your dismay, you were still being forced to share the apartment with Logan. At the very least he’d upgraded to wearing a shirt instead of walking around with his top half exposed.

After getting home from an exhausting shift at work, you opened the fridge, looking for the bottle of wine you saved for those evenings after a particularly long day. It was nowhere to be seen and you immediately knew who the culprit was.

“For fuck’s sake, Logan!” You shouted.

You headed to the living room to confront what was supposed to be your temporary roommate who sat on the couch.

“Christ, what now?” He groaned.

“Where the fuck is my wine?”

“Hm? Oh that? Yeah, it’s gone.” He answered dismissively, almost like taking time to respond or even look at you was beneath him.

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep your barely functioning alcoholic ass away from my stuff?”

“Didn’t see your name on it.”

“I specifically told you not to touch that fucking bottle multiple times.”

“Must’ve not been able to distinguish what you said from your typical bitching, I usually just tune that shit out.” He said, still not making eye contact with you.

“Jesus you really have no respect for anyone.” You spat.

Logan stood, coming in way too close for your liking.

“Respect? That’s a really funny word coming from someone who doesn’t respect themselves enough to not wear short little skirts like the one you’re wearing, bending over all the time to show off that ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh you fuckin’ heard me. You think I don’t see what you’re doing with the clothes you wear, or when you come out in the morning in nothing but a shirt and panties because you think I’m asleep and won’t notice?”

“Back the fuck up, the hell do you mean by ‘think’ you’re asleep?”

“I barely sleep enough as it is, I’m awake the second I hear your door open. You have any idea what seeing you like that does to me?”

You blushed.

“You’re fucking disgusting.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Please, you do it because you hope I’m watching you. I see the way you look at me. You can say you hate me all you fuckin’ want, but I can smell your goddam pheromones from across the room. I’ve been around for over two centuries and have more than enough experience to know when someone wants me. Especially when they’re acting like as much of a slut as y-“

You slapped him hard across the face. Logan immediately responded by pushing you up against the wall, unsheathing his claws and holding them under your chin. Neither of you said anything, the only sounds being a mix of him and you panting in anger.

Fuck, you had really grown to hate him, but something about his claws so dangerously close to you was playing into your kinks. You stole a glance down under, holy shit he was hard. You grabbed him by the face, kissing him aggressively. His claws retracted and he let his hands travel to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Mmf- fuckin’ knew it.” He said between kisses.

Logan picked you up by the underside of your thighs and carried you to your bedroom, his lips never once leaving you. He threw you down onto the bed, pulling your shirt over your head and unhooking your bra, tossing it aside. He took in the sight of your exposed chest.

“You’re such a pretty little thing, babygirl.”

His rough, calloused hand cupped your breast. He leaned down and you gave a yelp as he bit and tugged your nipple.

Logan chuckled. “Sensitive, aren’t you?”

You kissed him as you pulled his shirt off and traced your fingers along the dip between his abs. He unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans and slipping them off. Your eyes widened at the size of his cock, he laughed at your reaction.

“Yeah, like it don’t you?” He smirked.

“How the hell am I supposed to enjoy this if you’re gonna tear me in half?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it like that, I can tell you like it rough.”

“That’s a bold assumption to make.”

“Yeah? Keep telling yourself that.”

Logan pulled off your skirt and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties, slipping them down your legs. He looked at your pussy with pure animalistic lust.

“Fuuuck babygirl, look how wet you already are for me. You got it that bad for older men, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You retorted.

“Oh I don’t have to, the way you’re dripping says more than enough.”

“Just shut up and fuck me already.”

You laid back on the bed with your head against the pillow and Logan flipped you over on your stomach, pulling you up to your hands and knees.

“No, you don’t get missionary. You act like a bitch? You’re getting fucked like one.”

Logan reached for his belt, he raised it, bringing it down sharply on your ass, making you squeal.

“This is what you get for being such a fuckin’ brat. From now on you call me ‘sir’, understand?”

“Like hell I will.“

He lashed you again.

“Keep talking back and see what happens. Now, what do you say?”

“Y- yes sir.”

“There you go. I’ll be nicer if you listen to me… maybe.”

Logan looped the belt around your neck.

“I’m keeping you on a leash in case you continue making smart comments.” He smirked.

“As if that’s gonna shut m- hrrrk!”

He pulled it tight, the leather dug into your skin and constricted your throat. The most you could get out was a strained moan.

“Got nothin’ to say to me now, huh? C’mon, tell me how much you hate me.” Logan mocked as he pulled harder.

You looked back at him and mouthed “fuck you”.

He laughed. “Oh I will.”

He pressed the tip of his cock against your slit for a fraction of a second before sharply forcing his full length deep inside you, causing you to cry out as his intimidating girth stretched you wide. He began to fuck you at a ruthless pace, the sounds of your yelps and squeaks filling the room.

“Poor thing, am I hurting you? It’s okay, I’m only fucking you senseless.” He teased.

His free hand gripped your ass, nails digging into your skin.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight. It’s like your little pussy was made for my cock.” He grunted.

Logan leaned down, sucking your neck, leaving mark after mark, his hand letting the belt loosen.

“You’re gonna look so pretty all marked up by me.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Are you seriously giving me hickeys? Really? What are you thirtee- ngh!”

Logan pulled tight on his belt again, keeping you from finishing your snide remark.

His thrusts became more aggressive, and as much as your feelings about Logan confused you, his cock felt incredible. You moved yourself back on him and he growled in approval.

“Yeah that’s it, take this fat cock like a perfect little slut. So good for me.”

He let go of the belt, both hands moving to your hips. His pace became punishingly fast and brutal. Between his growls and the way he fucked you like a dog, he honestly seemed more animal than man.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ breed you, I don’t care if you’re on the pill or not.”

You whimpered and tightened around him at his words. He smirked.

“Oh you like that?”

You nodded.

“Yeah? You wanna get knocked up? Tell me you want it, babygirl. Lemme hear you say it.”

“I need you to cum in me, get me pregnant. Please.” You begged.

He stopped his thrusts with only his head remaining inside you. He grabbed you by the throat and pulled you up against him, pressing his chest to your back.

“Please, what?” He commanded.

“Please, sir.”

He shoved you down onto the mattress and slammed himself fully back inside you, immediately resuming his vicious pace.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

He panted like a wild animal, his claws slowly extending as he grew close.

“S- shit, sorry. Happens sometimes.” He said.

You tightened around him.

“Use them on me, hurt me, sir. Please, I need it so bad.” You whined.

“Goddam, you’re a fuckin’ freak. Aren’t ya, babygirl?”

He raked his claws down your back, you moaned obscenely loud as pearls of blood formed from the long slits he’d created. The mere sensation of it all immediately caused you to cum on his cock. The feeling of you pulsing around his shaft pushed him over the edge. He grunted as he buried himself to the hilt and leaned over, biting down hard on your neck, capillaries breaking under your skin. His cock throbbed with every rope of cum he shot into you.

“Fuuuuckin’ Christ, it’s not often I find someone that’s as into the hardcore stuff as me.” He chuckled.

Your whole body shook and you collapsed onto the mattress on your stomach. Logan removed his belt from your neck and got off the bed.

“Stay there, don’t move.” He said, pulling on his jeans and leaving the room.

He returned five or so minutes later with gauze, a roll of medical tape, and a wet hand towel.

“Had to really dig around for some of this stuff, when two out of four roommates regenerate there’s not a real demand.“

Logan got back onto the bed, sitting next to you.

“So what’s it like? To not heal immediately?” He asked as he dabbed at the blood on your back.

“I dunno, I never really thought about it. I guess you just deal with the pain for a few days, weeks, or months depending on what it is until it’s fine again.”

Logan chuckled.

“Sometimes I forget just how fragile everyone else is, until the world reminds me of it again and then…” He trailed off.

You could tell there was a heaviness to the latter half of his words, you knew why. Wade had told you that in Logan’s universe (a concept which took weeks for you to fully grasp) every single one of his fellow mutants had been murdered. You didn’t know the details, but you didn’t need to for you to understand why he was the way that he was. You looked up at him.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You said softly.

“What do you-“ his brow furrowed. “What did Wade tell you?” He growled as he covered his claw marks with gauze.

“Don’t get mad, I just- I wanted to know why you act like-“

“A dick?” He scoffed, pulling out a few inches of medical tape from the roll.

“Like someone with severe trauma.”

He went silent and looked away from your gaze as he finished adding the last line of tape to secure the gauze.

“…You’re all patched up.”

You moved to get up and dress yourself, but Logan wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back onto the mattress.

“No, c’mere. Lay back for me.”

“Do I still have to call you ‘sir’?

“It’s alright, you can call me ‘Logan’ again. This is about making you feel good, not me. I think I owe you one for being such a good girl.”

You laid with your head against the pillow and Logan began to kiss his way down the length of your body until his head was between your thighs. His lips were so close to your pussy that you could feel the heat of his breath.

“Didn’t peg you for the kinda guy that gives head.”

“You thought wrong. I’m eating this pussy until you’re shaking for me.”

His lips met your clit, his tongue rolling and circling it. You moaned and tangled your fingers in his hair.

“Fuckin’ Christ, your scent is addictive.” He growled against you, making you shudder as the deep vibrations went straight to your clit.

You bucked your hips and he moved his hands to them, keeping you in place.

“Eeeeasy there. I know it feels good, but you can’t move around like that if I’m gonna eat you out, babygirl.”

He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them at just the right spot to absolutely send you over the edge. Your breath shuddered as you tightened around him.

“That’s it. C’mon, be a good girl and cum for me.”

You gripped his hair harder as you came undone on his tongue, pulsing around his fingers.

“Fuuuuuck, Logan!”

Your back arched off the bed, he pressed a hand to your stomach, holding you down.

“No, I’m not done with you yet.”

He continued sucking and licking your clit, his fingers fucking you hard and fast. You shook, feeling a second orgasm build. Your head cocked back as all of the nerves in your body ignited in pleasure for a second time. You expected Logan to remove his mouth, but he kept going.

“Fuck, I can’t stop. You’re just too goddam perfect when you cum.”

You moaned loudly, your clit throbbing in his mouth as you came for a third time, cursing like a sailor and writhing against his tongue.

“You doing good there, babygirl?” Logan asked.

“Uh-huh.” You murmured.

At some point everything went hazy and you lost track of just how many times he’d made you cum. The more you had, the quicker the next one came, until it was one immediately after another. You were a shaking, stuttering mess.

“L- Logan, I ca- an’t keep going. I- it’s too m- much.”

“Shhh, you’re okay. Just one more time, I promise.”

He pumped his fingers relentlessly, his tongue working your clit at an equally vigorous pace. Every muscle in your body tensed as the most intense orgasm you had ever felt in your life rocked you to your very core and everything went white for a moment.

“Ohhhhh godddd, Logan. You’re gonna fucking kill meeee.” You groaned.

Logan moved himself to get on top of you, kissing you deeply.

“I’m sorry babygirl. I know I pushed you hard, but you did so well for me.” He whispered softly, holding your face in his hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He laid next to you, pulling you to him, his chest pressed against your back as your post orgasm haze finally subsided.

“Never saw you as the cuddling type.” You said.

“Depends on how I feel about whoever I’m fucking, and unfortunately for me I’m starting to actually like you.”

“And what did I do to deserve that?”

“Well, you’re still a total bitch, but you’re actually pretty sweet when you want to be. I like you that way though, makes things interesting. I’ll admit when you slapped me I got so fuckin’ hard.”

“So, you’re saying I should slap you more often?”

“I’m not saying no, but just expect to lose the ability to walk after I fuck it out of you.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Good. Now, there’s something you should know. Regeneration doesn’t just mean that I heal quickly.” He said, pressing the hard bulge in his jeans against you.

“Holy shit, so… we could fuck all night without stopping?”

“Exactly.”

“Then what the hell are we doing just lying here?”

Logan turned you onto your back, getting on top of you.

“Attagirl, let’s fuckin’ go.”

-

The two of you spent the whole night fucking like rabbits nonstop. When morning came you made your way to the kitchen. Logan followed, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind as you made yourself a cup of coffee. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent.

“I hope you know I’m never gonna get enough of you.” He said, his hands traveling underneath your shirt to your breasts.

“I swear, you’re hornier than a dog that hasn’t had his balls chopped off.” You teased.

“Yeah and you love it.”

“There you go with the assumptions again, you’re so right though.” You purred, turning to him.

“I know I am.”

His lips met yours and he lifted you onto the counter. You laced your fingers in his hair and wrapped your legs around him. Both of you were too focused on each other to notice the sound of a door opening. Wade walked out from the room he shared with Al carrying Mary Puppins.

“Judging by the NC-17 noises I heard all night I’m guessing you two had fun.” Wade said, causing you to jump and pull away from Logan.

“For fuck’s sake, do you not know when to leave people alone?” Logan huffed.

“Oh c’mon peanut, you know boundaries aren’t my forte. It’s my toxic trait.”

Logan glared at him.

“Alright alright, I can take a hint. Just try not to get any fluids on the appliances. I certainly don’t mind a little Wolvie in my coffee, but I don’t think Al would appreciate it.” Wade said, heading back to his room.

Logan turned his attention back to you, his lips brushing against yours.

“Now, babygirl, where were we?”

[poobit]

i have many thoughts on how Mouthwashing handles the themes of abuse and the symbolism around it especially as a survivor ... im not gnna hold back so -

first of all i think since its clear the point Jimmy is dismissive of Anya´s personhood and his perception is warped towards what he does as a Captain rather than what he does as a man, it makes sense she doesnt get her own labyrinth or such , i cant argue around that because its realistic he´s so male focused he cant even bother to truly think about what he did to her, i would love it if Wrong Organ decides to do a side story vignette of her own perspective and view in the future if the game proves its successful enough for side content like that.

Assault is something usually not handled with subtlety in games, i think what struck me the most was how real the dialogue of her coping and suicidal ideations and how Curly responded to it felt , the dancing around the subject, the deflection, the "whats next" of the ever impending consequence of pregnancy, how Anya pleads for help from the person she trusts but nonetheless a man unequipped and too emotionally attached to the abuser to be able to confront him, its so real, Curly´s lack of initiative is something Jimmy fully takes advantage of the moment things dont go his way, he turns everyone against him even as a helpless body on a bed because he needed to be in control of the situation, thats what abusers do.

