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strawberrystepmom · 11 months ago

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pairing: Kenjaku x F!Reader, past Geto Suguru x F!Reader

word count: 3.6k

about: you become kenjaku's captive to ensure that he will not miss his opportunity to fight the strongest after his return from the prison realm. the temptation of being this close to the last remaining earthly fragment of the man you once loved, suguru, proves too much to resist and you give into your desires despite the hole they're bound to leave.

contents: NSFW - MINORS DNI. DARK CONTENT WARNING, MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS FOR CH 236 AND BEYOND | dubcon, manipulation, violence against reader, asphyxiation, kidnapping | reader is a sorcerer and went to school with geto and they had mutual feelings for one another, mentions of religion and references to god, kenjaku retained some of geto's memories and knows reader through them, reader has breasts and descriptions of vaginal anatomy are given, rough piv sex with little prep, reader is referred to as "girl", major character death (off screen).

notes: i've uh....been going through some things lately LMAO tbh i started this awhile back before thanksgiving but have felt weird about posting it and it very nearly stayed in the "between me and god" folder so i held back but today i said fuck it. if you read, thanks and i hope you enjoy!!!

header art is by jenny holzer and divider is by @/cafekitsune ♡

“The old occupant of this vessel was very fond of you, you know?”

How dare Kenjaku mention Suguru so casually, as if he were a tenant to his own flesh and bone instead of its rightful owner?

“You know nothing about him,” The words are full of venom, flying from your mouth not unlike the way you spat at the curse user’s face two days prior to now. He chuckled when the fluid hit his cheek, wiping it off without a second thought. “Or me.”

You felt so guilty for spitting at his face, the face of a man you once believed that you loved, that you wept until you began to dry heave atop the futon mattress in the room that has been designated as yours. It’s the same bed you rest on now, duvet over your knees that are hiked to your chest. It’s a means to protect yourself from any vulnerability but it’s truly no use. If Kenjaku wants to harm you, he will.

He has insisted your accommodations be comfortable since arriving three days ago given you are collateral and not a captive, his own clever wording for the situation, but you’re more than aware that if you were to attempt to escape from the cage that you’d hit the window just as all birds hungry for a taste of freedom do. There are no cuffs, chains, or bars but your freedom is no longer yours. It is a prize to be won pending the defeat of the man standing across from you in the doorway, shoji door open beside him, flowing hair as dark as the midnight sky brushing the backs of his elbows.

For years you wondered what you’d do if faced with Suguru again. Would you strike him, insisting he deserved it for all the hurt left in his wake? Ask him why in a scream so powerful your shoulders would shake with the weight of your fury? Perhaps you’d forgive him, as you’d been taught and encouraged to do your entire life, and those mumbled prayers cast to the God you believe in above you would be true for the first time since they’ve left your treacherous lips.

“I forgive him, I hope you can, too.” You have begged God aloud and silently since sixteen years old. You have always been devout in your faith despite abandoning most of the tenets that make someone a believer, your lack of devotion not enough to deter you from selfishly asking for absolution for a man who you know deserves none.

God’s answer is clear when faced with the fact that this is not Geto standing in front of you. There is no less mercy a person can be shown than their body being used as a sick prop after their death.

The space where his thoughts and dreams and hopes used to lie is occupied by something far worse than just visions of a world purified through means of violence, a place where people like you could live without the threat of death and sacrifice to keep others safe. Granted, that wasn’t exactly a noble purpose either, but at least it didn’t threaten your life the way that whatever lives inside of his skull does now.

“I know more about both of you than you think.”

Kenjaku’s words drip with smugness and your stomach flips. The natural responses of your body to a man who looks and sounds just like Suguru make you sick but you cannot focus on fighting them off and keeping yourself protected at the same time, you have to simply make peace with the butterflies in your stomach that feels like something is punching you in the gut over and over again. He dares enter the room and you scoot further up the futon, hitting the wall behind you and leveling a glare in his direction.

Suguru’s body reacts to you, as well, something that Kenjaku planned long ago to use to his advantage. It started with hazy dreams, a face he recognized as yours drifting through them, your thighs and your lips and your skirt. It’s a version of you a little younger, a little warmer - less edgy than you are now. You are sharp and finely tuned to harm while the version of you that lived in Geto’s mind will forever stay soft, a freshly unfurled rose.

“All you’ve done is vandalize him,” you accuse and he shrugs, dressed in a cotton yukata rather than the robes he stole in addition to the body they dressed. It’s easy to imagine another life where this is Suguru and you are you and he’s coming to your shared bedside, kneeling on the ground the same way Kenjaku is now while he invites himself to the only space you currently have as your own.

“You’re a smart girl, don’t play dumb.” Your glance moves from the doorway to him, disgusted by how brave he is getting this close to you. “Perhaps I’m simply using the power this body holds in the way he was too cowardly to attempt.”

Despite your current state of sitting in nothing but a yukata yourself, you are physically strong from spending the last decade of your life as nothing more than a glorified weapon to use in the fight against evil. Even if your Cursed Technique would be unlikely to have any effect on the man, you could be a difficult problem for him if you wanted to be, yet you sit and do nothing but wait and refuse to respond to his words. He chuckles at your stubbornness and reaches across the bed and your body to grab your chin between his thumb and index finger. He shifts your head until you’re staring directly at him and a smile crosses his lips.

You do not fight him off.

“Tell me, sorcerer,” he starts and you swallow, bottom lip quivering. You want to reach out and slap him away, to scream and kick but your body stays still, the only place blood is pooling between your legs and in the heat of your face. “Where are those teeth and claws you were so eager to show me on your first night here?”

He reaches his thumb upward and presses it against your mouth, stopping the shake with a single touch - your body’s natural reaction to a man you are now certain you loved, given it’s the only explanation for your behavior. It’s a form of trust, the muscle memory of a kiss he gave you in your dorm room at the school you once shared. The first night you were spitting and hissing, now you’re so placid.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

Stubbornly, you shake your head and Kenjaku chuckles again, pulling his thumb away from your lip but maintaining the grip on your chin. You know this is not Suguru, it’s as clear as the stitches across the forehead of the practically empty vessel that further closes in on you. He moves silently until he’s mere inches away from you, his head hovering over your knees that are still pulled against your chest. You watch him with narrowed eyes, tucking against yourself tighter than you ever have as a means of comfort, but it does nothing to stop him from lingering.

“I could just make you speak if I wanted to,” he warns. The power in this situation belongs to him.

“What’s the point of fighting you? You’re going to do whatever you want with me anyway.” You admit, defeated. Whatever fight you had left in you was smothered weeks ago during the attack on Shibuya. Even the release of Gojo is not enough to fill you with hope for the future. It’s pointless to keep fighting when the only outcome is going to be loss.

The shaky sound of your voice makes the curse user move closer to you and you shut your eyes tightly, refusing to look at him lest your body continue with these inexplicable natural responses. Heart pounding against your chest, it’s inexplicably frustrating that it cannot seem to separate what your brain knows is true from what your body wants to believe.

It isn’t him, you scream within the confines of your own mind but it does not prevent your palms from feeling clammy and the squeeze of your inner thighs against each other to provide some relief against the heat in your core.

It isn’t him. It isn’t him. It isn’t him…

Chanting the words internally, you open your eyes and are met with a pair of golden ones staring directly at you. They’re the same that stared at you in a dorm room a decade ago although they’re missing the warmth they had back then, dripping honey sweetness hidden in the irises turned to tar.

“You’re right, I can.” He nods and dark hair falls over his eyes, catching your eye. Your stomach turns when you spot the stitches across his forehead but your gaze returns to his so quickly you can hardly think about it. “But will it be what I want or is it what this body desires, I wonder?”

This piques your interest and Kenjaku tilts his head to the side inquisitively, dark hair sweeping over your knees and around your body. It feels like a curtain, a veil like the ones you are so used to using to keep people safe and ignorant and outside of your world of sorcery.

“What do you mean?”

A smirk is the response you are granted and he moves closer to you, one of his hands reaching for the duvet you’re using to cover you. Pulling it back gently, your robe covered body coming into view and once again, you make no effort to fight. With this barrier removed, he runs his palm over the outside of your thigh. Muffling your whimper at the touch, you attempt to hide your face in your shoulder but he stops you, still grasping onto your chin and still holding your gaze.

“Interesting.”

His hand travels from the outside of your thigh to the insides and you gently spread them to allow him access before realizing what he’s searching for. Attempting to cut off his access by closing your legs, he holds your thigh in place and lets his fingers dip lower along the soft skin. You quiver and shake beneath him like a leaf clinging to the branches of a tree in winter, desperate for somewhere to remain, and those fingers inch closer and closer to your core. He stops when he feels the coarse hair covering your mound and dares to dip a single fingertip between your folds, raising his eyebrows when he feels the arousal seeping from you.

“I knew it,” he whispers so low you wonder if you were even meant to hear it but the way he gazes at you, like that of a man starved, tells you that the words were meant for no one but you.

Your hand shakes as much as the rest of you when you finally lift it from your side, reaching out to him and taking a strand of hair between your fingers. It feels just as you imagined it would, silk between your digits, and a breathy sigh leaves you before you begin to cry. Dropping the small strand, you choose to reach out toward his forehead and use your hand to block the stitches covering it.

“Suguru.”

You babble the name like it is precious, your lip quivering just as it did before, and the evil man shakes his head, capturing your wrist with the hand he just removed from your chin. He lowers your hand enough that you can see the stitches unobscured.

“Kenjaku, actually.”

He lowers your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, amused when you squirm where you sit, practically delirious with lust and confusion. You do not want this, at least that’s what you tell yourself while parting your legs further and panting, chest heaving with every breath.

Wordlessly, he uses his free hand to untie your robe and it falls off of your shoulders, exposing you to him fully before he can blink. This is something he remembers seeing in one of those dreams but you look different than whatever the imagination of a man who was infatuated with you was able to come up with during his loneliest hours. It amuses Kenjaku that he is the one to see you like this, bare and willing.

Tracing down your belly and lower, he stops between your legs which makes you whimper. You’re so desperate to be touched, to pretend he is someone you’ll never have the opportunity to love as properly as you could have if you’d both lived a different life, that your hips actually arch off of the bed eagerly. It should embarrass you but you are past the point of humiliation, willing to be fucked by evil incarnate just for the sake of a taste of Suguru Geto.

“Pathetic little thing,” he coos and you say nothing in return. You’re well aware of your failings as a sorcerer and a human being as his fingers spread your labia to get a glance at what you have to offer. For a moment, you consider praying for Suguru again; to selfishly beg God to make sense of your own actions but you know that he no longer has mercy for an ill behaved member of his flock. You will simply accept the consequences, whatever they will be.

His thumb brushes your clit and you moan, tipping your head back and toward the ceiling. You wait for the sensation of pleasure to climb through you again but it doesn’t come until you look downward again, eyes fluttering open.

“Eyes on me or you get nothing.”

Too afraid to look away lest it keep you from the only good thing you’ve felt in who knows how long, you keep your eyes glued to Kenjaku’s face while his hand works between your legs, spreading the slick from your cunt toward your clit and back down. If you could just shut your eyes, you could pretend, but they’re open and glued between your legs, watching every feathery stroke of his fingers through your folds.

Kenjaku’s cock hardens against your thigh and for a moment you dare to feel powerful knowing you aren’t the only one surrendering to the most base of your needs. He drops your hand and reaches for the tie of his robe, opening it and giving you the only look you’ve ever been lucky enough to get of Suguru’s bare body.

Scarred, honed, a tool - just like yours. If you weren’t so lost in the moment, the lifetimes you have imagined for years would be playing through your mind.

You gasp and knit your brows together, bucking against the increasing pressure of Kenjaku’s fingers while he brings you back to him and out of your head. Whatever you’re thinking about doesn’t matter when he inserts a finger inside of you, only testing how wet you are with no intention of preparing you for his cock.

When he’s satisfied with how wet you are, he withdraws his finger and you whine. The sound is the most he has heard from you since the first night and it makes his eyes widen in interest. He shifts until he is standing between your spread knees and the realization that this is really happening hits you at once, your face flaming with desire.

“You’re so impatient.”

The curse user tuts at you with a roll of his eyes and spreads your legs as wide as they can go to accommodate the width of his body. He’s broad in shoulder and hip and you bite your lower lip when he runs the head of his cock through your folds, following the same pattern of his fingers. You expect the teasing to last longer but it stops abruptly. Before you can take a breath to prepare yourself, his cock is buried to the hilt inside of you, and you gasp with wide eyes, shocked.

“As good as you imagined?”

Words come to your mind but do not form enough to leave your mouth while he thrusts roughly, your body jerking violently against his. It’s painful, the size of him with little prep in conjunction with how he uses your body as nothing more than a glorified place to take his aggression out, but all of the numbness within you thaws and for the first time since you realized Geto was no longer Geto in Shibuya, you feel.

It’s hard to name all the emotions you are experiencing because they blur into something barely comprehensible. Pleasure and pain and bone chilling sorrow, the kind that makes tears silently drip down your face while he takes what he wants from you. He doesn’t bother to play with your clit and there is no need to, the joy you’re taking simply from being used by Suguru’s body enough that the knot inside of you is slowly beginning to unravel.

Skin on skin punctuated by his low grunts and your whines fill the small room and you are so lost, you lift yourself halfway up to meet Kenjaku and consider kissing him. Would it be close enough to kissing Suguru that you could eventually justify it or would it just sully the one good memory you have of him?

You don’t have long to think about it before you are pushed back down to the bed, one of his hands caging your throat and keeping you pinned to the bed below. A reminder that this is for his pleasure and not yours although you feel yourself coming closer to the edge than you were just moments prior, shutting your eyes tightly. All of the motion inside of you stops, the hard thrusts of his cock ending, and your eyes shoot open.

“Remember what I said. Eyes on me or you get nothing.”

Nodding, you keep them open and he begins again, pace rougher than before. You can do nothing but grunt and struggle to breathe, his cock carving out space inside of you that didn’t exist until he entered you. Every kiss of his tip against your insides knocks the breath out of you and finally you cum in a strangled moan, walls quivering around his length.

His hand inches further up your throat and squeezes experimentally. As expected, you do not fight back and he takes his indulgence with a grin, choking you with varying degrees of pressure and feeling your cunt spasm around him when he surprises you by tightening his grip.

You like this. You want this.

He leans forward and shifts his weight to his arm and hand, finally spilling inside of you with a deep moan. Warmth fills every inch of you and you wish that you felt as full in your heart as you do in your cunt but a void remains.

Kenjaku’s other hand slides up your body and wraps around your neck, both of his palms resting on either side of your neck and fingers splaying over your throat. It’s dangerous to let him have this much access to any part of you that he could possibly crush but you do not move, tearfully looking up at him and sniffling. He increases his pressure, not enough to harm you, but enough to make you work hard and you realize how easily he could just…end this.

“Please kill me,” you beg while struggling to breathe, realizing what you’ve done now that the afterglow of orgasm can no longer protect you from the cold hard truth.

You are a betrayer. You slept with the enemy to sate your own selfish desires and death seems almost too kind to beg for, yet you do.

“Kill me.”

Your face turns in shade and your vision is dotted with darkness, a miserable end to a miserable life you consider, but at least it will be over. The pressure of Kenjaku’s hands around your neck continues to increase until you are certain you are taking your last breath, lungs aching until he abruptly stops. He glances down from where he rests above you, half swollen cock softening and letting his cum leak out around the tip of it that is still inside of you and onto the sheets below.

“I will not give you the satisfaction of death until you give me the satisfaction of watching you fight for it.”

Removing his hands from around your throat completely, he glances down at the pressure indentions of his fingers with a smile. Your eyes flutter shut, you’ve passed out from lack of air, and he admires the heap he has left you in, reaching for your robe and wiping the remnants of his release and yours on the corner of it.

Nobody is coming to save you, a secret Kenjaku knows that you are not yet aware of. Satoru Gojo is dead, defeated at the hands of Sukuna. The news broke this morning and he was preparing to come to your room to let you know until this little distraction occurred. He had an inkling you were susceptible to Suguru Geto’s charms even from beyond the grave but he had no idea it would be this easy, your slumped form resting on the futon beside him. He pats your head as one would a treasured dog, long and loving strokes that do not stir you, your bare breasts swaying slightly with every breath you take.

The new world is on the horizon and he may keep you around as a plaything for a little longer than he originally intended.

#kenjaku x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #kendall writes

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clubdionysus · 7 months ago

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[BAD DECISION #17] Jeon Jungkook

warnings: WELL WELL WELL. mentions of the red witch. post-gym kook. questionable conversations that shouldn't happen between friends, totally normal touching of genitals to prove points in aforementioned conversations, kitchen escapades, whiny koo <3 titty worship, spanking, titty sucking, fingering, a lil mutual masturbation, cockwarming (or at least an attempt!), unprotected sex, jk on top, the starluvrs are bad at maths!, multiple positions (prone bone my beloved <3), he finishes on her back, lovely stuff!! just friendly tho!

a/n: the header image is another lost relic, but this time i can't even remember the base photo </3

soundtrack: just a little bit - enhypen

wc: 11.2k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

The soft cotton duvet cover on Jeongguk's bed welcomes you back far more warmly than it really should do; like a 'hi, honey, welcome home' , or an 'I've missed you'.

It's fitting that the inanimate objects of his room carry such benevolence, when he himself is an open log fire on a winter's night. Warm, warm, warm is Jeon Jeongguk, and you've been cold, cold, cold for so long that the sudden heat is almost jarring.

That's how you justify the obscure feeling in the pit of your stomach when Jeongguk starts talking about blind dates, and how he always wanted to go on one when he was younger.

He reckons that the only reason that he hadn't was because he's 'a simple man of simple pleasures'.

The hoops he needed to jump through to get a blind date - quite simply just asking someone to set it up for him - had been too challenging. You've alleviated that stress for him.

"See," you smile, folding his bird back up and tossing it over to him. You're both on his bed, staring up at the flock of birds still soaring above you, just out of reach. "We're fulfilling a childhood dream. You are getting something out of this whole deal."

You don't look at him, but you know he rolls his eyes and smiles when he does so. "Never said I wasn't, Disco Ball."

He's met with silence as you glance over at him. It's not an unwelcome nickname, but it's one he doesn't use too often these days. Always calls you Byeol.

"What?" he asks and he turns to face you when you don't reply, but you say nothing.

The more you let it simmer, the worse it gets. He's not called you Disco Ball in so long. Part of you thinks he's reducing your friendship. Addressing you like he did when he didn't know you too well. Creating distance. Forming space on a featherdown quilt that draws you both in like quicksand. He'll have to try harder if a wider margin is what he's after.

It's stupid, 'cause you know the name comes from a place of affection, but it makes you feel insecure.

"We'll still be friends, right?" You ask a little quietly. Jeongguk's brows grow taut, a slight frown forming on his features. Doesn't understand where such a question has come from. "If you get a girlfriend, I mean? We can still be friends?"

Jeongguk's skin is hot. Prickly. An automatic response to discomfort - but then his lips soften into a kind smile. Despite the offence that could be taken from you asking such a question - thinking so little of him - he's not naive to the way in which you work. He understands. People you've loved have left when things got inconvenient for them. He's been through it, too.

And so the walls that want to come up in defence are kept at bay. He doesn't let them rise. Instead, he meets you at the shores.

"Yoongi invited you to dinner," he nudges your shoulder. "Tae is practically in love with you for all the help you've given him. Dionysus relies on you drinking the bar dry every other weekend to keep it afloat. We couldn't stop being friends even if we tried."

His answer should satisfy you, yet your mind is marred by the same thought repeating over and over: Hayun probably used to get invited to dinner, too.

You aren't naive. You know his friends are just as kind as he is. They'd have welcomed anyone Jeongguk deemed important into their social circle.

"What about Hayun?"

Jeongguk frowns. "What about her?"

"Well," you say slowly, looking back up towards the birds, not wanting to watch his reaction unfold on his features like a letter of commiseration.

Before you can even articulate a reply, Jeongguk stops you.

"Don't. It's not the same. Hayun... That situation was different. Things were different. Plus, she's still my friend. Our friend. All of us. She just lives in a different city, that's all. The only reason she isn't around is because of proximity. We're still friends. Just like you and me are still gonna be friends. We've no reason not to be."

The situation is different. You're well aware of this. You've known Jeongguk for all of five minutes; she was a much more permanent fixture in his life. They had a history that you wouldn't even be able to comprehend; private jokes, and stolen moments when they thought their friends wouldn't notice. Their friends. Not just Jeongguk's.

She'd been as much a part of the friendship group as Jeongguk had been; the only difference was that she'd moved away. If she hadn't, would there even be space for you in their lives? Would Seoyeon be desperate for there to be another girl around? Would Jeongguk have felt just as fondly towards you? Would he have noticed your disco ball eyes in the dark of Dionysus or would he have been too busy searching for her in a crowded room?

Or would the time spent on you be spent on her instead?

The thought is unpleasant. It weaves its way through your bloodstream like a needle with dark red string threaded through its loop. It scratches and stabs at your insides until it breaks through the flesh of your bottom lip. Sews your mouth shut. Stops you from talking; from screaming how unfair you think it is that you're being equated to someone who destroyed him.

