#i paused in between those last two tags so I hope it makes sense

[ikeuverse]

MY WORLD — p.sunghoon

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader  GENRES: angst, smut, fluff WC: 14.3k+

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, swearing, unprotected sex (do it safely), cumming inside, arguing, Sunghoon is completely surrendered to yn. sorry, i can't see him if not cute in this story, this man needs to be taken care of. lmk if i forgot anything else.

SYNOPSIS: you're back and you owe Sunghoon an explanation for your departure, but it looks like it's going to be a bit tricky to get him to listen to you.

NOTES: after so many requests i've come up with the second part, and possibly the final one because i can't think of a continuation after that. it took me a long time because i had a huge blockage and i don't know if i'm satisfied with what came out of here, but i just wanted to give these two a cosy feel. and for you who read my work. i hope you like it!

TAGLIST: this isn't necessarily a taglist, but i decided to tag the people who asked for part two of the story, so… @seunghancore @sunghoonizz @indigoez @heestarry @yunjinhuhjennifer @pollito-sims4 @srhnyx @enhalusional @moon368 @madustos @capri-cuntz @stellanam @flaminghotyourmom @jayshadoww @sovlidago @randommmmmmvheusbs @rjssierjrie @rikiversesworld @lovingvoidgoatee

part 1 | masterlist

Avoiding work on Friday nights was one of the first things Sunghoon did after you left. He didn't want to deal with the fact that that particular day was when he found you sitting at one of the tables in his bar with Stella, waiting for his and Jay's shift to finish so you could all drink together.

Now nothing else made sense, and those nights were filled with his bed, a cosy blanket and your mind wandering back to the last night you and he spent together. Sunghoon could feel the touch of your fingers on his skin, the way his name was whispered by you. It felt like an endless melody. Sleeping next to him had a different meaning after so long friendship.

But then the bitter taste of disappointment invaded him with the same intensity. Less than twenty-four hours after you told him you were in love, Sunghoon read the worst letter he could have read in his entire life. He had always wanted to travel and get to know countries, but suddenly he had a grudge against Switzerland because he knew that's where you were apparently staying. Why so far away? Why did you have to go somewhere with no explanation? A letter wasn't enough because it only said what he already knew: it had all been your father's plan. Sunghoon knew how much he controlled your life, but the thought of him causing it all made the boy's blood boil.

"Fuck everything" was what Sunghoon repeated most often every time he remembered something related to you.

How he remembered the first day he saw you at university, or how he heard you call him and greet him every time you met. He remembers every moment you were by his side, with your arms entwined or your head resting on his shoulder.

It was hard to forget every little moment when you and he almost kissed when you were drunk. Faces millimeters apart, heart racing and breathless… But then the day in your flat made it all worthwhile. While he was between your legs, kissing you with all the love he'd ever felt and fucking you on your kitchen worktop. Sunghoon could repeat that day a million times over, even though afterward you went and left him the next day. It was the one thing he didn't want to go through.

"You need to snap out of it, man" Jay threw himself on the sofa in Sunghoon's flat, sitting next to him on Saturday night. At times he was the only one who managed to make his friend feel a little better as they talked.

"How?" Sunghoon hugged the cushion, snuggling further into the sofa and staring at the television. He felt Jay's gaze on him as he listened to his friend talk again.

“I don't know, we—” Jay paused for a moment, sliding his body across the leather of the soft sofa and sighing loudly “How about we go out for a while? Just the boys.”

“I think I'd rather stay in my apartment for the next few years” Sunghoon replied.

Jay sighed again, reaching up and snatching the pillow from Sunghoon's lap. He scrambled up, wanting to take back the one thing he was hugging for comfort at the moment.

That's when he saw his friend's face in pure concern, but with something else that he couldn't decipher. Jay was serious most of the time, no one knew what he was feeling – apart from Stella – but Sunghoon knew his best friend so well that he could tell something was wrong.

“Jay” he called out, seeing that Jay was swallowing and straightening up on the sofa.

“Right, I can't lie” Jay closed his eyes ”I need to get you out of the house today and take you to a club on the other side of town.”

It was Sunghoon's turn to turn from curious to confused. What was Jay talking about, anyway? And why did he have to take him to the other side of town today? They worked in a bar, not quite a club, but pretty much the same thing: loud music, drinking and lots of people. Why go to a place that would be practically the same as his work environment?

“Why?” he asked Jay.

The older man was debating whether to say something so direct or simply make up an excuse to drag Sunghoon along. But Jay couldn't lie like he had said, it was almost impossible not to tell the truth to the eyes that stared at him so expectantly.

“Because Stella's taking Y/n there too” he said ”She's back, man.”

A ringing sound passed through Sunghoon's ears, as if the sound pierced his eardrums and he felt an extremely strong pressure in his head. Grateful to be sitting down and knowing that he would get this reaction, Jay was already getting him something to drink from the coffee table. Even though Sunghoon couldn't swallow anything or move, at least Jay was trying.

“Jay, stop fooling around.”

“I swear to God” he whined ”I found out today, Stella didn't want to tell me anything and just asked me to get you out of the house.”

“Why?” Sunghoon stared at a fixed point in the room, everything he was hearing seeming like a dream.

“I know as much as you do” Jay touched Sunghoon's shoulder, making him finally face his best friend ”It seems that only Stella and Alicia know that she's back, no one else. And a lot is going on that not even my girlfriend, Y/n's best friend, knows about.”

Sunghoon debated for a moment whether he should go to where Jay wanted to take him, because things were getting more and more confusing.

You went away and said goodbye in a letter, then you came back and only your two best friends know. At least about your return, because something is going on that even Stella doesn't know about, according to what Jay is saying. So… What was your father up to? That was the thought Sunghoon had as he forced his legs to get up from the sofa, resting his hands on the seat and standing in the middle of the room.

He didn't want to hope for anything at all, and he didn't know what your reaction would be, or even his own, seeing you so many months after your departure. Without exchanging a message, a single phone call. How would you see him afterwards? How would he treat you when he saw you face to face?

“I'm just going to take a shower” Sunghoon sighed ”I hope this doesn't go to shit, Jongseong.”

“Don't call me that” Jay pouted, which was ignored by Sunghoon as he headed for his room to shower and get ready.

Jay also hoped it wouldn't go to shit because no one knew what would happen. But he and Stella hoped that you and Sunghoon would at least talk.

If it weren't for the primal tension between your meeting with Sunghoon, Jay could easily say that he was the most nervous in that entire club. Firstly because his girlfriend trusted him enough to ask Sunghoon to leave the house, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get his best friend out so easily. So telling the truth had been the best course of action. That was why he was walking through the door of that club, the colored lights spinning back and forth and the loud sound almost piercing his insides.

He kept repeating to himself a mantra that things could go smoothly if Stella had already poured you and Alicia some drinks, while he walked in with Sunghoon and Jake. The latter was trying his best to get Sunghoon to walk around people and not turn around and go home. They both knew he could do this at any moment, so Jay led the way into the bar while keeping Sunghoon in the middle and Jake behind in case the other wanted to leave without being seen.

None of them could imagine what it was like for Sunghoon to deal with all of this, although Jay and Jake were just as curious to know what was behind everything that was happening.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was going over in his mind what he would say to you when he saw you in the first place. Say hello and run off? Or just wave and smile as he went to the bar and got drunk? Maybe he'd do the latter – and the one that was most recommended – because he felt like he might pass out at any moment.

“Right” Jay stopped walking for a moment, turning around and almost slamming his body into Sunghoon, who stopped walking abruptly. But that didn't stop Jake from tripping and slamming into his friend, muttering curses and standing next to the taller man “Let's get a drink before we meet them.”

“I can hang around the bar and you two go find your girlfriends” Sunghoon wanted to get out of there right away and would try anything to make that happen.

“You come with us, wise guy” Jake took him by the shoulders and led him to the bar.

Ordering strong drinks wasn't a big deal for three people who owned a very trendy bar on the other side of town. This could even inspire new drinks at the establishment, Jay thought as he saw colorful liquids and completely different names on the menu. Something that pleased even the palates of the three who sat at the bar and drank three glasses in a row.

Every minute in that bar seemed like an eternity and the fact that Sunghoon didn't want to face the reality that, almost certainly, he was in the same environment as you after such a long time. It wasn't as if he knew how to act because even though he was your friend and had been hiding the fact that he was in love with you for years, he had never gone so long without seeing you. And even less had something so intimate happened that you left without giving any explanation.

“Stella's calling” Jay picked up his cell phone after a long time talking to Sunghoon and Jake, trying to find the courage to get out of there too and pretend that they were randomly in the same club.

He picked it up and chatted very quickly, neither of the other two paying any attention because they were apprehensive about what would happen next.

“Alicia texted me” Jake finished swallowing the drink in his glass ”They're bringing Y/n to the bar.”

“Is it now or never?” Jay tried to smile, knowing that it looked more like a grimace to the two in front of him.

Sunghoon didn't even dare move, leaning against the bar counter as he played with the glass between his fingers. He needed to occupy himself with something other than the fact that he was only a few minutes away from seeing you again. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his mouth and if it hadn't been for the alcohol warming his muscles, he could have sworn he was shaking right now.

“Hey, guys!” Stella's voice had a strange effect on Sunghoon, who cringed and closed his eyes tightly.

“Baby, you over here” Jay lied so badly, Sunghoon could laugh at that awful performance as he heard the kissing sounds of the couple greeting each other. Then it was Jake and Alicia's turn, the same greeting followed until his friends' voices ceased and he concentrated on the only thing that mattered at that moment.

“Y/n? You're back?” Jake was smiling, his tone a little more theatrical than Jay's. Sunghoon knew that he hadn't been the first to greet you because his best friend was so nervous that he could scream and run off with the other Park if it were possible.