A more sensationalistic game would have easily played Anya´s helplessness and assault for shock for sure, because it would be easy, she is the archetypical victim trope, shes modeled in Wendy Torrance likeness from The Shining, shes meek and unsure of herself and Jimmy shoots her down from the very beginning to make her feel unqualified and cornered, but the furthest the games goes is making Jimmy terror towards the pregnancy and the baby as a boogeyman that crawls and tramples over him. No sights of bleeding legs or her crying or screaming and much less present objectification of her body (which is something that i always think the horror genre has such a struggle not grabbing onto, sexuality is mostly always played up in assault stories especially if the victim is an adult woman), she remains a fully clothed figure and maintains the agency to her own demise, away from Jimmy and beside Curly, which is tragic and obviously still a symptom of horror´s proclivity to back female characters into corners of self inflicted punishment, but the alternative would have been that sooner or later, Jimmy would have killed her.

Its clear to me that the game used Curly´s state as a way to put a barrier between Jimmy and Anya, we dont objectify Anya, but we objectify Curly, Anya doesnt just feel pained and unable to handle Curly´s medication because shes in a sensitive state, her comments about his noises and such draws a line between her trauma and her perception of things as Her fault, she cant handle hearing his struggles and cries trying to swallow a pill because it reminds her of her own helplessness, so she leaves the task to Jimmy, someone who has no qualms in forcing someone down, the emphasis of every treatment as a repetitive process and the sound design is all very poignant and for me, a great way to handle assault as a metaphor, Curly did not consent to being in this position, it is very much still Jimmy´s fault and the fact that Jimmy is basically keeping him alive against his will even to the last moment of the game says everything, Jimmy doesnt love Curly the same way he doesnt love Anya.

The horses are not lost on me, i think horses as animals are often seen as "viril" symbols, strong and often volatile, they can be often hard to mount but when one does the rider and animal are seen as this one all powerful entity, like centaurs, which also carry symbolism of assaulters mind you, so while maybe not intentional on the dev´s part i think it still points to the Horse as a symbol still important in the game, the only spoken audio lines of dialog come from the Pony Express mascot Polle itself, and they are the first to actually confront Jimmy´s self centered line of thought and over-focusing on Curly, if the Tulpar is akin to a beast of a burden then Jimmy beat the dead horse way long ago.

All in this to say that Mouthwashing was a really good experience and i really hope the dev team is interested on expanding a bit more on it because i trust their vision.

[ayaahh00]

Men assert themselves as the more rational sex, prioritizing science and data over emotions. However, when presented with factual data that challenges their misogynistic beliefs or false narratives that boost their fragile male ego, their commitment to data and facts tends to vanish. For instance, if confronted with statistics from a survey of 3000 men, anonymously revealing that 75% admitted they would engage in relationships with minors if they wouldn't get caught, men will resort to mental gymnastics to deny or rationalize the findings. Similarly, when shown scientific evidence demonstrating that the female human brain typically has larger prefrontal cortex, orbitofrontal cortex, superior temporal cortex, lateral parietal cortex, insula, and hippocampus compared to males, the emphasis on rationality and data-driven arguments diminishes. Meanwhile, women leaders demonstrate significantly higher scores across all five Creative Dimensions, excelling in their ability to connect and build relationships with others, as well as in demonstrating authenticity and awareness of systems.

[taliabhattwrites]

The Sexed Regime, or: You Probably Have the Wrong Critiques of "TME/TMA" Terminology

Let's begin by looking at an interesting dichotomy.

There's an oddly pervasive idea in queer spaces that a truly progressive trans or post-gender politic underscores the irrelevance of sex. In contrast to patriarchal society's utter fixation on "natal sex", queer existence must be transcendent, a space in which one's bodily configuration is understood to be entirely under one's purview, where presentation is simply something we inhabit and implies nothing about our sexualities or embodiments. It is an idea of emancipation rooted in agnosticism, an anti-patriarchal revolution spurred by the lack of belief in our cissexist society's deranged emphasis on knowing what's in our pants at all times.

It's a very appealing idea, I'll admit.

Here's the thing, though.

The naturalization of sex is the foundation of patriarchy, as well as the basis of the heterosexual regime it instantiates. Humanity is cleft in twain, with one sex marked for reproductive-sexual exploitation by the other. Like most other regimes, this one is also powered by belief--belief in the superiority of the 'male sex', the unfitness of the 'female sex', and most of all: absolute belief that sex is immutable, exhaustively binary, and non-overlapping.

What this also means, ultimately, is that those of us who dare to desert the sex we were conscripted into face different pressures and violence. It is obvious that many trans people are also subject to reproductive injustice, as cis women are, and consequently the transphobia they face is very acutely a regendering impulse, a patriarchal desire to drag them back to the confines of womanhood to fulfill their patriarchal purpose. There is, understandably, a certain amount of solidarity between cis women and trans people who have suffered these aspects of the heterosexual regime.

This is in fact the understanding that gives rise to even liberal-progressive uses of 'male socialization' directed at transfems. Trans women are understood to have been spared certain excesses of misogynistic violence and therefore expected to see and approach the world differently. It is simply a neutral observation, of course, no judgment behind it ... well, until it comes time to deny trans women epistemic authority over experiences of misogyny or womanhood, even their own. After all, can transfems really be said to have a full understanding of patriarchy? They weren't 'raised AFAB'!

Oftentimes, this becomes a double bind of proving that transfems did experience trauma, feminization, and abuse even pretransition, often as children, which is then usually dismissed as "trauma dumping" or "equating womanhood to being abused"--despite the minimization of our experiences being predicated on our "lesser" understanding of the trauma of being "misogyny-affected". So let's not retread that.

Instead, I'll point out that people assume a symmetry, a complementarian equivalence, almost, between the experiences of trans people. What I would like to stress is that there is no such thing as a coherent "AMAB" class or a shared "AMAB solidarity" based on shared experiences of oppression, because I have some shocking news that readers may wish to sit down for:

Trans women are oppressed by cis men.

Cis men are overwhelmingly the ones who rape us, beat us, kill us, and seek to abuse us. When we were children, we were bullied and violated for our perceived effeminacy, largely by the cis boys we were most proximate to. Most of us have been around cis men when they've voiced their most dehumanizing, misogynistic thoughts about women, and have been punished for not participating in these rituals of misogynistic rhetoric, too. The trauma of our upbringing involves being locked into spaces with those who sniffed out our differences, our non-conformance, and routinely punished us for being deviant. When we grow up, they are the ones who largely continue to prey on us.

The chief characteristic of transmisogyny is the presumed artificiality of trans womanhood, the idea that we are mimetics, and our womanhood is a farce, a costume whose only purpose is sexual. This dovetails with our disposability--our inability to be women who can bear children, further patrilineality, and secure what minuscule respectability is afforded to the domestically-confined women who continue the male line. As such, our hyperfetishization marks us for extreme violence, as sexual objects that can be freely used and discarded, guilt-free, because after all ... We asked for it.

Why would we "choose" womanhood if we did not want this?

Which, ultimately, brings me to my point: Sex is a social regime of difference imposed on us, but it is, unfortunately, a regime still in existence. My sex is the basis upon which my womanhood is denied and my disposability justified, because the transfeminized are degendered--we are not, as a rule, provided a path "back" to manhood. Our "effeminacy" ensures that we are 'failed' men, because gender is ultimately hierarchal. Losing status, being unmanned, is frankly trivial, and is what underlies the oppression of queer men--trans men included. Most of us are ultimately subject to some kind of degendering, largely due to how a patriarchal society regards those who defy the reproductive mandate, but transmisogyny is a specific manifestation of degendering that trans women experience.

"TME/TMA" may well be an imperfect categorization--all undertakings in boundary formation are imprecise, though not always violent, given that we need descriptive terms to communicate--but the real issue with it is that it's an overly-ponderous and ultimately clunky terminology for the frank reality that the binary sex imposed on us shapes the contours of the violence we experience. I have never experienced the specific kind of misogyny that sees me as nothing but a broodmare, because I'm a filthy troon, that dehumanized abject thing whose only purpose is absorbing (sexual) violence. Yet the acknowledgment that transfems experience forms of violence that others do not--or sometimes, even the acknowledgment that transfems face violent misogyny at all--is much less forthcoming.

Our struggles are indelibly connected, of course, stemming from the same source and promulgated by the same regime that seeks to define us as nothing more than male property. The shape of each is distinct, however, and because people frequently misunderstand the shape of mine, the idea that my struggles are even connected to theirs, that I experience misogynistic violence homoousian with that which they experience, is frequently dismissed, or considered outright offensive.

This is why I talk and write about transmisogyny, and why more people need to become more familiar with how the naturalization of sex and the regime of heterosexuality under patriarchy necessitates our common struggle.

And unfortunately, in order to properly express these ideas, we do need to talk about the regime of sex.

[comicake]

It makes me mad that when I say I want to see more stories about friendship/I wish there would be less emphasis on romance in stories/I wanna read a story about male-female friendship people are like well that’s not realistic/romance are needed in every story. But like, guys, it’s fiction…

If people can create stories where dragons are real, I think it’s normal to have a few stories what are not focused on romance

[writers-potion]

Let's Talk About Magic Systems.

There are two broad ways you can establish magic in your story world - work with existing concepts, or adapting it for something new.

Pick a System

High Magic vs. Low Magic

This distinction existes mostly in the western wrld from the Middle Ages onwards. In non-western cultures, this distinct often doesn't exist.

High magic requires magicians to study from books, ingredients are expensive and instruments elaborate and hard to get. The typical practioner of High Magic is of the upper class, highly educated, and rich. They serve in King's courts and have high social standing thanks to their knowledge.

Among the lower classes and women, Low Magic is ore common. It is taught orally and doesn't require reading skills and uses everyday objects and ingredients.

Black vs. White Magic

"White" magic is often associated with good, and "Black" with the evil. However, what really matters is the magicians intension, not the magic system that they work with.

The term "black magic" is often associated with working with the dead. It can also be used by an individual/group who just wants to appear more menacing.

Ceremonial Magic

This kind of magic involves lots of ritual, recitation and prayer, often in ancient langauges such as Latin, Aramaic and Sanskrit.

Most of the time, it's High Magic and practiced by religious figures.

The typical practioner is educated, has great confidence and a good memory.

Natural Magic

It involves ingredients from nature, such as herbs and water.

It may be practiced outdoor, in a kitchen, or in a laboratory.

The rituals are simple and short, and the practioner will watch out for the turning of seasons, phases of the moon, etc.

Religious Magic

This is a diety working through a magician. The magician prays and asks her god to work the miracle.

Most religions have their own form of magic, and the kind of miracles that the magicians can bring can be limited.

Wiccan Witchcraft and Voodoo are largely religious magic.

The typical practioner would be spiritual and devout, often suspicious of other religions.

Alchemy

Alchemy is both High and Low Magic, and it can incorporate religious, spiritual, philosophical and mythological elements.

In a modern setting, alchemy can also be portrayed as "science gone too far".

The typical practioner would be patient, methodious, educated and driven. The tools includes laboratory equipment, astronomical charts, writing materials, and an unsuspecting roommate(?) for testing.

Traditional Witchcraft

Traditional Witchcraft is a form of Low Magic. In early historic periods, the witch played an important role in village life, often old women who owned apothecaries and helped out other villagers.

The typical practioner would be female, uneducated, illiterate, practical, resourceful and poor. She will have a good memory and well-developed senses.

Tools used would be simple household implements - a cauldron, a broom, knife, etc. that can evade the Inquisitor's suspicions.

Wiccan Witchcraft

If you write contemporary fiction, this is the system your character is most likely to use. It's modern witchcraft, based on the religion of Wicca.

Wiccan witchcraft mostly developed in the second half of the twentieth centruy. It is a form of bothe Natural Magic and Religious Magic.

Based on nature worship and the polarity between male and female, the magician often begins a Wiccan ritual with an invocation to a God/Godess. The Lady (Godess) is depicted as having three aspects: Maiden, Mother and Brone. The Lord (God) may be depicted with horns.

The focus of Wiccan magic is often on healing, with an emphasis of ethical consequences of what is being performed.

It is often practiced outdoors, sometimes naked (which they call 'skyclad'). Wiccan witchcraft uses the phases of the moon to amplify its effects.

Wiccan like to gather in groups called 'covens' or to meet once a month or for major festivals. The coven leader may be called 'high piestess/priest'.

Typical tools include a chalice, a knife (called 'athame'), a wand, candles, herbs, crystals, and essential oils.

Necromancy

The magician summons a dead person, either ghost or spirit, sometimes bodily. The dead are enlisted to grant the magicians with favors or are questioned for information.

It may be related to Shamanism, as well as to some forms of psychic work such as channelling and Spiritualist seances.

The typical practitioner is psychally gisted, strong-willed and courageous.

Shamnism

Shamnism is a Low Magic system. The shaman intercedes between the human and spirit world by communicating with spirits, often to obtain information or provide healing.

Shamans may travel to the spirit world to seek answered, with some level of danger. They use drums, chanting, dancing and drugs to alter their consciousness and communicate with spirits.

Practicing shamans often work alone, but they choose a successor to train. The apprentice is supposed to accept the calling.

The typical shaman is musical, sensitive with a strong sense of rhythm and the psychic.

Tools include drums, bells, a costume, herbs, bones, smoke and mind-altering drugs.

Ancient Egyptian Magic

Ancient Eyptian Magic ovelaps with Religious magic, medicine and with psychic work. The deities most frequently evoked are Selket, Aset for raising the dead, and the gof Thoth for anything to do with sickness and healing.

The emphasis of Ancient Egyptian Magic is protection, often done throgugh an amulet or talisman. The circle or oval is the most important shape that has protective qualities.

The precise wording of a spell is important, as well as the colors that are involved. For magic to affect someone the magicians must know that person's true name.

The typical practitioner is male, literate, often a priest attached to a emple.

Folk Magic

This is a form of Low Magic practiced by amateurs.