You don't think she deserves to be thought fondly of, but if Jeongguk knew that, you'd be the one he thinks negatively of. He leapt to her defence without you even starting an attack.

"Friends don't hurt their friends," you say quietly.

Life doesn't work that way. People hurt the ones they care about all the time - or at least you use that reasoning to comfort yourself whenever Seokjin shows up just to let you down.

"She didn't mean to," he replies. "I'm the one who caught feelings. I'm the one who misread things. She stayed the same. My hurt? It's on me, Byeol."

There's a sincerity to his voice that absolves her of blame; makes her innocent in whatever transpired between the pair of them. You know that you only have Jeongguk's side of the story, and even that is sparse and limited due to his reluctance to talk about it in any great depth, but you feel like you don't need to hear her side. He got hurt. That's enough. Your mind is made up.

Hearing him defend her so freely unnerves you. The feeling crawls beneath your skin and gnaws at your flesh. Reduces you to skin and bone.

You're silent, because you know that anything you do say will come across as mean, or as if you dislike a girl you've never met. It'd only make Jeongguk defend her more and like you less. You don't want that - as if Jeongguk wouldn't rip Seokjin to shreds at any given opportunity.

Trouble is, you can't blame him. Jeongguk has seen the impact first-hand. Wiped away tears caused by the man himself.

Hayun is just an enigma; a name rarely said, but often felt.

"What's gotten into you?" Jeongguk smiles, trying to downplay the heaviness of the atmosphere that's engulfing you both. "You're forgetting how annoying I am. You'd probably be thankful if we stopped being friends."

Though he's just teasing, you're worried that he does think that of himself. You don't want to be soppy though, so instead, you use one of his most often said phrases against him.

"I think if we stopped being friends I would simply die."

It earns a laugh. He nudges your shoulder. Tells you that you really gotta stop stealing his catchphrases and the things he does.

"Oh fuck off," you laugh. "What else have I stolen?"

A whole host of things.

"The mirror thing," is all he says, noticing your confusion immediately. He reaches over and tenderly clasps your chin. Doesn't notice the tiny gasp that gets caught in your throat - or if he does, he doesn't mention it. Turns your head, so that you're looking at him, and says " 'watch'. "

You close your eyes and smile. Nod. "Ah. That. The mirror thing. "

"See," he smirks, not that you can see. Your eyes are still closed and they'll remain that way until you decide you're no longer embarrassed. "Told you that you copy me."

"I don't copy," you smirk right back, despite your firmly shut eyes. Jeongguk likes the glitter you're wearing today. It's golden-hued. "Just a fast learner."

"Oh yeah?" he says, a laugh catching in his throat. "Watcha learnt about me?"

You whisper now, a little smug. "That you really like mirrors."

"Yeah," he concedes far more quickly than you expected him to. He turns his focus back to the birds on his ceiling, though you think he's gotten a little closer to you. "Yeah, you're right about that - but you know why I like them?"

"Pray tell," you grin, vaguely aware of the fact the conversation feels far more flirty than it really should.

"You do this thing," Jeongguk says, as a hand rests by his crotch. He's not hard, but he is a little firmer than he should be.

It's just cause he's thinking about sex. Thinking about the sound of it. The sound of you . The sight of it. Of you . The scent of it. You . Not the taste, 'cause you've not given him the luxury of that yet. He doesn't really register the fact he's pressing down on himself. Gripping. Feeling .

"It's that first look," he continues, voice dulcet. "It's like you can't register what you're seeing. Your eyes go all wide, and you look at me as if you're too nervous to look anywhere else. Dunno. Lets me know how much you like what I do. Bit of a power trip, I guess. Always gets me."

"Gets you what?"

"Hard."

The declaration is so brash that you can't help but giggle. "You hard now?"

"Thinking about it isn't the same as seeing it," Jeongguk admits, turning his head towards you - but your eyes are still closed, a smile plastered all over your face. He finds himself smiling, too.

"But I mean..." He toys with your hand. Draws it to the top of his thighs. Gives you the chance to pull away. You don't. "Feel for yourself."

You whisper his name.

He whispers right back. "What?"

"You know what," you tell him, as if your palm isn't right where he left it, and as if your grip isn't as firm as his cock.

"What?" he teases again, feigning indifference - and then he fucking tenses. Moves his hips. Pushes up into your palm. "It's just anatomy, B. Nothing new."

Maybe not, but that nickname? That feels new. Feels like the opposite of him calling you disco ball earlier. Makes your breath hitch. Has him smirking as he looks at your lips. Bites down on his own. Knows this is trouble, but thinks he'd quite like to get in some.

See, you're the determined type. Once you set your mind to things, you do them. He's witnessed it first-hand multiple times. The second he mentioned the art cafe to Tae, he knew you'd make it happen. It's what you do.

And so he knows that you're setting him up that blind date whether he likes it or not. He knows you're gonna choose well for him. He knows, come this time next week, there'll probably be a moral complex that comes with the birds hanging above the pair of you.

But he's not ready for that. Not yet.

There's so much to do.

So many birds that haven't been set free.

A pleasant little hum vibrates in his throat as you palm the firmness beneath his sweats. His hips pulse. You daren't open your eyes - especially not as your thumb brushes against the waistband of his trousers. He hums again. Pushes his shoulders down into his mattress. Adjusts his body. Edges closer to you. Says nothing as your thumb sinks beneath the elastic of his sweats.

It doesn't go anywhere. You wait. His hips pulse.

"Swear you get off on torture," he purrs.

"You're the one who started this," you murmur, trying to feign indifference, knowing full well that if he mirrors your hand position, he'll feel just how easily he gets you all riled up. "You're a sadist."

He just smiles. Tells you he's no such thing.

And so you tell him to keep his eyes closed. Reach for his hand. Say, "Let's compare."

"Compare?" He husks, as if he doesn't know what you're doing.

"Mhmm," you hum, bringing his hand dangerously close to your pussy. "Compare. You're getting off on torture. Maybe I am, too."

"We shouldn't be doing this," Jeongguk says, and yet as you loosen your grip, he's the one who lets his hand trail up your thigh. He's the one who strokes at the fabric of your sweats. He's the one who cups your pussy with his hand.

The top you're wearing has risen up a little, a small sliver of your stomach exposed - and then his thumb is caressing against it.

His touch is warm, but the little gasp he does? The stutter of his breath? Oh, it's hot . So fucking hot.

"We're not doing anything," you say so sweetly that he'd believe it - or at least he would if it wasn't his own damn hand slipping into trousers. A breath hitches in your throat, and you can hear the ethereal way a laugh stutters in his throat.

"Just friendly, yeah?"

You nod. Whimper a pathetic confirmation - and then he's pressing against your underwear. Is slow as he rubs a single circular motion against you.

"The birds are judging us," he tells you.

"Nah," you shake your head. Take a shallow breath as he circles against you once more. "This is just revision."

"Revision?"

"Making sure we've learned from them. As long as - fuck ."

"You good there?" he teases, as if he didn't just up the speed for a moment.

You ignore his question and continue the point that was so rudely interrupted by his pacing. "As long as we only do things the birds have already told us to do, then I think it's okay."

The pair of you are silent save for your tepid breaths. Jeongguk's fingers caress against the lace of your underwear while you palm at his excruciatingly hard cock.

It's all rather juvenile, the way you're just touching each other up - and yet it's got your heartbeat racing. Perhaps it's because it's something so simple. Feels like there's so much more that could come of it. The great unknown: will you make Jeongguk cum? Or will you just blue ball him instead?

He really fucking hopes you'll choose the first option.

"Y'know," he says quietly. "I kinda need a shower."

It's not a lie. He freshened up at the gym, but didn't have a proper shower - didn't think he'd be taking such a long detour home.

"You wanna go shower?"

He nods. "Please."

It's laughable, really, the way neither of you says a word as he guides you to the bathroom. It's a regular occurrence at this point.

You glance across the open-plan living room as you make your way to the bathroom, and smile at the painting hanging up beside the television. Jeongguk follows your gaze and smirks.

"Think a future girlfriend would have an issue with that being up on the wall?"

"Maybe," you shrug. "You never have to tell her what is it, mind you. Never have to say it's... yanno."

"No I don't know, Byeol," he teases. Grips onto your shoulders to stop you from walking, and turns you to face it. Walks you both a little further into the sitting room area. Tilts his head, and you realise there's another bloody mirror in the corner of the room. You've never noticed it before. Wonder if he placed it there deliberately. "What is it?"

You narrow your eyes in the mirror. A smirk rests on his pretty lips and you can't help but bite down on yours when one of his hands creeps up your shirt. The bra you're wearing is lace; underwired but with unstructured cups. He squeezes. Fucking groans. "Shit."

"We shouldn't be doing this here," you tell him, well aware that Jimin could come home at any minute. Even going for a shower together is a risk.

Jeongguk shrugs. "Doesn't matter."

"What if Jimin-"

"If he comes home, he comes home," Jeongguk cuts you off as he continues playing with you beneath your shirt. He wants it off. Takes it off. Faces no opposition from you. Both of his hands cup at your chest, the black lace sin beneath his hands. Your heartbeat heaves in your chest, and it's only made worse when Jeongguk nudges his nose against your hair and whispers, "maybe I'll just show him how to make you cum."

You tell him he's mean. He squeezes harder. Makes you whimper. Tells you he can be mean if you really want him to be.

But you shake your head. "Play nicely."

It's not that you don't like things a little rough and tumble - it's just that if this is the last time, you know it needs to be intimate. How else will you be able to face your fears with other people if you never even let him?

One of his hands trails to the back of your bra, and gently unsnaps the clasp, before ridding you of the lace. As much as he liked it, he likes you bare better. Likes the way your pillowy breasts frame your nipples perfectly. Likes that the soft flesh spills through the gaps in his fingers. Likes how easy it is to get you whimpering as he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

"Nice enough?" He husks.

"Nice," you nod, eyes closed, crown of your head tipping back to rest against the top of his chest. "God, Gguk. Think I'm obsessed with the way your hands feel."

The compliment makes his heart fucking race .

He watches in the mirror. Studies the way your lips part as he toys with you. Wants to kiss you so badly. Knows he can't. Fuck . Maybe he does get off on a little torture, but this is just inhumane to him. You can feel how hard he is as he presses into the small of your back. The curse and blessing of sweatpants.

You reach behind yourself to palm at his crotch, and are met with a nod of his head against yours.

"Fuck, B," he whines as you toy with the outline of his cock. "I gotta - fuck - I gotta do something with my mouth. Wanna kiss you too fuckin' bad."

He doesn't even mean to admit it, but now that he has, he feels a little shameless. If he can admit that, he can admit anything.

Maybe he'll tell you about the wet dream he had a few nights ago, and how he'd woken up to damp sheets and a ruined orgasm all because you'd made an unexpected appearance in his dream.

Maybe he'll tell you about the fact he hasn't watched porn in weeks. Just thinks of you, instead.

Maybe he'll tell you about the fleshlight hidden in the back of his bedside cabinet drawer, and how he can't use it anymore, 'cause it doesn't look like you do.

Doesn't look like you, doesn't feel like you, doesn't smell like you. Doesn't get him cumming like you do.

Actually, maybe he won't tell you about that last one - but he wants you to know.

Wants you to understand just how fucking sexy he thinks you are. Wants you to acknowledge that if he can get this wrecked over you, then there must be hundreds of other men out there just the same as him. You don't need to linger for so long on your ex.

There'll be another guy out there for you who doesn't make you feel like shit; who only ever wants to make you feel good. So good. So, so-

"Oh God, yeah," he whines as you finally slip your fingers beneath his waistband and into his trousers. His hips pulse, wanting more, more, more of you. "So fucking good."

"My lips," you husk as his fingers dig into your soft chest. The grip is tight. Needy. "They're off limits."

"Lips," he nods. Clenches his jaw as he tries to control his breathing. Swallows his nerves down. "And the rest of you?"

You open your eyes to find his already on you in the mirror. He's hungry. Wanting. Salivating. He looks fucking primal, as if he's fighting every instinct he has just to keep your boundaries respected. Makes you wanna break every single one of them down.

Turning your head ever so slightly, just so your nose can nudge against his, you realign your faces. His lips are pouty. Pink. Pretty. Perfectly out of reach. Yet when you nod, they brush against yours tenderly. You don't let it happen again. "Be specific."

God, his cock is too fucking hard to be playing games like this. He wants to curse you out. Wants to be fucking mean. Wants to tell you to stop being a little bitch and just let him have his way with you - but he promised he'd play nicely.

"Every inch of your skin," he says, 'cause he is actually a little too nervous to ask so politely for what he really wants.

Has been wanting it for weeks.

It's something new, to him. Something he's only ever asked for once, and it was in the heat of the moment. A moment quite a lot like this.

You smile. You know what he really wants. "That's not specific."

"But it's the truth."

Jeongguk always gets a little like this when he's riled up. A little needy. Whiney. You'd be a liar if you said you didn't enjoy it, but you know that sometimes he misspeaks. Says things he never would do if he wasn't desperately after a release.

You never think he's lying, but you do think what he wants in the heat of the moment isn't always what he wants with a clear mind. This is one of those moments.

You purr, a little satisfied with how easy it is to get him like this. Feels like you're in control - so Jeongguk rolls your nipples between his fingers again to get you moaning. Realigns a sense of power. It's endless with the pair of you; a back-and-forth of control. It works well. Too well.

But he's feeling brazen, now. Feeling bold. Isn't nervous to tell you what he wants anymore, because the way your body reacts to his touch lets him know that you'll like it.

"Your tits, Byeol," he says. Your eyes fall to his in the mirror. He's looking directly at you. Notices the way your chest begins to heave a little heavier. Smirks. "If this is my last chance to..." he pauses. Is almost ashamed of what he wants.

"Last chance to what?" You flirt.

You bitch. You're teasing him just because you can. It makes him throb. The motion of your hand stroking above his underwear is making his cock all fat and leaky. There's a damp patch on the front of his briefs. He's ready to fuck. Wants to fuck.

But before that? Before he can even consider sinking himself into you?

He (regretfully) pulls one of his hands away from you, bringing it to meet your hand in his trousers. He (even more regretfully) pulls you away. You pout. He smiles.

"C'mon," he says, pulling on the hand he's just removed, leading you into the kitchen area. Will clarify it for you later.

The boys have an island that acts as a divider between the two spaces, which is exactly where he's taking you. The clothes he took off you are left by the sofa, his mind focused on one thing and one thing only: leveraging you into a better position.

You yelp a little as he dips to pick you up, gripping the back of his neck without hesitation.

"Don't be a pussy," he grins, popping you down on the island counter. "Although now I come to think of it -" he lifts you again, getting to your feet. The way his mind darts from thought to thought, and how his body acts upon them without warning, makes you laugh. He sinks his finger into the waistband of your sweats. Pings it again your skin. "Off."

"Say please," you demand, just to be a little difficult.

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please," he says, eyes dark as he towers over you, his hands coming to cup your chest once more. The man's obsessed, you think. If he could read your mind, he'd tell you that you're correct. He is. "Take your trousers off."

"Why?"

God, he hates that shit-eating grin of yours. Hates that he can't kiss it away.

And so he decides he's not gonna entertain it any longer. He grabs your hips. Spins you around. Bends you over the island, a single hand gripping the top of your thigh, the other pressing down between your shoulder blades.

"What's the word, Byeol?" He asks, checking that you're on the same page.

"Chess," you reply a little breathlessly. This lack of control is something you're used to with him. He's never overtly dominant, always looking out for your needs first and foremost, but this feels... yeah this feels different. This is about him.

And it makes you far more excited than you ever realised it would.

His hand trails down your back. Strokes at the line of your spine. He admires you. Takes note of the dimples just above your ass. Knows he's in trouble the second he starts squeezing at one of your cheeks. Still an ass guy.

He yanks the material of your sweats down past your ass. Fucking groans when he sees the black lace thong that sits prettily over your ass. Glances over to the bra by his sofa. Groans yet again. Yep . A matching fucking set.

"Fuckin' vixen," he mumbles to himself, not really intending for you to hear it. Isn't sure if you had planned on getting laid today, but you're definitely dressed for it. As he grapples with the flesh of your ass, he notices just how smooth your skin is. Well moisturised. Coconutty.

Maybe you had taken extra care in the shower that morning. Maybe you had shaved your entire body. Maybe you had been wearing a new two-piece.

That doesn't mean you were planning on letting him see. Just means your self-care routine is coming along fabulously. Well done you.

There's a bruise on the top of your hip. Jeongguk's thumb brushes against it. Doesn't apply any pressure. A small noise chirps from his throat, questioning it.

"Pole," you remind him a little breathlessly. "Gentle with my legs, they're covered in bruises."

He nods to himself, and says, "Use 'chess' okay? Hey, look at me a sec - 'chess'. Okay? Even if it's just your legs. Don't wanna hurt you."

You're looking at him over your shoulder with a smile. His sincerity is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You want him to hurt you.

"Notice how there are no bruises on my ass?" you ask, to which he nods. You face away from him again, and sink back into the position he originally had you in, chest pressed to the counter. "Good. Change that."

He thinks he might cream his pants right there and then.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me."

"Oh no," you pout, voice all soft and sweet. "Wouldn't that be a shame?"

Jeongguk grapples with your ass. Caresses it. Knows you're not done talking, so is buying time. Wants to hear how you'll tease him. See how riled up it''ll get him.

"If you die, I'll just have to fuck Jimin again."

The crack of his palm against your ass is electric.

Your body jolts forward, Jeongguk's grip on your hip to keep you stable no match for the impact of his flat palm. Skin on fire, chest heaving, you giggle. That's all he's got?

"Y'know," you tease, and Jeongguk is pleased that you sound a little breathless. He strokes at the skin he impacted, soothing the sting. Likes that goosebumps are already forming. "He took me from behind, a lot like thi-"

He doesn't even let you finish this time before the sting of his spank is delivered. It's harder than the first one, but his hand is also far quicker to soothe this time around.

"Yeah," he husks. "I fuckin' know."

You can hear his breathing, now. You're both panting a little.

"Does it bother you?" you ask as he tenderly cares for your reddening skin.

"Be specific," he speaks boldly, a little unlike himself, and you're starting to understand why he's an ass guy. Your tits make him weak. This? The way he's got control of your body? Makes him strong.

"That I fucked Ji-"

The way he cuts you off with another domineering slap to your ass gives you his answer - but so does the way he not only soothes the skin immediately afterwards, but also how his other hand comes to rub the bottom of your spine, following the path of its curve. He's cherishing. Worshipping.

He leans forward as his hand trails up your spine so he can reach your neck, and tenderly clasps it to he pull you back up. Turns you around. Is gentle as he lifts you back into position on the counter.

Brushes your hair out of your face. Looks you directly in the eye. Uses this thumb to collect a rogue chunk of glitter from your cheek. Rubs it on his arm. Stains himself in you.

"It doesn't bother me," he says - not for any male sense of bravado, or acting 'chill' - but because he needs you to know it isn't a big deal. You've enough complexes as it is. He doesn't want you to ever feel shame for the things you've done. "Bothers me that he doesn't realise how lucky he was to get a pussy as good as yours. Bothers me he didn't finish the job. Bothers me that he actually got to fuck you," he grins. You grin right back. "But it doesn't bother me that it happened."

"Mm, so you won't share towels with him, but you'll share girls?" You tease. His hands toy with your chest again. Secretly, you think you like him better like this. Like it when he's weak.

"Am I sharing you?"

It's a loaded question, you think.

"Not right now," you whisper, reaching to his waistband, nose nudging against his. "Take these off."

"Say please," he whispers right back. One of your hands tangles in his hair. Pulls him away. Gets him looking into your eyes.

"Please."

How can he refuse? It's like you put him in a trance whenever he sees your disco-ball eyes. He'll do whatever you ask of him.

He takes his trousers off first, then says "shirt?"

You nod. He takes that off, too. Leaves them crumpled in a pile on the floor. Doesn't care for them at the moment. Only cares for you.

"I still need a shower," he says, as he closes the gap between you, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"We can still get one," you tell him. Honestly, you don't really mind what you do with him. Just know that you wanna make it last. Want this feeling of safety and security for a little while longer.

His arms rest on your shoulders. Just a little taller than you in height when you're sitting like this, Jeongguk likes looking at you from this angle. Likes seeing the variations in your glitter; the small chunks and slightly bigger flakes that make you seem cosmic. He likes noticing the flecks caught on your lashes, and how he never realised quite how long they are. He doesn't think you're wearing mascara.

You're not - but you did get your lashes done the week before. He wouldn't give a shit even if he knew. Would think it was cool, probably.

"So about that whole no-kissing thing-"

"Nope," you laugh, swatting at his clammy chest. He smirks. Presses his lips together. Shakes his head.

And then he whines. "It's so unfair."

"If you even try, I'm yelling chess."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah," you assure him - only for him to edge a little closer.

He's not actually going to kiss you.

Although... if you let him, he might.

"Chess!"

"Ughhhh," he whines again, pulling away. "So mean, disco ball."