“Jake, hey. Yes, I am!” you sounded excited, and cheerful and hadn't seen Sunghoon who was leaning back against the bar. He waved for the barman to fill his glass and as soon as he did, the liquid almost overflowed from the glass between his fingers.

“What are you doing here?” Alicia asked.

Sunghoon took the glass and brought it to his lips, the burning sensation going down his throat was the best in that second when he heard Jay answer.

“We came on a boys' night out. Me, Jake, and Sunghoon” he felt Jay's hand touch the middle of his back. Sunghoon almost spat out his drink out of nervousness, it was time to turn around.

Everything seemed to stop the second he laid eyes on you. Nothing seemed to have changed, except that you were even more beautiful. If that were possible. He pressed his fingers tightly against the body of the drink while keeping his gaze on yours, which, strangely, you held. Nothing on his face seemed to scream astonishment at seeing you there and Sunghoon couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. He swore he knew you well enough until a few months ago before you left. But after that, he didn't know who Y/n was standing in front of him at that moment.

“Sunghoon” you said his name so gracefully. He almost gave in to all the pressure and the nervous looks among the group of friends staring at the scene before them.

“Y/n” Sunghoon said in the same way, raising his glass and drinking the entire contents in one go.

He suddenly felt his eyes sting because the last time he'd seen you, he'd left your apartment swearing he'd see you at his bar the next night. When he could finally ask you to be his girl, as he had always dreamed. And now here you are, as someone who took his heart to Switzerland and came back without a single explanation.

He saw you open your mouth to say something as the two couples of friends disappeared to the bar to order drinks. Sunghoon swallowed, wanting to turn around and order more alcohol. It was the only thing that could keep him standing there without doing something ridiculous. But he knew that wasn't going to happen.

“We—”

“I need to go to the bathroom” he interrupted you and he didn't know why, or maybe he did, he just didn't want to feel like crying in front of you. Sunghoon had whined enough for months and the pride that engulfed him was enough for him not to do it in front of you.

Not when he'd already had too much to drink and certainly not when you were looking on with so many emotions at once.

Sunghoon hurried off towards the club toilets, stumbling a few times and apologizing to everyone he bumped into. He hadn't meant to do that, to look like a runaway and a lovesick idiot. But he knew he couldn't predict a reaction, not when he had no way of denying that his feelings for you had never gone away.

He wanted to have stopped feeling anything for you, wanted to have turned that hurt and sadness into anger, and moved on. But every time Sunghoon thought he could move on, you appeared in one of his dreams. Or Stella would comment on something nostalgic involving you, making him remember how much he loved you.

It could be a ploy by his friends to never forget you, or that your best friend somehow wanted to keep you in mind because she might know something. Sunghoon knew it was, but he also had no way of confronting Stella and asking her to tell him. He knew that you might have asked for secrecy and he wanted to respect that, but he couldn't help himself because it all came back at once. And that's why he ran to one of the bathroom cubicles and locked himself in, sitting on the toilet and taking a deep breath.

What he wanted most was for you to come back to him, but why was Sunghoon wishing he wasn't around you at that moment? Why so much conflict when all he had to do was get out of that bathroom and talk to you?

“Hey Hoon, it's me, Jake” the boy's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, making Sunghoon get up from the toilet and quickly open the door ”Are you okay?”

A moment of silence and Jake noticed Sunghoon's eyes shining brighter than usual. He knew it could happen and it was understandable why it had happened so quickly.

“You don't have to answer, it's okay, man” he said, slipping one of his arms around Sunghoon's shoulders “What do you say we get drunk until you forget your name?

“I'd love to, but—”

“But just think about the drink, at least she's back. We can think about that later, okay?”

He wanted to believe Jake's words and how they could comfort him, even if he was still nervous. So Sunghoon tried to smile, finding a little strength in the friend next to him who was slowly getting him out of the bathroom.

Doing what Jake had said that night might not be so bad. Drink a lot, talk and think later.

Sunghoon's last memory was of going to the bar with Jake and ordering three more drinks. After that, everything became a blur and now he had the biggest headache in years.

He was like a frat boy waking up the day after a party smelling of booze and with some random girl sleeping next to him. In contrast, Sunghoon smelled of soap, his pajamas were clean and no girl was next to him, but the messy bed indicated that he hadn't slept alone. Or so it seemed.

“What the fuck happened?” he muttered to himself as he groped around the bedside table for his cell phone or something, finding it practically dead.

Now the headache seemed a little worse as Sunghoon got up and sat on the bed, his back against the headboard as he sighed and tried to remember what had happened.

It couldn't be that bad or his friends would already be at the foot of the bed shaking Sunghoon and demanding explanations, so he could calm down a bit and slow down. To thought that things might not have gotten out of hand as he got out of bed and walked around the apartment looking for something that might remind him of the night before. But nothing was out of place, not even a sofa cushion.

He was alone in that place and there wasn't even a piece of clothing or accessory to make him think that someone might be there.

It was then that his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door handle. The key turning outside and the sound of bags on the other side of the door… Jake or Jay was bringing something to cure his hangover and it made Sunghoon breathe a sigh of relief to see that his friends were thinking of him.

But his smile fell when you walked through the door. Not that he didn't want to see you there, but of all the people Sunghoon imagined… You, wearing one of his T-shirts and the pants from the night before, bags hanging from your arms, and your hair loose, was the image he never thought he would see clearly.

“Y/n?” he asked, taking you by surprise when you entered the apartment.

“You're awake!” your smile almost made him shout, but he made do and ran towards you to help you with the bags, quickly picking them up and taking them to the kitchen.

The small silence in the room wasn't awkward, but you seemed a little apprehensive as Sunghoon looked at all the bags, hesitating to look in your direction.

“Feeling better?” you asked as you stopped next to him, opening one of the bags and taking out a packet of coffee and a carton of milk.

“Did you… Did you do any shopping?” he looked at the things you were unpacking, then finally looked at you.

What the fuck, why is she so close? He almost cried at the closeness when he saw you looking up, a shy little smile on your lips as you looked at him.

“I did” you replied ”You need to stock that cupboard and I thought you needed something to eat after last night.”

After last night. Right, how could he say he didn't remember anything, especially that you were in his apartment?

Sunghoon didn't know how to say something like that, especially since you seemed so casual in his kitchen as if you hadn't abandoned him months ago. As if you and he hadn't been apprehensive in each other's presence the night before.

But on the contrary, you seemed quite at ease taking food out of the bag and sorting it on the kitchen worktop. The almost familiar scene of the last time you and he had met, warmed his heart slightly and made Sunghoon feel his chest tighten. Fear and nostalgia washed over him as he watched you casually turn on the coffee machine after putting the supplies away. Every time your gaze crossed his, Sunghoon felt like shouting and asking what you were doing there. Perhaps the last part he could do.

“What are you doing here?” he asked after a long time without saying anything, just enjoying – even if fearfully – your presence in front of him.

“I brought you home after you nearly passed out in the bar last night” you smiled, even though your gaze was on the coffee machine and the sound of the liquid falling into one of the cups.

Sunghoon sighed heavily and leaned on the kitchen worktop, facing you and at a safe distance from the other side. If he were standing next to you, you knew you wouldn't be able to control yourself.

“And what happened?” he decided to ask, to be honest at least ”I don't remember anything…”

“I didn't think so” you laughed. A laugh so genuine that Sunghoon almost jumped over that counter to kiss you the way he wanted.

“So… tell me” he asked softly, almost in a whisper, but you heard him nonetheless.

Waiting for the first cup of coffee to be ready, you handed it to him while he prepared another for you. Sunghoon took it and drank the dark, bitter liquid, knowing that it could help with his hangover.

“Neither Jake nor Jay could get you to stop drinking yesterday” you began, your gaze following Sunghoon's every move as you watched him drink the hot, bitter coffee.

“And what did you do?” Sunghoon asked, apprehensive about the answer.

Suddenly a flush rose to his cheeks and he thought it might be the steam from the coffee you were preparing, but as soon as you looked away, he knew something else had happened.

“I thought on impulse and kissed you” you managed to grab the freshly prepared cup, causing Sunghoon to almost choke on his coffee.

Now he felt like a complete idiot because, after all this time, you had kissed him and he hadn't remembered?

“It was quick, enough to make you drop the glass” you said ”Then you asked me to bring you home because… Well…”

He ran his gaze all over your body, forcing himself to remember a little more of what was going on. Sunghoon doesn't remember the feeling of your lips on his again, but like a memory retrieval, he could visualize getting into your car together with you. The drive to his apartment and how you helped him undress so he could shower.

You hated that he slept smelling of booze since university… Why didn't Sunghoon think of that as soon as he woke up? Only you could make him clean himself up even when he was drunk.

“And then you asked me to sleep with you because…” your voice faltered a little, your gaze lowered to the liquid in your cup as you vividly remembered Sunghoon's words ”Because you didn't want me to escape again.”

Drunk or not, he didn't regret having said that to you. Sunghoon's only regret was not being sober enough to have enjoyed the time he had with you since you entered his apartment. But now that time could be rewarded as he left his cup on the counter and walked around to stand in front of you.

“I really meant that, Y/n” he said, smiling weakly when you also left your cup on the counter to turn to him.

You didn't have to be a genius to know that Sunghoon was leaning in the next second and capturing your lips in a slow kiss. Knowing the man in front of you well, you even thought it took him long enough to do it. Fighting his demons and fears of losing you again, but at the same time pushing it all away and concentrating only on having you in his arms again.

The way he grabbed you and sat you on his kitchen worktop, his hands sliding down your thighs – unfortunately – clad in the pants from the night before. As your lips moved against his, Sunghoon felt a spark in his body thinking that this could only be a dream. Because one night he was moaning yet again about you, being dragged out by Jay. While the next day he had you sitting on his bench, kissing him so lovingly as if you weren't the cause of the pain and fear he felt.