This includes housekeepers who can keep the rats out, farmers who can ripen fruit before the height of the season, and scullions who can make water boil faster.

This people would only know a handful of spells, ans pass them in to memebers of their family.

Voodoo

Voodoo is religious magic and low magic.

The rituals are held in private, and may involve communication with spirits, especially the spirits of ancestors and saints.

Commonly used to cure aliments, confound enemies, and obtain desires.

Invent a System

Choosing the Right Words

If your character is clearly a witch, shaman, a necromancer, etc. with a specialty, use that term. Otherwise, the word "magician", or "mage" would be most appropriate.

The term "magus" (plural magi) refers to practitioners of the ancient Zoroastrian faith.

Strictly speaking, witches and wizards are practitioners of two very different magic systems, so your female character can be a wizard, and vice versa.

'Warlock' really means 'oath-breaker' or 'traitor' and doesn't describe a magician.

'Conjurer' is someone who can creae effects to impress an audience, not really magical in itself. The more modern temr would be 'illusionist'

A group of magicians may be called a 'coven' (though it applies mostly to Wiccan magic). A magician working alone would be a 'solitary'.

Magic vs. Magick

Normally, "magic" is the correct spelling.

However, "magick" may be used, especially by insiders, to emphasize that they refer to the real thing, not conjuring or other trick of the eye.

The magic systems are sometimes capitalized, sometimes not. When it involves a religion, nationaliy, or a particular family line, it is capitalized. Just make sure to keep it consistent throughout your book.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[jeonsweetpea]

The Moon Knows Our Secrets (2) - Final

Exes to Lovers!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!OC | Soulmate!AU 

genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers, vampire/werewolf hybrid (emphasis on werewolf), soulmates, forced proximity

rating: explicit

description: He doesn’t remember loving you. How could he, when you’re the one who erased his memories? You run into him a year later at a wedding. The year after that he’s reported missing and you go off to find him. Then you wonder: did he ever forget you?

word count: 17.7k

warnings (SPOILERS!!!): tension, resentment, fight scenes (nothing too graphic), Boxer!JK, injuries, blood, spying, drama with exes, arguing, underground cage fighting with ill intentions, OC and JK wrestle for control when he goes into his rut, a magic spell gone wrong, biting, JK and OC's POVs are included, HAPPY ENDING

smut warnings (tread carefully): masturbation (male), JK later goes into his RUT, kissing, unprotected sex, thigh job, oral sex (male and female receiving), scratching, rough sex, face-fucking, standing sex, knotting, creampies, dirty talk, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, hickies, nipple play, tummy bulge, lots of cum, marking, doggystyle, slight breeding kink (no pregnancy), slight dumbification, pain kink, brief mentions of anal, chains, hand jobs

a/n: This is an epilogue for my series Moonstruck (inspired by TVD), but it can be read as a STAND-ALONE! You do not have to read Moonstruck (but it will be more satisfying if you have 😉). This is the most smut I've written in a while and I tried out a new writing style too. I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and asks always make my day, thank you! Or if you prefer AO3, I post there too.

| Part 1 | Part 2

Six Months Later…

Another unknown number. You stare at your phone on the motel bed like the device is an uninvited guest as you step out of the bathroom, scrunching a towel around your damp hair. The clock on the wall reads midnight. 

Maybe it’s a client?

The call disappears before you can answer it, reverting to the lock screen—the wedding group picture from last year. You had cropped it where it showcases only you and Jungkook. It’s a tad pixelated from being zoomed in so much, but the same deer-in-the-headlights expression pokes through on both of your faces. He was holding you in a dip position because you had almost fallen. The memory makes you smile every time, and you need a little joy in this dreary room. 

You sit on the bed and the phone rings again, as if on cue. The towel is cast aside as you answer it, tapping the button for speaker mode. 

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss [Y/N]?”

Even your alarm clock can’t get you out of bed this fast. You’re up on your feet, placing the phone against your ear as your heart rate spikes. There’s no way. That deep, smooth voice was unmistakable, especially when it used to whisper the filthiest things in your ear. “Y-Yes, this is her. Who is this?”

As if you don’t already know. “I’m Officer Kim Taehyung, Headmaster Kim gave me your number.”

What’s the latest phone model in store? Because you’re seconds away from shattering the current one in your hands. Or maybe you should redirect your anger around Namjoon’s neck instead. You kept your words steady as you said, “Oh, I see. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m so sorry to call you at this hour, but I’m worried about a… a friend of mine,” he says. His hesitation on the “friend�� label piques your interest. “I haven’t been able to reach him in a couple of weeks. I’m worried he’s gone missing.”

Wait. He’s an officer now? 

“If an officer such as yourself hasn’t been able to find him, that is worrisome. I’m assuming your friend is supernatural. Because that’s kind of all I do…”

“Yes, of course. He’s a hybrid.”

Your heart is lodged in your throat, unable to force the things you want to scream out. You had to take a deep breath before asking in a low voice, depicting how serious this is, “He’s a what?”

“A hybrid. Do you… know him?”

Do I know him… what a stupid question. You roll your eyes as if he could see you through the phone. “Text me everything you have on him. I’ll find him.”

“How?”

“Are you questioning my skills? I said I’ll find him.”

You hang up after that and collapse flat on your back, the mattress squeaking from your weight. You shouldn’t be so harsh on him; the poor man wasn’t up to date with all that’s happened. It’s not like he would know your history with Jungkook. Or you, for that matter. You made sure of that.

A buzz from your phone snaps you from your thoughts.

KTH: His name is Jeon Jungkook. His last known location was his apartment up north. I’ll send you the address and a picture.

He’s a man of his word, as the next text contains a map with the location marked by a round red pushpin. As much as you want to cremate Namjoon, Taehyung has given you the first lead you’ve had in months. If anything happened to Jungkook, you’d never forgive yourself. 

*Bzz*

Well, that’s new. It’s a picture of Jungkook under a white duvet, his arm bent, his head propped on his hand. Most of his body was covered, but the amount of skin showing at the junction between his neck and shoulder lets you know he is naked. Or at most, shirtless. Both are equally hot options if you have anything to say about it. 

His lips are pressed together into a coy smile, but his eyes are screaming “fuck me.” Like a personal challenge. 

KTH: Oops. I didn’t mean to send that picture.

You: It’s fine. I got the jist of what he looks like.

Why he has such a suggestive photo of Jungkook in the first place was concerning, but not enough for you to press further. 

Jungkook’s Point of View

My guard is up as my opponent swings his fists. His moves have zero technique, relying solely on blind rage as he tries to knock me out. Too bad I was quicker than him, playing the defensive first while I decided the best way to secure my victory. 

As we shuffle around the caged ring, the burly man in front of me grows impatient, like a bull taunted by a red cape. The more he charged, the more I dodged. He hasn’t gotten a single hit in, which only spurs the crowd to cheer louder for me. 

My heart is battering around in my rib cage, excited from the adrenaline rush. Having the spotlight on me, adoring fans, and exerting my muscles makes me feel alive. I don’t focus on anything else. I can’t. If I want to win, I transform whatever turmoil brews inside me into determination.

The rules are simple: no weapons, no biting, only fists and feet. Classic brawl style. We may be wolves, but there are boundaries, or our pride would cause a full-on slaughter.

The guy in front of me is drenched in sweat, and I see how his movements slowed—he was getting tired. It was time for me to go on the offensive.

I launch a kick, aiming for his right side. He caught it without even blinking, earning a choral gasp from the audience. They assume I’m in a bind, but I focus all my strength on my other leg and smack the dude across the face at lightning speed. He fell with a resounding thud, but I don’t wait for him to regain balance. 

I hit him with all I got—jab, cross, jab, cross. Right hook, left hook. He cowered in the corner like a bitch and I knee him in the gut. It was like watching a boulder topple over, his pride smashed into smithereens. Throwing my arms up, I circle the cage to pump up morale. The crowd bangs their fists against the enclosure as I roar. The referee begins the countdown from ten. 

Another victory added to my streak. Maybe I’ll treat myself and get laid tonight. I can smell the eager ones in the room and when I first got here, I always turned them down to be modest. Fuck that. I’m finally going to do it. 

I scan the room for potential suitors when my eyes land on her. It was like tunnel vision where everyone else was blacked out and she was the light at the end. I’m nothing but a moth to her flame, so gobsmacked that I rub my eyes to ensure I wasn’t seeing things. 

When I come to, she’s gone. There’s no way. 

I worked so hard to get over her. Is my brain so fucked that it’s starting to make me hallucinate? It seems years of therapy did absolutely nothing. Thanks, Jin.

Next thing I know the big guy recovers and tackles me to the ground. He got a good hit in; I tasted blood. There was no time to dwell on a figment of my imagination. My thirst for victory shouldn’t be underestimated as I swing my fist square in his jaw. I wasn’t going down that easy. 

Yikes. That’s a doozy.

I’ve been examining my face for five minutes now, hating how he split my lip open. Oh well. It’ll heal soon enough and I sent him home with far worse. 

That was the last fight of the night, so I had the locker room all to myself. The staff went home after sending the customers on their way. I go to my locker, type in the combination, and pull out a spare change of clothes and a towel. 

I head to the shower, placing my things on the bench. I undress, the first thing being my tank top, which had splotches of blood stained on the white fabric. Most of it wasn’t mine anyway, thankfully. I remove my shorts, discarding them in the same pile as my top. 

I enter the shower and close the curtain, turning the water onto the hottest setting. Once it hits my skin, I throw my head back and feel my muscles release its tension as I bask in the warmth. I tilt my head forward to get my hair damp when thoughts of her creep into my mind. 

It felt real. She looked real. I remembered everything about her appearance from head to toe even if I only saw her briefly. 

Her hair was dyed now to a color that suited her features. She had minimal makeup on that further enhanced her natural beauty. Her body was adorned in black skinny jeans where the seams were in front, matching her black combat boots and leather jacket. Underneath was a short-sleeved v-neck, her cleavage prominent and so inviting. Ugh. I shouldn’t be thinking about her in such a way, but where was I supposed to look? Her push-up bra was doing god’s work. 

Man, I’m so pathetic. I shouldn’t lust over her. She left me not once, but twice. What’s worse is she doesn’t know I remember everything. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept vervain on me that day. Would my life have turned out better? 

I dispense some body wash into my hands, lathering it between my palms before rubbing my torso. My hands trail down to my groin area, and I thoroughly clean it because sweaty balls are such a turn-off. But then I wrap my hand around the base of my cock, stroking it slowly. 

It looks like I’m washing it, but I already know what’s coming next. Memories of her are like shards of glass I can’t remove, embedded so deep that it scars. I reminisce about our past. How it felt to touch her, kiss her, love her. Her sweet moans, her soft breasts, her addictive scent. I’m palming myself and shuddering. Unlike her, my hands are calloused, but I pretend I have her soft touch.

I close my eyes and fantasize. I’d tear her clothes off with my bare teeth, mark all over her chest with my lips, turn her around, and take her. Indulge in my primitive urges and teach her a lesson. God, I wanted to fuck someone tonight, anyone, but my mind defaults to her. 

The soap makes it easy to glide my hand up and down my cock. I’m going much faster now, my breaths more ragged. No one’s here anyway. So I moan. I don’t give a fuck anymore. I just need to come and get this out of my system. 

I’m about to finish when there’s a gasp outside my stall. My entire body stills and I don’t take a moment to ask “Who’s there?” like the stupid idiots you see in horror movies. I think about what to do next and then commit. 

After turning off the water, I pull the curtain back and step out. I glance to my left to see the shower stall at the end has its curtain closed. It wasn’t like that before. 

I put on my boxers because I sure as hell wasn’t going to face this intruder naked. I plan to charge in there and drag him out without saying a word. Other than the sound of my footsteps, it’s eerily quiet. I reach my hand out, but as soon as I’m about to grab the curtain, the shower turns on. 

I hesitate, wondering if I’m about to be an asshole who’s about to expose an innocent soul out in the open. Before I built my reputation, I was jumped for being the new guy multiple times. That stopped after the third guy went home with three broken ribs though, but I can never be too careful. Some people were sore losers.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Great. I’m not only stupid but polite. I’m sure the person behind the curtain will slit my throat any moment, so I better act fast. I grab the curtain and attempt to pull it, but it’s stuck. 

Or rather, someone is holding it still. I yank harder this time, but they refuse to budge. I use both hands, gripping it extra tight, and tug with all my might until the sound of torn fabric echoes in the room, revealing the culprit.

The person I thought I healed from, the one I once thought I would heal with, is standing right before me, her eyes as wide as mine. I can’t think straight, so my body moves without permission as I charge forward, pinning her to the wall face first. I have her arms pinned behind her back, catching my breath when I realized what I had done. 

I don’t want her to look at me. Because then I’d have to accept the fact that she’s real. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your Point of View

Where do you start? Do you tell him you tracked him down to the countryside and climbed down a creepy cellar door behind a barn only to find out he was an underground cage fighter? Or explain how you followed him to the locker rooms hoping to get a word with him until you tripped on your shoelaces? 

It’s difficult to decide when he’s got your arms twisted behind your back. They were getting sore. 

“I–I heard you were missing,” you say, wary of your next choice of words. “Can you please let me go?”

You attempt to move, but he holds your wrists with one hand while using the other one to render your head immobile. He uses enough force to press your cheek against the cold tile.

“I didn’t say you could move,” he warned, his voice laced with venom. “Congratulations, you found me. I’m no longer missing.”

“And you’re a cage fighter?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re cheating. This place is only for werewolves and you’re a—”

He flips you around so quickly you almost get whiplash, your back pinned to the wall while he covers your mouth. He has a murderous glare, his jaw clenches, and the vein near his temple bulges out. “Be quiet. You never know who’s listening.”

Your eyes drink him in, ogling him unashamed because his beauty should have been illegal. His hair was damp, but you can tell it’s cut short now. He didn’t have any piercings in, his natural beauty was enough to make anyone fall to their knees—which is exactly what you wanted to do for him. But you don’t make a sound. 

You couldn’t help but notice the glorious sight of his inked sleeve. When did he get that many tattoos? You bet there was a story to each one, but before you can dwell on it, Jungkook shifts his hand from your mouth to your eyes. 