"What if I promise to make you cum?"

He narrows his eyes. "Fine."

One of his hands drops to your chest again. Keeps on coming back. Can't resist. Ass guy? Yeah right.

The other drops to your underwear. Toys with the lace.

"Bird revision, right?" Jeongguk asks. "So we can only do things we've already done?

You nod.

"Okay," he whispers, before pulling away from you. "Hold that thought."

You watch as he walks around to the kitchen sink, his thick cock tenting in his underwear, desperate for something. Anything .

And yet your birds?

All focus on you. You've no idea how the fuck you're gonna get him cumming. Sure, there was the mutual masturbation one, but you'd promised that you'd be the one making him come. Maybe there's room for loopholes.

It wouldn't be the first time the pair of you have skirted the truth of what a bird could entail. A bird, a plane. Whatever.

Hands under the water, Jeongguk's focus is only on cleaning himself. He preens you so often, fixes your hair, your glitter, that it's nice seeing him in the same capacity but for himself. Realistically, it's all for you, still.

He glances up. Looks a little bashful.

The distance reduces the pair of you to your natural states; just Jeongguk and his Stargirl. He gazes at you often, but it's different when he's blinded by the light. With a little space, he's reminded of the fact you belong on this earth, too.

It's like the pair of you are tangled up in a Jekyll and Hyde situation, instead, it's who you are when your clothes are on, versus when your clothes are off. He likes both of them. Doesn't think they can coexist though.

"What?" he asks when you smile at him. You just shrug and shake your head.

"Weird isn't it?"

He comes to stand in front of you again. Your legs don't wrap around him, but he does put his palms on the top of your thighs. Looks pensive as he asks, "What is?"

He's grinning, too, though. His skin is getting all prickly again. Can smell your arousal. Wants to fucking drink it.

"You 'n' me," you shrug, letting your arms snake around his neck. You're sat up straight, and the gap between your chests closes. "Like, I was maybe 15 seconds away from kissing you." The admission makes Jeongguk want to die. "But then when you were washing your hands..."

"I was just Jeongguk again, right?" He assumes. You nod. "Same for me. Like we're two different people: who we are when we're horny and who we are when we're 'normal'."

"So fucking weird," you laugh, deciding that it solidifies what a great friendship you have. Convince yourself it's gonna make it so much easier when he starts dating. If you can separate the Jeongguk you mess about with and the Jeongguk you're friends with, then there's no reason the friendship should be lost.

"Too weird to pick back up where we left off?" He says quietly. Nudges his nose against yours. Strokes his hands up your back. Pulls his chest away so he can sneak his hands to your tits once more. Squeezes. Makes you moan.

You shake your head. "Do it again."

He does.

Is firm, as he does so, his large hands cupping your chest so delicately that you almost want him to be rougher - but you like it when he's gentle. Like how well he takes care of you. His thumbs stroke across your hardened nipples, toying at them, getting you all hot and bothered.

You moan so subtly that Jeongguk thinks it might be his favourite sound in the whole entire world.

"You wanted specifics earlier," Jeongguk says under his breath. "I can give you a specific."

You nod. Trail along his bottom lip with your thumb. Let him press his lips down against it.

"Show me," you tell him. He squeezes at your chest. You know exactly what he wants. You also know he's never done it before. "My tits, huh? You wanna suck on them?"

He swallows harshly. Rests his forehead against yours. Nods. Can feel his cock throb.

"Big boy words," you whisper, and are met with a slight grunt from Jeongguk. He's used to being the one in your position. Used to setting the pace, setting the tone. You switching it back around on him? Fuck. He might just die. Or cum in his pants. One of the two. Death would be preferable. "Tell me what you want."

He rests his head on your shoulder. Looks at your tits as he plays with them.

"Not much of a teller. More of a doer."

He's just trying to weasel his way out of it. It's like the birds all over again.

"So do it."

And to your surprise, he does.

His lips are firm as he presses a kiss around your nipple. Once, twice. A third time. Poutier and poutier with each kiss. He's delicate. Sincere. Doesn't wanna get it wrong.

"Feels good," you tell him, knowing he needs the reassurance.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smile. Tease at his hair as his lips wrap around you again. The way his lashes splay on his cheeks is art, you decide. "You've no idea how much I like this."

His lips kiss and kiss. It takes a little encouragement - "use your tongue a little. Yeah. Yeah, like that. It feels so good when you do that. Suck a little- oh fuck. Yes." - but it doesn't take long for him to gain confidence. Be a little bolder. He focuses on your reactions. Notices when your breath hitches everytime he runs his tongue around your nipple. When he kitten licks, too. But when he sucks? That's when the jackpot hits.

Your body leans into his touch, hand resting on the back of his head. His name escapes your lips half a dozen times. When he switches to your other nipple? Half a dozen more.

His lips are direct and purposeful and they tug your nipple into his mouth, his moans vibrating around you. Pulling away, Jeongguk wastes no time. Has your other nipple in his mouth almost immediately. Squeezes your tits together, nipples almost touching so he can swipe fast licks across them. Gets you mewling. Whining. Begging for more.

And how can he refuse?

His hand dips to your pussy. Toys with you over the lace, which is sodden with your arousal. He slides your underwear to the side, and says nothing, just continues sucking on your tits as he sinks a finger into you.

"Shit," you curse. The angle you're sitting at means he can't get too deep. Means he's hitting you in just the right spot, straight off the bat. He mumbles something, but you can't work it out. Just know there's no possible way he's an ass guy. Hasn't spent more than a second away from your tits since he first started peppering them in kisses. "Just like that."

Your head lulls back, and Jeongguk finally pulls away. "You good?"

He's met with the most satisfied laugh he thinks he's ever heard. "Is water wet?"

"Dunno," he grins. "But you are. Fuckin' soaked. God," he stares down at your pussy, stuffed with two of his fingers. "I fuckin' love this cunt."

You smirk. Roll your hips as well as you can in the position. He watches, transfixed by the way he's stretching you out even with just two fingers.

"My bed," he rasps. "Can we? I know I need to shower, but - fuck - I just gotta have you in my bed, B."

Truthfully, you're glad. There's something about post-gym Jeongguk that just really gets to you. You think it's the pheromones. Don't care to google it because you enjoy the mystery.

You nod. "Probably for the best. You have to eat off of here."

He smirks. Withdraws from you. Says, "So?"

And then he licks his fucking fingers clean. Eyes on yours. One of his brows tweaks. Challenges you.

"You underestimate how much I like eating pussy," he says, as he walks away, leaving you in a state of shock.

You think his departure is for dramatic effect. In reality, it's just so you don't see the Cheshire cat grin on his face, pleased with himself for what he just did. He knows it was hot - but he's smiling because he can't get over the way you taste. Fucking delicious.

That thing about torturing himself? Yeah. You might be right.

Eating pussy isn't on the birds. He knows he can't have it - and yet when you arrive at his door, mouth still ajar, both smug and surprised in the same expression, he thinks it might not be unfathomable.

"What?" he feigns innocence - but he's got a grin that tells the tale of a valiant hero. He's so pleased with himself that you almost slip back into your 'normal' selves again - but then you crawl onto his bed. All fours. Ass a little red from his hands earlier, but no bruises. Just that barely there thong he thinks belongs in a museum, and evidence of just how turned on you are showing between your thighs.

The smile of his? Replaced with a stare so hard it rivals his cock.

"What?" you feign innocence now, as you flop down onto his bed - and then he gets the luxury of seeing your tits and - fuck. It's all too much.

He walks over to the bed. Takes off his underwear. You do the same.

"I'm gonna die," he tells you with absolute certainty. He's so ridiculous that you can't help but smile all fondly at him. The way he jokes and banters with you comes so easily, that part of you doesn't even realise he's naked. Part of you does, though. Mainly your eyes, given the fact they seem to be transfixed on his cock. "If we don't do something about this-" he gestures down to his cock, as if you need any direction "- then I absolutely will just die. Is that what you want? Huh?"

"Mhmm," you hum, finishing it with a small giggle and a nod, reaching for his hand to pull him onto his bed. He lets you. Follows your lead, cause he hopes it's leading him somewhere good. "I want you dying a very little death."

The innuendo dances off your tongue and into his ear as you sit on his lap. His hands automatically find your chest. He decides he'll miss them. Encourages your body down. Positions you just right so that he can take your tits in his mouth again. He's a changed man.

"Don't think there'll be any little about it," he mumbles as he switches sides, kitten licking now so that he can finish his sentence. "Think it's gonna be a very big death, actually."

"Shit," you whisper as he gets reacquainted with your body. He decides all rather quickly that tits are a gift from God and he's been blind for his entire life up until he met you. How had he not been utterly obsessed before? He'll never admit it. Never. Will prevail as an ass guy - but fuck, he hopes whoever you set him up with has a good pair of tits.

But then there's an uncomfortable awareness of how fleeting this all is. By the time you've both finished, it'll all be over.

He manoeuvres you both over. Kisses your chest, now. Works his way up to your collarbone. Your neck. Bites down ever so gently. Kisses again. Tells you once more how your no-kissing rule 'will kill' him.

"Better leave me something nice in your will," you tease as he finally pulls away from dappling your skin in pretty kisses that you wished could have been on your lips instead. Either pair.

He sits back on his heels. Strokes his cock as he looks at you. Tilts his head, a smirk rising on one side as you cup your tits.

"Pussy," he encourages, pulling a little tighter on his cock. "Play with your pussy."

You give him a quizzical look, but do as you're told. Slide your fingers between your slick folds. Spread yourself for him. Watch as he almost fucking hisses. The pace he's wanking himself off increases. His breathing shallows. You think it stops completely when you sink two fingers into your entrance.

He curses. Tilts his head back. Ruts his hips upwards. Forces his cock through the tight grip of his hand. There's a sheen to his tip, precum leaking so delicately that you find yourself salivating at the sight of it. The muscles in his lower abdomen tense. He's edging himself.

"How many birds do we have left?" Jeongguk rasps, eyes opening to find yours again. The way he speaks, all breathless and needy, has you wanting more. "Mutal masturbation's done. I can't... Shit. I can't. I'll cum if I carry on. Tits are done. Fingers, done. What else?"

"Shower," you say, then follow it up with. "Do that last. Water gets in the way. Wanna watch you cum."

"Shit, don't say shit like that," he mewls as he sinks down on top of you. His body is warm, the chain around his neck catching on your throat, pooling between your collarbones. Has you determined to make him finish on your chest. Wanna replace his chain with his cum.

In a normal scenario, he'd kiss you right now - but he can't. Instead, he averts his desire. Grips his cock. Presses it against your folds. Spreads your slickness. Covers himself in it. Dips down a little too far. Curses. Gets you whining.

"You know," he husks against your neck. "We could..."

"Cockwarm?" You simper. "Don't believe that one was my bird?"

The crown of his cock presses against you. Jeongguk holds it as the base, and runs it down your folds, then back again. He repeats. Lets his grip get even tighter when he lines up with your entrance. He waits for you to move your hips.

And you do. Just for a moment. Just a tad. Just enough.

"Wasn't it?" He hums, knowing perfectly well it was one of his.

"Don't even think it was a bird," you whisper a little breathlessly as he presses a little deeper against you. He adjusts his hips. Lines himself up a little better. Your breath hitches.

"So you don't want to?" He asks, and you can just tell he's got one of those smiles on his lips. The one that makes you think maybe kissing him wouldn't be so bad. "'Cause I wanna."

"Gguk," you whisper. He shakes his head.

"Not an answer."

"Shit," you whimper, rolling your hips ever so gently to encourage his tepid ruts against you. "Condom?"

"Birth control?" he chances. He knows you're on it. Think if he's gonna get his cock in you, then he's gonna at least try for it raw.

You know you should, and yet - "Are you clean?"

He nods. Asks the same back. You nod. Haven't hooked up with anyone but him since your last test.

Everything is out in the open. There's nothing to lose - just the knowledge that you'll maybe never get this ever again. It only serves to make you want him raw even more.

"You get a minute."

He pauses. "A minute?"

"Sixty seconds," you nod. "Cockwarming. That's all you get."

It's ridiculous, 'cause all you want is for Jeongguk to fuck you senseless. Think it's embarrassing admitting that, though. What if he doesn't actually want to fuck you? What if it's just for the birds?

"Who's counting?" He husks. Realigns himself. Presses the tip of his cock against your entrance. Plugs it but doesn't push forward. Makes you wanna die. Too good. Too fuckin' good.

"You are," you whimper, knowing you won't be able to keep count when he's inside you.

He nods. Reminds you that 'chess' is always an option.

His cock sinks into you slowly. It's thick and wide, angled just right to hit your sweetest spots. Jeongguk groans. Finds himself seeking out your tits with his mouth as he bottoms out. Sucks gently, until he's reminded by you that he needs to be keeping count.

He grins. Nibbles your nipple ever so gently, then nods. "You're right, you're right. Sorry. Shit. One. Two..."

Jeongguk finds solace in the crook of your neck as your legs wrap around him. The position has him thinking you've no right to ever complain about intimacy again. This is about as fucking intimate as it gets. And when your arms wrap around his neck? Dainty fingers start toying with his hair? Only amplifies it.

Your hips move ever so tenderly, and he loses count. Finds himself swearing again. You're tight and warm around him, just how he wanted it. Torture. Fucking torture. He likes this so much he fears you ruined actual sex for him.

"Shit," he mumbles against you. "Never been good at maths."

The way you giggle? Torture. Again.

"You're a liar, Jeon Jeongguk," you whisper tenderly, tensing around him just cause you liked the way it made him whine.

He pouts and shakes his head, which is still buried in the crook of your neck. His voice is muffled as he asks, "What comes after 32?"

And because you're just as into it as he is, you decide lying is okay for the time being. "11."

"Yeah," he whines. "Thought so. Eleven... Twelve... What's next?"

"Dunno," you whimper breathlessly. It's getting a bit too much for you, too. "Maybe ten?"

"Ten," he echoes. Decides he wants to spend eternity inside you. "Eleven..."

He pauses just long enough for you to know exactly where he's going with this - so you beat him to it.

"Maybe it would be easier if you had a rhythm going?" you simper.

"A rhythm?" He hums. He was just gonna pretend he couldn't do maths again.

"Like..." you pull your hips back a little, burying yourself deeper into the mattress and away from him - but then you push them back up. Jeongguk fucking whines. "One."

You pull back, again. Jeongguk whines, again. Sinks himself back into you. "Shit. Two."

"I'm not good at multitasking," he says. Not a lie, admittedly. Gets distracted too easily. If you don't keep count, he'll just fuck you forever or something stupid like that. Doesn't think he'd mind it, to be honest. "Maybe you should keep count."

"Mhmm? You want me to count for you?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Count for me, B. Make sure I don't go over sixty."

"I'll count backwards," you tell him, thinking it will somehow take longer, because apparently all sense of sanity is evading you. Unsurprising. All you can think about is Jeongguk's fat cock and how it's keeping you spread open nice and wide for him. "Countdown."

"60-0?" He clarifies, to which you nod. "Mhm. Do that. Count backwards. Use that pretty little head of yours."

"Sixty..."

The way he pulls out of you is maddeningly slow. He's deliberating taking his time. Overindulging. Making this last. He's even slower as he pushes back in, filling you up as deep as he possibly can.

You're barely able to get the next number out.

"Fifty-nine," you eventually manage as he bottoms out. "Fuck."

He's lethargic in the way he moves. Slow as he withdraws, and even slower still as he fucks himself into you.

"Fifty-eight..."

Jeongguk's skin is hot. He sticks to you like glue. Only his hips move - but so do yours.

You're fucking.

You. Are. Fucking.

And, God, you know you shouldn't. You know that it's a recipe for disaster, but Jeongguk's aftershave smells like safety and his bed feels like home, so the prospect isn't scary.

"...Forty-two... Forty-one..."

Your whines are getting louder. So are his grunts. You grip onto his biceps, and begin to realise Jeon Jeongguk is not a man. He simply cannot be. Not when he is built like a Greek God, and looks like one too. Crafted from marble, there's no possibility he's real.

And even if he is real, you think there's no way he'd actually be fucking himself into you like he is.

Sex, at its very basic fundamental value, is all about survival of the fittest. Anatomy. Breeding. Shit like that; things you can't quite recall when he's balls deep inside you. It's about fucking for the survival of the human race, and out of everyone on the planet, you can't wrap your head around the fact he'd choose to do that with you. His basic anatomy would choose you .

Jeongguk isn't thinking as intensely as you are.

Fucking. Nice feeling. Cum. Nice. Inside her. Nice. Fucking. Real nice. Glitter. Nice. Tits. Suck. Nice. More. Fuck. Nice. Again? Nice.

But he is also thinking about spilling himself into you, and how fucking unreal it would feel.

So maybe your brains are working in tandem. Different process. Same end goal. He just can believe he'd choose you, 'cause, well... he already has.

Eventually, you hit thirty-three, then thirty-two, and then -

"Shit," you whine. "That damn thirty-two."

"What about it?" He asks a little curiously. Pauses his hips until he gets the go-ahead from you again.

"I've forgotten what comes after it."

"Shit," he grins, playing along with you. "Start again?"

"Maybe," you nod. "But this time, maybe go faster? Might jog my memory?"

Jeongguk smirks. Sits up on his heels, cock still buried inside you, knees on either side of your ass. He grips your waist. Spanks one of your tits, then softly caresses it as an apology for letting the intrusive thought win. His hips pulse gently.

He's fucking you.

Jeongguk is fucking you.

He lets the hand that was playing with your chest trail down your torso until it reaches your pussy. It's swollen and needy, just as much blood rushing to your clit as there is to his cock. His thumb presses down right when it needs to. Rubs in tiny circles as he gently thrusts into you slowly.

"Faster?"

You nod.

"Okay," he rasps. "Let's jog that memory of yours. You're so smart, Byeol. Look at you, and your pretty little head. So smart. So fucking smart when my cock's inside you."

This time you don't count. He grips your waist. Rams himself into you like a man possessed, lips resting ajar as his brows knit together all prettily like they did when he was eating brunch. So incredibly focused, and yet there's not a single thought up in that gorgeous head of his, just that he's fucking you so hard his neighbour will definitely be able to hear his bedframe hitting the wall. Good .

The noises he makes are lewd. You think he'd make bank with an only fans. Know that you'd pay good money for it. With a cock as pretty as his? A body like a marble statue? Gorgeous little whimpers when his cock is all needy for you? Yeah, bitches would go wild for him.

Funny, how you refer to them as bitches, almost like you're jealous over imaginary women who'd find him sexy. Very strange, indeed.

After all? You're just friends.

His pace eventually eases, and you pretend like you were counting the entire time. "Two... One... Times up."

Jeongguk sinks back down, hooking one of your legs over his elbow as he does so, opening you up even further. He wants to be deeper. As deep as he possibly can be. Wants to press down on your cute little tummy and feel himself inside you.

"Whoever fucks you next better worship your pussy," he mumbles, pressing kisses up your neck. "So fucking good. Shit. If you dare fuck another guy who doesn't make you cum like you know you deserve to cum-"

"You'll what?" you tease, a smile plastered all over your face. "Die?"

He laughs. Shakes his head. You know him so well. "What use would that be? Nah..."

Jeongguk pulls away from you again. Withdraws himself fully for the first time. Watches your pussy as your arousal seeps from your tight cunt and onto his sheets. Wants to lick it all up. Doesn't think he's allowed to, though.

Instead, he moves your legs, finally noticing the extra bruises from pole. You were right. They do look like watercolour bruises.

He squeezes your thighs together and uses his gentle hands to twist your hips, so that your legs are curled to the side, but keeps your back flat against his bed. He lines himself up with you again. Grunts as he sinks into you. You're tighter now, like this. He thinks it's gonna make him cum. He has to go slow.

"I'd get you like this," he says, holding onto your hip and pushing deeper, deeper into you. He nods over to his desk and smirks. "And that chair over there? That's where they'd be. And they'd have to watch me fuck you how you like it."

He doesn't mean to, but he finds himself fixated on the fact you routinely have sex and don't finish. He can't wrap his head around it. He'd had the luxury of witnessing you cum a handful of times. Had felt it once. Knows first-hand how fucking good it is. Thinks about it as he fucks into you, now, then lets the intrusive thoughts win again as he begins to ramble.

"Can't believe how many people you've let get away without making you cum. You know how good that shit is? Fuck. You feel like heaven. They wouldn't even deserve to watch it - but I'd do it. I'd make them fuckin' watch - 'cause not being funny, B, but you should see yourself right now. So fucking hot I might die. Hopefully then if they fucked you again, they'd know what to do."

"Never realised you were such a good teacher, Mr Jeon," you tease.

He stills his cock inside you. Smirks. Shakes his head. Picks up the pace again.

You know what ' Jeon ' does to him. The ' Mr ' ahead of it? Yeah. Gets him.

And so gives you a friendly threat, as he fucks his cock a little deeper into your tight, warm cunt. "I will fuck you so hard my bed breaks if you don't shut the fuck up."

"Oh?" You grin, trying not to moan and failing miserably. "Would you prefer Sir ?"