You were the first to break the kiss, gasping for air in your lungs from the euphoria of kissing Sunghoon after so long. He stood between your legs, foreheads pressed together as he felt your breath against his lips.

“Why did you leave?” he asked suddenly, his hands squeezing your legs without much force, but enough for you to know that he wasn't going to let you go.

You sighed once more, your lips brushing against his as your hands traveled the length of Sunghoon's arms until they reached his shoulders.

“My father,” you whispered, ”he wanted to control so much.”

“Like what?” Sunghoon lowered his face to the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent which seemed to calm him down a little. The feeling of comfort that settled over him when you sighed and pressed him against your body.

Sunghoon didn't want to leave, to stay with you forever in that position or your arms. He could forget everything that had happened and focus on the present moment while he relished the sensation of your hands against his skin or your skin against his lips. But not everything could be that simple, not when your phone interrupted the whole process.

The noise of the handset could have been ignored if it hadn't been so annoying to you. Apologizing to Sunghoon, you sneaked close enough to grab the handset from the other side of the worktop, still holding the boy between your legs as she alternated your gaze between him and the phone.

“Answer it” he whispered, smoothing your legs and trying not to kiss you while you answered.

As much as he wanted to do that, he wanted to hear you grumble while he kissed your neck or to hear you fight with him for making you make embarrassing sounds to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Hi, Dad” well, maybe he really could do that then.

Sunghoon's lips slowly brushed against your chin, listening to you grumble as you spoke to your father. He already didn't like the older man, so it wouldn't hurt if you said Sunghoon's name out loud while he spread kisses all over your skin. Going down to your neck, tugging at the collar of his T-shirt – which you wore so beautifully – Sunghoon wanted to mark your skin.

“I… I didn't tell you I was back, I'm sorry” so not even your father knew about your return to the country? That was intriguing, it almost made him stop kissing your skin. But Sunghoon remained strong, convinced that he wouldn't stop until you said his name.

“No, I can't do that… Shit” you almost let out a moan when Sunghoon nibbled at the perfect spot on your neck, matching the exact moment when he pressed his hips against yours “Stop…” you whispered to him as you moved the device far enough away so that your father wouldn't hear.

“No” he smiled and sealed your lips, letting you go back to talking to your father.

“Dinner? But…” you faltered a little, trying to concentrate on the bullshit demands your father was trying to make of you. Without taking into account that you were going to Switzerland to try to get away from him and the way he tried to control your life, “I'm not going.”

“But we need to make arrangements for you to meet Owen, after all, his father and I still think you two should get married.”

It was careless of you to put the phone away just as your father raised his voice on the other end of the line, echoing loud enough for Sunghoon to hear. You could have waved it off, disconnected the call and pretended that nothing had happened, but you knew it was too late when you no longer felt Sunghoon's ringtone.

He moved away from you slowly, his eyes focused on your face as he tried to explain what he had just heard.

You didn't even manage to answer your father properly, disconnecting the call straight away and putting the phone somewhere else on the worktop.

“Sunghoon…”

“Getting married, then?” he took a few steps out from between your legs, but remained standing in front of you.

“I'm not getting married, I just—”

“When were you going to tell me?” Sunghoon asked, his tone wavering as he continued to stare at you “When the date is set?”

“I've already said I'm not getting married, Sunghoon. My father…”

“Did he set you up? Was he going to set you up with some business partner's son like in those shitty movies where you, rich, fall in love with a piece of shit like me, but are promised to someone full of money?”

Sunghoon never changed his tone of voice in all the years the two of you had known each other, it had been so different that you never imagined yourself in that scenario. Not even when you met him the night before, expecting him to yell at you and do something to hurt you. But no. Here you were again, hurting him as you had done.

“Sunghoon, I—”

“Please, go away” Sunghoon walked over to the sink, his hands resting on it and his body forward, staring at anything in the dishes that was interesting enough for him not to look at you.

“But—”

“I told you to leave, Y/n” the harsh, squeaky voice made your body cringe, you got off the counter and didn't dare approach him, even though you wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him what was going on. You thought he would listen to you, but Sunghoon seemed adamant.

Your body couldn't move, although you needed to get out of there when your vision started to blur and you felt your chest tighten. Sunghoon didn't hear any movement from you, so he turned his head to find you standing there in his kitchen.

He was no longer ashamed to cry in front of you, nor did he think he'd be able to hide it when it all mixed and pooled in his eyes, trailing down his cheeks, not unlike you.

“Please, leave me alone. Please, Y/n.”

The pleading cut through your heart and you knew it was all because of you. Because you weren't able to say anything to him or even stop your father from saying all the shit he always said.

There was nothing left to do but leave Sunghoon's apartment, even though you wanted to stay. You knew that going back wouldn't be a good idea, but you didn't think you'd experience any of it either.

“You're staying with us tonight, aren't you?” Jay's voice was a little louder than the music playing in the bar. Sunghoon turned to his friend and smiled weakly, admiring his persistence in thinking he would stay there on a Friday night. Even though he knew there was a good chance you'd show up.

He still didn't know how he was feeling after what had happened, and he also avoided Stella's little requests – through Jay – for him to text you or come to your apartment. Sunghoon had no idea what to feel or think in that situation, making his mind work on various scenarios that he created himself.

Thinking that you could have gone to Switzerland with that man your father had mentioned on the phone, or worse, he thought about how long you had been promised to someone rich and disgusting who had been your old father's choice. While Sunghoon could barely provide you with a decent life. Not that you needed it, because he knew you had enough money to buy his bar if you wanted to. A decent life was all you didn't need from him. That's why maybe someone from your world, the way you lived, would be better. That's why your father seemed so convinced of this, without ruling out any possibility that you might already be with someone else.

Not that he was that other person, there hadn't even been time for Sunghoon to make a formal request or even say that you were his. There was no time at all.

“I'm going home” Sunghoon replied after getting lost in his thoughts, seeing Jay's worried look in his direction.

The tray carrying the empty glasses went straight into the sink, and Sunghoon washed and sanitized them properly before leaving them to drain and waiting for Jake or Heeseung to finish the job.

“Really?” Jay leaned against the opposite side of the sink from where Sunghoon still stood, looking at the people coming in and out of the small dance floor. They were drunk enough to wave to Jake, who was pouring them a drink at the moment.

“Really, I think I need a rest” in reality, he didn't need a rest, he was just avoiding meeting you there in case you went. And Jay knew that very well.

“Okay” he conceded, no longer wanting to push Sunghoon to say anything about it. He got up from where he was to walk over to his friend, ruffling the boy's dark, sweaty hair in front of him “Anything, call me, okay? I'm not drinking tonight because Stella and Alicia will probably want to leave here loaded,” he said, making Sunghoon laugh ”So I'll be chauffeuring you all night. Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

“And neither will I” Jake appeared next to Jay ”I drove here today and I can drop Alicia off at home if you need us at your apartment…”

“Boys' night?” Sunghoon joked.

“Come on, it's only desolate, sad girls who can do that?” Jake pouted and picked up a clean glass, grimacing at his two friends as he walked away to serve another group of people who had leaned over the bar.

Sunghoon felt terrible to see his friends' efforts to make him well, even if he didn't want to be sinking like that into something that was only hurting. He wished he could stay at the bar or even accept the boys' invitation to do something, but all he wanted was to be home. Maybe cry some more – out of resentment or anger – and drink whatever was in the fridge, then fall asleep until the next morning.

And that's what he did when he got to his apartment, at least the drinking part. He took off his shoes and coat, then went to the fridge and got three cans of beer. He sat down on the sofa and opened them one by one while thinking about his life recently.

He knew that sleep would be a long time coming because with every sip of beer, he wondered why all this was happening. Sunghoon had seen movies with this theme before, he had even heard of a book that Stella read about a rich guy who fell in love with a girl who wasn't rich. The only difference was that his story with you was the complete opposite. Sunghoon wasn't rich at all.

Laughing at life's misfortunes, he finished his third beer and risked opening the bottle of wine that Jake had bought and left at his friend's apartment for the next time they were all together. Perhaps he wouldn't mind if Sunghoon drank it all, because the occasion called for a little more alcohol and until the next meeting between friends, he would certainly buy Jake another bottle. And if it was for the heartbreak reason, which it really was, he knew his friend would forgive him for taking it all himself.

“I don't think that's going to be enough” Sunghoon muttered to himself as he opened the bottle and took the first sip of wine, the strange mixture of the previous taste of beer and the smooth grapes of the current drink. He had mixed a lot of things before, but this one was strange. Not that it mattered at the moment, Sunghoon just wanted to finish that bottle.

To feel nothing but sleep or for all that sensation to fade from his body, at least for a little while. Just long enough for him to recover enough so that, when he saw you again, he wouldn't act like an idiot in love. Even though you might be in the arms of someone other than him. Even if you were going to share a life with someone other than him. Sunghoon thought he was too late in proposing to you because he had wasted so much time without saying anything.

From the moment he met you at university until years after his courses ended, he was only able to talk about his feelings because you did it first. And even then you tore it all away from him in a matter of a short time. But even though it happened, if he had told you he loved you even before all that, Sunghoon could have enjoyed a little time being yours and you being his. In his arms.

And not that empty bottle of wine he was holding, hoping it would be you there.

Sunghoon usually woke up from his nap with his cell phone ringing in the early hours of Friday morning. Jake or Jay calls and he refuses to go to the bar to finish the drinks so that everyone would go home drunk. But now his nap had been interrupted by frantic knocks on the door.

The first thing he did was glance at the clock hanging on the opposite wall, showing that he had been asleep for less than twenty minutes. The empty bottle of wine was neatly placed on the coffee table in the living room and he had closed his eyes while still sitting on the sofa, without bothering to lie down or go to the bedroom.