There’s a sense of deja vu from his actions. The last time he covered your eyes was to prevent you from compelling him two years ago. Following through with such a heartbreaking decision was difficult, but you believed it was for the best.

As for now? You’re not sure. 

“So you stalk me because you thought I was missing, follow me into the showers, and now you’re ogling me like a pervert?”

He got you there. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

“If the roles were reversed, I’d look like some sick freak. You invaded my privacy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. Let me ask you something, and I expect you to be honest: Were you listening to me earlier?” He saw you tuck your lower lip under your teeth like you wanted to seal the words shut. “Answer me. And don’t play dumb.”

“Yes,” you say, meek and pathetic. “I heard you.”

You can’t see him, but his eyes are crazed like he doesn’t know how to act around you. “And did you like what you heard?” He closes the gap between your bodies, his bare chest barely brushing against yours. His lips are ghosting across your own as he continues. “You like hearing me get off like some sick freak? Is that what you are? A fucking pervert?”

“N-No…” You don’t sound convincing in the slightest. 

His hot breath fans across your face. “I didn’t even get to finish.”

You gulp. “I… I could help you finish…”

Before your hand has a chance to sneak over to his lower region, he snatches it. “You aren’t allowed to touch me.”

“Technically, you touched me first.”

“Bratty now, are we? Don’t be flattered. I’d rather touch myself.” He releases your wrist, but his other hand is in the same spot, obstructing your sight. “I’m going to jerk off and you’re going to stand there until I’m finished.”

“What?”

“You heard me. And you’re going to keep hearing me until I’m satisfied. Understand?”

The constant steam from the shower was nearing the point of suffocation, but his words were far deadlier. “Okay.”

“Hands behind your back. I don’t want you tempted. Perverts like you can’t be trusted.”

You have to scold yourself for igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach from his slander, but you obey. Though you can’t see him, you hear the soft smacking sounds of him jerking his cock, surprised at how quickly he was to start.

If you had your sight, you’d be able to see how he is staring at your lips, wishing more than anything he could kiss you. How his eyes trail down to your cleavage and how the droplets of water made them look more enticing. His mind is racing a mile a minute through all his fantasies of how he’d take you, punish you, torment you until you were begging to come. As much as he does want to fuck you, you’re so damn gorgeous that admiring you was enough. 

His moans sound like soft sobs the closer he approaches his climax, his hand speeding up. It’s erotic, whiny, and sexy when he’s so desperate. He’s grunting through gritted teeth, panting like he’s running out of breath. You wonder if he makes the same noises when he’s working out. 

Fuck, you’d give anything to see him now. But his intentions were clear. You were to be still until he was finished. 

“Does this turn you on?” he asks, his voice shaky. He lays his chin on your shoulder, lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “I’m close.”

He lets out a choked gasp, whispering “fuck, fuck, fuck” as he pumps himself as fast as he can, reaching his high and submitting to the pleasure. It’s unbelievably erotic and he comes in his hand, catching the spurts of cum. He pulls back and stares at your lips again.

“Open.” Your mouth obeys willingly and he shoves two of his cum-soaked fingers inside. You close your lips around them, sucking them clean and savoring his taste. It’s bitter and slightly salty, but you welcome it. “Good girl.”

The praise brings a grin to your face. He rinses his hand under the water, turns it off, and finally releases his hold on you. You see the large expanse of his back as he walks away, almost drooling at his size. He slips on a loose black T-shirt, sweatpants, and slides. 

He looks over his shoulder. “Do you need clothes?” 

The question makes your heart swell. “I’m good.” 

Jungkook hears you mutter words similar to Latin. He turns around to see your necklace glow when you rub it between your thumb and forefinger. Your clothes dry in an instant, and he chuckles. “When did you learn magic?”

“I’ve had some free time.”

He peers down to your feet, letting out a heavy sigh as he walks over. Getting down on one knee, he ties your shoelace and you can’t help but melt. 

“I hope you have some free time now,” he says, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “I’m not done with you yet. We need to talk.”

It’s past 3 AM. The air is cool and crisp, carrying a faint scent of hay. Stars are twinkling in the clear night sky while the moon casts a silvery glow, illuminating silhouettes of barns in the distance. It’s quiet since folks are deep in their slumber, so walks home are usually serene. 

“Jungkook, wait up!”

Today’s an exception. “Hurry up, slowpoke.”

You jog to catch up to his pace on the dirt road. He rolls his eyes but slows his steps, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t you say we needed to talk?”

He stops abruptly, and you almost bump into his mountainous form. “Okay. Talk. Why are you here? You made it clear the last time we met that you couldn’t stay.”

You fumble with your words, as your brain isn’t quite as speedy as your lips. “Well I… I wasn’t in my right mind then.”

“Did I hurt you?” Your expression softens when you see the concern in his features, those brown doe eyes so big and round that you can see your reflection in them. Had he spent all this time fearing the worst?

“No… not in the slightest. I left because I was embarrassed.”

“I don’t believe you. You looked at me like…” He closes his eyes as if the next words would pain him. “Like I was a mistake.”

“No!” you exclaim, shaking your head. “You are anything but a mistake.”

“Then why do I feel like you’re hiding something?” He invades your space, his large frame towering over yours. “Why are you really here, [Y/N]?”

This is your chance to tell him the truth. With one command, you can make him remember loving you and all the shared memories that came with it. You’re ready to love him the way he deserves, but the thing is… you’re not sure you deserve him. Consequences were in order and pain was inevitable. He’ll hate you. He’ll feel betrayed.

Panic takes charge, forming an excuse for you. “I told you… someone told me you went missing. I was worried.”

He raises an eyebrow, prodding the inside of his cheek with his tongue like your answer was unsatisfactory. “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“Kim Taehyung.”

Jungkook drops his arms to his side. “Wow. That son of a…” He clasps a hand to his forehead, pacing back and forth in utter disbelief. “Guess I have two stalkers.”

“What exactly is Taehyung’s relationship to you?”

He stops and faces you, looking like you had offended him. “There is no relationship. There will never be a relationship, but he doesn’t seem to get that! God!”

You place your hands on your hips. “I don’t understand.”

He decides against elaborating but quickly changes his mind after seeing you use Taehyung to deflect.

“He’s an old roommate. We used to fuck. Okay?” Time seems to stop between you two but for an entirely different reason. You’re abhorred, unable to comprehend the fact your ex fucked your other ex. This must be the universe’s punishment for messing with their memories. Because the Jungkook you know would have never sought him out after everything Taehyung put you through.

You fucked my ex?! The dude who tried to kill you?! The guy who backstabbed us and harmed us?! Are you insane?!

You have to bite your tongue before the house of cards collapses. 

“I was experiencing my first rut. It was overwhelming. Not like I could fuck a human without hurting them. Permanently,” he adds, watching how your face morphs into one lost in thought. “What’s up?” 

You snap out of it. “Oh. Nothing. Before Taehyung, I went west because there were rumors of the ‘Cervix Splitter’ and thought…”

He stares at you, mouth agape as he points to himself. “You thought that was me?!”

“I don’t know!” you say, holding your hands out with your palms up. “I think they might have a serial killer loose… damn.”

“Can we please stick to the subject?” he asks, exasperation coating every word. You nod and gesture for him to continue. “Anyway, he and I ran into each other and one thing led to another. We were both hybrids with needs. It was a good arrangement, but then he got obsessive. Wanted a relationship. I said no.”

You give him a look of sympathy as you recall how Taehyung reacted when you broke up with him. Even though you erased your existence from his mind, it seems his obsessive tendencies lingered. Some things never change. “He didn’t like that very much, did he?”

“What do you think? I ran away, so he’d leave me alone. It worked for the past few months until you showed up.” He narrows his eyes into slits. “Did you tell him I was here?”

“No. He keeps texting me though.”

He points an accusatory finger at you. “You’re not going to tell him anything. Got it?”

“I won’t. But if you keep that tone up, I might reconsider,” you warn.

“And how would that benefit you? Do you know Taehyung?”

Unfortunately. “It’s my job to help those in need in the supernatural community.”

“What are you, the Scooby Doo gang?” He steps back to laugh. “Is this what you’ve been up to since you’ve left?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you scold. “Helping is what I do. I’m good at it. It clears my mind.”

“Okay. Then you can ‘help’ yourself out of here. Tell Taehyung you didn’t find me while I go home and rest. I’m exhausted.”

He dashes off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. You follow at once and encounter a quaint cottage surrounded by forestry. Jungkook waits at the front door, folding his arms across his chest.

“Do you need something else?” he asks. You swear you can see the cogs turning in his mind, unable to figure out what’s your angle.

“Are you going to continue fighting?” 

He shrugs. “Yeah. It’s a great stress reliever. Keeps me from…” His eyes flit to your lips for a brief second. “... overthinking. Plus I get great perks. Respect. Fans. Money.”

“You don’t need money.”

“I know, but it’s a power trip having it. Besides, people bet on me. I’d hate to let my loyal benefactors down.”

You mirror his stance, folding your arms as displeasure passes your face. “You’re a hybrid. It’s a given you’ll win every fight and that’s not fair to their pack.”

“Only if they find out.” You’re about to counteract his argument, but he beats you to it. “Look. Boxing’s my thing. I enjoy the rush it gives me. Exerting my muscles, feeling that sweet burn, and fighting until my body gives out—it’s addicting. I feel alive.”

His eyes shimmer with every word he speaks like he was putting on a speech to inspire high school kids. It only brings you more dread when there’s a confession on the tip of your tongue. 

“Well… do you have to box here?”

“I like it here. Now if you don’t mind…”

He pulls out his keys, turns around, and inserts them into the lock. You nibble on your thumbnail, scrambling to come up with another excuse. Once he enters, you use your enhanced speed and invite yourself in. 

“Can I stay?” you ask, quick to shut the door. He chuckles, impressed by your tenacity.

“What is with you? Don’t you have a Cervix Splitter to catch? Please leave.”

The words bubble up in your throat, forcefully coming to the surface like word vomit. “You can’t stay here!”

The outburst garners his undivided attention as he stares at you dumbfounded like there is Wii music playing in the background. “Why?”

“There’s some people who know you’re a hybrid…” you reveal, your voice reduced to a mere squeak.

“What did you say?” he asks through gritted teeth. You don’t reply and he repeats himself, this time with a lower volume, which spooks you more than if he was shouting. “What did you do?”

“When I came here to find you, I asked if anyone saw you. I showed them a picture and told them you’re a hybrid. Thought it’d make it faster…” You let out a small laugh. “I was kinda right…”

Jungkook looks like he’s at a crossroads of whether to hate you or murder you. Or both. “Why would you expose me like that?”

“I didn’t know it was a secret.” He lifts his fist at an angle toward the door, and you wait for him to slam it down in anger. However, he sighs and lowers his hand slowly, splaying his fingers against the wood. You blink twice, choosing your next words carefully. “I don’t understand. Why would you hide the fact you’re a hybrid?”

He holds onto the sides of his head like he is about to rip his hair out. “Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm is dripping in every word. “Did you forget how your grandparents tried to kill us when they discovered your existence?”

What did he say?

His hands drop down by his side as do yours. Realization dawns upon you two, the world coming to a screeching halt. Shock renders you immobile as the gears in your head try to turn, but they’re overwhelmed by the million questions plaguing your mind. He shouldn’t know that. He shouldn’t remember that. Unless… he never forgot.

“You remember me… You remember everything,” you say in a breathy tone. You should’ve seen it coming, especially with how he acted at the wedding. “How do you—“

“I had vervain on me,” he confesses without the slightest remorse. 

You take a small step back, almost stumbling. “So this whole time… you never forgot me? You knew what I did and didn’t say anything? You slept with Taehyung?!”

“That’s what you got from this? That’s what you choose to focus on?” His question pins you for a fool. 

“Because that’s the stupidest thing you could’ve done! I erased his memories so he could start fresh. Same with you!”

“What difference does it make? I asked, no, I begged you not to erase my memories and you did it anyway.”

You steel yourself to remain calm. “Because I didn’t want you burdened by me anymore. I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

He tilts his head, his eye slightly twitching as he raises a finger like he is about to lecture you. “Stop. Stop saying it was best for me when the reality was, you were only thinking about yourself.” He takes a sharp inhale. “You wanna know why I got with Tae? Because I was a mess when you left. Devastated. Broken people look for broken people, [Y/N].”

You threw your head back. “Oh my god... This is precisely why I wanted you to forget.”

He almost snarls. “You don’t get it, do you? You always do this. You make decisions without my consent. I never asked to be a hybrid, I never asked for any of this shit.”

You place a hand on your chest, offended. “I’m sorry, you’re upset I turned you to save your life?”

“You turning me was what started this whole mess,” he spits out, revulsion apparent. “I was sired to you, I fell in love with you, I went through hell and back only for it to not matter in the end. You left me. I could forgive you the first time, but not for the second.”

There aren’t any words you can say to combat this. 

“I remember everything about you. About us,” he says, the look in his eyes resembling a kicked puppy. “I remember what you said the day you tried to compel me.”

“Don’t,” you plead. He throws your words back at you in a rather snarky manner.

“‘When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me.,” he quotes. “I used to think I’d be okay waiting for you to come around… but that was incredibly stupid. You came back only to abandon me again and for what? To go around playing vigilante?”

“Jungkook…”

“No, I’m not done.” He starts to pace back and forth. “Did you ever stop to think about what I wanted? Of course not. Because in the end, it’s all about you. You should’ve erased everything. What was the point of only erasing my love for you, huh?”

“What do you want me to say?” you ask, fighting back tears.

“I want you to tell me the truth. You erased Taehyung’s memories of you because he was a psychopath but spared me the smallest glimpse. Why? Why not erase it all?”

“Because I love you!” you exclaim. He stops pacing, shooting you a skeptical glare. “And knowing that you still remembered me, even a tiny part of me, was comforting enough to help me move on. I needed space.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet? But I’m not your safety net, [Y/N].” He walks over to his front door and pulls it open. “Get out.”

You shake your head. “Jungkook, please.”

“Either you get out or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and force you out.”