"Final warning," he growls, his hips slowing but deepening. He's close. You know it's not gonna take much.

"Whatcha gonna do? Give me a detention?"

"If you get to call me stupid fuckin' names, then I get to kiss you."

"Kissing isn't very friendly, is it?"

"Byeol, my cock is inside you."

"Yeah? Just a friendly fuck."

He knows you're joking, but Jeongguk doesn't think there's anything friendly about this.

He doesn't insist on kissing you any further.

"You're unbelievable," he smiles, easing slightly before reaching for your hand. "C'mon, let's make you cum."

"Oh? You want this to be over?" You flash a grin, as if you haven't been fucking him for God knows how long by this point, knowing full well he could have cum in 10 seconds flat at any given opportunity. He repeatedly edged himself for you.

"No, but if I don't cum soon, Byeol, I'll d-"

"Die, yeah yeah," you grin. "Alright. Put yourself out of your misery."

He laughs. Looks at you with such fondness that you think you'd quite like to orgasm on his cock for him like a good friend should. "You make me sound like such an asshole."

"I don't," you promise sweetly - before you also decide to let the intrusive thoughts win. "Also, just on the subject of assholes, thoughts on pegging?"

"Literally what the fuck is wrong with you," he laughs, rolling his hips to remind you of the more pressing things at hand. You moan a little, but all you wanna do is banter with him. You enjoy it. Like it when he's all hard and needy and impatient, and you're winding him up. You like frustrating him.

"You've got a nice ass," you shrug, shoulders pressed deep down into his white sheets. You look angelic, he thinks, hair haloing around your head, chest flushed, tits covered in teeny tiny hickies from his mouth.

"Well, maybe if you'd have picked a different plane..." he teases. "You'd know by now."

Holy shit.

"Wait. You wanna get peg-"

Jeongguk covers your mouth with his hand, a subtle grin on his pretty little face, dewy nose scrunching just for you.

"As much as I enjoy your chitchat, Byeol, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you can't talk at all. That good?"

You laugh. Twist your torso over to reposition yourself on your front. He gives you a playful spank straight off the bat, and it makes you roll your eyes - as if you hadn't turned over just to give him a view of your ass. You'd known what you were getting yourself in for.

Adjusting you slightly, Jeongguk pulls one of his spare pillows over, and lifts your hips to scoot it beneath you. It's his favourite position. Every last part of it. The way he can pull on hair and spank asses? The muffled moans into his pillows? Fuck .

You love it just as much. Always helps to have your body weight adding to the pressure of your fingers massaging against your cunt. As Jeongguk pushes into you, he watches your hand slip beneath your body, and curses.

"That's it, B," he husks. "That's a good girl."

He fucks himself into you - slow, deep, hard - and picks up the pace with every pathetic moan that escapes your lips. Tells you how good you sound, how much he wants to hear you come undone - and then you are.

The pleasure waves through you like an electrical current, Jeongguk's thick cock unrelenting as he fucks into you and drags your high even further than you thought possible. There's a numbness to your body, save for the overwhelming pleasure that pulses around his cock. It's all you can feel. Everything else is void. For a moment, the only important thing in your life is Jeongguk's dick and the way it fills you like nothing else ever has.

"Shit," he husks. "B, where?"

"Back," you just say, unable to move because your body is still fucking shaking. You don't even get the chance to mourn the loss of his cock inside of you, because he has to pull out so quickly.

His hand grips his cock and wanks faster than the speed of light. The pressure in his balls builds and builds and then it can build no more.

He squeezes your ass and whines as thick, creamy spurts of cum begin to paint your back.

The sound of his grunting makes you moan with every new rope of cum emptied onto your skin, and Jeongguk's pretty sure nothing in Taehyung's 'passion' collection could even come close to the sight in front of him.

The final drops are wasted on your ass cheek as Jeongguk holds it to the peachy flesh, watching the way he stains your skin. Holding his cock by its base, he spanks it against your ass once, twice. Smirks. Takes a moment to squeeze your ass just because he can.

He fucked you. He knows he should be concerned about the friendship, but he's not reached post-nut clarity yet.

Eventually, he flops down beside you.

"You know," you mumble, eyes closed, a smile on your lips. Jeongguk's grin is so serene that it's a good job your eyes aren't open. You might accidentally get your feelings confused if you saw him look that pretty. "I actually think it's a bit mean setting these poor girls up with you."

"What? Why?"

He sounds genuinely affronted. You just smile harder.

"Well, it's a bit cruel, isn't it? Us pretending like they'll be dating some great guy, only for them to later find out you're really average in bed."

He knows you're joking. Knows that a fuck like that could never be described as average. Plays up to your teasing just because he finds it funny.

" Average ?!" He exclaims. You can hear his smile in his tone of voice. "Nah, you're chatting shit just to piss me off, Byeol. What is it, huh? Want me to fuck you again? Want me to remind you exactly how average I can be?"

"Maybe."

He grunts. "Call me when you can walk straight."

"Pass me my phone."

"Fuck off."

The afternoon descends into casual chaos. You shower together, and bicker over who gets to stand beneath the water for longer, then battle it out for Jeongguk's fluffy towel in the aftermath. In the end, he lets you have it - only 'cause he likes the way you oogle at him when he's naked.

You dry your hair, and style Jeongguk's into pretty little French braids. Tell him that he has to keep it like that. He says he will. By the time Jimin gets home, you're just sitting on the sofa watching shite TV. He's none the wiser you were naked on his kitchen counter a few hours earlier. Probably is best he never finds out about that part.

He studies Jeongguk's hair for a moment, then shrugs. "Suits you. What have you guys been up to?"

Good fucking question.

"Not much," Jeongguk hums. "Gym this morning. Met this one -" he pokes you with his foot, earning a grimace from you. "- Afterwards for coffee. Been stuck to me like a bad smell ever since."

Jimin laughs. Shakes he his head as he comes to sit by you both with a box of dry cereal that he's eating straight from the bag.

"You've got the most sensitive nose known to man," Jimin teases. "If you've kept her around, it's cause she smells good."

"Nah," he begs to differ. "Just gone nose blind."

"Prick," you laugh, then ask Jimin about his day.

Conversation takes place of the shitty TV show, the three of you easily finding a million different topics to talk about.

It's times like this you regret ever fucking Jimin. Part of you fears you'll always just be 'the girl Jimin fucked that one time'. No identity within Jeongguk's friendship group beyond the fact you shagged his mate.

It's stupid. They barely remember Jimin even so much as looked in your direction. You're Jeongguk's friend. Jeongguk's.

Funny how you don't seem to mind being reduced to no identity outside of the confines of Jeongguk. Did you really heal after Seokjin? Or are you just making even worse decisions than you used to?

Thing is, Jeongguk's friends would be right in thinking that of you.

You are his friend.

As you head off into town the next morning to arrange his blind date, you know that's all you'll ever be.

And somehow, you think you're okay with that.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

#jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader

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mysteria157 · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter Three

Pairing: Black Fem!Reader x Hitman Toji Fushiguro

CW: Profanity, Slight Angst (mentions of death), Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: ~5k

Summary:

Suffering from haunting dreams and a raging cold, you find solce in Toji's challenging yet comforting presence.

Authors Notes: Hello! Thank you all for waiting so patiently! It took me weeks to finally get out of my perfectionist mindset and just...write so everything flows together. This chapter is shorter than my usual, but to me little moments help with character development. And this is going to be a very, very slow burn lol.

As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy and thank you for your support!

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Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon | Header: created by myself (fanart from Pinterest)

***You***

The cold air is deceptive; it nips at your skin, raising goosebumps despite the warm inviting appearance of your surroundings. Tall trees—oaks, hickories, and basswoods—clutter densely, forming a barrier that shields the land from the outside world and cages bittersweet memories of the past. You’ve followed your father through these woods before, navigating rocky hills and leaping over thick, ingrown branches to reach another unmarked spot for exploring.

Deep purple hues of the twilight sky cast elongated, eerie shadows over the forest, and they fold over the tall grass like dark, unnatural fingers. This definitely isn’t real. Everything around you right now brings painful memories—but they’re are not as sharp as what you feel in reality.

In reality, the ache is persistent, pulsing weakly in your veins, flaring up with every fleeting memory of your father—his infectious laugh, his hands putting you on his shoulders as you walked to football games, or the early mornings spent huddled together, his hand guiding your binoculars to focus on a bird in the distance.

This is definitely a dream.

You know it also from the feel of the grassy meadow beneath your toes, the blades soft and ticklish against your ankles, the usual worry of ticks far from your mind. Vivid wildflowers—yellows, pinks, and blues—sway in a nonexistent breeze. The dirt path that once led to your father’s house has vanished, taken over by the soil and grass, erasing years of footprints.

The house he dreamt of building, a two-story structure crafted by his own hands, now stands as nothing more than a decaying skeleton. There is no roof, only stretches of drywall reaching towards the twilight sky, as if trying to reach the heavens and falling short.

As you walk further across the foundation, the environment shifts around you, the air folding in on itself and twisting like the patterns in a kaleidoscope. Your fingers trail along the phantom walls that spring up, and your feet glide over the conjured glossy finish of hardwood floors. This empty space is a blueprint nestled deep in your memory: bedrooms that will give privacy, a living room that will host family gatherings, a fireplace that is now roaring in orange and yellows.

“There you are,” a familiar voice calls to you, sending a jolt through your heart that tightens your chest as if you’re about to cough. As you turn the corner, reality morphs once again, unfolding into a meticulously designed kitchen with forest green cabinets adorned with brass knobs, a deep porcelain sink and shiny stainless-steel appliances. The surreal surroundings are dizzying, blurring and swirling in your vision. But the figure you know—his broad back turned to you, shoulders stretching and pulling as he wipes something in front of him—that grounds you, preventing you from drifting away.

“It finally came in, take a look.”

He radiates an intense warmth as you stand beside him. Even with your arms barely touching, the heat feels suffocating, instantly causing you to break into a sweat. Just being next to him makes your throat constrict, choked and searing, it’s nearly impossible to speak. But with each stroke of his hand on the new granite counter top, sweeping a fiberglass cloth, his love and comfort are palpable in the stiffing heat, settling on your skin to relax you.

“Looks good huh?” He’s proud, and even though you don’t have the strength to look up at his face, you know he’s beaming. “Once it all comes together, it’s gonna look beautiful.”

His words stir a deep-seated guilt within you, so fierce it makes you want to scratch at your own skin, as if to physically scrape away the emotional turmoil the festers beneath the layer of your dermis. You press your toes into the hardwood, cross your arms and dig your fingernails into your arms. It’s hotter now—god you’re burning up. Your body prickles with beads of moisture as you watch him tirelessly wipe over an already clean surface.

It’s incessant, and with each swipe the guilt rises further, urging you to flee from a conversation that will never happen. You don’t really know about an afterlife but if there is one, does he know what happened? Is he rooted in the present, watching you occasionally to see what you’ve failed to do? Is he disappointed in you?

Maybe if you focus on his steady motions, close your eyes, and just breathe, you might find yourself back in your room when you open them again. After all, none of this is real—it will never be real. This kitchen, these rooms, the wooden floorboards, and the beautiful roaring fireplace. The remnants of all of this are written on a blueprint somewhere, collecting dust for the last two decades.

He calls out to you again, his voice oddly distant though he stands right beside you. He sounds weary, as if he’s struggling to breathe, and when you glance at his hand moving across the counter, it’s no longer vibrant and almond-brown but ashen, marked by blown-out veins. Lifting your eyes, you meet not the father you remember, but his final, frail image—his sunken skin, his life slipping away too soon, anchored to the world only by the fragile thread of a nasal cannula.

“You okay, honey?” he croaks, concern etched in every syllable.

You open your mouth to speak, but fear grips your entire being, squeezing you like you’re a piece of fruit to be juiced. The terror is paralyzing, and you find yourself unable to face him any longer without crumbling into tears. A deep, ragged breath cuts through the silence, rasping painfully in your throat as you stammer, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t—“

Your eyes snap open, sticky and heavy with exhaustion, wincing against the harsh glare of sunlight that peaks through your maroon curtains. The embers of your dream fade into nothingness and unforgiving reality slides into place with ease. The heat of the dream is replaced by a chilling dampness; the sheets cling to your sweaty skin, and the fiery soreness in your throat reminds you of your still raging cold. When you swallow, it feels like sandpaper across raw flesh.

It’s been almost a year since you’ve dreamt of your father. It’s not that you don’t like to dream about him; actually, you cherish every memory, even the painful ones. But dreaming of him in the house—his house that has remained untouched since his death—it consumes you with regret for the role you’ve been unable to fulfill. You don’t have the time. You don’t have the money. All things that are out of your control but still hold you by the throat.

It’s too much for your mother, and you don’t blame her. The love she has for your father never really left. It lingered in her second marriage and came back full force in her divorce. So she stays away from all things related to him when she can.

Your eyes wander to the corner of your office desk where the old property deed lies, rolled up and bound by a simple rubber band. The edges are brown and dusty, much like the blueprints in your dream.

Why do you even keep it there?

Maybe it’s a reminder of him, just something physical you can glance at every day even if it hurts. Maybe it’s there to spur you to make that thousandth trip to city hall—the one that always ends in tears. Maybe, with these next few days off, you can try again. You’ll be stronger this time, more aggressive with the bald-headed piece of shit that always gives you trouble.

Or maybe not.

The flare of your throat is harsh enough to push away any other thoughts. There’s a frustration that always comes with getting sick, it makes simple things extreme when there is no need for it. Your body is too hot and also too cold, your throat burns with every swallow no matter how many throat drops you take, your lungs spasm with the tiniest breath to cough, your nose is so congested that it makes you regret taking breathing for granted. It’s overstimulating as hell.

You wince against the harsh sun again, turning your head further into your pillow before your eyes fall on your nightstand. There’s a tall glass of water and two pills. You don’t remember setting them there, but you sit up to throw them back anyway and down the water quickly. The coolness soothes your throat and with each swallow, the haze of last night lifts.

You know Toji brought you home because your car is out of commission and he refused to let you take the bus. He helped you out last night—literally carrying you up to your apartment because you were so achy and exhausted you could hardly stand. You remember him leaning casually against the brick wall of your complex, that insufferably charming smirk playing on his lips as he watched you go through every stage of defiance for help.

“I’m not getting any younger, princess.”

That name. You hate that name.

It was a taunt that made you eventually give up, too damn tired to snap at him. You gave in to the warmth of strong muscles and the scent of detergent, cologne, and something that’s just Toji. You remember the lack of strain in his neck, the ease in which he breathed as he took step after step like you weighed nothing, and the analytical gaze of jade irises beaming in the night as he took in his surroundings. It almost felt like he was assessing the area, checking every corner when he hit another flight of steps to make sure no one was lurking nearby.

As you think back, your hands automatically press against your cheeks, warmed by the flush of memory as your blood pumps faster in your veins from the rising shock. Toji had drawn you an Epsom salt bath to soak your muscles, rolling his eyes as you feverishly barked at him for privacy to undress. That gruff attentiveness continued as he watched you like a hawk as you slurped down the bowl of canned soup he warmed, and then gently nudging you to bed with a press to the small of your back. Even his firm grip on your arm as he wielded a syringe of cough syrup—which you tried to refuse—is clear in your mind.

“You’re burning up, stop fucking fighting me! What kind of doctor won’t take medicine?”

“This doctor. I would rather lick the floor than taste cough syrup. It’s just a cold. Go away,” you remember protesting, delirious with a stubbornness that has only gotten worse with age.

He had pressed the tip of the syringe to the side of your mouth, eyes narrowed and annoyed. “Open your mouth and—OW, why are you biting people! Girl, what the hell?!”

“Fuck,” you groan now, your hands digging into your eye sockets as the memory plays like a broken record behind your eyelids. You bit him like a fucking maniac. Who does that?! You remember giving in because you felt bad but still…

As a kid, you were the same—so against the taste of medicine that your mother had to pin you down.

But now? At the ripe age of too damn grown? You’re mortified.

Your hands slide down your face as you sigh in the silence, which feels heavier than before. Did he leave last night? You can’t remember anything beyond smacking your lips to get rid of the cherry taste of cough medicine and rolling over to pass out.

Your body isn’t as achy as last night as you climb out of bed. You slip into dry clothes and throw off your bonnet, ruffling the curls loose before you snatch up your phone and leave the room in search of him. The air in your apartment, usually so familiar, now carries a subtle disturbance—a reminder of his increasing presence. Only the distant chirps of cardinals outside punctuate the silence. As you enter the living room, you notice Toji’s black jacket casually draped over a kitchen stool and his car keys abandoned on the counter.

Your fuzzy socks muffle your steps as you approach the counter, where a covered glass bowl sits alongside a small note. You hate the lurch of your heart skipping as you snatch it up, your movements fueled by a mix of dread and anticipation.

Make sure you eat it all.

You can practically hear his gruff voice through the words, rough and serious, a subtle layer of care that’s unique to him. The thought makes you snort softly, relief washing over you with the distant thought that…he didn’t leave. But that relief is a push and pull, it’s frustrating to you because you’re unsure of what you want, even though you want more and moreof it. More of him.

As you pop open the lid of the container, the steam hitting your nose, your phone rings, your eyes rolling on reflex as you look at the caller ID. It’s a work day for your cousin, you can tell by the sleek reading glasses she only wears to comb over legal documents. Her shiny kinky hair is pulled up into a neat bun with not a strand out of place, edges laid to perfection, dark lip liner with a clear gloss on full lips, and she looks professional and uniquely Rene. Dark brown eyes narrow at you, the corners pointed in a cat’s eye with fresh black eyeliner, her expression tightening. Your mind automatically conjures the phrase you know she’s about to say.

“What do I have to do—”

“—to make sure you’re not dead,” she finishes in real time, her voice a blend of concern and familiar exasperation. “I was texting you all night.”

This is a well-worn interaction between you both; you work for days on end and disappear from the world, Rene reels you back in with stern care that rivals your own mother.

Your fingernail idly traces Toji’s handwriting from his note. “It was a rough night. My car wouldn’t start, I had to catch the bus and it made me late, and then work was just a nightmare. I’m sick, everything hurts, and Toji had to pick me up—”

“Why don’t we back up a little bit,” she interjects, elegant eyebrows arching up in wicked surprise, your well-being entirely forgotten because your cousin is a nosy bitch. “Toji was there? Where is he?” You shoot her a glare, irritation flaring because you refuse to give in to her curiosity. She holds up her hands in defense, her full lips curving into a smile. “Damn, a bestie can’t ask a question these days? That’s tough.”

Your gaze holds firm, challenging her. She meets it in a well-known game you both play, her eyes widening comically and it’s enough to break you both, laughter filling the kitchen.

“This is why I don’t tell you things,” you lie, coughing into your elbow. “We are just taking it slow. Nothing crazy. I didn’t need his help anyway. I could have taken the bus and taken care of myself. It’s just a cold.”

She laughs again at your bullshit and you sigh in defeat. There’s no point in trying to sugarcoat things with her. Nothing crazy, you say even though can’t even get your thoughts together when it comes to him. You could easily hang up the phone, but annoying or not, you haven’t talked to Rene in days. It’s nice to hear her voice again. Your mother is overseas often for work so calls aren’t as frequent. As for the rest of your family? You’re just…not as close to them.

Rene’s still running cackling keeps your mind from wandering again.

“Alright, it’s not funny anymore,” you snap as you grab a spoon from a kitchen drawer, turning back to Toji’s leftover food with a frown.

“I’m sorry! Really! But come on, it’s just classic you—the baddest bitch I know, but here you are, refusing any chance of help even though you want it so bad. Hard-headed as hell,” she chuckles, her voice warming with the years of friendship between you.

You pause, spoon in hand over the steaming bowl of soup, struck by the truth in her words. Stubbornness is your armor and you rarely let it slip, only few know what’s behind it. Even though she teases, it hurts. It hurts because it carries history—reminders of every instance you’ve pushed help away. It wraps around those jabs from your family, from the men you’ve been with.

Mean because you demand respect so you can weed out those who aren’t worth your time.

Defensive because you’ve been hurt too often.

Uncompromising and fierce, and that’s anyone who tries to get too close—never stays.

You clench your teeth together. “Rene, I’m not—” you start to protest, but the latch of the front door opening makes you raise the spoon in alarm.

It's Toji.

He walks into your home as if he owns the place, his presence so commanding it seems to fill every corner, snuffing the lights and sucking the air from the room. His gaze sweeps through the space, and when his emerald eyes finally settle on you, you feel the weight of his attention.

His shirt is stained with grease, and raven locks, messy from the July humidity, sticks to his forehead and sides of his neck.

“You won’t get far if you’re trying to stab me with that,” he teases, nodding towards the spoon in your hand. Though his tone is light, the underlying seriousness suggests he’s not entirely joking. He’s strong enough to disarm you and you wouldn’t mind a big man like him trying to—

The spoon clatters against the granite counter top as you slap it down and force your mind to shut the hell up.