The knocks continued and Sunghoon began to get anxious because the rapidity with which the noises were made against the door indicated that whoever was there was in a hurry. And maybe his friends needed him because something might have happened. Jay and Jake weren't drunk, as they had said in the bar before he left… So what could it be? He didn't want to think about anything else and ran the few steps from the sofa to the door, taking a long breath before opening it.

His hand trembled slightly against the handle as he turned it slowly and, with his other hand, Sunghoon unlocked the door.

He could have seen it through the peephole before opening it because the look of astonishment on your face when you stood in front of his apartment door wasn't something you could have rehearsed. You could see that Sunghoon wasn't expecting it and, strangely, you didn't care whether he liked it or not. It was as if you had already predicted that his reaction would be total astonishment.

Sunghoon couldn't say anything, amazed and even a little stunned by your presence there. Stopping to analyze the whole situation, your clothes were quite different from the ones you usually wore. No social attire, elegant clothes, or high heels. Instead, you were wearing jeans, a button-down shirt three times your size, and a completely messy ponytail. Your breathing was so ragged that you could only take deep breaths while looking at him.

“Y/n?” Sunghoon practically whispered as he stared at you trying to take it all in. Afraid he'd say your name a little louder and it was just a drunken dream he was having.

To his surprise, you just nodded and took a step forward, still panting as you walked far enough into his apartment. Facing him squarely.

Already preparing yourself for the question he would ask, such as “what are you doing here?” or whatever, you tried to act on your feelings and prayed that he wouldn't interrupt you this time. The speed with which your lips touched his even shocked you because you didn't think you'd have such good aim just by lifting your own feet high enough to reach where you most wanted to touch him at that second.

Processing the event while still half-drowsy, Sunghoon smacked his lips to yours and then pulled away. Inches away from your face just to try to assimilate that you had just kissed him, and when you grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him against you again, he let himself go.

It wasn't as if he was going to stop you from kissing him, even though he had mixed feelings. But neither was he going to deny that he was kissing the woman he loved so much.

He was the first to give the go-ahead to deepen the kiss, opening his lips to receive your tongue and feeling you press your fingers into his shirt. When your tongue tangled with Sunghoon's, he put his hand around your waist to press you against him. His free hand closed the door in the same second to push your back against the cold wood and trap you between it and the tall, slender body in front of you.

In a contest of longing and need, your tongue and his played in sync as you felt Sunghoon's hand slide under the fabric of your shirt. Touching your skin and almost sending a shock through your whole body when he ran his short nails along your hip. A screaming need to feel him in every corner of your body, you craved it as much as he did and tried to show it as you kissed him even more.

Even though it was an almost impossible mission to say everything you felt for Sunghoon because it was beyond words and all you wanted was to make him understand you. That he would listen to you because surely his thoughts about everything that was happening were completely wrong. You wanted to prove it to him. And maybe you were on the right track.

When Sunghoon ran both hands down your hips, to your ass, and down to your thighs, the two slaps there were enough for you to understand that he wanted you in his arms. On his lap. And you didn't hesitate to jump up and wrap your legs around his body when he picked you up.

“Take me to your room” you smiled against his lips, slowly sliding down when you both needed some air, going to Sunghoon's ear “We need to talk.”

“About what?” Sunghoon's breathy voice was so attractive and exciting, that you could swear you almost moaned just from the memories it brought back.

“About us” you felt Sunghoon's arms squeeze your body in his lap, but at no time did the boy show any resistance as he pulled you away from the door to take you to his room.

The whole way was done in silence, feeling his gaze on you almost the whole way, except when he paid a little more attention so that he didn't hurt you or stumble by mistake. Even more so when your lips did a great job against his cheek, going down to his jaw and neck. It bought you time between Sunghoon's slow steps and the time it took you to think about how to start that conversation once you got to his room.

Why, what would you start by saying? And how would you start? Because telling Stella, Jay, and Jake had been easy. Smooth, even, with the possibility of your friends judging you. But because it was Sunghoon, the main character in all of this, things seemed to be even more complicated.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the two of you reached his room, Sunghoon slowly standing you up as he passed the door and closed it. His eyes glazed over your figure as he waited for your next move. His mind would have to work a million different ways now. Afraid that he would kick you out of the apartment once again or not listen to you explain while you had a lot to say, something crossed your mind and you prayed that it would work out. Not least because you'd need to concentrate on every word while you did everything you wanted to do.

One of your hands went to Sunghoon's abdomen, slowly moving up to his chest and giving it a gentle push. It was nothing compared to her strength and his size, at most moving the boy's body a centimeter in front of you. Enough for him to take a slow step backward.

“Sit down” you instructed softly, slowly pushing him towards his bed. You tried your best to make your voice sound calm as you watched him nod and walk backward to the bed, sitting down and leaning against the headboard. Your smile slowly followed his, but Sunghoon held his breath as you climbed onto the bed to sit on his lap, both hands resting on his broad shoulders.

“What are you doing? Weren't we going to talk?” he asked, his voice shaky and wavering as he felt your weight on his lap. Sunghoon frowned, not because he hated having you on his lap, on the contrary, but it had never crossed his mind to have a conversation in that position.

“We will” you leaned your forehead against his ”But I'm afraid you won't let me talk, so I thought I'd do something.”

“What thing?” Sunghoon asked when he felt your breath against his face, your warm breath against his freshly kissed and still reddened lips. You smiled, but he couldn't capture the moment because he had just closed his eyes to revel in every little sensation you gave his body.

Sunghoon had completely forgotten the old feeling that he didn't want to see you anymore, that he was avoiding you at all costs. He forgot everything the moment he felt your lips on his when you arrived at the apartment, and now, feeling you holding his face between your hands. Your little fingers caressing his skin – which would have been stained with tears tonight if you hadn't been here – and trailing around his jaw to his lower lip. You didn't respond immediately, nor did he complain when he felt you kissing him again.

It was like being addicted to something and needing it to live, regardless of whether he deserved it or not. Sunghoon knew he wouldn't be able to go on without kissing you and without having you. He didn't want to think about a world in which you wouldn't be with him as you are right now. Sunghoon just wanted to feel your tongue entwining with his slowly, urgently, and intensely. Your heavy breathing against his mouth almost drove him crazy, not least when you were rocking against his lap.

It was too much torture to feel you like that, the clothes getting in the way as you slowly rolled over in his lap. His cock, once semi-hard, was now hard enough to rub against your jeans and the pants he was wearing, creating the perfect friction for both of you.

“Fuck” he moaned against your mouth, stifling another moan when he felt your nails against his shoulders. Sunghoon wasn't going to question whether that was an effective method of conversation, but if you wanted to start like that, he wasn't going to stop you.

He ran his big hands down your shirt, finding your ass very well synchronized in slowly rolling over, at the same intensity as your tongue played with his. It was as if you wanted to make him feel the same movements inside your mouth and on top of your lap, as your clothed pussy rubbed against his cock.

“Sunghoon” you moaned his name, an extremely low blow. This made Sunghoon's fingers squeeze each side of your buttocks, stopping your hip movements.

“Do you…” he sighed, his heartbeat accelerating as you pulled your mouth away from his ”Do you want to talk like this?”

He looked like a lost, needy little animal, his big eyes staring at you and his chest rising and falling in gasping breaths. Such a beautiful sight that you missed it, and having it again was something you didn't want to miss.

Releasing Sunghoon's hands from your ass, you intertwined your fingers with his and left them next to your body, on the side of your thighs. If your expression wasn't so passionate, he could have sworn it was some kind of tease as you moved back against his lap.

“I want you to pay attention only to what I say” you whispered, squeezing his fingers and letting out a low moan as your clit rubbed exactly against his jeans and the head of his cock at that moment. That was all you needed “Can you do that for me?”

There was a minute's silence as Sunghoon pondered this because he couldn't concentrate on anything other than the movements you were making. It would be difficult to focus on your words while what he wanted most at that moment was to be inside you.

“I'll try” he managed to say before he felt you slip out of his lap.

The loss of contact made Sunghoon a little dizzy because he felt his cock ache, that friction was all he needed, but losing it suddenly made him feel weak. He looked at where you were, standing next to his bed as you unbuttoned your jeans and left only your big shirt. It was a punishment that it was that big and covered half your thighs… Why couldn't you wear one of the shirts you normally wore? They were small enough to go halfway down the buttons of the pants you wore, and not nearly as dressy as that one. He also didn't think about why you were undressing, let alone why you had gone back between his legs and now it was your fingers' turn to open the buttons on Sunghoon's pants.

“Y/n, what—” he tilted his head back and leaned against the headboard, his eyes closing and his breathing completely heavy as you lowered the fabric of his pants enough to free his cock from the tightness of his jeans and hold it over the fabric of the briefs he was wearing ”Fuck, you…”

“I want you to understand that whatever I say is true” your thumb perfectly drew the line of his cock head covered in pre-cum that had already soaked through his underwear. Sunghoon moaned loudly at the touch and squirmed to try to get your hand away, feeling the slight slap you gave him before looking him in the eye.

Eye contact alone could make him come right there, without any further ministrations from you. Sunghoon could free himself in his boxers as he felt you draw circles on the head of his cock, but it couldn't be that easy. You weren't going to provoke him because he didn't deserve that at all. He deserved to be taken care of, to listen carefully to what you had to say, and, perhaps, to understand every word. He just prayed that everything would be said clearly, even if he was struggling against your touches to pay attention to the words.

You knew that the body language between the two of you was a great connection because when your fingers slid into the waistband of his pants, Sunghoon didn't even think to help you remove the fabric along with the underwear he was wearing, his cock being released in a mixture of relief and pain, slapping against the belly covered by the T-shirt he was still wearing. The garments went halfway down his thighs before he saw you move far enough away for him to pull them off and throw them on the floor beside the bed. Now with his lower half completely bare to you, exposed like that, Sunghoon knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything. Not with you kneeling between his legs again.