The resentment he had must’ve grown exponentially over the years. If you push him further than you already had, he might snap. So you exit his house but go for one final attempt at whatever relationship you can salvage with him.

“Please let me stay. I can protect you from those cage fighters if they decide to get even.”

“No. You’ve done enough.”

“Jungkook—”

“Enough!” His voice carries, causing birds to flutter their wings and find solace in another tree further away. You watch as he towers over you again, but beneath his icy glare is a heartbroken man. “Since I first saw you, I have belonged to you completely.”

He tightens his fists, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath before saying the next part.

“I have always belonged to you. And for that, I suffered. I came here to escape, to heal, and it worked. I was at peace and you waltz in here, stirring up chaos in my life where it’s not welcomed.” His eyes never waver and you don’t dare look away. “And what’s funny is how you expect me to do what? Take you back?”

“I… I don’t know. I thought…”

“You thought wrong,” he finishes for you. “Do you think it’s easy seeing you? I’m angry, [Y/N]. You make me so mad I can’t even think straight.”

“Then yell at me! Don’t push me away.”

“I’m pushing you away because I know you. And I know what hurts you the most.” He caresses your face longingly, slowly, like it’d be the last time. His fingers ghost the surface of your skin, and you lean in, desperate for more. But he pulls back. “Either you choose me or you lose me. And it’s too late to choose me now. Goodbye [Y/N].”

“No,” you say like a stubborn child. “I don’t want to leave you. I’m afraid to lose you. Please.”

He clicks his tongue at you as he shakes his head. “I suggest you face your fears. It’s not like this is the first time.”

The last thing you see is the door being slammed in your face.

Jungkook’s Point of View

That was the worst sleep of my life. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and how I left her. She deserved all my venomous words, but empathy made me regret everything. Why do we even need such an emotion when all it does is make us feel like shit?

It’s pitch black in my room. The low-pitched sound of the air conditioner is my only companion. I enjoy being alone, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely. I shouldn't get used to missing her, but I’m used to it again. I wish she were here.

I decide to get dressed and quickly leave the house. For once the angel and devil on my shoulder agree, pressing me to find her but for two different reasons. One says to forgive and forget, the other craves to deliver punishment and commit sins. 

I tell myself I’m going hunting instead. Rabbits and squirrels fall prey to my clutches and I feel a pang in my heart when I drink their blood, but I have to survive somehow. Before I knew it, it was dark outside and the moon looked lonely, almost like it was crying in the night sky. 

I couldn’t find her. I searched all day, but the countryside is vast, and I’m drenched in sweat. Checking the time on my watch, I see I’m late for my next fight. 

Shit. 

It’s fine. She’s an Original Hybrid and can take care of herself. 

Rushing back to the barn, I circle to find the angled cellar door. I pull the handle, descend downstairs, and run into one of the bouncers. Aside from cage fighting, the underground establishment is used for clubbing and drinking most days of the week. I hear the heavy bass from the music, feeling the ground shake from the vibrations. I greet the bouncer with a handshake, but he stares at me like I had pissed in his thermos. 

“Ms. Lim wants to see you,” he says, his voice gruff. He gestures his bald head towards the door that says “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” on the right, so I head there. There’s a narrow hallway and at the end of the corridor is her office. I slowly open the door. 

“Jungkook,” Her nasal voice already has a trace of annoyance as I poke my head in. She’s sitting behind her desk with two henchmen about twice my size, both dressed in suits with their hands clasped in front. “Come in please.”

I do what she says and she points to the chair in front, so I sit. “Hello, Ms. Lim. I know I’m late, I’m sorry. Can I have the next fight?”

Her mouth twitches. “No. We need to talk.”

She snaps her fingers and the two bodyguards stand on either side of me, each placing a firm hand on my shoulders. When I squirm, they hold me tighter as if cementing me still. I let out a nervous laugh, feigning innocence. “What’s going on?”

The middle-aged woman adjusts her thick-rimmed glasses, scoffing like I was being impolite in the presence of royalty. “I run a tight-knit business, Jungkook. My wolves… They follow me. They listen to me. Because I’m honest and upfront. I don’t dish out bullshit.”

She stands, placing her hands behind her back as she circles the front of her desk, closing the gap between us. 

“Wolves like to fight. It’s in our nature to have some aggression. Here you can release it in a healthy, controlled environment,” she says. “When you first arrived, I liked you right away. The sheer arrogance you had, the drive to win—you were a natural for the ring. People bet on you because you never let them down.” She leans against her desk, lowering her glasses onto the tip of her nose bridge to look at me. “You don’t want to let people down, right?”

The bait can’t be more obvious, but I indulge her anyway. “Of course not.”

My answer seems to placate her and she puts her finger under my chin, tilting my head up. “Then I need you to tell me the truth. What are you, Jungkook?”

“I’m a wolf. Just like you, ma’am.” Not like that was a complete lie. I am a wolf. Half.

She grips my chin harder, her pupils blown so wide that they overtook her irises. “Is that all?”

“Look, it’s clear you know something so why don’t you…” She whips out a pistol from underneath the slit in her long dress and I stare down the barrel without moving a muscle. 

“There’s no fear in your eyes. Probably because you know and I know that this crummy little thing won’t kill you.” She pulls the trigger, but the shot is empty. I try my best not to scowl as she puts it away. “One of my men ran into a strange girl yesterday. She was hysterical, almost aggressive in asking about you.”

“Make your point.”

“She told me you were a hybrid. Is that true?”

I lean back against the chair, my shoulders less tense now that the secret is out. “Yes. So what? I’m still part wolf.”

“You’re half-wolf,” she corrects. “I don’t give a damn about you being a hybrid. But I do care that you weren’t fully transparent with me. And people talk. Word gets around I’m letting a hybrid take all the winnings and my business is done.”

“No one has to know.”

“Oh darling… she blabbed all over town about you. I’m sure everyone already knows. But I have a deal for you if you want to stay.”

Judging from her toothy smile, the chances of this deal being more beneficial for her than me are high. “What deal?”

“Do you know how much money I can make if I put two hybrids against each other?” she asks, flashing a smirk. “Especially with a pretty little thing like her against someone like you. The crowd would go wild.”

I shake my head. “I’ll pass. She’s not into cage fighting and I don’t hit women.”

“Who says she’s not?” I don’t like her tone and the insinuation behind it. “Darling, who do you think is taking your place right now?”

“What?”

“[Y/N] is fighting her heart out at this very moment. The wolves adore her. Probably because I said whoever beats her gets to breed her.”

This time I force myself to stand, knocking out both men when they attempt to grab me again with a one-two combo. They collapse with a resounding thud, and I head straight for Ms. Lim. I’m holding her dress collar and lifting her in the air, but she remains unphased.

“Where is she?”

“I see she’s important to you.”

“Where is she?!” I shout, not caring that I spit on her. 

“She turned you, right? How’d she do it? Did you two have sex?”

“I’m not asking you again,” I warn. She wraps her hand around my wrist, her irises shifting to a muted gold as she pries my hold off her, dislocating my hand. I curse in pain, fully prepared to retaliate, but she snaps her fingers three times. 

I hear footsteps from behind me and the door opens with a loud slam. Looking over my shoulder, I see about fifty men in black suits who are bigger than me enter the room. They all bear matching stoic expressions, but their fists are up and ready as their pointed glares shoot in my direction. 

“There isn’t much information on hybrids and experimenting on an Original is too good of an opportunity to pass up. I’m sure my boys would love to breed her. Then business would be booming with hybrid fighters at my side!” Ms. Lim cries.

My blood is boiling and I swear I’m seeing red. I snap my wrist back into place without breaking eye contact and backhand her across the face. She falls to the floor, stunned, holding the side of her cheek. “I thought you said you don’t hit women!”

“My apologies. I meant beautiful women.”

Three men grab me—one at each arm and the last holding my waist. The others line up, each taking a jab at me. The first punch is aimed at my stomach. One breaks my nose. Another hits me square in the jaw. I see stars by the time Ms. Lim stands, holding her hand up for them to stop. 

“How dare you? Oh, I’m going to make sure your little girlfriend is knocked up. Poor thing has no clue what plans I have for her.”

I muster enough strength to spit at her, flicking droplets of blood onto her face. She shrieks in disgust and slaps me in return. I only laugh like a madman.

“Good luck… she’s infertile…” I say, trying to find my breath. “And my girl can take care of herself. She won’t lose.”

“It’s okay. I can still find plenty of uses for her. If my boys can’t breed her, they can still fuck her once they’re done with you. I bet she screams pretty,” Ms. Lim says.

“You’re lying!”

“Am I?” She snaps her fingers again, prompting the last man who punched me to step forward. He pulls out something gold from his pocket, dangling it in front of me like a carrot for a rabbit. My face falls when I recognize the double moon charms. “Mr. Ahn here is the first one that defeated [Y/N]. He’ll get to have her first.”

The douchebag has a devilish grin as he slips the necklace over my head. He pats my cheek twice before smacking it hard on the third. I bare my teeth, more than ready to kick his ass, but other men are holding me still.

“I’m going to check the status of our beautiful prize and see if she’s ready for Mr. Ahn,” Ms. Lim declares, exiting the room with the sleazy bastard. Right before she closes the door, she sticks her head in and adds, “Whoever gets that necklace from him gets to have her next.”

The door shuts and I’m shouting curses at her until my throat is hoarse. All sense of self-control goes out the window as I unleash my wrath, my anger blinding me as my fists take control. In cage fights, I’ve had to hold back. But now? I’m ready to demolish anyone who gets in my way.

Your Point of View

After Jungkook kicked you out, you roamed the area for a place to stay. With your abilities, you had endless options: an inn, a motel, a farmhouse, or even the forest if you prefer. Heartbroken, you planned to wolf out until a middle-aged woman found you on the side of the road. 

She drove beside you, parked her car, and rolled down her windows. Your first instinct was to walk away, but she mentioned Jungkook and how she was his boss. She told you how her place wasn’t too far away, offering a place for you to stay the night. 

Questions kept pouring out of you, but she wouldn’t answer until you agreed to her offer. Your guard was up the whole night despite the fact she was a werewolf too. She doted on you with tea and snickerdoodles, but you didn’t dare take a bite until after she did.

Though you were on edge most of the night, her aura was warm, like a grandmother’s love or what you could only imagine as such. Your grandparents tried to eradicate you for being a hybrid, believing that your existence was an abomination. It’s funny how Ms. Lim, someone not blood-related, treated you far better than they ever did.

She answered your questions about Jungkook, but you didn’t dare overshare about your relationship with him. She persuaded you to join her the next day at work, offering the gym and free training sessions with her best fighters. You weren’t sure at first, but then ultimately gave in.

The next day Ms. Lim gave you a tour of the underground cellar and you couldn’t believe how massive it was. Everyone you encountered greeted you like one of the family, and you got to learn new fighting techniques with her bodyguards. 

When it was nighttime, Ms. Lim suggested you fight for real. You worried it’d be unfair, but she assured you the opponents were more than willing. 

Your first opponent is a man who looks like the descendant of a Viking. His muscles are so large you can see the veins bulging underneath his skin. He gives you a crooked smile, which you would’ve found somewhat attractive if he hadn’t made a sexist comment the next second.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in the ring? Hasn’t no one swept you off your feet and wed you yet?” You make the first move and use his words against him, sweeping him off his feet with your leg. He falls flat on his back and laughs while the crowd cheers. “It’s a shame. You’d make a great mother.”

“I’ll pass,” you say, sounding extra snarky. 

“Come on. You know you can’t beat me.”

The man got back up only to be taken down again with a skillful spin kick, causing his back to slam against the cage. You smirk as his expression shifts to anger, and he tackles you to the opposite side like a mad bull. Grunts come from both sides as you use your elbow, jabbing the top of his head until he lets go. 

You jump high and hang from the top of the cage, using your strong thighs to hold his head hostage. His oxygen depletes as his face turns purple, clawing at your legs but you don’t let up. His hands fall to his sides before his body collapses. Only then do you let go and land in a cool pose, feeling like a superhero. 

The crowd goes wild and you jump up and down like a kid who scored the winning goal. “I did it!”

You see why Jungkook loved this place so much. It’s an indescribable feeling, a rush of exhilaration as glory consumes you. 

Once you see Ms. Lim and her main bodyguard, you step out of the ring and greet her. “Ms. Lim, did you see? I won!”

She wraps her arm around your shoulder, giving you a toothy grin. “I know. I told you you’d do well. Let me show you your prize.”

You gasp. “I get a prize?” 

She leads you through the sea of fans. “Of course. Everyone gets compensated.”

You enter a door that leads you to a narrow hallway. The lights were dim, but it was enough for you to see something horrific. From where you stand to the door at the end are unconscious bodies strewn across the floor. Some are slumped against the wall, others are flat on their back or stomachs, each carrying some deformity. There’s blood splattered on the floor, but it wasn’t gorey enough to be deemed a bloodbath (though the sight was still alarming).

“What the fuck happened?” you ask. Ms. Lim screams in shock when she steps in, covering her mouth as she stumbles back. If not for Mr. Ahn, she probably would’ve fallen.

The door at the end of the corridor opens and you hear ragged breathing. There you see Jungkook stagger out, barely able to hold himself up with one arm. He has cuts on his face and a black eye, so his vision is halved. His tank top is in shreds, the fabric hanging by a thread as it dangles from his bruised body. 

He regains part of his strength once he sees you. “[Y/N]?”

You rush over to catch him before he falls. “Jungkook, what happened?!”

He’s putting his entire weight on you, close to fainting. But one look at Ms. Lim and he’s fired up. “That bitch… I’m gonna kill her…”

Ms. Lim wastes no time, urging Mr. Ahn to run away with her while you’re left bamboozled. “Ms. Lim?”

“She’s going to pay… She’s going to…”

Jungkook can’t fight his body’s limits anymore. The last thing he sees is darkness.

Sunlight pours through the window, stirring Jungkook from his slumber. He slowly opens one eye, surprised to see snow-covered trees and clear skies outside. In a daze, he sits up, holding his side as a sharp pain shoots through his body. He’s quick to notice his upper body has been covered in gauze and bandages. 