He takes only two steps before he’s standing in front of you, analytical eyes scanning you in seconds—a look so intense that it feels like he’s trying to memorize you and understand hidden layers you’d rather keep concealed. Alarmingly thorough and you’re still trying to process him being this close, his proximity bringing an electricity you feel even before his lips press a soft, almost possessive kiss on your cheek, like he’s been waiting—itching for contact.

Rene’s startled cough cracks through the phone, mirroring your own internal shock. Toji is making your fever worse because it’s hot as hell now, the hairs rising on your neck as you gape like a fish.

“W-what are you doing…” you begin to ask, but the words die in your dry mouth when he pulls back. His eyes linger close to yours—too close and sliding across your nose, your cheeks, your lips. He still smells like cologne, but now there’s sweat and a muskiness of exertion and outdoors that makes your head swim with dread and desire.

“Where’s your toolbox?” he asks, putting a leash on your thoughts before they run away from you.

You clear your throat and step back, trying to reclaim your space, to fortify your defenses, do anything so you don’t fall apart. “Um, coat closet down the hall. Top shelf.” Your tone is steadier than you feel, pointing mechanically to your hallway.

You look down at your phone when he walks away, exhaling a breath you don’t realize you’re holding. Rene’s watching you with an amused, knowing look, eyebrows rising and falling suggestively. You can’t stand her because you want to laugh and groan at the same time.

“Girl,” Rene chimes, voice dripping with insinuation and not low enough because she doesn’t care who hears her. “I’m sure if you take him for a ride again, you’ll feel a little better.”

“When she’s not sick,” Toji calls from the hallway, your eyes widening at the implication of him listening in. “That kind of ride takes a little work.”

You gawk at the empty space of your hallway. Rene hollers and you hope to god she gets written up for being too loud.

“I know that’s right, Toj—”

You hang up and slam the phone down with more force than necessary.

Toji returns with the toolbox, smirking and completely unphased by his remark and just how unsettled you look by it. He motions with his head to the bowl of soup in front of you.

“Eat.”

It’s a command, gentle but firm, and you bristle not just at the directive, but at your own conflicting impulses—to bare your teeth and snap at his attempt of care or to melt under his attention.

Toji doesn’t wait for an answer, just studies you a moment longer, seemingly satisfied with what he sees, and disappears out the front door. The quiet buzz of the cardinals outside fills the silence he leaves behind.

You’re left standing there, a hand squeezing your phone on the counter like a vice, your mind struggling to remain upright in a storm of emotions that he stirs up within you. Unsettling and soothing, your chest fluttering like butterflies wings against your rib cage. Maybe it’s just a heart palpitation, this intensity—this feeling. Nanami can do an EKG when you return to work in a few days. And he better be there, because he’s the very reason why you had to pick up so many shifts in the first place.

Rene’s giggles still echo in your ears as you exhale a shaky breath and grip the metal spoon in your hand again.

***

“What are you doing?”

Your question cuts through the ambient city hum and the rustle of trees surrounding the parking lot of your complex. Toji is hunched over the hood of your car, hands deep in it’s guts, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

The summer sun beats down on you both, yet you’re wrapped in Toji’s jacket to cover your exposed legs. It was the first thing you grabbed when you rushed out of the apartment but it’s too big, the hem brushes against your knees, the sleeves dangling past your hands. You push them up again, feeling simultaneously protected and vulnerable under his gaze as he turns to face you. The jacket feels like a shield, but also a reminder of how much space he’s beginning to occupy in your life.

“Your starter is bad,” he grunts, showing you a car part smeared with oil. It looks expensive, way more than an oil change, and panic flares in your belly briefly as the numbers fluctuate in your mind. If it’s too much, it’ll probably be weeks before you can take your car to the shop.

You’re a doctor, but doctors don’t start making good money for…awhile.

“How much do you think it will be for a new one?” You sigh, mentally calculating the number of zeros the mechanic is going to throw at you. At least Toji saved you some money for a diagnostics test.

“I already ordered the part.”

The admission hits you like a truck.

You gape at him, fumbling and overwhelmed. “You didn’t—I could have done all of this myself. I don’t need your help, Toji.”

The words taste bitter as they drip from your tongue, a defensive reflex from years of self-reliance. Of course you’re grateful, but the frustration that he’s seen a need you hadn’t voiced, that he’s filled it without asking, that’s what stirs the deep discomfort. It’s not just the help—it’s the intimacy of it, the presumption that he can anticipate your needs.

The weight of his jacket on your shoulders no longer feels comforting.

His reaction is immediate, a flash of annoyance flickering over his features, the scar on the side of his lips twisting as he frowns and snatches a rag from the hood of the car.

“So, what, you were going to trust some corner-shop mechanic to rip you off?”

His accusation is justified, and almost instantly, that phrase parrots in your mind.

Let me be nice to you. Let me be nice to you.

“Yep, that was the plan,” you retort, your voice lacks conviction, weak and drowned out by the steady thump of your own heart as he walks closer. He drags the rag between his knuckles, collecting the dirt in the seams.

“You want me to let some old fuck tear your shit up? Even though I know what I’m doing? Not happening.”

His assurance should be overwhelming, but you find yourself irresistibly drawn to it. He moves closer, and instinctively, your muscles tense, your toes curling inside your fuzzy socks and blue Crocs. With every inch that disappears between you both, your mind fires with mixed signals: go back to the safety of your apartment or surrender to the magnetic pull of him. God, you’ve only been awake for two hours, but the emotional whiplash just might knock you back out.

“You told me to earn you, so I am. You need to let me.”

His directness, unyielding and raw, hits you harder than you expect. It’s not just his physical presence that’s imposing—it’s the sheer force of his will, loud and insisting that you realize he’s not leaving anytime soon.

Your reactions and reflexes are not completely intentional, but it isn’t easy to just change who you are. The defenses around you are lined with hard-learned lessons. Your armor and shields to keep yourself safe are all you know. Letting go is like disarming a trap designed to protect you—it requires careful, gentle hands. And you’re terrified that Toji’s large, scarred hands will be too rough.

But you recognize that you can’t tell him to try, and you not do the same. That’s not fair to him, or to whatever this dance is that you are both trying to learn the steps to.

As Toji wipes the sweat from his brow, he unwittingly smears a streak of grease across his forehead, drawing your attention. “If you really feel like you need to repay me, then I don’t know—spend a day with me.”

You lift an eyebrow, surprised at his suggestion. “A whole day?”

Toji nods. “When the part comes in and you’re feeling better. No long ass shifts. No PI cases. Just you and me.” He offers a half-smile, white teeth glimmering in the sun and the look is as disarming as it is dangerous.

Your interactions with Toji, even limited, have always been charged with an intensity you’ve avoided and craved. The meaning behind the car repairs and taking care of you, it’s not just surface level. There’s more to it…he’s trying. So now it’s your turn.

You sniff through a congested nose and clear your rough throat, grabbing the rag from his hands and standing on your toes to reach his forehead. You don’t get very far, but Toji leans down so his forehead is closer to you, holding back a snicker at the height difference. You wipe the grease away, locked on the task because you can feel his stare.

“An entire day with you sounds…ominous.”

“I’ll make sure to feed you,” Toji responds, a comforting rumble that unexpectedly makes you laugh. A small smile blooms across your face and the tension in your stomach eases. You feel a little better, still on a tightrope but you can see the other side. With the grease now gone, you sink back to your slightly achy heels, unable to look away now that you’re both eye-level. “I’ll throw in a thirty-minute lunch break.”

“Make it an hour. Don’t try to short change me,” you challenge, playfully. His eyes, emerald and sharp, scan your face with open curiosity, and you wonder if you’ll ever get used to his intense focus. You press the rag into his white shirt, deliberately looking to the dirt on the fabric to ground your thoughts. “How’s your finger?”

His laughter vibrates through him, a melodic bark that makes you bite the inside of your cheek, and you watch his abdomen tighten under his shirt from the motion. Toji’s fingers brush against yours as he takes the rag from your hand, his touch making your heart jump. The scars on his knuckles catch the sunlight, and you’re struck again with the curiosity of how they got there.

“I’ve had worse.”

You can’t tell if that’s a joke…or if he’s serious, but you don’t have time to ask because his lips press against your cheek, stealing another unasked kiss that leaves you momentarily off-balance. You swat at him in reflex as if he’s a fly in your ears, swallowing a stuttering response that you’re glad doesn’t filter into the air.

“You’re burning up. Go lay down,” he murmurs, almost gentle now. “I’ll finish up here and head out.”

You can stay.

It’s what you want to say. The words are on the tip of your tongue, pressing against the back of your teeth, but you curl the muscle back and purse your lips, offering a tight nod before you turn and walk away.

Your Crocs squeak against the concrete, your pace quickening because you can feel Toji’s eyes on your back, watching you. You’re burning up from the summer air and the jacket that’s around you. But there’s an underlying, electrifying warmth that pulls a small smile on your face, your hands rising to your cheeks to quell the heat flush that you know is not from your fever.

Thanks for reading!

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draconym · 3 months ago

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About Draconym

Hey tumblr, I’m Mel. I’m an old millennial who works in public parks. In the past I’ve been a ranger and a technician. Sometimes I post pictures of the animals that I get to work with. I also post art, comics, and weird dreams. Here's some FAQ.

Common Tags

art, comic, dreams, nature center, park ranger, poll, ripley parrot, snake, cockatiel, video, me, music, bug, bird, dragon

Links

Website: cyaneus.com Patreon: cyaneus Art Reblogs/Inspiration: @insectivus Fanfiction: @ironbeaks-journal Redbubble: tillery Bluesky: cyaneus Mastodon: art.vulture, social.cyaneus

Featured Creatures

Ripley, 15 year old African grey parrot. Dinosaur toddler and menace to household objects. Enyo: 20 year old cockatiel. Grumpy old man. Cheese: ??? year old cockatiel. Weird little guy. Mousetrap: Eastern rat snake rescued from a glue trap in 2016. Frequent animal ambassador at park programs. Galaga: Western hognose. Less skilled at being an animal ambassador due to being kind of an asshole. Elvira: Curly hair tarantula.

Content Warnings

I try to tag for common phobias such as snakes, spiders, bugs, and animal death.

Art Usage

If you’d like to use my art as an icon or a blog header, I’m honored, and please do! Please credit either my blog (this one, @draconym) or my website (cyaneus.com). Please don’t edit my art except to crop or resize it for icons. I don’t mind if you share my tumblr posts to non-tumblr social media as long as you link back to me, but within tumblr please reblog instead of reposting my content. Don’t use my art for any commercial purpose.

Donation Reblog Requests

I get a lot of requests to reblog donation posts. I don’t mind if you privately send me a link to a fundraiser, though I don’t always have the means to donate. I only reblog fundraisers for people I know personally.

Askbox

Usually open. Messages welcome, though I don't usually answer them quickly. Not really available for commissions at the moment.

#about #faq #pinned post #putting this here for all the folks on mobile who can't see the about page on my desktop layout

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anyamaris · 11 months ago

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Once Upon a Crimson Moon

Word Count- 15825

Pairing- Fae!Yeosang x Fem!Reader

Summary- Leaving behind a tragic past, you've crossed into the realm of the fae in hopes of finding a better life. Yet, you find yourself thrust into an existence equally horrifying. Discarded by one court, traded like cattle to another, you make your escape but where will fate bring you?

A dark, mysterious creature that leads you to your inevitable demise might just be the one to save your soul.

Trope-Fantasy AU, Smut, Strangers to Lovers au

Warnings-Adult language, sexual language, heavy trigger warnings for alluded: abuse, torture, SA, death. Please be aware of these, they are alluded to, not explicitly spoken of. Both characters have a dark, tragic past. Some topics are depressing. Unprotected sex, sexually explicit scene outdoors, minors DNI 18+

Tags- @cultofdionysusnet @ksmutsociety @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @yoonguurt @shinestarhwaa @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @starlitmark@millennial-fangirl @ericssmile @wooahaeproductions@changbinslovelylegs @yeosxxx @millennial-fangirl @starillusion13 @duchesskaren @minki-moo

@cafekitsune and @saradika Thank you for dividers! 🤍💜🤍

A/N- First- @1-800-shedevil, you've been here through the entirety of this process with me, encouraging me, cheering me on, soothing me when I doubted myself. There aren't words to describe how much I adore and appreciate you. I feel like you know these characters almost as well as I do at this point. Thank you. 🤍💜🤍@kwanisms for making my header as well as my Yeosang character picture for me! GAH YOURE SO AMAZING AND TALENTED! I love you. @sanjoongie and @stardragongalaxy for creating this collab from a simple picture and conversation, I've fallen deeply in love with writing and this story because of you two. Thank you so much for setting this all in motion and dealing with me through all my screaming and excitement. @mint-yooxgi for all the hype and my screaming and yelling as well, and for always encouraging me when I doubt myself.

This is a collab with CODN for Thrill of the Hunt and please go check out the other writer's submissions!

I have a lot more planned for this if people like it, a whole story lives in my mind so I hope you'll enjoy this as much as I loved writing it!

I've included my original mood board at the beginning for some visuals as well as a commissioned art piece She.drawssss was so amazing to do for me beneath the cut!

You awake in the cold damp cell yet again, your eyes dry from dehydration. Groaning as you pick your aching body off of the filthy cloth they called a bed, you do your best to stretch and look around.

No one has come for you yet, it appears, as you glance at the empty bowl they feed you in. Sighing, you pull the ragged material of your gown down over your legs, looking up at the small window that barely allows any light in. Luckily, the acrid smell of rust overpowers any sense of your own odors, you think, frowning at the metal bucket they’d given you for your personal toilet.

“Still not the Ritz Carlton.” You whisper with a twist of your lips.

Your life has come down to this; a damp, dirty cell in the midst of a world you know nothing about. The series of events leading you to this very moment are hazy, vague memories you struggle to remember.

Nothing of your old existence is present here.

Running away from everything seemed like such a great idea at the time. Following the silly legends about faery rings, dreams of starting over completely.

Well…you had.

You’d run.

But now you wonder if the abuse and hardships from before were preferable to this disgusting tiny cell.

Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

Somewhere between here and there you’d just given up hope.

As you feel a tear slip from your eye, cursing the loss of moisture, your ears pick up the melodic sound of a bird. Looking up, you spot the small blue bird perched on the small window above you. It hops a bit, then lets out a little chirp, tilting its head at you.

“You again?” You ask it, unable to stop the tiniest speck of happiness it always brings with it.

Another tiny chirp reaches your ears and you sigh.

“Smile? Why? What’s the point?” you ask it, shaking your head.

It hops then chirps once more, and you just let out a small laugh.

“Fine…for you…I’ll try.” Seeming to be placated at your words, the small bird flutters its wings, flying away with a song.

The clank of the doors unlocking behind you has you turning, expecting the daily meal of mush in a bowl, but instead a tall figure grunts a few words in a language you don’t understand.

Before you can stand, two others are entering the cell, throwing a bag over your head and dragging you from the room you’ve called home for over a year.

“Shh, don’t speak a word, it’s the damned one…”

“Don’t look him in the eye, lest he remembers your face….”

“Why do they suffer such an abomination?-”

“HUSH! One cry from his cursed throat will doom us all!”

“I hear he killed his-”

“QUIET! Don’t be foolish or-”

The whispers are nothing he hasn’t heard before, in fact he’d be shocked if he doesn’t hear the murmurs as he walks through the busy market area.

Bodies part before him as he strides forward, gathering in his wake to curse his very existence. His red eyes scan the beings in front of him, daring any brave enough to meet their steely glare.

Not one takes the opportunity, ducking their heads, pretending to be busy.

The smirk that tugs at his lips beneath the black mask holds no mirth.

Their disgust and revulsion only mirrors his own as he makes his way to the fae he reports to.

“Quit frowning at her, she’s not worth your pity.” One of the elves hisses out, spitting to the side as he chuckles.

“Barren, that one. Not even worth the effort of transporting her. Should just leave her out here to the wilds.”

You just blink at the sky as the cart trudges along, studying the darkening clouds, letting your mind wander. You only half listen to the two fae who are charged with taking you to trade. You’d heard them say it a few times as you traveled; Oidhche court.

After having spent the last year being subjected to numerous atrocities by a variety of creatures in what you’d heard called Ciaradh court, you can only let out a breath at finally being outside once more.

It has been a long while since you’ve seen the open sky and you smile a bit as you take in the sight.

“Pretty”, you whisper and the smaller elf cocks his head back to look at you.

“Eh?” he says, a look of disgust passing over his face as your eyes meet his. “Tch,” he wrinkles his nose at you, then turns away.

“Too bad, clean her up and-”

“Let those mongrels in Oidhche have their way with her, I want to wash my hands of her as quickly as possible. Not worth the coin paid, when they will just dispose of her…”

Your mind tunes them out, focussing instead on gazing back towards the vast sky above you.

Would it rain today?

You hope so, the idea of the sound of droplets hitting the leaves on the giant trees around you has you closing your eyes again, drifting off into your own imagination to escape the stark reality of your life.

What seems like days pass, trudging along in the shoddy cart you are forced to ride in. You’d originally started out walking with them, just your hands bound by a rope but you’d stumbled and fallen so many times, the elves had traded for the small transport.

They hadn’t bothered much beyond the bindings on your wrists and as you daydream while the sun sets, you unconsciously work at the small rope.

It’s deep into the night when you can hear both of the guards snoring loudly that the bindings fall from your aching limbs and you rub them absentmindedly.

Wondering if you should even bother trying to escape, you shrug and think, what does it matter? Might as well try at least. The absolute worst that could happen is that they hear you, or they hunt you down.

From the way they were talking, it wasn’t likely you were going to meet with anything pleasant once they handed you off, so you creep slowly from the small vehicle and summon the tiny bit of grace you may have buried deep down.

The noises coming from the two males remain steady as you skulk through the taller brush.

You don’t stop concentrating on your movements until the sun is creeping up over the horizon and you’re sure that you’ve made it far enough to be clear.

Not waiting any longer, you take off at a run on your cloth bandaged feet, not even worrying about injuring yourself as you let your adrenaline drive you away from your captors.

With no idea of where you’re going, you just know that anything is better than whatever awaits you.

You have no idea how long you’ve been wandering, only that you can hear the faint trickle of running water nearby. Having only had the small drops of dew in the morning time, your heart soars at the sound.

It feels like days since you’ve gotten free from your transporters and now you are thirsty and hungry. Following the noise, you make your way to an embankment, sighing in relief as you take in the clear, crisp water below.

With a small smile, you slowly clamber down the side, being especially careful. The last thing you needed was to injure yourself while you were out here alone, without food or shelter.

“At least I’d have you,” you whisper to the small stream as you crouch beside it.

Humming happily, you cup your hands to collect the water and drink greedily. It’s cool and refreshing, bringing a much needed ray of hope into your current situation, as well as your parched lips.

You spend a little time hydrating, then scanning the area to see if there is any way to carry water with you. Finding none, you decide the best way is to follow the water source.

Glancing behind, you try to acclimate where you’ve come from and determine the direction to head in.

“As if you have a plan…” you murmur to yourself, seriously wondering what your ultimate goal is.

From your experience so far, coming across any fae was likely detrimental to your survival. The time you’d spent in that dank cell, subject to unspeakable things, told you all you needed to know about how the fae treated the human race. You had heard some other humans come through speaking of different courts having contradicting ideas of how your race was treated, but you’d only ever come across the kind that despised you.

Your thoughts drift to the one who scared you the most.

The one who came in the deep night.

The one who slipped you herbs and forced you to drink vile concoctions.

The disgusting creature who promised to make you his, repeatedly describing the numerous tortures that awaited you.

You’d eventually stopped reacting to his goading, as it seemed to give him pleasure to watch you tremble in fear.

“It’s ok now, you’re alright. Look, the sunset is beautiful.” you hum, making your way to a small burrow you spot as you walk along the stream. “It’ll all be fine. Even if you die out here, it has a wonderful view…” you murmur, drifting off as the orange glow fades to red, then dusk settles in as your eyes close.

“Go retrieve the human those idiots lost, shade. She escaped during transport around a week ago. Idiots took their time finally coming to report her disappearance but I know you’ll be able to find her. Meet them near the gate for her scent. Under no condition is she to be killed, bring her back as she is.” the captain commands, dismissing the creature known only as nightshade.

The fae’s crimson eyes only register the command, then he is turning on his heel to carry out his superior’s orders without question. He ignores angry muttering behind him as he makes his way outside.

Nightshade, or just shade, was what the fae had dubbed him.

It was no secret that he was born and raised without a name.

Such was the fate of one such as him, cursed at birth as a half breed abomination; a moniker befitting one that is as deadly as he is.

The fact that they used the human term for the poisonous plant was not lost on him, but it mattered little.

Irritation at being sent on such a seemingly silly task to retrieve a run away human, he just frowns beneath the black mask as he spots his targets pacing outside the gate.

“How long are we-SHITE AND FAIRYDUST! Why you-” the taller fae stops immediately as he takes in shade’s form as it solidifies, an undercurrent of fear in the elves’ normally apathetic gaze. “Are you here for the human wretch?”

Shade merely nods once and the two fae step back, gesturing to the wagon that had been transporting you.

“Should just let her die out there, with the beasts. No way she’s getting’ far.” the shorter one says.