“I want you to believe me, Sunghoon” you whispered as you leaned in, your face close enough to his to say it, ”Do you?”

He was quiet at that moment, just staring at you and hoping that something would formulate in the back of his mind. Sunghoon would believe… But in what? What, exactly, would he have to believe? What would you say would have to be done just for him to believe? Sunghoon's mind wasn't working very well at that moment, he seemed lost and excited and just agreeing was enough for you to continue whatever you were doing. He would only accept at that moment, fighting against any greater urge before actually listening to you. Or feel you, because he didn't know what you would do first.

Watching your slow movements as you slid between his legs, your face lowering just enough to get close to his cock and your mouth touching the head smeared with pre-cum.

“Fuck you” he muttered almost as a roar of relief when he felt your hot mouth suck the tip of his cock. The pop when you released it made Sunghoon moan low and almost cry from the contact.

Your hand firmly gripped the base of his cock, the narrow veins running along the length that filled you so well last time. You made eye contact with him the second your mouth returned to spilling the mushroom, the tip of your tongue making the perfect circle before your lips slowly slid down his cock.

“Shit, Y/n” he moaned. The sensation of having his cock swallowed by your warm, soft lips was divine. Your tongue felt his vein fissures and your throat accommodating the glans when you reached the bottom. You slid his cock out once more, but without taking it out completely as you did the first time, establishing a rhythm so slow that Sunghoon might have thought he was being tortured.

The torture in your eyes fixed on his, with your mouth full of his cock as you moved your head up and down in a rhythm that you set yourself to suck it. Sunghoon knew – and anyone else in those conditions – that it would be impossible for you to say anything at that moment, so delighting in your mouth around his cock was the perfect moment. Sunghoon wrapped his already-tangled hair between his fingers, taking advantage of the ponytail hairstyle he'd done before so that he could hold onto you with one hand and the other wrapped around your jaw.

“You're doing so good, babe” Sunghoon said, his thumb caressing your cheek and spreading a little of your saliva that fell each time you took his cock deeper into your mouth until it touched your throat. He moaned your name every time you proved that your vomit reflex was in perfect condition. You took him so deep that Sunghoon knew he could come right there, in the warmth of your lips as he felt you speed up your movements.

He pressed his thumb against your jaw as you moved your mouth up and down his cock faster, your gaze never leaving Sunghoon's fucked face above you. Your name was said with each heavy breath and the moans he let out were like the most beautiful melody you could have heard in your life.

“I'm going to… Y/n, please…” Sunghoon didn't want to come so quickly, he didn't want to look so weak for a blowjob as well done as yours. And it seems that you didn't want him to come so soon either, because your mouth began to move slowly down his cock until it stopped completely. Your tongue makes the same circle around the head of his cock until you let go, again, with a pop.

How pornographic that sound could be when accompanied by Sunghoon's hoarse moan at the same moment. You knew your panties were wet enough just from the sounds and feel of his cock inside your mouth, but you didn't care anymore. Not when you also had to concentrate because your words weren't finished. You had a few more things to say to him. Before returning to Sunghoon's lap, you discarded your sticky, wet panties, almost in the same spot next to the bed where his clothes were, and it was only at that moment that you returned to your old spot – his lap.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he was visibly stunned and you secretly liked that effect, the hint that he didn't want to see you had finally disappeared and now the faint smile Sunghoon was giving you was the perfect indication that he had your undivided attention.

“In a good way?” you asked, your tone low and your hips hovering in the air so as not to touch your naked pussy to his cock just yet.

“In the best of ways” he said, tilting his head towards yours to capture your lips this time.

It was Sunghoon's turn to start the kiss a little less slowly than the two of you had shared so far. His hands held your face on either side and he could feel your jaw moving during the kiss as his thumbs made the perfect line to your chin. And you knew that this would be the perfect moment since Sunghoon's hands were busy holding your face, he wouldn't stop you.

You slid your hand between the two bodies and gripped his cock, taking advantage of the fact that your saliva would be the perfect combination of lubrication with how wet your pussy was. Then you simply slid the head of his cock between your folds, opting to tease him another time, and slid it in far enough until it found its entrance. It didn't take you long to slide his cock in effortlessly.

“Fuck, shit. I—” Sunghoon didn't have time to reason or even say anything to you when his cock was already completely inside your pussy. He wouldn't deny something like that, he wouldn't stop you, but feeling your pussy swallow his cock without any warning was one of the most delicious sensations he'd ever felt.

Sunghoon's hands left your face to grip your hips before you could start any movement. He didn't want to teach you anything, he wanted to let you guide yourself as you felt most comfortable, but he needed to feel the way you moved as well as have his cock inside you. So when you raised your hips for the first time and then lowered yourself in a not-so-slow movement, he tightened his fingers on your hips in response, moaning your name.

“Sunghoon” you moaned, but you wanted to call him out as you put your idea into action. He just grunted as he felt you move again on his lap, your pussy swallowing his cock so well that it was hard to say anything “I want you to unbutton my shirt while I talk to you…”

“Fuck, no” he moaned as you went down on his cock again, a little faster this time.

He didn't want to deny it, but it was hard to concentrate. So Sunghoon knew he had to be guided, and you knew you had to do it when you took his hands and led them to the first button of your shirt.

“Just concentrate on that and my words.”

He wanted to ask if this was how you behaved when you were the boss of the company or when you had to deal with someone from your work or even your father. The authoritative yet cautious way you spoke to him made his cock twitch inside you. And he wondered how it was possible for you to keep your tone while resting your hands on his shoulder and forcing your legs up and down on his cock.

Sunghoon leaned his head back against the headboard, the moans becoming frequent and released without any pause. The sound of slapping skin as you began to hump faster, his pelvis meeting yours, and the wet, squishing sound of your pussy every time you swallowed him. His fingers were trembling as he managed to unbutton the first button, moving down to the second and losing himself for a moment when the walls of your pussy squeezed him tight.

“I'm not going to make it with you… squeezing me like that…”

“You can do it, Hoonie” he could have easily turned you against that mattress and fucked you so hard with his hooded provocations and authoritarian requests in that situation. But he didn't have the strength, let alone the courage, to disobey your requests while you slowed down your movements because you knew it was hard for him. Sunghoon managed to unbutton the second button and went down to the next one, his eyes slowly opening to look at you.

Your smile was angelic even in the position he was in and the way you were rubbing up against him. Now, going back and forth with your clit deliciously rubbing against his pelvis and, when you moved a little more, you could rub against his cock covered in all your essence before getting just the tip inside your hole and sliding it into you again. He didn't want to ask where you'd learned it or if you'd even practiced, maybe Sunghoon was lucky enough to have been the first to feel it because you were so horny that you tried out the wildest fantasies in your mind. And that's exactly what it was, but you'd never tell him.

“Sunghoon” you called him again when your rolls and movements became less intense. You still kept them up but in a more sensual way. You wanted to emphasize your words and let him finish the buttons on your shirt. He looked you in the eye, the shine in that gaze and the intense way in which Sunghoon stared at you was the certainty of everything you felt. You leaned forward, your slightly sweaty forehead touching his and your panting breaths mingling with each other “You're the only one for me.”

“What?” he finished unbuttoning your shirt, given the circumstances of your slow movements. A respite for the poor man with a hard-on and his hard, aching cock being swallowed by your pussy.

Opening your shirt and revealing your bra, he didn't even bother to look at the lace or anything else, because your voice was the only thing he was concentrating on at that moment. The two of you kept staring at each other until you finally took off your shirt and took the opportunity to get rid of your bra, knowing that you had tortured Sunghoon enough to make him unbutton every button.

You pulled away from him to pull up his shirt, and he was quick to get the message and get completely naked, just as you were on top of him. You leaned your forehead against his again, your skin glistening against the light in the room and the sweat emanating from your shared activities.

“I don't want anyone but you” you kissed his lips slowly, moving your hips back in the same way ”I've never been with anyone but you and—”

Sunghoon knew it was enough, he knew he just needed that confirmation. Even if you'd been trying to say it all along and he was too stubborn – and jealous – to listen. He wanted to suffer in silence rather than listen to what you had to say. But after today and what you did, he could no longer have any doubts about the things that were happening.

Giving him all to reverse positions, pressing your back down on the mattress, and getting on top of you, Sunghoon lined his cock up in your pussy without wasting any time in being inside you again.

“Say it again,” he whispered as he began to thrust his cock into you. Sunghoon's face lined up on the curve of your neck as he thrust his cock into you at a slow but strong pace. The sound of his pelvis against your skin was enough to make you forget your words. Now you understood why he couldn't speak so perfectly when you were on top. It was hard to think of anything coherent while you felt his cock going deep inside you.

“I don't… Shit” you moaned softly as his cock drove deep, hitting the perfect spot inside your warm walls and making your nails slide down his back. Sunghoon kissed your neck, smiling against your skin at the effect he caused just by slowly thrusting his cock into you. “I don't want anyone else but you” saying it quickly hadn't been a mistake, not least because you knew that once he heard it, it would be enough to feel you faster.

And that's what happened. As if you knew him so well, Sunghoon raised his face to look at your every expression as he began to fuck his cock into your pussy. The fast, strong movements made your body sway beneath him and the overwhelming sound of your arousal coursed through his cock every time it moved in and out of you. Sunghoon rested one hand on the side of your body, the other gripped the headboard so tightly that his fingers might have hurt afterward from the force with which he held on. But it was all a consequence of all the sensations repressed while he fucked you as he pleased.

Sunghoon ignored the burning in your back caused by your nails in his skin, and he also ignored the fact that your thighs were squeezing him so tightly that, if it weren't for the speed with which he moved his hips against yours, you would surely have been able to stop him in a few moves. But he wouldn't give up, he wouldn't stop.

“I can't take it… I can't…” you pulled his face close to yours, mouths too close together.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked, your nod the only source of confirmation as you moaned his name against his lips.