Whoever did it was meticulous. His chest and shoulders are tightly bound in layers, protecting his battered torso. The bandages crisscrossed over his ribcage, some were wrapped around his biceps, with the gauze extending down to his forearms. Bloodstains seeped through while he was asleep, but they don’t warrant any concern for now.

Jungkook touches his face, finding the cut on his cheek and upper lip taken care of. His other eye is no longer swollen, allowing him to observe his surroundings. He sees he’s in a cozy room, the wood ceiling and floors making him believe he’s at a lodge. There’s a large window to his right as well as a nightstand. The lamp sitting atop casts a warm golden glow, and Jungkook turns it off by pulling the string. 

There’s a gentle knock on the door. “Jungkook? Are you awake?”

He lays back down, covering his body with the duvet and closing his eyes as if he had never woken up. The doorknob jostles as you enter the room, holding a cup of water. You see his state and tip-toe closer, setting the mug on the nightstand. 

Staring at people while they sleep is creepy, but Jungkook looks angelic. Even if his face was marred, it didn’t stunt his beauty. If anything, his injuries made him more beautiful, the bandages being proof of his protectiveness. What he was protecting, you don’t know. 

“When you wake up, we seriously have a lot to talk about,” you whisper, pulling a nearby stool to sit on. “I don’t know why you did what you did. Ms. Lim and her men were so nice to me. She let me stay at her place after you kicked me out.”

You stick your tongue at him like a brat but end up giggling at your immaturity. 

“You were right to kick me out though,” you say, sighing. “Even with the best intentions, I can’t make things right. I’m sorry. Trust me, no one is more frustrated with me than me. That’s why when Ms. Lim suggested for me to fight, I didn’t hesitate.”

You ball your fists. “But it was so fun. I won my fight like bam! Bam! Bam!” You punch the air at each onomatopoeia, and Jungkook has to refrain from laughing. Why were you so cute?

“I get why you do it now. I’ve always had to fight for survival. I didn’t think it could be… gratifying. Anyway, I support your cage-fighting career,” You purse your lips. “But I guess you don’t have one anymore, considering what you did back there. I’m honestly confused. Why did you hurt them? I chased after Ms. Lim and uh… well, she burned your house down.”

You wait a second as if he’d respond. “She told us to never come back with no explanation… I didn’t even get my prize for winning,” you huff. 

Jungkook grunted, almost like he didn’t like what he was hearing. He turns onto his side, so he’d be facing away from you and wraps himself in a blanket burrito. The spot where he once lay had something gold in it. You carefully pick it up and caress the double moon charms with your thumb.

“My necklace…”

You stare at the back of his head, the gears in your head turning as you try to put the puzzle pieces together. Upon closer inspection, you notice faint bloodstains on the back of the charms and some on the chain.

“Did one of those men have my necklace? You beat up thirty men for it?”

“It was around fifty, but who’s counting?”

Your breath hitches, wondering if you were hearing things. Jungkook slowly sits up, resting his back against the headboard and flashing a cheeky grin. Heat spreads to the apples of your cheeks. 

“Were you awake this whole time?”

“Maybe.” He gives you a quick once over. “Are you hurt? Did anyone touch you?”

“Hmm? I’m fine. I should be asking you that. You took a beating and I’m still confused as to why.”

He slumps against the headboard, sagging like a dramatic blob. “God, you’re dense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? My necklace is all bloody… was this the prize Ms. Lim intended to give me?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes so far back they might as well get stuck. “Ms. Lim’s prize wasn’t the necklace. It was you. You were her men’s prize after the fight. She planned to let them have their way with you.”

Your eyes fall to the ground, your heart heavier than an anchor in a bottomless sea. Jungkook sees how you clutch the necklace in your fist, wishing he hadn’t revealed the truth so bluntly. 

“Hey… I’m sorry,” he begins. “I didn’t mean to…”

“No. I was naive. After what happened with my grandmother, I thought Ms. Lim was different. Anyway,” you say, changing the subject. “That’s why you did what you did?”

“I thought she had you trapped somewhere. Or that without your necklace, you were at a disadvantage. She told me Mr. Ahn defeated you and I just went berserk at the thought of something happening to you.”

It’s hard not to see the love he has for you in those beautiful eyes of his. “I never fought Mr. Ahn, but I’m pretty sure I would’ve won. I’m freakin’ awesome in the ring.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I know. I never doubted your skills. She riled me up and I assumed the worst.”

“Well… Thank you for looking out for me. I’m glad to have my necklace back. I thought I lost it for good.”

“I thought I lost you.”

Time comes to a standstill. No more words are shared, yet so much is being said through simple eye contact, an unspoken language only the two of you understand. Your hearts are burning, aching with desire, but you don’t dare act on it. You don’t deserve him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself to maintain restraint. 

“Can I put it on you?” he asks, pointing to the piece of jewelry in your hand. 

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” A white glow emits from your fist and when you open your palm, Jungkook sees the necklace is spotless. You hand it to him and shift positions, so your back is towards him. He scoots closer, his legs now dangling off the bed. 

When he brushes your hair away, your body tenses up. You see the gold chain from above before it settles on your collarbone. Jungkook leans in, getting a better view of the clasp but struggles to attach it. Seconds tick by like hours, but you don’t mind how long he takes. His hot breath on the nape of your neck is distracting you anyway.

“Almost got it…” he mumbles. And thank goodness too because you didn’t realize you were holding your breath the entire time. Once he’s finished, he leans back but you turn your head to the side and almost end up kissing him.

“Oh sorry, I—” You move away, but he places his hand on the back of your neck, holding you in place. 

“Stay.”

Stay still? Stay with him? Whatever he meant, it sounded like a command, a challenge, a test. You’re entranced by how close he is, your nose about to touch his, and his lips—fuck. They’re drawing near, but he stops a centimeter away and smirks like a damn tease. You swear you’re on fire, the heat radiating off his body further exacerbating things. 

His eyes droop down, but it’s not to your lips. Rather, he takes his free hand and holds the double moon charms between his forefinger and thumb, sliding it until it’s positioned in the center. 

“There,” he says, still far too close. There’s a deep yearning in his eyes, a passion he longs to share with you, but he’s holding himself back. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You pout. “What, suddenly you’re okay with me around?”

“Seeing you drives me mad, but not seeing you makes me insane,” An aw almost slips out of you, but you nod instead. “I’m trying so hard to hate you…” he whispers.

You match his volume. “Why?”

“Because it’s easier than admitting the opposite.” He finally releases his hold and leans back, allowing you to regain a semblance of sanity. “So where are we exactly?”

You fiddle with your necklace and try not to dwell on his words. “I used a teleportation spell and it took us here.”

“Randomly?”

“No. I didn’t know what to do, so I cast a spell to take me to Professor Jin. He’s here with Namjoon. They’re on vacation.” 

All of a sudden Jungkook groans and he’s clutching his abdomen. “Ah fuck...”

You jump out of your seat to examine him closer. “What’s going on?”

Sweat forms on his upper lip, his body temperature rising steadily as if someone turned on the heater to its max. It’s an all too familiar feeling. He laughs at the horrid timing, but it exacerbates his pain.

“I’m going to need you to learn a new spell,” he says, panting so much you fear he’d pass out.

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to go into a rut,” he answers, glaring at you like you’ve made a grave mistake, “and I don’t have boxing to distract me anymore.”

“Do you want me to help—” 

“No,” You can’t help but feel offended, and undesired, but he adds, “I don’t want to take advantage of you. It’s not right.”

“Okay…” You rub your arm and like the keen observer he was, he tacks on another thing and you’re not sure if he’s trying to make you feel better or himself. 

“I don’t give consent because it’s out of my control. Our time together shouldn’t be influenced or pressured because of other circumstances.”

You almost laugh at the hilarity of that statement. “Isn’t that the whole basis of our relationship? Everything always comes with a condition. This is exactly why I left…”

Jungkook’s pained expression morphs into something worse—dismay. You go for damage control, wishing you could take those words back and shove them far into the depths of your mind where they couldn’t hurt anyone. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, full of regret, “I shouldn’t have said that. If you say no, I understand. It’s a no.”

“It’s fine. Not like you’re wrong. Can you go get Jin please?”

Jungkook’s Point Of View

I want to tear these bandages off. And then my skin. It’s too damn hot and the timer on my sanity is dwindling. The snow outside looks inviting and is the only blanket I want covering me. 

A knock on the door garners my attention and [Y/N] rushes in, carrying something silver between her fingers.

“Sorry for the wait, I got it!” Fuck, she smells incredible. There’s nothing on Earth that can compare to her delicate, sweet aroma. It’s my Kryptonite, my guilty pleasure. Once she draws near, I pin her to the bed, ignoring the soreness of the muscles I was supposed to be recuperating. “Jungkook?”

I snuggle into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent like some deranged pervert as I squeeze her hip. The closest description is like a honey-sweet fruit, ripe for picking. But fruit bruises easily when they fall into the wrong hands. And now she’s in mine.

She whimpers softly, and it only further fuels my arousal. “It shouldn’t be this easy yet your hold over me is… pathetic.”

I hover over her face and bring a hand up to squeeze her cheeks, forcing her lips to pucker. Cute. 

“Do you know what filthy things I want to do to you? I’ve been fantasizing for years about this moment,” I say, unable to contain my smirk. Her chest heaves against mine and the panic that flashes across her face is adorable. I loosen my grip a bit so she can reply. 

“Tell me then,” she breathes and I chuckle at how wobbly her voice sounds. 

“I wanna fuck you like I hate you. It’s not going to be that tender bullshit, I’m going to be rough. I’m going to use you and all your holes until you’re screaming and I’m the only one that occupies your thoughts, so you can see the hell you put me through when you left. I’m going to bring you to heaven only to drag you back down to Earth and make you sin harder.”

I can smell much more than fear coming from her silence. Her fingers are clutching what I can now see is a silver body chain. She’s fast, but I’m faster as I pin her wrist down before she can put it on me. Her hand is hanging over the edge of the bed and I grip her wrist, upping the pressure and twisting slightly until she groans in pain, dropping the chain. It falls with a soft clink and I give her an amused grin.

“Was that mediocre thing supposed to quell my urges?” I taunt.

“Ideally, yes,” she remarks, unable to hide her bratty attitude. “Let me put it on you.”

“No.”

She gives me a look like I’m a bad child about to be put on time-out. Maybe I want to be bad. “Jungkook.”

“Come on… you said it yourself. You want to help,” I use my thigh to part her legs. “I’m in desperate need of it.”

She scoots her body upwards to get away, but like a parasite, I latch on and follow, pressing my entire body weight on her. “Jungkook, no. You said no. This isn’t you.”

“Oh, but what if it is?” She stops squirming and my eyes widen like I’ve gone insane, glad to have her attention. “What if this dark, twisted, horny part of me is who I am? What if I want to ravage you and my rut is simply pushing me to finally not hold back on loving you?”

“You… love me?”

Somehow that question pulls me from the depths of lust for a split second. “I never stopped.”

There’s a silent period where we stare at each other. Sometimes I think we’d hold the world record for how long one can zone out, lost in a world of our own. But my needs resurface, clouding my mind with crazed lust. I’m corrupted by something I can’t control and no matter how hard I resist, she’ll be in the crossfire.

She must have noticed her small window of opportunity because she pushed me off with her inhumane strength. I bounce on the mattress when I land on my back as she scrambles to grab the chain off the floor. She makes a break for the door, but I block it, tackling her to the ground so I can feel her soft body against mine again. 

We tussle and roll around like animals, the chain flying across the floor during the scuffle. It’s a wild game of Capture The Flag, each of us diving for the coveted item. She’s on her stomach, crawling towards it until I take her ankles and drag her backward, cackling like a madman. And like in horror movies, she screams and squirms, kicking me until I let go. 

She drags her body forward, snatches the chain, flips around, and clamps her thighs around my head. Her strong muscles could probably break a watermelon, but I welcome the constriction.

“Ooh, yes, make it hurt,” I choke out, wheezing out a short laugh. Revulsion in her scowl, she cages me in tighter, and I pull back so she slides towards me. Using my remaining strength, I lift her so she’s now perched atop my shoulders, her sweet pussy right where I want it. I dart my tongue out to lick a stripe, the barrier of her leggings so thin that she yelps from the contact.

I’m on my knees and I move forward, pressing her back against the wall. It supports her weight and I pin her hands down, so she can’t sneak the chain on me. She’s shouting at me, but I only hum in return, so she can feel the vibrations of my lips close to her lower ones. 

“Jungkook, let me go!”

“I can already taste you… such arrogance to think you can handle me.”

I look up through her thighs, earning a sharp inhale from her. “Trust me… I’ve been holding back.”

She chants foreign words under her breath and my ears soon discover a sharp ringing noise, making my brain feel like it’s being shredded by a cheese grater. I hold my head with both hands, toppling over and releasing her as we both fall to the floor. When the cacophony subsides, I see she’s standing above me with the lamp. She’s ruthless as she smashes it against my head, the glass shards scattering everywhere. 

I lay on my stomach, dazed, and she put the chain on me hastily. It glows as it erases all forms of rage and lust, and my mind clears while my soul aligns. That’s when the painful sensations of my injuries I had ignored earlier hit me in full force. 

With impeccable timing, the door to our room swings open, and in comes Jin and Namjoon. Jin has his arms up in a fighting pose, his hands encasing two pink orbs prepared for attack. Namjoon has his crossbow gun pointed at me until [Y/N] waves him off with a dismissive gesture.

“You’re a bit late. Put it down.”

The orbs flicker out and Namjoon lowers his weapon, being the first to speak. “What happened?”

“Things got… rough. I put the chain on him. He’s fine now.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. “Can someone please get the first aid kit? I’m bleeding again…”

Your Point of View

Jin’s making it a point to be hospitable. He dragged you around the lodge, indulging you in all the amenities the lodge offers. From paying for your food and drinks to complimentary snowboarding, it was almost like he was overcompensating. 

While he was gracefully swerving down the hill, you spent most of your time falling face-first into the snow, frustrated at the bulky clothes you had on. You called it quits and he finally yielded to your pleas.