The taller snorts and nods, “Don’t even know why she bothered.” They both fall silent as shade turns his eyes on them and they look away quietly.

“I’ll bring her back.” The deep rumble of his voice is barely loud enough to be heard but the two fae shiver at the sound, shrinking back.

Nodding once, he turns and fades to wisps of smoke, hovering over the cart long enough to get a scent of the essence left behind before dissipating.

“Don’t envy her the end she has coming from THAT one’,” the short elf whispers after a moment, finally able to talk once more.

“Shite.” is the only response he gets as they head back towards Ciaradh court.

You awaken with a shiver and a cry, the heavy morning dew clinging to your exposed flesh.

The dirty white gown they’d given you before you’d been unceremoniously dragged from the cell you called home was caked at the hem with mud and who knows what from the first stretch of your flight.

You’d been running through puddles and burying yourself in leaves and whatever else you could find to hide in at every sudden noise that first day. Yet you didn’t want to wash your clothing in the only water source you’d found, so you decide to leave it for now.

Stretching and shaking off the horrible dreams, you make your way back over to the stream to drink deeply, then make your way downstream once more.

The sound of the water seems to be getting louder as the stream slowly turns into a river, the current picking up.

Eventually you stop, trying to decide which side of the water you want to be on, as crossing looks as if it might be impossible later on.

Finally deciding on the right bank to climb up, you scan the area around you. There seem to be more trees and the birdcalls are louder as you travel.

You’re not sure whether to be surprised or not, having come across no living being since you’d escaped the road you’d been traveling along with those two fae.

To be fair, once you’d crossed into the world of the fae through the faerie ring however long ago, you hadn’t had much time outside of confinement. So there was no way to tell what was ‘normal’ on this side.

Deciding that the stream nearby would give you a water source, and heading towards the more tree lined area might provide some vegetation to eat, you make your way onwards. You’re fairly sure you haven’t traveled very far since you have strips of cloth for foot protection and it has been rough on you.

Figuring that the current of the river is decent enough to wash at least your wounds on your lower body in, you make your way to the side of the flowing current.

Unwrapping the cloth around your filthy feet, you dip your toes hesitantly, then plunge your legs up to your knees, sighing blissfully.

Numerous scratches and cuts, as well as a few punctures from sharp rocks are all calmed by the cool water. You close your eyes and tip your head back, basking in the beautiful sunlight, the warmth shining down on you.

“Where are you even going?” you ask yourself softly, breathing in deeply.

Once you soothe your wounds, you rip some new cloth off of the rag you are wearing, rewrapping your feet with the much cleaner fabric. At least it would provide some protection against the random rocks and such.

The rest of the day's journey takes you into the copse of trees, keeping an eye out for any of the faery circles you’d gone through in your own world.

Chances were low that you’d come across one, but at least it gave you something to work towards.

As you come upon a small opening, you walk to the edge to look out over the land beyond.

Looking around, you decide this is as good a place as any to rest and possibly spend a little time while you figure out what to do next. There was a small waterfall you could see a little ways down, and a small area to possibly bathe.

There were also some berries that looked promising as a food source, and given that it was between trying your luck at those or starving….well…

You collect a handful for your meager dinner, then bunch some leaves together under a smaller tree, hoping if the berries do kill you, it won’t be painful. The thoughts are short lived as you give in to your exhaustion, passing out before the sun sets below the trees looking over you.

Awakening hours later, the dark surrounding you feels oppressive. The constant dreams haunting you seem to follow you from your sleep as you take in the silent evening.

Rubbing your stomach, you don’t notice any signs of pain, which is a good thing for the berries. But your thoughts are cut off as you realize just how silent it is.

Dead silent, no birds, no noises of creatures moving in the dark like you’ve come to expect.

Just…silent as a grave. A shiver of pure terror washes over you as you try to process if it’s still a dream or-

That’s when you notice the being, crouched down a few feet away, hooded with a black mask.

You can’t really even see much else, but you can feel him. The noise that threatens to escape your throat seems to be stuck as he stands and slowly walks to hover over you.

As he approaches, the light of the moon illuminates his eyes, dark and intense. A chill runs through you at the sight of his form standing over you, your body trembling in fear.

This is it, this is my end, you think, a tiny part of you relieved that it’s finally come.

You had a feeling something would come for you eventually.

As the figure studies you, you can only wait for the peace of death.

Despite your instinctive physical fear, your mind is oddly tranquil as you try to make out his features in the darkness.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you do your best to meet your last moments with a smile.

“Please…will you make it quick?” your quivering voice squeaks out, wincing at the sound in the deep quiet of the night.

The figure tilts his head at you, almost curious.

“Quick?” he crouches down in front of you, mere inches away as his masked face looks you over.

Swallowing, fear almost has you paralyzed at the nearness of the fae man, a sixth sense telling you he could crush you with one hand.

“Please…I would like to die quickly.” you repeat, drawing your knees underneath you as you sit up to ready yourself.

You grit your teeth to keep them from rattling together at the way you’re trembling, refusing to close your eyes to your final living companion.

“Die?” he asks, and you watch him as you wait, finally noticing that his dark eyes are a deep crimson in the light of the moon.

So pretty, you think distractedly. Heaving a small sigh, you focus on their beauty, a tiny smile creeping over your face as you appreciate the only part of him you can see.

“Are you not afraid, mortal?” he asks you, and you let his deep timbre wash over you, relishing in the richness of his tone.

“Of course….. I am very afraid. I’m terrified.” you counter and he just blinks at you, reaching a gloved hand out to hover near your face.

Snatching it back, he squints at you.

“Why are you so eager to die?” he questions and it’s your turn to blink at him.

“I…I’m not eager to die…” you whisper and he shakes his head.

“Confusing.” he states and you just stare at him.

“Aren’t you here to kill me?” you ask him, wondering how you’ve found yourself here, debating your life or death with a terrifying masked fae man.

“I am not.” he responds simply, causing you to sigh sadly.

“Which means…” you say softly, glancing around the clearing you’d decided to make a temporary residence, finding yourself already back in the cells you’d been locked away in for so long.

You turn your eyes back to him, his gaze still on you.

“You’re here to take me back.” you state, not a question.

His silence tells you what you need to know, and your throat closes as your eyes fill with tears.

“Give me a moment, please.” you say, trying to collect yourself.

His eyes go through an array of expressions as you fan your face, trying to calm down. The trembling from his nearness wasn’t helping, but you weren’t going to ask him to back off. Something in you told you that it was unlikely he’d listen anyhow.

“Are you going to take me back to those horrible men? Men…fae…I don’t even know what to call them…my captors?” you ask.

He merely nods, watching you curiously as you shiver and hug yourself.

“I suppose there’s nothing to be done for it then.” you say, and give him a nod.

“Are you going to…woosh me back or…?” You flap your hands, not knowing the words you’re looking for, fear of what awaits you overpowering his presence momentarily.

His confused eyes have you sighing, waving your hands around erratically.

“You know like, um…fly me back or …magic things…?” you ask, shrugging. “I have only been confined since I came into the fae world…I’m really not sure how things work here.”

His searching eyes just blink at you, then he sighs, sitting down to cross his legs in front of you.

“I will not ‘magic’ you back, we will travel by foot. I do not wish to touch you.” he says and you just sigh, looking up at the light of the moon above you.

“Ah…I forget that we humans here are despised, of course you wouldn’t want to. May I…have a bit of time before we go?” you ask him, and he just nods once.

“As you will, mortal. Rest, then. I do not need you to be a hindrance.” His form dissipates into a cloud of darkness, drawing out a shocked gasp from you.

“So cool...” you whisper, even as your body trembles in his presence.

Your attempts to sleep once more aren’t met with any luck, so you find yourself getting up, looking around the clearing. You cannot see your ‘escort’ but you can sense that he’s around, watching.

“I am just going to the little waterfall nearby…I’m aware that… running would be pointless…” you throw out, and you’re met with only silence.

Taking that as a sign that it’s fine, you make your way down to the little waterfall, your heart feeling a semblance of relief for a moment as you realize you may not get to be free ever again.

“I’ll just treasure this while I can…” you whisper to yourself, shedding the horrible gown and walking into the cool water.

The sigh of relief that escapes your lips is so loud, you cover your mouth, then giggle. It’s not as if you’re going to scare anything nearby, and the thought gives you a sense of freedom for a moment.

Humming as you dip down under the water, you emerge with a happy laugh, swimming around for a bit, then floating on your back as you watch the stars above.

Suddenly you are filled with a strong sense of being watched, heavier than before.

Turning your head, you let out a scream, bobbing under the surface for a moment before you pop back up, looking over to see the dark fae man near the water's edge. Your heart seems to restart as you process his presence, watching you curiously.

Turning to swim towards him a bit, you let your breathing even out before giving him a small smile.

“I wanted to bathe before we left…” you tell him, feeling the need to break the eerie silence.

He tilts his head, blinking slowly at you before his deep tone washes over you in a question.

“Why do you laugh?”

“Excuse me?” you ask, flustered, his intense stare causing you to tremble once more.

He pauses, his gaze even as he watches you.

“You are laughing, yet there is no one else around. Why?” he asks again and you sigh, floating a bit as you think of how to answer him.

“I was simply enjoying the feeling of the water….it’s been quite some time since I was allowed to bathe…or see the night sky like this…” you trail off, as you stare up at the stars.

Turning to look at him once more, you just contemplate.

“Do fae not laugh?” you ask him and just blinks, then shakes his head.

“Some fae laugh.” he responds and you get the feeling that he is not one of them.

Frowning, you swim a little closer to where he is crouched.

“Have you never laughed?” you ask him and he almost winces at the question.

“I dare not laugh, nor would I have a reason to.” he says, his beautiful silky voice washing over you and you just shake your head.

The thought of his laughter with that low velvety tone…..you shiver at the mere idea of it.

“Well that’s sad.” you tell him, going back to your humming.

“Sad?” he asks and you look at him curiously.

Between the hood and the mask covering the lower half of his face, the dark clothing and the gloves….well he looks completely like some assassin or dark creature from the fictional novels you used to read. But he was sitting here, watching you bathe, asking you about laughter.

Your heart cries out empathetically without even understanding why. Instead of feeling the need to cower and run in fear you are…drawn to him. His gaze, his voice, his presence is giving you the urge to know him, understand him.

How confusing things were here.

“What is your name?” you ask him, and the wince from before is nothing compared to the dark pain that swirls in his eyes now. Even in the low light of the moon, you can sense it, the agony in that reaction.

“I have no name.” he finally responds quietly and your heart clenches.

“No name? Do fae not name-?”

“They call me shade. I am just a shade.” he cuts you off, standing abruptly.

“Shade? How…on the nose.” you mumble and swim over to the edge, hoisting yourself out of the water.

His eyes are on you once more as you slip into your dress, uncaring of his gaze.

Your fae captors had long since stripped you of your modesty, and this particular fae was one of the first you’d met that wasn’t oozing hatred or lust for you. His uncaring demeanor was a wonderful relief compared to the others you’d met.

How odd to trust him on a feeling.

“I found myself unable to sleep so…we can go.” you announce, turning once more to take in the beauty of your bathing area, the sound of the small waterfall, the stars and moon reflected in the dark waters.

At his look, you just shrug, gesturing to yourself as you rewrap your feet. “I have nothing. This is everything, just me.” you tell him, thinking he may think you have to retrieve things.

It’s met with silence and you just stand, taking him in as you give him a small smile.

“I’m ready.”

The journey is slow, as he just meets your clumsy pace with silence, not once rushing you.

The first day passes quickly, you having slowed to avoid any injuries. And well….you were in no rush to return to the hell of your captors.

All attempts at speaking to the dark being escorting you are met with mostly mundane answers, his disinterest obvious, but you could sense an underlying sense of curiosity to him.

Or maybe it was just your imagination, hopeful in this bleak existence of yours.

He mostly observes you as he quietly directs you, allowing you to stop to use the bushes occasionally, to pick berries to eat, or to drink from the waters of the river.

He even watches as you get excited over a field of flowers you’d not seen on your way, exclaiming over the myriad of colors you’ve never seen in nature before.

Unlike the other fae, your occasional stumbles did not earn you a curse or jests, he merely just waits as you recover to continue on.

That night, as you lay staring at the open night sky, your body finally allows you some broken sleep.

Your shadowy escort can only observe from the trees as your body thrashes in the small hollow you’ve carved out for yourself as the nightmare plagues your rest.

Awakening with a small cry, you can only sigh at the reality of your situation, resignedly readying yourself for another day of travel.

As the day passes you fill the silence with random thoughts spoken aloud, rambling at him about whatever comes to mind, never expecting much of a response.

Occasionally he would start to respond to questions, but never more than a sentence here or there. Still, you could sense that your endless prattling wasn’t unwelcome to him, and you could sense his gaze on you if you started to go quiet.

As another night draws in the darkness around you, you find yourself yawning as you walk along, playing with some of the pretty flowers you’d found on the ground, unwilling to pluck any of the living ones.

“I believe you should rest now,” his voice startles you, causing you to jump and clutch your chest.

“I think that’s the most you’ve spoken today, you scared me.” you exclaim, and he just nods as if used to it.

“It is my nature, to cause others to fear me.” he simply says and you tilt your head at him.

“Why? Even other fae fear you?” you ask him, recovering as you look around for a clearing to rest in.

“I am aberrant to even my kind.” he says simply as if it’s a normal thing.

“Why?” you ask, stopping to turn and look up at him abruptly.

It was the first time he’d seemed willing to talk about himself and you weren’t letting the opportunity pass by.

His shocked eyes blink at you, mere inches from him as you hold your flowers.

“Why?” he echoes and you shrug, turning to head towards a little bunch of trees with some leaves and a nice little log to sit on.

“You ask many questions.”

“Yes, you…well…I mean, when I got here, I was running from some pretty horrible things…I thought coming here would be a clean start, that life here would be better for me. I don’t really know much about this…world…realm?” You gasp as you see some berries and run to pick them, feeling his presence follow.

“I had barely crossed when I was captured, then I was put in a cell and ... .well it was unpleasant, to say the least. I’ve been treated as little more than cattle…tainted cattle at that. The fae I encountered were terrifying, even as they looked like they should be a prince in a fairy tale from my world.” you continue, more to talk for talking’s sake than thinking he cared at all. “I don’t put much stock in the way others appear at first glance, especially now.”

Thinking for a moment about the dark cell, the horrible tortures, the comments, promises of worse…you shake your head, coming back to the present. “I don’t even have anything but this tattered dress they gave me…” you whisper, looking down.

Taking a deep breath, you work a smile back onto your lips.

“I can honestly tell you that you’ve been the kindest creature I’ve met since I came here…and it’s been a long time. Even though initially I was fearful of you..I mean you kinda showed up suddenly and the mask doesn’t help.” you turn to see he’s only a few feet from you, watching you carefully.

You pop a berry into your mouth, then hold your hand out to offer him one. “Even so…thank you for that…I…. I know I am going back to something horrible… Thank you for this time and allowing me to be free for a bit.” you smile at him softly and his eyes go wide, almost in shock at your words.

Shock, confusion, a little bit of… warmth?

Perhaps it was your imagination.

He simply holds out his hand and you scold yourself at your thoughtlessness.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I forgot about not wanting to touch me…” you tilt your hand to let a few berries fall into his palm and smile up at him.

“You…you’re confusing me.” he says and you shake your head at him.

“How so?” you ask, making your way to slip down into the crackle of leaves, sighing in relief after the long day of walking on nothing but scraps of fabric.

He sits down in front of you, studying you intently as you unwrap your feet to rub them, dabbing at the blood from the small cuts.

He just watches, seeming to contemplate something in the long silence until his rich voice breaks it once more.

“Would you…should I….” he starts, but pauses, shaking his head as he looks away, seeming to battle himself before he turns back.

His crimson eyes are intense, but you feel as if he’s finally looking at you instead of merely studying you as if you were some curiosity.

“My mother was a banshee,” he begins, and you gasp without thinking as you realize he is opening up to you.

“Does that make you afraid?” he asks at your reaction, but you just wave your hands frantically, shaking your head.

“No, no not at all! I am…shocked yet pleased that you are telling me about yourself, please ….go on. I … would like to know more about you..” you say and he seems taken aback, but it’s hard to tell with only his eyes.

Finally after a long moment, he nods and you let out the breath you were holding, eager to hear more.

His tone is low, an underlying hint of sorrow as he continues. “They say she wanted a child so much that a dokkaebi decided to grant her wish. But, instead of just bringing her a child, the goblin seduced her, and they say she fell deeply in love with him.”

He stares off seeming lost in his thoughts as he takes a moment.

You wait patiently, enthralled with his voice as his eyes meet yours once again.

“Once he had gotten her with child, he disappeared, and no fae has seen him since. Such is the way of our kind.” He shrugs, shaking his head.

“He had granted her wish, and she should be happy, grateful for the gift. Instead, she was so heartbroken from the loss of her lover, that she cursed the child for being conceived. When she finally birthed the child, they say the cries of the creature granted her final wish, to extinguish the pain from her profound loss.”

His pause is longer this time, a deep sense of despair settling over you, knowing what his next words will be before he even speaks them.

“I am that creature…that child.”

“When the humans found me, I was taken in for a time. But at my cries, if I went hungry or was upset, the many humans who cared for me would die. Finally, realizing I was not a mortal, they offered me to the fae, cursing my very existence for all the death I’d caused. My mother’s people took me in, knowing what I was, yet I am not considered one of them. I am an outcast, I was given no name as a punishment for my existence. I am merely a shade, my presence a curse. My banshee mother “gifted” me with this voice…the mere sound of it causing those around me to tremble as I am only able to bring death and devastation.”

Your throat is tight as he speaks, your fist clenched in the material over your chest as it aches for him, for the small child subjected to such a life, merely for being born.

“They gagged me before I was able to control my voice, and then taught me to never use my power unless it was of use to them. I speak now, but my voice holds a fatal danger within it. This mask is a reminder that I am aberrant, a monster…. a creature that should never have been. My only use is to carry out my orders, and obey.”

His dark eyes bore into you expectantly, but you can only manage your breathing through the tears that threaten to overwhelm you.

“When others see me, they cower and whisper in fear. They scurry from me, as I could kill them with a word, or even just a sound. They fear me for I am a threat, but also a blemish on my kind. So it has been for my entire life.”

He seems so stoic, so resigned that it hurts to even breathe.

As he finally stops speaking, you tear a piece of fabric from your dress to wipe at your eyes and he refocuses on you, his eyes conveying confusion.

“Are your feet so injured that you weep?” he asks, his brows drawing together.

Shaking your head, you stifle a sob, shaking as you try to hold back the flood of heartache his story had caused within you.

“How…how could….they…?” you finally give in and burst into tears, drawing your knees up and sobbing into your arms.

“I…do not know…how to ..what is wrong?” He asks, confused as he attempts to reach for you, then draws back.

“What’s wrong!? Everything about how they treat you is wrong! How horrible! How could they? A poor little innocent baby, what awful ... .you haven’t even done anything wrong!” you wail, and he looks at you in shock.

“Did you not hear what I said? What I am? I am-"

Frustration fills you, anger welling up.

"I did hear, I heard everything you said and they are terrible!” You look up into his eyes, confusion and panic causing him to fidget, the normally stoic male now unable to figure out what to do with his hands.

“Aren’t you angry? Hurt?” you ask him, reaching out to grasp his hands without thinking.

He lets out a startled grunt as he reels back at your touch, but instead of letting go, you hold onto him, and he ends up pulling you into him.

“DON’T!” he cries out in panic, but you shake your head, throwing your arms around his neck to hug him.

“What are you doing!?” his voice booms and you tremble as you freeze, but manage to whine through your gritted teeth.

The feeling of paralysis leaves you as he puts his hands on your waist but you only clutch him tighter.

“I’m hugging you, so just deal with it!” you yell back at him, your voice not coming anywhere near the power of his but you didn’t care right now.

“Are you..yelling at me?” he asks, astounded at the very thought, but he doesn’t force you away.

“You’ve never been hugged, have you?” you ask him in a whisper, his body tense against yours.

His gloved hands shake as he holds you, afraid to move in case he hurts you. “I .. have not.”

You just sob against his shoulder, grasping him tightly.

“Well…..now you have…so…just let me, okay?”

You feel him relax slightly as he sighs, his hands gently settling on your back, allowing you to calm gradually down into sniffles.

It was a surreal feeling, sitting in a fae’s lap as you embrace him, the very creature about to turn you over for more torture, possibly even death.

But the amount of torture you’ve endured seems so pale in comparison to what he’d been through since his birth.

It made you angry, outraged at the kind of beings who could hurt a small infant, raising him to believe he meant nothing.

“It’s not right.” you whisper, drawing back to look into his eyes, which were filled with shock, confusion…fear.

“I do not decide what is right and wro-” he says, but you glare at him, stopping his words.

Slowly pushing back the hood over his head, you can feel him begin to shake again as you raise your hands to his mask. Long dark strands of hair fall forward, soft and shimmering in the midday sun.

“Do not-” he growls out, grasping your wrist gently.