Sunghoon nodded too, knowing he wasn't that far away from you as his cock throbbed inside your pussy. The way you sucked him so well was the perfect indication that he had to come right there to claim what was rightfully his. Your pussy and all of you.

He let you kiss him again, messy with drool, totally sloppy as he felt his hips stutter in their movements. You were getting more and more desperate and this was proven by the way your moans were swallowed by his lips and your pussy clenching him tightly.

It wasn't long before you came against his cock, the muscles in your pussy convulsing around his length. Without delay, Sunghoon knew you wouldn't be strong enough to take it, so he came straight away. The load of cum he poured into your pussy was hot and thick, every part of you squeezing him, milking his cock a little more until the last drop of cum he poured into you dried up.

Gasping and with your lips still pressed together, you gave one last loud sigh after moaning his name against his lips. Smiling along with Sunghoon as you both recovered a little from your rapid breathing.

He didn't want to open his eyes at that moment, afraid that everything would happen again. You and him having sex, and then Sunghoon found out that you were leaving for another country, and that made his heart hurt even more when he opened his eyes and didn't see you on the other side of the bed.

Sunghoon could have sworn he had hugged your waist the entire night after the two of you slept together, but you were no longer by his side. Again.

A lump formed in his throat at the thought that this was happening again, and even worse after you said everything you said. It wouldn't be indicative of anything if you spoke and still walked away like you did with him. Was that why you had asked him to believe you? So you could have another night together and now you're going to another country? Well, what would it be this time? It would have to be something further away than Switzerland because Sunghoon swore he could travel there after you again if that was the case.

Not wanting to think about it anymore, pushing away his blurred vision with a strong breath and trying not to focus on the tightness he was feeling in his chest, he stretched his hand beside the bed just to feel for his underwear and put them on, quickly leaving the room without paying attention to nothing else. It wouldn't be new for him to be left by you, but this time Sunghoon had to put an end to what he was feeling because he couldn't afford to be chased, to listen to you, to have sex with you, and then watch you leave. He couldn't allow that because Sunghoon would suffer every time, while he wouldn't know why you did all that.

He wanted not to think about those things, he wanted not to feel like crying as he walked around the apartment. But in vain, a tear had already fallen down his cheek and before Sunghoon even wiped it away, he almost felt his heart come out of his mouth when he found your figure in the kitchen.

You were wearing his t-shirt from the night before, and your eyes were focused on the small recipe book as you had some ingredients in front of you. With the sound of his footsteps, your attention was no longer on the words written by Sunghoon's grandfather in that worn notebook, but rather on the crying boy standing at the kitchen door.

“Hey, Hoonie” you would smile if it weren’t for the sight of Sunghoon’s cloudy eyes and wet cheek. You quickly walked towards him and held the face of the man in front of you, wiping away the second tear that was about to fall down the middle of his cheek “What is it? What happened?"

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug and sniffling softly against your hair.

“I thought you were gone again” he whimpered, letting a few more tears fall as he felt you hug him.

Relief would be best described in the middle of that hug, over any feeling Sunghoon swore he felt after waking up. He felt your lips kiss his bare shoulder and then slowly slide down his arms until you faced him.

“I’m not going anywhere anymore” you smiled, kissing him on the lips “And that’s why we need to talk.”

“For real now, right? Without my dick inside you?”

“Sunghoon!” you slapped his arm as you walked away, hearing the boy's captivating and welcoming laugh.

He noticed you were making his grandfather's famous coffee, or trying to replicate the little details. Just like he did that day in your apartment. The nostalgic moment brings him back to the day you told him you were in love with him. You revealed your feelings and let him say them too.

As you went back to preparing coffee, you felt Sunghoon's arms wrap around your waist and hug you from behind. He rested his face on your shoulder to pay attention while you concentrated there.

“I think I'm ready to listen to you now” he said as calmly as if he hadn't been almost desperate minutes before.

He also wouldn't say that he thought about traveling to another country if the scenario repeated itself. Maybe you thought he was crazy, or not so much because you knew Sunghoon enough to know that he would be capable of that since his first feeling was denial that you came back this time. Now all he had to do was go after it if it happened. What he wouldn't do and you would say so clearly to him.

“You were right when you said that my Dad tried to set me up with a partner’s son and everything…” Sunghoon knew there was no way to hide the tightening of his muscles, the arms around your waist tightening a little more and the jaw resting on your shoulder becoming harder as he listened to you. You knew this would happen, so you had to be quick in your explanations “That’s very much a movie scene, isn’t it?”

"What?" he asked, trying to ignore the amusement in your tone. This wasn't fun at all, why were you making it out to be?

“The Dad trying to arrange a marriage for his daughter and the heiress of his company” you laughed softly as you poured some coffee powder into the machine, focusing on the mixture of sugar and cinnamon that was described on the sheet on the other side of the counter “But my life it’s not a movie.”

"What do you mean by that?" Sunghoon was visibly confused, his hands resting against your stomach.

“I mean that—” you stopped yourself, hearing the coffee machine start to make noise as it prepared the liquid that the two of you would drink right away. Turning around in Sunghoon's arms, your hands finally palmed his bare chest. “My father tried to control this in my life, but he couldn't. And that’s why I went to Switzerland.”

If he was confused before, he was even more so now. And as he listened to you calmly, everything, even though it made sense, left him shocked.

Sunghoon knew that your father always tried to control everything in your life, and it was one of the biggest reasons why you always vented to him. Having someone control almost everything for you was extremely annoying, a tremendous invasion of privacy. But as soon as you learned that your father wanted to make you marry his business partner's son, it sounded like a ridiculous joke to you. It was a movie you could see with Stella at a movie theater as they discussed how life tried to imitate art, but not when you objected to it.

“That night I showed up at your bar crying, it was because I decided to leave for Switzerland without anyone knowing. I wanted to escape yet another choice in my life made by my father” you sighed slowly, Sunghoon's fingers caressing your waist through your – his – t-shirt. You felt his lips slowly against the top of your head and you smiled because they remained there “Only you knew through that letter. I didn’t even tell Stella, but… I knew you would show her and the boys, so it was okay because I trust you all.”

He moved his lips from your head to your forehead, breathing deeply against your skin. Now that things were starting to make sense, Sunghoon swore he felt even more angry towards your father.

“This trip was to organize my mind on how I would face my father in this situation because it wasn't easy to make him change his mind” you sighed “Well, you heard it on the phone that day.”

“Unfortunately” he whispered, not wanting to interrupt you even if you wanted to hear him.

The noise of the coffee machine interrupted your thoughts for a brief moment, then you turned back in his arms to pour a good amount into the two cups in front of you. Sunghoon slid his arms around your waist again, still hugging you and not wanting to let go so soon.

“I came back because I decided to lead my own life, I didn't want him to do that for me anymore” preparing the coffee was done with a shaking hand because you felt like crying every time you thought about the fights against your father.

The harsh words he said to you while you refused to follow what he wanted for you. Of all the years he was in control of your life, it was time for things to change. You felt a feather-light kiss that Sunghoon placed on your shoulder when you signaled that the coffee was ready. He picked up the cup and walked to the other side of the counter so he was facing you.

“And also because I resigned from his company because he simply said I couldn’t get married when I was already committed to someone else.”

He almost spat out his coffee when he heard it come out of your mouth so nonchalantly. Those new attitudes from such a carefree Y/n were not something Sunghoon was used to, especially after you gave an innocent smile as if you hadn't said the craziest thing out loud.

"You're kidding, right?" he tried to catch his breath after coughing a few times, resting the cup on the kitchen counter “Y/n, you can’t do this.”

“I can and I did, Sunghoon” you smiled with your lips against your cup as you sipped your hot coffee “I talked about being in love with you since university, that I didn't want to be the boss of that shit company anymore and that I quit because I simply I wanted to have control of my own life and do what I wanted.”

As much as it was something he wanted to hear at all costs, Sunghoon couldn't be selfish enough to let you miss out on things because part of you had told your father about your feelings for him.

“Did you tell him about me?” Sunghoon asked, seeing you nod as you drank more coffee.

Possibly your father had cursed Sunghoon the moment he heard you say that he owned a bar and not the owner of a company. He knew this should have happened.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” your voice took him away from his thoughts for a while, he picked up the cup of coffee again, looking at the dark liquid now, trying not to focus on your intense gaze.

“You can’t just give up your life for your feelings, Y/n.”

“You mean the money?” he didn't see the eye roll you gave, otherwise he would scold you for it and continue saying how wrong you were for doing those things.

“I mean that—”

It hurt Sunghoon to have to think, and to be about to say that out loud. But just as you were being sincere, he could tell you what he thought too. It wouldn't be a judgment on his part and he hoped you wouldn't be offended, especially because he also had the right to think that way.

“The guy your father wants you to be with has money and a good life” he bit the tip of his tongue at the thought of another man being with you. Even if it was to make his father happy, Sunghoon just couldn't do it. “He's from your world, Y/n.”

"My world?" your shaky voice made him look up from the coffee to your face. You looked strangely sad, and he didn't want you to feel that. You should be happy, maybe, Sunghoon also didn't know what to think anymore.

“Yeah, he has money, I don’t” Sunghoon took a big sip of coffee “We’re from two different worlds, you know?”

“No” you replied quickly, the thud of the cup against the counter on the other side made Sunghoon shrug his shoulders momentarily.

"Why not?" he placed the cup back, walking around the counter ever so slowly to get closer to you again. He wanted to touch you and you would possibly hit him because of the way you were looking at him. He didn't want to see you like this either, but he risked pulling you against him and bringing your face closer to his.

“Because I don’t want a world where you’re not in it, Park Sunghoon” your pout dismantled him at that moment, matching the shape of your words “You are my world.”