Back at the lodge, you shed yourself of your multiple layers, feeling like an onion. At least now you can caramelize by the fireplace in the lobby while sipping on a piping-hot cup of cocoa. 

Jin makes his presence known, plopping himself onto the same futon where you sat with a refreshed “Ah, hot cocoa. Delicious!”

You roll your eyes when he holds his mug out, but you clink your cup against his anyway. “I hope you and Namjoon had your fun in the shower. That’s a nasty hickey.”

He coughs, adjusting his turtleneck to cover up said blemish. “Sorry. I didn’t know you would need me.”

“It’s fine,” you say, glancing around for any unwanted spectators. You whisper the next part. “I grabbed your spellbook and did it myself.”

He bears a proud smile, looking like he is about to deliver well-deserved praises when suddenly, his expression falls. Setting down his beverage, he seemed rather pale despite being near the fireplace. He looks up at the night sky and you follow his gaze. “Oh shit…”

You set down your drink too, paying no mind as it sloshes enough to spill over. “Jin… what’s wrong?”

“It’s a full moon…”

“Yeah. And?”

He shoots up like a rocket and sprints upstairs to his room. You follow at once, off-put by his erratic behavior. He’s found his spellbook on the bed where you left it, flipping through the pages so quickly, you thought they’d rip. Once he settles on the desired section, he shoves the book in your face. 

“Is this the spell you used?!”

You eye the page in its fancy script, seeing the same picture of a wolf howling under the moon. “Yes. It says Binding Chain at the top and I read it. It suppresses a male’s rut.”

“Did you see the fine print?”

“There’s a fine print?” you echo. Skimming the page, you squint at the very bottom to see an anecdote at the bottom marked with an asterisk. You read it out loud. “On the night of a full moon, the binding chain’s powers are reversed. Rather than suppressing a rut, the male’s urges will be amplified…”

The book shuts and you’re greeted by Jin’s stern look. It’s the same one he gave you that time you set his hair on fire by accident. “The closer it gets to midnight, the more unhinged Jungkook will be. This is why you should’ve asked me for help.”

“How was I supposed to know? He was in pain and you were bumping uglies with Namjoon!”

“Spells like this are tricky, especially for novices. We don’t even know if you did it right.”

“Gee, thanks for the bode of confidence.”

A concerned voice from the doorway calls out to you and Jin. “Whoa, whoa, what’s going on here?”

You both turn to see Namjoon in his winter gear, covered in snow like he was a dessert dusted with powdered sugar. Jin walks over and brushes some off his furry hat. “[Y/N] used the wrong spell for Jungkook. His rut is about to come back tenfold and it won’t be pretty.”

“It’s not my fault,” you argue. “If you and he weren’t fucking each other, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Okay… this is horrible timing,” Namjoon says with a forced awkward laugh. Jin holds him by the shoulders.

“Honey… where’s Jungkook?”

“I… lost something important when we got here. Jungkook and I went out to look for it. I gave up, but he’s stubborn and is still out there.”

You look out the window and see the snowfall getting heavier, each flake larger and more frequent as it piles on the thick blanket that already covers the ground. Visibility was diminishing and you could barely see the outline of the moon in the sky. 

“I’m going to get him,” you say, determined. They look at you like you have three heads. “I’m the only one who can handle him on a night like this.”

“It’s dangerous. The snow is getting worse out there,” Namjoon warns.

“Yeah, and whose fault is it that he’s still out there? He may be immortal, but he has limits too.”

Namjoon recognizes your stubbornness; you share that with Jungkook. He pulls out his phone, hastily texts something, and sends it, which triggers a chime on your phone. 

“There’s a cabin out there that I use on my missions sometimes. You’ll find a cage in the basement that can hold Jungkook for the night. Food, water, clothes, sedatives, weapons—you name it.”

He offers you his crossbow gun, but you decline. “I can get through to him.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. But… It doesn’t feel right to hurt him. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Stay safe. We’ll come find you in the morning.”

Winter is the superior season, some would say. Because with the cold, you can layer clothes nonstop until you’re warm. Newsflash: that’s a lie. You’re freezing your ass off despite your best efforts to combat the frost, but Mother Nature couldn’t resist challenging your limits.  

The weather has taken a turn for the worse as snow swirls around you, making it difficult to see or hear anything. You trudge through it, the flame in your palm being the only source of light and heat as harsh gusts of wind threaten to extinguish it. 

Your magic was technically infinite, considering your necklace was a conductor for it. The jewelry siphons the magic from your hybrid body and allows you to use it like a witch would. However, like with most things, if you overdo it, it drains your energy and weakens its potency. 

When you reach the forest, the wind howls through the trees as your breath comes out in heavy puffs. Each step you take sinks deeper than the previous one until you’re knee-deep in snow. The ground is uneven and your steps slow because even the slightest misstep could be your last. With no one around for miles, this was not the way you wanted to go out. 

You don’t know how much time has passed, but the flame flickers until darkness remains. 

“No… no… please…” You wrap your arms around yourself, the biting cold unforgiving. A rustle in the distance alerts your fight-or-flight and you scan your surroundings, seeing a dark silhouette who you can only assume is… “Jungkook?”

Whoever it was burst into a sudden sprint in the opposite direction. Your body has a mind of its own, chasing him down without hesitation. You reach a clearing where his broad back faces you, the moon casting a soft glow behind his figure. He turns around, revealing his ruby red eyes with streaks of gold, which sparkle like luster dust in water. 

His face is unreadable until you risk a step forward. 

“Don’t come closer!” he barks, startling you to retract back. The hurt in your eyes breaks him, but he couldn’t bear to be a burden for you to shoulder. “I feel like I’m going crazy. You shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s the full moon. The body chain is making things worse. I can—”

“No!” He bares his teeth and bends his knees as if preparing to pounce. “You need to leave. Now!”

Falling onto all fours, he lets out a strangled groan, cursing like there was no tomorrow. His bones snap, pop out of place, and lengthen to create a new foundation for his werewolf form. It was like all his organs were set ablaze, the searing pain shooting throughout his body. You deny his request and take another step. 

“Stay… away!” he orders, his voice roughed and strained.

His head hangs low, clawing the snow beneath him. Though shapeshifting was a great distraction, doing so during a rut could have unpredictable circumstances. It was far too dangerous; he knew better but was desperate for relief. 

“Run…” he breathes, lifting his head. Your legs tremble from his unwavering, lethal gaze. “Run!!!” His canines peek through when he growls at you once more and you are hit with the severity of the situation. Fear strikes through you like a javelin and combined with your rush of adrenaline, you escape the premises. 

Everything is a blur as you zig-zag through the snow-capped trees in the forest. You don’t stop running until your lungs burn to the point where you’re about to vomit. Despite how numb your fingers are, you check your phone, looking up the location of the cabin. It’s not too far away and if you can manage to lure Jungkook there, he’ll be safe for the night.

An eerie howl startles you and you trek forward, looking over your shoulder every so often. It’s not until you come across a line of forestry, where there’s a gap in the middle of two trees. Upon closer inspection, you squint at the darkness that sits between them, and two glowy orbs greet you. 

A low snarl sends chills up your spine as two black paws emerge into the moonlight before their true form follows. You’re face to face with the big black wolf, its eyes glowing with feral intensity. The body chain’s magic allowed for the accessory to enlarge, accommodating Jungkook’s new size. 

“Jungkook…”

He doesn’t respond, almost like that name was foreign to him. All he does is crouch, and you start to regret not having a weapon. With a growl, he lunges at you, powerful muscles rippling under his fur. You barely dodge in time, but his claws graze your arm, ripping through my coat and drawing blood. 

Damn. I’m getting sloppy. I need blood.

You clutch onto the wound, hissing at him as your eyes shift to fiery gold. “Stop! Jungkook, it’s me!”

He circles you like a shark, instilling more fear before he pounces again. His heavy weight forces your body to topple backward, the snow cushioning your fall, and soon stained a vivid crimson. Jungkook had bitten your shoulder this time, his fangs sinking deep. 

Not even your blood-curdling scream dissuades him from prying his jaw off. You feel the prick of tears behind your eye, but you push through it, using your remaining good arm to punch him. The wolf is hurled about twenty feet away and you force yourself up.

“Okay… it’s clear you’re more beast than man right now…” you say, panting as more blood trickles onto the snow. The wolf shakes its head and slowly rises, its predatory gaze stripping you of your fortitude. 

Just then a deep rumble beneath your feet alerts you to look up, where the heart of the mountain was. The signs are there: the snowpack drifting, ominous cracks in the ground, and a thunderous roar as snow cascades down the landform.

“Shit…” you say, running in the opposite direction. “Come on! Chase me!”

Thankfully you don’t have to ask twice. Jungkook’s hot on your trail as the snow is on his. The ground continues to shake, the avalanche's roar deafening, drowning out all other sounds. Both your lives are at stake and you run to the cabin up ahead, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

As you reach the door, you swipe the keycard Namjoon lent you, the faint click giving you a moment of reprieve. You throw the door open at the same time Jungkook tackles you from behind. You stumble forward, his weight crushing you as he slashes your back with his sharp claws. 

Now you’re pissed.

You flip onto your back, clutching his paws while his jaw snaps towards your face, spit flying everywhere. 

“God, Jungkook! Get a grip!” You grunt as you exert your muscles, throwing him into the living room area. A wooden table is smashed into bits and the TV screen has a crack down the middle, but you don’t care. You kick the door shut just as the avalanche slams into the ground outside, its force shaking the cabin walls. 

The noise is overwhelming, but it distracts the beast long enough for you to search for the basement. The cabin’s small space makes it easy as one narrow door sits in the corner, so you try your luck. There’s a set of steep, wooden stairs and you descend quickly, seeing dim recess ceiling lights that cast a soft yellow glow. 

Unlike the cabin, the basement was underground and wide, with ample space for the cage Namjoon had promised. It’s in the furthest left corner with thick chains attached to the floor and ceiling. A workbench greets you once you reach the last step, filled with various weapons and tranquilizers you were all too familiar with.

Due to his hybrid nature, your best bet is to grab the syringe with vervain and wolfsbane. Reassurance is but a fleeting moment when Jungkook descends the stairs too, determined to finish you off. 

He bites your leg this time, and you jam the syringe into his neck simultaneously. Once the wolf loses consciousness, you stumble backward and hit your head on the edge of the workbench, drifting into darkness.

Jungkook’s Point of View

Something wet touches my fingers and it stirs me awake. My muscles are screaming, feeling like I have been hit by a semi-truck. I open my eyes, forcing myself to sit up and look at my hands. 

“Oh my god…”

Red is all I see. I’m covered in it. My lips taste it. But I don’t remember how it got there and that scares me. However, I look over to see [Y/N]’s unconscious body next to me. The blood is hers, pooling from her head and her body looks like a corpse from a crime scene. I’m terrified now, crawling over to her while my body shakes. 

“No… please.” 

I saw the gruesome claw marks on her arm, the nasty bites on her shoulder and leg, and her head wound that was still bleeding. I lift her head first, then her back, seeing the scratches there too. I don’t know what to do other than hold her close, listening for signs of life. It’s faint, but she’s breathing. 

“Who did this to you?” I breathe, but the question is stupid. I’m covered in evidence of my crimes, a sin with no solution. Her face looks sickly, so I bite my wrist and put it against her lips, forcing her to drink my blood for sustenance. 

I choke out a sob when I don’t see a difference.

“I’m so sorry…” I kiss the top of her head, praying to anyone who hears it, to bring her back to me. 

“Jungkook…”

I thought I was hearing things until she calls for me again. It’s a fucking miracle. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to…”

“Shh… haven’t you heard of kissing a person’s boos-boos?” Her lips curl into a faint smile and I’m thrown for a loop. How can she speak so lightly about the horrors I’ve committed?

“You must have a concussion. I need to patch you up.”

“No. Kiss my wounds, silly. Just like you did to my head.”

I was too distraught to realize, but the blood on the rug we were on had vanished. Her hair no longer smells of iron either and realization dawns on me.

“Okay. Let me help you get out of your clothes first.”

It’s not a smooth process, but she handles it like a champ as I maneuver her coat, shirt, and tank top off. I pause every so often when she winces, making sure she’s comfortable before I move on. Her boots come off next and then her leggings, leaving her only in her undergarments. 

Lying her flat on her back, I get on top and kiss her shoulder area first. It’s a magical sight watching the wound seal itself as new skin regenerates while the blood evaporates. She coos at the relief, giving me a warm smile. 

“That feels nice.”

I head for her arm next, giving it several smooches to cover the claw marks. Each one repairs itself the same way. I lean back on my knees, holding her leg up until it reaches my lips and I leave another kiss there. Her eyes shimmer in excitement as do mine when the bite heals. 

“Can you turn around for me?” I ask. She gets on all fours, exposing her back to me. It was the nastiest injury yet, the laceration deep and red. I don’t care and kiss every inch of her skin until it goes away, noticing how she shivers each time. 

Once she’s fully healed, I see a cage in the corner and eye the chains inside. I get up and head there, frantically trying to get the cuffs on. She follows me and I curse at my shaky hands for being too slow. 

“What are you doing now?” she asks as if it’s not obvious.

“Damn it all, why can’t I get this on?!” She places her hands on mine, steadying them until they stop trembling. “[Y/N], please. I need to be chained up. It’s dangerous for you to be here, I almost killed you!”

“But you didn’t. I’m fine. I knew the risks.”

“Why didn’t you beat me senseless? I deserved it.”

She shakes her head, still able to give me a soft smile as if I didn’t try to maul her to death however long ago. “Because your rut… it’s not easy to deal with. And I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you. Besides, I messed up on the spell.”

She points to the body chain on me. “On a full moon, it amplifies your rut. Not suppress it.”

I drop the cuffs and grab the body chain instead, ready to yank it off when she snatches my wrists. 

“Don’t,” she orders. “I want it on.”

My eyes widen. “This thing almost got you killed.”

“It’s hot on you.”

“Are you okay? Is your head fully healed? Why are you—”

She pecks me on the lips to shut me up. It’s cute, sweet, and simple. Sometimes I wish we were simple. 

“Jungkook… ever since I saw you at the wedding, I haven’t been able to heal properly,” she confesses. 