“Why not? Will it hurt me?” you ask, and he just shakes his head.

“Just-” he stops as you draw back, not wanting to push him.

“My only wish is to see you fully, but I will not force you for my own selfish wants.” You tell him softly, brushing your thumb over his exposed temple, admiring his dark crimson eyes, his beautiful sable hair.

“Why are you..I could kill you from a simple touch, with only a word..why…? I don’t understand…Aren’t you afraid?” he rasps out, his chest rising and falling erratically.

“Do you want to hurt me…to kill me?” you ask him in a whisper and his eyes darken, black and red swirling together, his arms tightening around you.

“No-never….” He whispers, shaking his head, studying your face as you search his eyes.

“My touch can wither your delicate flesh, my voice can halt your breathing eternally. You risk your very life to…hug me?” he asks, incredulous.

Your heart aches at his question, a being having never known love or care, more afraid of himself as he’s been taught nothing else, given nothing else.

“I trust you.” you whisper to him, stunning even yourself at the admission.

You barely knew him, yet…something deep within you was stirring, perhaps because you were so close to your demise…having been devoid of feeling connected to another for so long, locked away.

Whatever the reasoning, you could sense your heart stirring for this mysterious, tragic man holding you in his lap.

At your words, he stiffens, blinking rapidly as his eyes darken.

“Why?” His voice is even deeper, his words washing over you like a calm, cool breeze.

Just the one word has you catching your breath, and without hesitation or thought, you lean in to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

Your lips linger for a long moment as he trembles beneath you, a mixture of a gasp and a soft sigh barely heard through his mask as you pull away.

His eyes are full of intense emotion, and you can’t help but smile tenderly at his confusion.

“I…have no reason. It’s just how I feel.” You tell him quietly, allowing yourself to bask in the peace of this moment with him.

His hands splay out over your back, slipping up your spine and you can feel the tremor as he touches you.

“See…you’re not hurting me…” you tell him as you continue to brush his hair back, tracing the line of his eyebrow with the tip of your finger.

At your touch, he closes his eyes, as if memorizing the feeling.

You watch his throat work, but then suddenly his eyes are open, the pain within them slicing through your heart.

“You should stop.” He rasps out, but you merely shake your head, refusing. He lets out a strangled noise as he glares up at you.

“Don’t you know when you’re in danger?” he asks as he attempts to remove you from being wrapped around him.

“No.” you say simply, knowing he could toss you across the clearing easily, but unwilling to leave your spot without force.

“Why are you so stubborn?” he asks, and you just laugh softly, his eyes softening at the sound.

“It’s just my nature, I suppose. But…if you dislike my touch, I will stop. I apologize for upsetting you.”

Finally giving in, you slowly stand, removing yourself from his lap.

“I’m going to collect some more leaves…” you whisper, leaving the fae to himself for a moment, also needing to take some time for yourself.

You stop to look back at him, still looking down at his hands, his hood pushed back.

Feeling a pang of guilt for pushing him, you sigh before you continue on.

In the long months, possibly even years you’ve been here, you've been wasting away in a cell, poked and prodded at by beings who treated you horribly.

The few who had come along and shown any interest had ulterior motives, such as the tall elf who seemed to be in charge.

He’d fed you strange herbs that made you sick, promising they were to help you.

But in the end, he’d also wanted to use you, albeit in different ways than the ones who came before.

When they’d declared you barren, you’d thought it was a godsend but in reality, they had no more use for you.

As the guards who’d been transporting you had implied, you were marching right back to a certain death.

Death was the best thing that was waiting for you, you think sadly.

Yet here you were, going soft for this being they called shade, your heart opening even though you knew it would only end in tragedy for you.

“A little light in the darkness isn’t going to hurt…. It’s fine…it’s all fine..” you whisper to yourself.

The pain of his story still rages through you, the urgent need to show him care, comfort….love.

“How ironic to find such a thing, in the darkest days of my sad life.” you tell the wind, closing your eyes to the thought of his gentle touch upon you, no matter how brief.

Oddly, you feel as if you could sense his presence, and when you returned back to the little spot, you found yourself smiling at his dark form.

He was crouched near a small bush about ten feet from where you’d decided to make your little resting spot for the night.

You deposit your leaves as he stands to turn towards you, his hands cupped as he makes his way to you.

Settling yourself in the crunch of the foliage, he kneels next to you, his dark red eyes searching yours as he holds out his hands.

“What-?” you start then look down at what he is offering.

In his gloved palms, he was holding berries.

“For..me?” you ask timidly and he just nods.

“Th-thank you…” you smile at him, feeling heat creeping into your cheeks as his eyes never leave you.

You take them in your palm as if they are treasure, warmth spreading through you.

“Mm!” you exclaim as you chew on a few and he tilts his head at you in confusion.

“You act as if these aren’t the same berries you’ve been consuming this whole time.” he quips and you beam at him, munching happily.

“They taste better because you got them for me.” you tell him, your heart seeming to stutter as his eyes widen then blink quickly, and his breath catches audibly.

“I…get some rest…” he finally says, standing to turn and dissipate into that black shadowy cloud you’ve gotten used to now.

“Sweet dreams…if you sleep…” you whisper to him, grinning like a fool at the berries he’d given you as if it was the greatest gift you’ve ever received.

In your mind, his gesture means the world to you in this bleak existence you’ve found yourself in.

Shortly after your meal, you lay down in the softness of the leaves, gazing wistfully at the stars as you commit this feeling to memory.

Whatever fate has in store for you, be it death or worse, you’ve decided to save this day to a special place in your mind.

When the pain of reality becomes too much, you’ll withdraw back to this moment; this small bit of sunshine in your bleak existence.

In the trees above you, unseen, your dark fae watches over you as your eyes drift closed, a small smile playing over your lips as you drift into dreamless slumber.

The next day, you find he is watching you even more closely, actually answering your little questions a bit more openly than before. The sound of his voice makes you smile and more than once, he gives you strange, curious looks.

Neither of you speak of the prior days events, but there seems to be a simple companionship between you that wasn’t there before that makes you skip along, a little more carefree than you’ve felt in a long, long time.

You cannot see his full face but you’re convinced that at least once, you’ve made him conjure up some semblance of a smile.

Wishful thinking, perhaps.

“May I ask you something?”

The fae’s deep tone interrupts your thoughts, shocking you as you turn to look at him.

“Of course you can, anything you desire.” Smiling, you watch him as he takes his time to respond.

“How can you…smile?” he asks softly, his words barely audible.

You pause, turning to him as you think of how to answer.

“If this is too intrusive-” he starts but you just shake your head, titling it as you look off at the beautiful blue of the sky.

“I don’t mind…I’m just trying to think of how to put it into words.” You reassure him, watching as some small animals break from a brush to rush into another.

Your lips quirk at the sight and you turn your gaze back to his.

Your stomach does a little flip at his intense eyes, but you shake it off as you speak.

“I mentioned that I came across to escape from something horrible, from my world?” you finally say, your mind drifting to the day you’d run from your life.

“In my world, there is no magic, but there’s plenty of evil. Sometimes no matter how much you love or care for something, they can still hurt you. I ran away from something…someone who was hurting me.” You tell him, shrugging a shoulder as if to make light of it.

His eyes narrow, darkening and you continue before you can run from the question.

“When I crossed, I was captured. But in my mind, anything was better than what I left. I…was wrong. It was different, but just as bad as what I ran from. The fae who captured me placed me in a small dark cell and ... .I won’t go into details about the things that were done to me. I honestly don’t want to remember, let alone tell you.” your smile falters as you blink away tears, trying to recall where you were going.

You watch his head tilt downwards, his eyes hooding as he studies you, and you manage to swallow back the memories as you continue.

“I’m unsure how much you know about what they do…to humans like me.” you say and he just shakes his head.

“Well, it’s …..from what I heard from conversations I overheard and what was done to me…at least where I was. They are trying to ….breed us.” you whisper, looking down to wrap your arms around yourself.

You turn and slowly start walking as you recall to him some of your time imprisoned.

“After many …. attempts ... .I was declared ‘barren’, basically worthless.” You look over at him with a soft smile and he furrows his brow in confusion.

“The reason I was able to get myself free was because they were discarding me, as I have no use.” you tell him, shaking your head.

“I don’t even know why they sent you after me, I imagine I’m going to be ... .disposed of at my return.” you shrug, resigned.

“It sounds like I’m not answering your question, but I promise I am!” You tell him, trying to put some cheer into your voice.

You watch a vein in his neck pulse as he seems to swallow harshly, focused on you.

“You see, I spent so much time angry at myself, at everyone around me, making myself sick with all of the negative things. It really only made everything so much worse. One day, a small bird got into my little prison cell. A tiny little blue bird, and the sound of its song was like…the most beautiful, amazing thing I’d ever experienced in my life.”

You smile at the recollection, perking up. “The joy I felt from that simple little bird, the smile it put on my face made everything else ebb away. It didn’t change anything happening to me, but smiling…appreciating the smallest happiness…it made what was happening to me the smallest bit easier.”

You look down at the path you’re walking, smiling at the vivid green of the grass, the small puffs of white flowers drifting on the breeze.

“My whole life, I don’t think I spent much time smiling. But now…..now, I smile because otherwise, I’d drown in the misery of my negative thoughts. There’s so much negative, sometimes it’s too easy to be overwhelmed by it. I just decided to change my perspective and to appreciate the smallest gifts I am given.”

You hop and turn to him, reaching to grab his hand but at the last minute you remember yourself and stop.

His startled look makes you giggle as you tell him, “Like the berries! You picked them for me…you thought of my well being. Me…a silly human you are tasked with bringing back, you showed me kindness. You made me smile.” you admit, shrugging and his eyes widen, then soften as he shakes his head.

“I…do not think I’ve ever done so in my life.” he tells you and you just give him a big grin as you hop along beside him.

“You’ve made me smile many times so far. Your voice is soothing to me, beautiful like music. It makes me happy.” You say, and he stops abruptly, blinking rapidly.

“I cannot tell if you jest.” he glances over at you, wary as you beam at him.

“I would never jest about that, I truly mean it.” you say simply and he starts to walk with you once again, seeming lost in thought.

“Long after I’m gone, I hope you recall that you made at least one little creature smile in her last days.” You whisper and his head snaps over to you, seeming to process your words finally.

“You…are aware of your imminent demise yet you don’t even attempt to escape from me?” he puzzles and you laugh, a mixture of sadness and delight at the thought.

“You and I both know escaping from you isn’t possible. I may be a bit naive and extremely clumsy, but I am smart enough to know this.”

He only watches you, blinking as he nods finally.

“Yet you still could try, if you wanted to live.”

You stop at his words, turning to frown at him.

“I do want to live. I really do. But if I were to try to run, you would have to come after me, to recapture me. You’d have to use your powers….I can sense how strong you are, even as a human. I couldn’t do that to you.”

He flinches in shock, “To me?” he merely asks and you nod, closing the distance between you to look at him, to make sure he understands you.

“You’ve been used…treated like you’re only worth what only your powers can do for those who would exploit you. I would be forcing you to do the same, against your will. From what it sounds like, the fae who raised you to be a tool only treat you as an object. I….know all too well what that feels like, and I just…” your heart pounds from the memory of his story.

“I will not push you into having to do their bidding any more than you already have to. Despite being completely pointless- it’s not as if I can run and hide from you successfully…which means you would also have to do something that seems to cause you pain…or sadness.” he simply watches you, his eyes almost black as you speak.

“I prefer to speak with you, to hear your voice, to learn about you, to-” your throat clenches at the words that want to come forth and your breath hitches.

“I…accept the fate I’ve been given and want to make the time I have not memorable, not running from it. I’m always running from something; this time…I’ve decided to face things and enjoy beauty where I can find it. You’re my …companion at the end…I don’t wish to make you my enemy, nor do I want to abuse you like others do.”

You finally stop, giving another shrug as you put your hands behind your back, turning to continue your journey. “Sorry I didn’t have a short answer for you…” you purse your lips, wondering if you’ve annoyed him with your rambling.

There is a comforting silence following your long explanation, the soft sounds of nature around you soothing as you breathe in deeply.

You hear an odd creaking noise and turn to look at your companion oddly. You glance down at his leather clad hands where the sound emanates and frown, noticing him clenching his fists.

“Have I upset you? If I have-”

“No. Not you.” his deep growl sends a chill through your entire being at the rage you sense lurking.

“Oh…” is all you say, unconsciously walking a bit closer to him.

You notice his breathing is a bit rough under his mask and suddenly feel a wave of sadness for upsetting him, even if unintentional.

“I’m sorry for saying so much, I overshared a bit.”

His eyes meet yours and your heart stops as his eyebrows draw together, an expression of almost…sympathy in his eyes startling you.

“There is nothing to apologize for. You have nothing to be sorry about…” his emphasis has your breath catching in your throat and your heart swelling.

Was he…angry for you?

The thought has you dizzy with confusion and emotion.

“Thank you…for listening.” you breathe out, having to almost physically force your gaze from him, heat warming your cheeks.

“You’re…welcome.” He responds, and you continue on as the sun slowly dips beneath the treeline, before you make your resting place for yet another night.

Your pace was slow, but instead of rushing you, your fae companion was allowing you to set the speed. It was as if he was allowing you as much time as you needed before your end.

You couldn’t be more grateful, you think as your eyes close, sensing him nearby.

Your sleep is restless, drifting through memories of your time back in your cell. The sounds harsh breathing in your ear, whatever creature was holding you beneath them tearing your flesh as they-

You awake to your own sobbing, shaking violently as you struggle to breathe.

You’re curled onto your side, hot tears trailing from one eye to the other as you clutch the ragged material of your dress.

It takes you a few moments to register the figure of ‘shade’, not even two feet from you, his crimson eyes seemingly on fire in the dim orange light of the sunrise.

His hands were hovering near you, palms open, a look of concern on his brow.

He doesn’t speak a word as your breathing slowly returns to normal, his nearness almost calming, bringing you back to reality.

Sitting up, you finally unball your fist from your chest, your jaw aching from having been clenching it, probably all throughout your nightmare.

Rubbing your face, you take a deep breath as you wipe at your damp face.

“You were screaming.” His voice washes over you like a wave, instantly dispersing any lingering memory of your dream and you sigh in relief.

“Sorry I-”

His grunt stops you and you look at him in confusion.

“You say that word needlessly, far too often.” he says simply and you let out a small laugh, realizing he’s right.

“Habit, sor-” You put your hand over your mouth and let out a soft giggle.

The sides of his eyes crinkle a bit and you almost gasp as you realize he may be smiling.

Resisting the overwhelming urge to reach out and pull off his mask, you stand, brushing at the leaves clinging to your gown.

“I suppose we should-”

He turns before you can finish, pulling out a large leaf with berries on it.

“Eat first.” He says, standing as you finally take his offering, staring at him in awe.

“Thank you.” You whisper and he only nods as he walks a few feet away, seeming to look out at the path ahead.

It only takes you a few moments to consume the food, then you’re standing and joining him.

“Ready?” You ask and he just gazes at you for a moment before he gives you one nod, following as you set your slow, plodding pace for the day.

You are mostly silent, lost in thought as you travel, casting looks occasionally at your travel companion.

Almost every time, you catch his eyes on you and his gaze never fails to warm you, your stomach doing little flips.

As if subconsciously, you make almost double the amount of stops today as you normally have, knowing you must be getting close to wherever he’s taking you.

During a particularly quiet bit of time where you’ve stopped to admire the view from the side of a cliff face, you watch as birds fly free and sigh in envy.

There is water far below, and you can faintly hear the waves crash into the rocks lining the shoreline.

Smiling as you close your eyes, you tip your face to the sun, basking in the mildly salty scent of the ocean.

Upon opening, you can’t help but envy the winged creatures flying overhead.

“Oh to be a bird…” you whisper under your breath, taking a step forward without thinking.

There’s a sudden shift as the ground beneath your feet gives way, your small cry cut off as you plummet quickly towards the rocks below.

This is it, you conclude, your heart torn between sadness and elation as you fall to meet your death.

Yet, instead of the bone breaking impact of the terrain of the shore, a familiar black cloud surrounds you, then you’re being clutched tightly in a pair of strong arms.

Barely able to breathe, you just cling to him as he sets down onto the ground below, trembling as you try to recover your breath.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and you glance up at him, grateful.

“I-I think so…” you stutter out, grasping onto him as he looks around where you’ve both landed.

“I’m sorry…I … “ you try to explain, but the concern in his eyes has you catching your breath.

“You…voluntarily touched me…” you realize out loud and he grunts in response, finally spotting a clear area to set you down.

As he does, you let your arms linger around his neck, looking up at him affectionately.

“Thank you.” you say softly, and he just watches you closely for a long moment, searching your eyes.

Finally, he is the one to break the silence.

“Why do you look at me so intently?” he asks, his intense gaze never breaking from yours.

“I….I was wondering once more what you hide beneath the mask.” you tell him simply and he scoffs at you, removing your arms from around him, stepping back.

“Nothing worth seeing.” he tosses out, surveying the area around you.

“I’d like to have my own opinion on that.” you state, walking over to him to take his gloved hand.

He stiffens at your touch, but does not pull away.

“You confuse me.” he says, not for the first time.

“I confuse myself sometimes, so it’s okay.” you say, smiling tenderly up at him.

As he turns his eyes on you again, your heart trips over itself as you feel the overwhelming need to see him, see his face, to remove the mask keeping you from seeing him.

All of him.

You have nothing to lose, something inside of you states.

Giving in to the pulsing demand of your inner voice, you start moving before you even realize you are doing so.

Reaching up, you push back his hood, but he steps away in alarm, putting distance between you both, his long dark hair shining in the sunset.

“May I…” you extend your hand towards him, but his eyes register panic as your fingers brush his mask.

“No.” he says brusquely, turning away from you.

“Please…I…don’t know why but I -”

His voice is soft but heavy with emotion as he shakes his head, his long strands falling softly around his face.

“There is nothing you gain from seeing what lies beneath.”

“There is nothing I lose, either..” You whisper to him softly, reaching for him once more.

This time he remains still, allowing you to approach.

You watch the rise and fall of his chest as you brush back the softness of his hair, his eyelashes fluttering at your touch.

“You do not need to lay eyes on the pathetic creature that this hides. The monster that I am.”

“You’re not a pathetic creature nor are you a monster, not to me.” you say, grasping his hand.

“Not to me. You’re more than that.”

His ragged breathing is the only sound between you as you wait, his eyes searching yours.

“You have treated me kindly, you’ve saved my life-” His eyes look pained at your words as he shakes his head.

“I am only doing my duty, obeying my orders.” he bites out, but you see something deeper in the depths of his gaze.

“You know I am going back to almost certain death.” you whisper and you can see him wince, his hand trembling slightly in yours.

“I am not asking for you to free me. I accept my fate…I have nowhere to run.”

“Let me lay eyes on what you want to hide…let me see all of you. Take it as a dying woman’s wish.” his eyes flutter at your words, keeping them closed for a moment before he looks at you intensely.

“You speak of your death so easily, as if it doesn’t matter.” he responds softly.

You only smile up at him as the darkness closes in around you, the light of the moon illuminating his eyes.

“Death is inevitable, and you’ve given me this precious time with you before I meet my end. I’ll cherish every moment, every single second with you. In the time I have left…I want to see all of you.”

You beam up at him, giving him time to take in your words.

His eyes seem to filter through an array of emotions as you look at one another.

Pain, fear, agony…

Longing.

As you watch those beautiful eyes, they seem to settle as he lets out an almost resigned sigh.

“Why is it that to me, you shine brighter than the moon?” he asks suddenly, reaching out to cup your face.

Your breath hitches at his touch and you lean into the caress.

“How do you do this, light up everything around you?” he asks, and you just smile at him sadly, your hand cupping his as he brushes his thumb over the tear rolling down your cheek.

“I’m only bright because you’re so used to the dark.” You respond, but he shakes his head.

“You’re much more than a light in the darkness. You belong in an open field of beautiful flowers under the sun, not lighting up this oppressive night.”

You know he’s not only referring to the shadows surrounding you, his words causing your heart to tremble, yearning even more for him.

You can only press yourself into him, brushing back the long strands of dark hair as he swallows at your nearness.

You can feel your very soul quiver as he wraps a strong arm around you, holding you close.

“I much prefer the beauty of the things I can bring the light to.” you whisper softly.

He closes his eyes and you let your hand slip behind his head, trailing your finger along the strap holding his mask in place.

“Monsters lurk in the darkness.” he whispers in a low tone, his hand gently stopping you as he opens his eyes, the pained red bleeding into the black of his irises, almost begging you not to go any further.

Your heart pangs at the undercurrent of distress in their depths, but you know inherently that there’s nothing for him to fear, that you only need to prove it to him.

“I’m more afraid of the monsters that walk amongst the flowers than I ever will be of the creatures in the dark.”

You unhook the strap and let it fall, noting the sheer agony within his eyes.

He closes them tightly as the mask falls, revealing one of the most breathtakingly perfect faces you’ve ever seen.

Blinking back fresh tears at his need to hide himself, you can only bask in the sight of him; his beautiful lips quiver slightly at your sharp intake of breath.