Fuck your father's opinion and thoughts and Sunghoon's pride in trying to think that you should follow another path. He wouldn't be stupid enough to push you onto someone else, not when you were there, openly saying that you gave up a lot of things because of him. Much of it was because of you and your wishes, but if that included Sunghoon, he wouldn't waste it.

Sunghoon kissed you so slowly, feeling the taste of the freshly drunk coffee and your warm lips against his. Your hands quickly went to his hair and Sunghoon hugged you so tight, afraid you would run away and believe his words from minutes ago. Fuck money, fuck everything. You said he was your world, and he wanted to be your world just like you were his.

“I love you” Sunghoon whispered after kissing you, his lips still hovering over yours “I love you so much I don’t want you to leave.”

“I love you so much more” you whispered back, snuggling into his arms as you felt Sunghoon’s heartbeat against your chest as you felt him hold you in that hug. “And I’m not going anywhere without you now.”

“Promise?”

“I promise” you kissed his lips once again, and Sunghoon could scream with happiness to finally have you in his arms.

Being able to wake up every morning and feel your body on the other side of the bed with the certainty that you wouldn't leave. He knew he would have to face your father sooner or later, but he also knew that your request the night before to believe in you was what was worth it. Sunghoon would believe in you at all times because being together with you, nothing else mattered.

“By the way” you smiled slowly when he began to undo his arms around your body, moving away so he could return to the other side of the counter and drink the rest of the coffee. He would prepare food afterward because the drink alone wouldn't be enough.

“Say it, love” he encouraged you when he didn’t hear you continue. Raising an eyebrow at you as he brought the cup to his lips to finish the contents and pay attention to what you had to say.

“Is there space at your bar? I don’t want to be without work.”

Sunghoon truly laughed as he walked back behind you, leaning down enough to place the cup into the sink. He wouldn't imagine someone like you working in his crazy bar, not when you didn't behave like the people who worked there. Not even Stella would work there.

“Maybe you should ask Stella for help with this, baby” Sunghoon kissed the side of your neck, causing a slight shiver to run across your skin “I don’t want you to work in my bar because I know the type of customers I have there.”

"Jealous?" you joked.

"Jealous of you? Definitely” he nibbled your skin, watching you shiver even more.

Continued to laugh at your reaction and your protests about being a good employee, maybe even better than his three best friends. You could team up with Stella and attract more clientele to the bar, even if the establishment doesn't need it. It was Sunghoon's turn to feel a shiver run down his spine at the idea of ​​men staring at you or trying to flirt with you, just like he saw them doing with any girl who frequented his bar. Now that the two of you were together, he knew that being jealous was nothing compared to what he would experience with you.

But if it was the same way he was being, laughing at your protests, receiving your kisses as he scooped up the pancake batter, and listening to you grumble about wanting to work with Stella now, he would love to live by her side. Because you were his world, just like he was his.

© ikeuverse, 2023. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[wwilloww]

sh. | chapter twenty two | pjm

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 4.8k WARNINGS AND TAGS no use of gendered pronouns to refer to reader. consensual objectification. d/s dynamic. over the panty sex (is this just called dry humping?) fucktoy-ification? teasing. orgasm denial.

AN hi :) i'm so sorry i made you wait so long for this. it's been a rollercoaster these last two years, and i hope you can forgive me for my long absence. if you enjoyed this chapter, i'd love to hear from you: what stuck out to you, what you're hoping will happen in future chapters, or just how you've been. i've missed you. and, as always, thank you for reading <3

← || series m.list || →

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: RULE BREAKER

You don’t talk or think much about your childhood. You like to imagine that when you turned eighteen those years whispered away into the ether of time, as irrelevant and dusty as the old photobook that stays on the shelf, eternally unopened. 

As a child, home was multiplied and many. It was the many places you lived, as you moved often, following your father around with his job. But it was also many in the sense that you learned at a young age that home didn’t have to be a place you lived. Home was between the worn and finger-marred pages of the books you fell in love with, home was the wisping scent of fresh (if not often burnt) pastry in your grandmother’s kitchen each time you visited, home was the place you yearned to travel to but never made the time to visit. 

But as you close the book in your hands, the words echo in your mind: 

Are you going to come home? 

You feel far away from home, even though you find a great deal of comfort in the walls of Namjoon’s mountain house. Ahem, mansion. Confusion riddles little holes of worry through you. Where is home, anyways? The small apartment you left empty in the city? The question opens a void in you. Why bother with home anyways? Sure, home could be anything if you tried hard enough, but couldn’t the opposite be true too? That if you tried hard enough, you wouldn’t need a home?

Still, void and all, the question nudges you. 

Unsettled, you clamber down the tree and make your way back towards the house. The sun has risen higher in the sky and breaks through the chill ever so slightly. Worried that you’ve just abandoned Jimin this morning and that he’ll wake up alone, you quicken your pace. You creak the door open, waving at Jungkook and Jin and Taehyung in the kitchen, who are huddled over the coffee, waiting for it to finish brewing. 

“A watched pot never boils,” you call out to them, noting that Jungkook looks a little cheerier than he had the past several days. Jin’s hand rests on Jungkook’s lower back and a little wave of joy jolts through you as the older man throws you a little smile. 

“Watching it actually makes it go faster,” Jungkook says, his eyes glued to the coffee. “A little motivation and encouragement always lends a helping hand.” 

You smile at that and continue making your way towards Jimin’s bedroom. You pass one room—a gym of sorts filled with a few cardio machines, a set of free weights, and a large mirror, and you’re surprised you didn’t notice it before—and pause. 

Namjoon is spotting Hoseok as the latter bench presses what looks like an unreasonably heavy weight. 

As you watch them, the dream from last night floods back to you. 

The music filtering through the night. The tightness of each man’s grip on you as they spun you through the ballroom, the floorboards creaking beneath you, the high of attention sitting heady in your chest. 

And too, you can’t forget, the way they stared at each other in single-minded competition, hackles raised, teeth gritted. You can’t forget the darkness that swirled at their feet, and you wonder too, if you’re letting your dream drift into the world of the living too.

But here they are, fondly smiling at one another. Had you made it all up? Well, of course you made it up. It was a regency-era dream for god's sake. But the tension? The competition? As Namjoon helps Hoseok lower the weights to the bar and hauls him to his feet, you’re sure it’s all in your head. 

“Nice, man,” Namjoon says, grinning and clasping Hoseok on the back. 

Before they see you, you continue on. Just as you’re about to open the door to the bedroom you’ve been searching for, it swings open before you. Jimin steps out. 

“Oh. You’re awake!” you say.

“I am indeed.” 

“I’m sorry I left this morning—“ 

“It’s okay,” he says, but there’s a tinge of sadness in his voice, a little dust mote of it that you catch. 

“I went to go read in a tree,” you offer quickly as an explanation, hoping it will make up for the disappointment of waking up alone after not spending a night together in a while. 

“In a tree?” 

“In a tree,” you confirm. 

He chuckles. “That seems like a good enough reason to abandon me. I gotta be honest though—“ He steps closer, lets his gaze flicker down, and toys with the hem of your shirt. “I was looking forward to waking up beside you.” 

“Were you?” you smile. 

“I was. I was even looking forward to potentially getting to wake you up.” He says it with a mischievous grin. 

“Oh? And how would you have woken me up?”

His hand drifts lower, beneath the band of your leggings. “You know, it’s really easier to show you, rather than tell you—” His hands pause. “What’s this?” Jimin sends you a knowing look. 

“What?” Your mind sputters as you struggle to come up with what he might be talking about. But he steps closer to you, a hand drifting down to your hips, a finger pulling your shirt up. With his other hand he plucks at the band of your panties. 

“This,” he emphasizes. 

“Oh.” 

You’d nearly forgotten the promise you’d made to Jimin. But now it all comes rushing back, how he’d made you promise in those early days in the house to forgo any underwear. At the time it’d been a silly dare, but the seriousness in his eyes makes you reconsider. 

“What? Do I have to remind you every day?” he says gently. “Or perhaps I haven’t been spending enough time around you, and you’ve forgotten your promise to me?”

“N-no,” you say. “I mean maybe. Maybe I want you around more.” You sidle up to him, running a finger up his chest. “Maybe… I want you to remind me.” 

Jimin steps closer to you, pressing you against the bedroom door. You gasp when he leans in close, close enough to kiss you, but doesn’t. 

“I think you forget too quickly that  I told you there’d be a punishment if you ‘forgot’ about our little rule.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head as you look at him. “What kind of punishment?” Panties or not, it seems like you win. 

“Like I mentioned earlier, I think I’d rather show you than explain it to you. Let’s just say I’m a hands-on kind of teacher.” 

You think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he presses close, his lips a centimeter away from yours, his hands cupping your cheeks before wandering down to explore your body. You reach for him, struggle to bring his lips to yours, but he shifts his attention elsewhere, leaving you hanging. His hands rove over your body, his lips dip out of reach. So you change your plan of attack too. You let your hands wander over him. When you feel his breath quicken against you, you release him, dipping your head below his chin.

You glide your lips down Jimin’s neck, slow and intentional; a calculated move. You let your breath whisper against his skin, and you can’t help but think back to that night with Yoongi and Namjoon in which sensation—even the lightest of touches—had meant so much to you. To your body. You want to play Jimin like they played you. 

His hands tighten in your shirt, knuckles whitening. 

“Inside,” he gasps, and the desperation in his voice makes you think that he’s lost a bit of his fine-tuned control. His eyes are blown wide. He looks like he could eat you up. “Inside,” he repeats, but enacts the command himself as he pulls you through the door with him, making it sound a little more like a plea than you think he intends.

The pair of you tumble onto the bed, a mess of limbs and lips, teeth, hands. 

He captures your lips, finally, kissing you. The kiss is anything but gentle, nearing the edge of pain, his teeth knocking against yours, nipping at your lips. You groan into his mouth as his hips cant against you. 