My hands drop to my sides. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure. But whenever I got a cut, it healed but not as fast as it usually did. And I thought about when I got hurt at the wedding, how you kissed my hand, and how fast it healed then. This has never happened to me before, but I realized… I can’t be without you.”

She caresses the side of my face and I shiver at her gentle touch, placing a chaste kiss on her palm. “No… you were right to leave. I’m dangerous.”

A finger comes up to my lips. “Shh… our fates are entwined whether you like it or not, you stupid bastard,” I can’t help but chuckle and she giggles. It lights up my world. “When you said you never stopped loving me back at the lodge… were you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Her expression is teetering between fondness and confusion. “Sorry, that’s not romantic, huh?”

“It is to me. I love you too.”

Her confession triggers something in me. It's a carnal, animalistic need and I realize my rut is surging back with renewed intensity. 

“My love, I need you to make a choice,” I say with labored breathing. Sweat coats my hair, matting it to my forehead. My body feels like I’m being incinerated inside out. “I want you permanently. Not temporarily. Body and soul. Your devotion. If you stay…”

“I’ll stay. I promise,” she says without a trace of hesitation. But I can’t help but be reminded of the past.

“How do I know you won’t leave again?”

She ponders her answer but then says, “Because when I’m not focused on my future, I’m focused on ours.” 

It brings me immense joy, but my lust drowns it out. 

“Okay. We’re going to need a safe word. Or you need to promise you’ll defend yourself against me by any means if it becomes too much.”

“Jungkook—”

“I mean it. Because everything I said at the lodge was true. Everything.”

She wets her lips at the memory, which tempts me with depravity. “Are you okay if I’m still infertile?”

“I never minded it. Because I’m going to fuck you like I’m gonna breed you anyway.” 

She nods. “... Red.”

“Red,” I repeat and then I’m all over her.

Your Point of View

Jungkook lunges at you, his movements a blur of desperate need. You’re pressed against the iron bars of the cage as he kisses you like he’ll devour you whole. His hands roam your body to tear off your bra and panties, and you gasp, but he swallows it by kissing you deeper.

His hands are greedy, kneading your breasts in circular motions. He twists one of your nipples with his forefinger and thumb, the sensation borderlining pain and pleasure, but you succumb to it. Especially when he stops kissing you to lower himself, sucking on your other nipple. He doesn’t hold back and tugs on it between his teeth, earning a mewl from you. 

When he pulls back, he releases it with an audible pop before giving the other one the same treatment. Your hands run through his hair, gripping hard enough to make him moan with hunger. He pushes your breasts together, so he’s able to suck both nipples simultaneously. The sight enraptures you, and you swear he’s the most attractive man alive. 

“I can’t wait, I need you now. I need you many… many times tonight,” he says after he’s left several purple constellations in his wake. You’re turned around, holding onto the bars for support as his bicep slithers around your neck. His lips find purchase on the shell of your ear. “God, I want to destroy you.”

He slips his thick cock in between your thighs, feeling the copious amount of slickness between your folds. He thrusts back and forth and you rock your hips in tandem, appreciating his restraint. Each time his tip brushes against your clit, you moan to the ceiling while he groans against your neck. 

You’re sensitive, on the brink of an orgasm, but Jungkook comes first. White spurts of cum spill out from his tip, and he shudders when you use your hand to coax out more. 

“Fuck, I can’t hold on anymore. I’d do more to prep you, but I can’t wait. I’m sorry.” 

Despite coming already, Jungkook was still fully erect. You swore he might’ve even gained an inch. He was deliciously massive, blessed in both girth and length. 

“It’s okay. I can take it,” you assure. 

“If it’s too much?”

“I say red.”

Jungkook holds onto your hips and pulls you back, your body now parallel to the floor at a ninety-degree angle. You arch your back and stick your ass out for him, even going far as to shake your peach to tantalize him. Without needing to guide it, he slams his dick into you with such violence that it leaves you winded. 

He wastes no time thrusting, his pace desperate, rushed, and greedy to satisfy an insatiable hunger. You’re holding onto the bars for dear life as he fucks you like it’s his last day on Earth. There’s a burn that comes with not having time to adjust to his inhumane size, but you endure. Lust covers a world of hurt and the stretch ignites a fervor. 

The basement is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin and unabashed moaning. Jungkook grips your hips so tight, they bruise. He smacks your ass multiple times, each sting resulting in a tighter clench from your soaking pussy, which drives him wild.  You love how he stretches you out, how he’s using you like a dumb fucktoy for his cravings. You want to please him because it pleases you. 

Without warning, he pistons into you faster, and you can barely see straight. His last thrust is sharp and calculated, a rough grunt escaping him as he empties himself into you. Your legs are trembling when he pulls out, admiring how his cum oozes out of you. 

Sliding down to the ground, you rest your back against the cage and close your eyes to catch a break. However, Jungkook smacks your cheeks a couple of times to get your attention. He’s erect again, no surprise. You swear with each orgasm, he’s getting bigger. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

He places a hand on your head, guiding your lips to his throbbing cock. It’s coated in shared body fluids, but you open your mouth like an automated response until he slides himself in. You gag when he hits the back of your throat and he pulls out, but not all the way. You have to mentally prepare yourself for what comes next as he grabs ahold of both sides of your head, fucking your face as he pleases. 

You’re choking and saliva dribbles down to your breasts, your eyes sting with tears, but he keeps going and you take the abuse. He doesn’t hold your head lovingly. Rather, his hand cages you in, guiding you however he sees fit. Your jaw is sore, but that’s a small price to pay when you have the most gorgeous man throwing his head back in bliss because of you. 

Once his hips stutter and he comes again, you swallow the slightly bitter fluid and he releases you.

“Get up.”

You’re a bit dizzy, so he helps you to your feet. You see him squat and bring your legs atop his shoulders. In one swift motion, he stands with you perched atop and you squeal, holding his head in fear of falling. 

“Jungkook!”

“Hold onto the cage.”

You don’t question him and do just that, thinking about how this was the same way you took down your opponent back at the farm. However, the only danger here was Jungkook having you right where he wanted you.

He sticks his tongue out and begins lapping up your juices from earlier. You’re unable to process being suspended in the air while getting eaten out at the same time. It’s thrilling, and you almost sob when he invades your walls and tongue-fucks you. The slurping noises that leave him are obscene. It’s as if you were his last meal, which only coaxes out more arousal. It’s too much when your orgasm nears, but he grabs your ass tighter and everything snaps.

You’re screaming his name, rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Your ears ring, your toes curl, and you shut your eyes to ride the waves of bliss. You don’t even realize when you’re back on the ground because it feels like you’re not even on the same planet anymore. 

And suddenly you’re in the air again. Jungkook grabs the underside of your thighs and lifts you, your legs perched around his waist and your hands around his neck. He uses one hand to guide his tip to your entrance, and your breath hitches. 

“We’re not done yet.”

“I never want you to be. Use me.”

He sinks you onto his cock, bouncing you like a rag doll. You hold each other close, staring intensely into each other’s eyes. Everything burns inside Jungkook’s body. His thighs, his arms, his heart—but that pain fuels him to fuck you harder. You kiss him first this time, inserting your tongue and sliding it against his. It’s sloppy but erotic, and he only ups his speed. 

He doesn’t last long and comes again, but you wait until he decides to put you down. You’re on your back now and he places a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“God, I wanna fill you up again. Breed you until you’re exhausted.”

He has hold of your ankles, bringing them up high until your knees hug your chest as he inserts himself again. You can see his fat cock going in and out of you, his cock creamy and white from your slick. Your tummy bulges with each thrust, but the nightmarish visual is, somehow, incredibly sexy. He makes you feel full, yet you can’t seem to get enough. 

“Fuck, how are you still going?” you whimper. He chuckles like he’s flattered, lowering your legs so he can lay flat on top, chest to chest. You’re both sweaty and reek of sex, but it feels right. 

“Because you’re my soulmate. I’m going to ravish you.” 

Hours pass. He’s more beast than man at this point, almost unrecognizable. This wasn’t making love. He was determined to fuck your brains out. 

Every position imaginable, no part of your body went unexplored. If you were a country, he was a sergeant invading every part of you. You’re bruised and full of bloody scratches, but so was he. 

Whenever you were nearing the possibility of passing out, he found a way to give you a break. Whether by humping your thighs again or using your hands, he didn’t care. You’re soaked in his cum, a sticky, filthy mess that he deemed beautiful. He took pride in his work like you were his canvas for a Jackson Pollock painting. 

His boundless energy inspired him to get creative, making use of the cage’s chains. He had you dangle from the ceiling as he fucked you from the front. From the back. In your ass. 

If he thought you were tight before, your ass was a whole other story. You’d never taken something so big. It took a while for you to relax and though lube was ideal, the copious amounts of cum he filled you with earlier worked fine. More than fine. Something about him shoving his two fingers in you to draw out his cum to finger your asshole felt lecherous. You swore you were going to tear in half, but when his tip brushed sweet spots you didn’t know existed, you came harder than the previous times.  

Now you are on all fours, his hand in your hair, locking you in the humiliating position. He penetrates deep inside, loving the way your ass jiggles every time your bodies meet. You’ve been reduced to a moaning mess, unable to think about anything but his cock. 

You’re saying “Yes, yes, yes!” but the words are slurred, reduced to pure nonsense, thanks to his brutal movements. His thrusts are merciless, repeatedly hitting you in that sweet spot with no signs of slowing down unless he changes positions. 

“Fuck, this is it,” he grunts. He carefully pulls out, lies on his side, and brings you close so you’re on your side too. Lifting your leg, he slides into you again and resumes penetration. This time when he comes, you can see your belly expand from how much he fills you up. His monstrous cock swells and you whine from the discomfort, feeling like you’re about to pop. 

“It hurts,” you cry. Jungkook cuddles you as his knot takes form, ensuring no cum spills out. 

“I know, love. It’ll be okay.” He litters your neck with kisses to distract you from the pain until you’re used to his new size. You’ve never felt so full and can’t believe you’re stuck like this for who knows how long. It’s a phony moment of reprieve, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once the pain subsides, you lay there as he hugs you, feeling his chest on your back. He holds your hand, intertwining his fingers in yours. You take this chance to look at his tattoos, noticing one stand out in particular. 

“What’s this?” you ask.

You’re pointing to a tattoo of a lake with mountains that have a full moon situated between them on his forearm.

“Oh, that? It’s where I first fell for Namjoon when he sparred with me.” His playful lilt makes you pout.

“Hey…” 

Jungkook kisses your shoulder and grins. “That’s where I first fell for you, silly. And where I fell for you again the night of the wedding. I contemplated getting rid of it, but… I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Aw…” A question pops into your mind that you’ve been dying to ask. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why did you have vervain on you that day? Why carry the burden of knowing?”

He hums like he was expecting that question. “Because I know you too well and maybe… I wanted to keep that pain because it was my last link to you. I couldn’t give that up.” He turns your face so you’ll look up at him. “I love you, [Y/N].”

Saying those three words back again didn’t feel like enough. He was your one and you wanted to spend eternity with him.

“Mark me. Make me yours for good.”

His doe eyes form an OJO face, which earns a laugh from you. Despite all that’s happened, this manages to surprise him. 

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, and you allow him to mark you as his. 

The next morning you and Jungkook are cleaned up, cuddling by the fireplace in the living room area. 

“Why is there a saxophone over there?” you ask, pointing to the random instrument near the door.

“You know what… I’m not sure.” Jungkook gets up, walks over to it, and picks it up. The face he makes while examining it is endearing, but you’re curious when he reaches his hand in the bell of the instrument. “I feel something.”

He pulls out something small, but you recognize the diamond instantly. “Is that a wedding ring?”

His face morphs into panic. “It’s not for you,” he blurts. You giggle and approach him, swiping the ring. 

“I know that, silly. You wouldn’t propose to me here.”

He visibly relaxes, rubbing the back of his nape, cheeks flushed. “It’s Namjoon’s.”

“Oh! Is this what he asked you to help him find? Is he going to propose to Jin? How sweet!”

A strange hissing noise distracts you two, and you turn your attention to the window. The snow from the avalanche is melting rapidly and soon, the door opens, revealing the couple you were just talking about.

“We’re here!” Jin shouts with his arms out in a ta-da position. 

“Again… you’re a little late,” you tease. Namjoon strides in, taking a look at the damage you two inflicted in the small space. 

“Geez… what did you two do?”

“What didn’t we do?” Jungkook says, giving you a wink. You can only laugh as you playfully hit his shoulder. 

The clothes the cabin had were a size too big on you, so they drooped on your small frame. Namjoon and Jin are quick to notice the bite mark on your exposed shoulder and how it solidified into something akin to a tattoo.

“Oh… Oh,” Jin says, realization hitting him as his ears turn red. “Congratulations!”

“Well, we should congratulate you too,” Jungkook says, giving Namjoon a pointed look. The man is confused at first, but then nods once he feels you slip the metal item into his palm. He’s ecstatic and immediately grabs the saxophone. You and Jungkook grin while his rather awkward proposal plays out, with Jin mostly unaffected and choosing to criticize his partner’s clothing choices instead.

“Hey! I practiced hard for you and you only talk about my clothes?!” Namjoon says, but the smile he wears lets you know he’s not hurt. Jin laughs and hugs him.

“I’m touched!”

Namjoon finally gets down on one knee and pops the question. “Will you marry me then?”

Now Jin’s entire face is flushed. “Oh my god… of course, my gentle giant.”

Jungkook and you give each other a knowing look, wondering when your turn will come next. He holds your hand and you lay your head on his shoulder. 

“That’ll be us someday,” he says.

“I know. But I’m not in a rush. I’m already yours.”

General A/N: Hello!!! Thank you for reading until the end. I appreciate reblogs and asks if you wanna share your thoughts. 💘

Moonstruck Readers A/N: So for those who are curious, I was going to include NamJin’s wedding where Taehyung shows up and he sees OC and JK together. And that could lead to a whole other spiral of feelings. ;) But I’m not promising to write it. This is their happy ending and OC and JK do get married eventually. 

Or if you’re like my friend who keeps saying TaeKook should both be with OC, well, that’s in another universe I guess. LOL!