“Perhaps the beings in the dark aren’t monsters at all,” you whisper softly, “Just lonely creatures too afraid to show themselves to the light.”

The tears clouding your vision finally begin to fall as you gaze in complete awe at his features, his body shuddering as your words seem to stun him.

You watch his adams apple bob as he swallows, choking back a sob at his unwillingness to look at you.

“You're stunning.” you whisper as you find your voice, letting your fingers trace his jawline, the tips of your fingers skimming along his lips.

“You should not hide yourself from others….from me. Your voice is beautiful, as is this face you mask.”

Your breath catches as he leans into your touch, cupping his cheek gently as you admire him.

“You should proudly stand above all those who would look down on you and proclaim your right as a living being, deserving of love and kindness.”

His eyes gradually open as you speak, warily studying your face for any signs of deception, confusion playing across his sculptured features.

His lips part as you bask in the brilliance of his beauty, the moon illuminating a single sparkling tear in the corner of his eye.

Trembling as you take in the sight of him, you are flooded by emotions long forgotten overwhelming your very soul.

“Yeosang.” you whisper, the name coming from deep within you.

“What-? What...does that mean?” He asks softly, his voice barely audible, his brows draw together in uncertainty.

Your fingers trace the graceful line of his nose, whispering across his flawless cheek; letting your fingertips brush the dark lashes as his eyes flutter at your touch.

“Yeosang…I cannot give you much in this world but…I can give you a name. In my world, “Yeosang” means ‘sound from a high point’ in one of the languages where I am from.”

Your hand drops down, running a palm along his throat, eyes flicking up to watch a tear trace a line down his cheek.

Your heart aches at the myriad of emotions in his eyes, and you long to have him understand what it is you see, visually and with your heart.

How deeply he moves you; what he has come to mean to you in such a short time together.

What you yearn for him to believe; that he is worth something.

“Use your voice for yourself. To me, you stand above them all, so I want you to see yourself as I do.”

You lean in to place a soft kiss to his brow, and his arms tighten around you as his breath hitches at your words.

“You’re no monster…you’re a radiant, magnificent being trapped and abused by those who fear you. You are only hiding yourself in the shadows.”

He lets out a choked gasp as you press another soft kiss to his cheek,

“Yeosang…it also means ‘everything’.” You tell him.

His eyes are hooded as they play over your features, head down as he looks at you through those dark lashes.

He pauses before he whispers, “Everything?”

Tilting his face up to yours, urging him to look deep within your eyes. A swell of emotion washes over you, and you give in to the words that seem to come from the very depth of your soul.

“Yes, Yeosang. Because you are everything….my everything.”

His lips part as your fingers entwine into his ebony tresses, guiding his mouth to yours.

He lets out a small whimper as your lips meet, pulling you flush against him.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you part for him, urging him to take whatever it is he wants.

Slowly, gently he cups your cheek, brushing his gloved thumb over your skin, tilting your head as he deepens the kiss.

On a small gasp, he draws back, a look of concern washing over his exposed features, his lips drawing down in a frown.

“Am I hurting you?” he questions, fear evident in his eyes.

You lean forward to press your lips to his once more, settling your forehead against his as you shake your head.

“Not at all. Your touch is everything I’ve ever wanted…needed…” you sigh, and his eyelashes flutter as you take his hand to place it on your chest, your heart thundering in the stillness.

“Listen…” you whisper, your eyes steady on his.

“For you.”

His breath hitches as you place your hand on his chest, sighing softly as you feel the increasing rhythm with every passing moment.

It seems as though your heart syncs to the tempo of his, yearning to merge, to fuse with his very soul.

Your eyes lock with his, the silence surrounding you seeming to fill with ever growing symphony of emotion overwhelming you for this man.

The words leave your lips, without thought, just pure and simple.

Right.

“I love you.”

Though said on the softest of whispers, his reaction is as if a thunderclap has broken him from his reverie, his eyes sharpening as he searches your face.

Swallowing heavily, you breathe out, “I…barely know you, and maybe I’m insane...but it’s as if I was destined to always make my way to you.”

Your words are barely audible, your cheeks burning at the confession.

His sudden movement catches you off guard, fear threatening to claw it’s way up your throat, worried he will push you away; that you’ve made a mistake in voicing your feelings.

Instead, his eyes remain locked onto your as he yanks at his gloved hands, shedding the leather quickly before he reaches for you once more.

You shudder as he tentatively traces his fingertips along your cheek, brushing away the fresh tears. “I fear that words can do no justice to how you move me…they can only pale at the vibrant way that you’ve set me ablaze. The words that spiral through my mind can never explain the profound strength of how I’ve come to cherish you.”

Your heart aches at his admission, closing your eyes to the flood of emotions that wash over you, the stream of tears flowing freely as he holds you.

Your mouths meet once more as he pulls you to him, seeming to pour every ounce of himself into the kiss he breathes into you.

Your hand covers his as he cups your cheek, marveling at how gentle he is, how delicately he touches you.

“Yeosang…” you murmur against his lips and his breath catches, his tongue rolling against yours as he lets out a soft moan.

“Say it again.” He demands and you smile against his mouth, letting your hand reach up to comb through his long silken strands.

“Yeosang. My Yeosang.” The emotions coiling in your chest, your stomach seem to coalesce into an urge so strong, so powerful that you can’t deny them.

“Make me yours, Yeosang,” you gasp out, as if the words are speaking from your very soul.

Your trembling is noticeable in your voice and he lets out a shaky moan as you press yourself against him. His arousal is unmistakable as he slips his hands down your back and you gasp at the way your body responds to him.

His eyes flare open, a deep scarlet filled with lust and concern as he shakes his head at you.

“I will not do such a thing after what you’ve been through. Not after-” his words are hushed with a touch from your fingers, even as his hands find purchase on your hips.

Brushing your thumb along his lower lip, you blink slowly at him, smiling gently.

“There is nothing here besides you and I, just the two of us. You need not concern yourself about harming me in such a way.. I am making the choice. I am choosing you.”

His eyes soften at your words, and he lets out a soft sigh, parting his lips to take your thumb into his mouth.

“I…want you more than I have words to describe….. yet…” his eyes shift and you furrow your brow at his hesitance.

“I will not force you into anything-” you tell him, suddenly worried that you’re the one crossing the line here.

“No-I want you. I truly, truly want you…” his hands tighten on your hips as he lets out a shaky breath, hips pressing forward as if to prove his point.

You swallow heavily at his words, heat rising up your neck as well as pooling between your legs.

“But?” you ask him, trying not to do anything to push your own needs, holding as still as you can, to not influence his decision.

“I-” his eyes are still averted, his throat working.

“I have never…been wanted…been with-”

His eyes dart back to yours and you can’t help a small curl of your lips at his admission, at the rosy tint to his beautiful cheeks.

“Is that your only concern?” You ask him softly and he blinks slowly, nodding as you run your hand over his shoulders.

“Yeosang…” you whisper, rocking your hips gently against him, gasping at his reaction to you.

His head tilts back, fingers digging into your hips, then your ass as he slips them down to pull you harder into him.

You lean down to press a kiss to the hollow of his neck, letting your tongue tease at his pulse as you roll your hips against him.

His deep, throaty moan just heightens your need for him and you dig your nails into his shoulders.

“If that is the only reason you hold back, then let me assure you. I want you, Yeosang. I will show you everything, if you want to make me yours, for I intend to make you mine if you’ll let me.”

His entire body shudders against you and his soft growl has your eyes rolling back.

“Let me show you how I love you. Let me show you what it means to be loved.” you whisper, kissing up his neck, nibbling at his earlobe.

“Please-” he whimpers and you press your cheek to his, eyes shuttering. He hands halt their exploration, holding you in place as he draws back to study your eyes.

“Do you trust me?” He asks softly and you nod without hesitation.

“Then hold tight to me.” he whispers suddenly and your arms tighten around him without question.

“Don’t be afraid…” his voice seems to come from everywhere as you’re surrounded by a black mist, suspended within.

Closing your eyes, you feel a sense of euphoria as weightlessness takes over, a low melodic hum seeming to come from all around.

Before long you’re released from the mist and you open your eyes to watch him solidify in front of you as he reaches out to steady you.

“What-?” you begin but your words are cut off at the intake of breath when you realize where he’s brought you.

The sound of the small waterfall you’d bathed in days ago draws your eye, the canopy of trees above letting in the brilliant light of the moon.

“I…wanted to bring you somewhere you seemed to enjoy…where you laughed…” he whispers and you turn to look at Yeosang full unmasked, standing before you.

Your heart feels as if it’s going to leap right out of your chest, and tears flood your eyes as you process where you are.

That he thought to bring you here.

His intense eyes study you, seeming almost nervous as he watches your reaction.

Closing the distance quickly, you reach out to cup his face in your hands, unable to contain your bright smile.

“Are you happy?” He asks softly, his fingers tentatively brushing away an errant tear that slips from your eye.

“Nothing could make me happier than being here with you, right at this very moment.” You respond, and his lips part as he watches you laugh in delight.

“Then I…am ….happy as well.” He says, his brows drawing together at the seemingly foreign emotion.

You can only blink away tears as he reclaims your mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His lips are soft and gentle as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, splaying his hand over your lower back.

Your tongue eagerly seeks his out, your fingers reaching up to comb through his soft, silky black hair. The low hum seeming to emanate from his chest spurs you on, pressing yourself ever closer to him.

The ache of desire for him shocks and captivates you, an almost forgotten feeling and it causes you to tremble uncontrollably.

Your entire body thrums with anticipation as his hands begin exploring the length of your back, his fingers tracing your spine as he rubs his thumbs up your sides. You bask in the sensation of being in his arms, at every single wanted touch he gifts you.

“Tell me…once more..” He whispers between kisses, his hands slowly bunching the threadbare gown you’ve washed far too many times.

“Tell me you want this…that you want…me…” he continues as you wrap a leg around his thigh, tilting your head back as his lips trail down your jaw.

“Yes…yes I want you, I want all of you…”

Your words seem to unlock whatever he was holding back and suddenly you’re beneath him, his arms on either side of you as he gazes down at you with those deep crimson eyes.

The blades of grass are soft, tickling your skin as you part your legs, as his hands slip beneath the hem of the fragile down, his fingertips tracing up your naked thigh.

A soft moan bubbles out of your throat at his touch, the longing ache for him causing you to tug at his shirt. “All of you-” you gasp out, yanking, pulling at his clothing, at the straps keeping him from you.

A frantic moment is spent as he helps you, removing his belts, then his shirt. His long hair surrounds his face as he looks down at you before he lunges to capture your lips with his once more.

The rush of the waterfall seems like nothing compared to the rage of need between the two of you, as he gently yet firmly presses against you; as you desperately urge him on.

“More-please- '' you gasp, and his fingers comply, pulling the material of your dress up over your hips, his hand splaying over the flesh of your stomach.

“Anything you want-anything-” He whispers, his teeth nipping your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before he trails kisses down your jaw.

“I need to feel you-” you murmur, your hands skimming down his back to yank angrily at his pants, and he quickly sheds them. You get a quick glimpse of his naked muscled form above you before he returns his mouth to your throat, sucking and licking the sensitive flesh as he pushes your flimsy gown higher up.

With a grunt, he pulls it up over your head, then tosses it to the side. His dark eyes scan your bare chest hungrily before he returns to exploring your mouth with his.

As his body settles against you, the welcome weight of him pressing into you, you let out a loud moan. His hips jerk as his rigid length rubs along your damp slit, a strangled cry escaping his throat as he presses his face into your neck.

Running your hand along his spine, you place soft kisses on the crown of his head, holding him as he shudders in your arms.

“So much…” he whispers, humming softly as you feel moisture against the skin of your neck.

“Take your time…I’m right here…” you reassure him gently, trailing your fingers through his hair.

The melody of the night surrounds you as he breathes into you, the moonlight illuminating your naked entwined bodies as he slowly raises his head, lips parted as he gazes down upon you.

“As am I, precious.” His voice echoes through your mind, his rich warm eyes engulfing you as he rocks his hips forward.

His words shake you to your core. Your back arches as the underside of his cock slips through your folds, your longing moan melding with his low gasp. As his arms slips beneath you, you wrap a leg around his hip, meeting his movements with your own.

Your eyelids flutter as he rocks his hips, his tip rubbing along your clit as he watches every reaction, eyes glued to your face.

“Soft…” he hums, voice deep and low as his cock pulses against you, “So warm and soft…” he looks down between you as he wets himself with your moisture.

“Your scent is making me dizzy…” he whispers, his hand delving between you to gather the pooling liquid seeping from you, from his touch, his words.

Crying out as his fingertips explore your cunt, he shudders as his eyes lock back onto your face. “This…?” He breathes out, his thumb flicking back over your clit, gasping along with you as you moan at his touch.

“Yes! Oh…god…” you whimper as he draws his hips back, the head of his cock pressing firmly against your eager entrance. You can feel his body tense as he feels your walls give slightly, halting with just the tip against you.

“You…asked me to..make you mine…” he shudders, eyes slowly closing, then opening to stare deeply into yours. “Do you truly wish to be mine?”

His question moves you; on the very verge of claiming you, he has enough concern for you to check once more.

To worry, to care.

You’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

“I long for nothing more…I want…no…” you whisper, your voice shaking as you reach up to cup his cheek “I need you more than I need breath.”

He licks his lips and seems to glow with radiance at your confession, the silvery light of the moon illuminating his glorious face.

“As you wish.” He hums softly as he pushes forward, causing you to cry out in bliss as he finally joins with you.

The sensation of him stretching you rips a moan from your throat, your pleasure only heightened by his gorgeous features contorting in pure ecstasy as he fills you slowly.

You watch him struggle to keep his eyes open, to watch your every reaction as he buries himself within you. Shuddering, his lashes flutter as your walls grip him tightly.

You lift your hips, rocking them gently beneath him as you bask in his every expression.

How his nose scrunches; how his lips part as his hips begin to move in time with yours.

“Mine…” his voice catches on the word, trailing off into a deep moan.

“Yours.” Your response seems to free him from any lingering hesitance as he brings his fingers up to his lips, his tongue flicking out to taste the moisture on them.

“FUCK-” His crimson eyes flash open as he thrusts forward, crashing his mouth against yours, letting you taste yourself on his eager tongue.

Wordlessly, he begins to set a steady pace as you wrap yourself around him, encouraging him with every touch, every breath.

His low moans grow louder as he draws yours out, the sound of your bodies meeting melding with the sound of the environment around you.

The rush of the waterfall, the hum of the chirping insects serving as an ode to your union, your cries intertwining with his to create a melody that is playing out between the two of you.

“Yeosang-!” you sing to him, his deep throaty cries lost in the flesh of your throat as he licks, then nips the skin.

“I-I love you-” he growls almost too low to hear but your soul resonates as if he screamed them to the heavens.

Your cries reach a crescendo as his sharp teeth nick your skin, the steadily building coil in your womb exploding at the heated sting of your skin being pierced.

Tightening your arms around him as he marks you, wave after wave of rapture shaking your body, he continues to pound into you.

“M-mine-” he stutters, licking the fresh mark, soothing it with kisses.

His words are cut short as you guide him into a roll, his eyes widening as his back is now on the plush grass beneath you.

“As you’re mine-” you gasp, still trembling from the powerful climax. His hands settle on your hips as you grip his shoulders, settling your thighs on either side of his.

Your eyes hold his as you rock your hips, reveling in how they roll back as your wet heat trickles between you, as your cunt grips him firmly as if to never let go.

“I love you-” you moan as you lift yourself, drawing out his deep moans as you slide back down.

“You’re my everything, Yeosang…” you murmur, arms wrapping around his neck as he sits up to claim your words with his mouth.

“Always.” He whispers as his hands slide down your back to cup your ass, lifting you, guiding you faster, harder down onto him.

Throwing your head back, your eyes flutter open to gaze at the brilliant moon, memorizing this sacred moment; joined with him, his melodic voice filling the empty reaches of your soul as his body fills yours completely.

His lips capture your nipple as your movements become desperate, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. The searing sensation as he sucks harshly at the sensitive nub has you crying out loudly, tears pricking your eyes.

“More-louder-for me-” He rasps out, and your eyes dart down to see his eyes locked on you above him.

Clenching ever tighter around him, you give in to him and release your voice into the night sky, crying out wordlessly as you ride him.

His own frantic cries mix with yours as your fingers wrap into the strands of his hair, pressing your forehead to his as you feel him begin to tremble violently underneath you.

“Come for me-” you beg him harshly, your breath hitching as you shake in his arms.

“With me-” you urge as his eyes hold yours, his moans becoming low whines; his crimson eyes darkening as he finally chokes out your name.

You’re both lost in each other’s gazes as his arms wrap around you; pulling you down onto him with inhuman strength as he loses himself in you, to you.

The explosion of his voice spirals you into your own orgasm as he bursts, the torrent of his climax mixing with yours in a raging flood.

His cries are frenzied as he empties himself deep inside of you, his cock throbbing as he clutches you tightly against him.

Your head spins at the power behind your joining, the sensation of floating, suspended beyond space and time.

Only this moment matters, this singular piece of your life, in his arms.

Together.

Connected.

Time seems to fall back into place as the noises around you slowly return, a low hum resonating through your body from Yeosang’s as he holds you against him.

Finally, after an eternity of silence, you allow yourself to speak.

“I love you.”

The warmth of his gaze says everything as his lips claim yours.

His hands and mouth speak louder than any words as you give in to him once more, again and again through the long, blissful night.

“I will not return you.”

Yeosang stands staring off into the distance as you rise, the morning sun appearing to form a halo around the beautiful fae man.

His words cause your heart to stutter, halting your movements as you go to pull your worn gown over your head.

“-w-what?” you say softly, as hope begins to bloom in your chest.

Facing away from you, his shoulders tense, he merely shakes his head, turning to gaze at you. His eyes are full of love, concern, weariness as gives you a gentle smile.

“I refuse to surrender you to -” he can’t seem to bring himself to say it, turning away from you to look off into the forest.

The bright sounds of birds echo through the clearing, the peaceful ambiance of the morning accentuated with the musical cascade of the waterfall.

You walk up behind him, tracing your fingers down his arm before entwining your fingers with his. He looks down at your hand in his, his profile a glorious sight now that he's abandoned his mask.

He turns to look at you, pain in his eyes mixed with a longing you understand all too well. You both know all too well that with hope, with dreams come obstacles.

Obstacles that threaten the very happiness you've both just discovered within one another, and your chest tightens with terror at what may threaten it.

Yet right now, your only with is to stay with him, for him to stay with you.

Forever.

“What...what about those you told me of? Will-will they come for you?” You ask him softly as he pulls you into his embrace, as his beautiful crimson eyes softening at your concern.

“That matters little, compared to what awaits you if we return.” He hums, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His deflection doesn't go unnoticed, though.

A frown tugs at your lips, a sudden pang of fear causing you to clutch him tightly.

“Will they hunt you down?” You ask breathlessly, hoping he will deny it, yet knowing the truth already.

He inhales slowly, looking away once more as he lets out a long sigh. “That is not something you need to worry about, precious. I will not let any harm come to you, not as long as I draw breath.”

“What about the harm that can come to you?” You shiver at the very thought, how he could be hurt...killed.... because of you.

His gaze rests on your worried features, those crimson eyes hardening in resolve, studying yours as he cups your face in his hands.

“Whatever harm may befall me, nothing will keep me from protecting you with my very life. I swear it upon my very soul.” His lips brush yours as his gaze darts down to the mark on your neck.

“We belong to one another, and nothing in this realm or the next will keep us apart. I won't lose you, nor will you lose me. This I promise you.”

“Where is he?!” the captain’s voice reverberates through the keep. “I sent him out to bring her back ages ago! How dare such a wretched creature not obey his master with haste?”

All within earshot cower from the rage oozing from the giant fae, and those within the room tremble at his wrath.

“How hard is it to find a simple human? A small, fragile female doesn't stand a chance. He should have been back within days. How long has it been?” He turns to a small boggart in the corner.

“Three weeks, my liege.” the creature's voice rasps out, eyes darting around in fear.

“Three weeks?” The captain’s hands clench tightly as his jaw tics. “Never before has he failed to complete his tasks immediately. Shade knows his place among us, he wouldn't fail to fulfill a mission."

"He knows the punishment that awaits a simple delay... there is only one answer." His momentary silence seems to cause more terror than his previous outburst.

The dry laugh that escapes the large fae is laden with venom, sharp enough to cut.

"It seems that our obedient hound is trying to break his leash."

The air is tense as the lesser fae wait on their captain's orders.

“It’s time to show him who he answers to. I’ve long been too lenient with that vile monster.”

He turns to rake his eyes over the fae gathered in the large room, black eyes oozing rage as he gives his command.

“Bring me that rabid mutt’s head. It’s time for the hunter to become the hunted.”

#cultofdionysusnet #ksmutsociety #Thrill of the Hunt #Yeosang smut #Yeosang au #Kang Yeosang smut #Kang Yeosang au #Ateez smut #Ateez au #Fantasy fan fic

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