It’s not long before he begins to tug at your clothes. 

Then he pauses, lifting your head from his lips. You’re sprawled atop him and you lift yourself up on your hands. 

“What?” you inquire curiously.

“I’m going to ask you to do something.” 

“Alright.”

With a leveled gaze, he says, “Strip.” 

He pushes you off of him, and you kneel at the foot of the bed, pausing a second, before making the executive decision to stand and undress. It’ll be more, well, graceful that way, you think. The alternative is flopping around on the sheets like a beached hammerhead shark trying to get your pants off. 

So you do as you’re told. There’s something about undressing before him, as he leans back against the headboard, watching you. There’s something about undressing for him, while he watches on, his gaze drinking you in that has sparks running through your body.

Slowly, slowly you slip off your top, and wiggle your leggings off your legs. You try to make it a little sexy, glancing up at him from time to time, to find that warm darkness swirling in his gaze that you love so much. You trip once, because you’re staring too much. 

“Keep the panties on,” he says when you go to pull them down.  

“Oh. Okay.”  Your brow furrows and you can’t help but let a little bit of the disappointment you’re feeling into your voice. You’re a little confused why he would ask you to keep them on when they were the problem that started all of this. 

He stands then, walking towards you. You hold your breath. He finally arrives before you and places his hands on your hips. His fingers toy with the trim of the panties, and goosebumps race along your skin from the delicate touch. 

“What are you going to do?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“You’ll see.” 

With that he hooks a finger under the band of your underwear and lets it snap against your skin. You cry out, more in surprise than anything else. 

“Did that hurt?” 

“No, not really.” 

“Good.” He grins. “Now, I want you to be honest.” 

“I’m always honest.” You correct yourself: “Most of the time. Most of the time I’m always honest.” 

Jimin chuckles at that. 

“Fair enough. But I need your most-of-the-time-always honesty now.” You nod, your hand drifting upward to grip his forearm. 

“Of course.” 

“I want to try something out with you. Something new.” 

“New?”

“A new kind of play.”

Your mind reels with the possibilities. What could he possibly suggest? Chastity kink? Tittyfucking? Technojizz? Ballcuzzi?  

“I want to use you like a toy,” he whispers. “I want to fuck you like a toy. I want to talk to you like a toy, treat you like one.” Your eyes widen when he says it. His eyes go wide too, drinking in your every microexpression, as he waits for you to respond. 

“A toy?” 

“Yes.”

“Where did this come from?” you say it with a little smile, and trace your finger along his jawline. He relaxes at the touch. 

“I saw the way you reacted during group play. When Jin was talking to you, saying things like, ‘You want to be our slut. You want to be our whore.’” Just hearing Jimin repeating Jin’s words sends a shiver through your body. “He didn’t say it like I would have said it, but I knew he wanted to.” He presses his lips to your ear while his hands rove over your body. “You want to be our toy, don’t you?”  

The answer is easy. “Yes.” 

“You want to be used by us, don’t you?” 

“Y-yes.” 

He chuckles. “That’s what I thought. So tell me. Tell me what you want to be.” 

“I want to be your toy.” 

“Good.” He grins. 

He lets his hand drift down to your underwear again, fingers trailing along the inside the elastic hem before plucking at them once more. He seems to like the way you flinch. 

His fingers wander down your skin. He traces your hip, before flicking his fingers beneath the hem that circles your thigh. Slowly, he creeps closer to where you want his fingers most, but before he can touch you, he pulls his fingers away. You nearly groan, and a fleeting grimace crosses your face. Jimin catches it. 

“Patience would look so pretty on you,” he says, and the sting of his words is delightful. 

“Hmph.” 

His fingers continue to explore the thin piece of fabric that separates you from total nudity. They’re not a particularly pretty pair of underwear: they’re nothing more than a tan color brief. 

You say as much to Jimin, and tell him you wish you were wearing something sexier. Lace, maybe. Something black. 

“True,” he replies. “But you know why I like these?” 

“Why?” 

“Because I can see you dripping through them.” 

You warm at the implication.   

“And when I push my cock against them, I’ll see me on them too. I’m a visual man, you know.” He kind of chuckles at that last bit, like it’s some sort of inside joke with himself. 

When he drops to his knees, like that first day in the forest with him, you gasp. Finally, finally, he’s going to touch you. 

But when his tongue presses against you through the fabric of your underwear, it’s only half the sensation you need from him. Still, it feels good, a gentle warmth spreading through your abdomen as he licks and presses against your clit and vulva. 

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against you. 

“I’m—“ 

“You’ve soaked your panties through.” 

You warm at the thought, such little stimulation getting you so ready for him. You wonder if he’ll fuck you hard and fast or if he’ll take you sweet and slow. If he’ll take his time with you. Whatever he decides to do, you know you’ll be happy to have him fill you as you currently clench and tighten around nothing. It’s an empty feeling that sifts through you. 

When he’s thoroughly soaked your underwear with his mouth, he stands and kisses you. You can taste the ghost of yourself on him, and it reminds you of the smell of first summer light hitting the ground at dawn. A space when it is neither day, nor night, but some third plane of existence. Like that, in this moment, you feel like some third kind of creature. Neither yourself entirely, nor Jimin, but some other, third thing that you could only become in his presence. You can feel the shit-eating grin that glides across his lips and presses into yours as he walks backwards, leading you back to the bed. 

There’s something different, too, about all of this, about the way he kisses you today. There’s an edge of desperation, of frustration that you can taste on him. His movements are quicker, less languid. His lids are lidded. His breath comes quicker.  It’s delightful. 

But it’s also brand new. It feels like he has let a part of himself loose from under his usual state of control, and you wonder if your most recent conversation with your friends—where you discussed emotionality and feeling—had anything to do with what he was going through. What he wanted. 

An edge of anxiety tickles at your throat as you think of it. Does he want something more? 

He seems to notice your hesitation. 

“I just want you right now,” he says, as if he’s read your mind. He stops you at the edge of the bed, turns you so that the back of your knees hit the mattress.  You’re not sure if he’s a mind reader or what. 

You fall back into the bed, Jimin leading you down gently with a hand against your back until you sink into the soft bedding. You can’t help but giggle at the gentleness. Not that you have anything against it, but in this moment you feel anything but a toy. The way he looks at you makes you feel, well, precious. 

He breaks his gaze to kiss you again, tongue pressing against your lips. 

“Open up for me,” he says. “Like a good kitten—Like a good toy.” 

You do as you’ve been told, opening your mouth and letting him swirl his tongue through you, swiping at the roof of your mouth and sending tingles down your spine. 

His hands drift down your body before slipping beneath your panties. You glow, so eager for his touch, groaning as his fingers swipe against your clit. Just once. But as if he’s just realized a mistake he’s made, he rapidly pulls his hand out. 

“Oops. Got a little caught up.” 

You pout. “What, you’re not going to touch me like that? There? At all?” 

He pulls back enough to flick his gaze between your eyes and your lips. “Be a good toy and just do what you’re told.” 

“Oh?” The bratty part of you flickers and rises up.

He silences you with a kiss, his fingers circling around your clothed entrance before trying to press in through the thin fabric of your underwear. It’s like he’s trying to finger fuck you through the wet cotton, pushing it into you with his fingers. The pressure surely is something, but it’s not even a hint of enough, and you find your hips bucking up against him, seeking more attention, seeking more pressure. 

“So needy. So desperate.” 

He continues until the yearn within you aches.

“Stop playing,” you gasp. “Just give me your cock. Want you. Want your cock. I’ll be your toy, just–just use me like one.” 

“Don’t good toys say please?” 

“Please, sir.”

He freezes above you. 

“Sir?” 

“I—I… It just slipped out!” 

He grins. “I kinda like it.” He hums, as if contemplating it, then nods. “And since you’ve asked so nicely—“  

Jimin leans back enough to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He takes his time, while the knot in your belly begins to recede. You sit up, eager to help him out of it, but he quickly swats your hands away. 

“Patience, kitten.” 

You don’t say it, but your crossed arms and pout say, “Fine, sir,”  loud and clear. He laughs at your expression. 

“Don’t you worry,” he says, tilting your chin up. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I?” 

He takes his cock out, stroking it once, twice, his hand gliding expertly over the soft and sensitive skin. 

“I’m going to use you like you’re good for.”

“Like I’m good for?” You echo, desperate for him. 

“All you’re good for,” he whispers in your ear and the words send a shiver of pleasure down your spine.  

With one hand, he takes your ankles and pushes them over your head.

“Hold them.” 

He then settles between your legs, hand wrapped tightly around his cock. With a movement that seems far too familiar to him, he slaps your pussy with his hard and dripping cock, and you groan. Fuck. 

Lowering himself to you, so your thighs press into his shoulders, he finally aligns his cock with your clothed vulva. 

And then with one careful movement, he grinds against you. The simple movement is enough to make you cry out. 

“Fuck, Jimin.” 

At first it’s slow, his cock pressing against your vulva in rhythmic pulses, your clit. At one point he pulls back and presses the head of his cock to your clothed entrance and presses in. 

You whine against him, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He simply returns to continuing his thrusts. You’re just as wet as he is hard, soaking your panties, his precome painting them too. 

“Maybe I would have woken you up like this. Wouldn’t you have liked that? Waking up to my hard cock pressing against your clit, me ready to come, just from rutting against you? Wouldn’t that make you happy, to know how good you make me feel?”

You look down to where your bodies are pressed together. His cock rhythmically pokes up, the head dark and heavy. Sometimes though, the head of his cock gets stuck on your underwear, pushing the fabric higher and tighter around you. You groan at the sight. 

“Don’t you love how good you make me feel?”  

Your hips buck together, finding a desperate, shared rhythm. Your breath, too, matches up. 

For a moment, your eyes lock. All you can think about is how damn pretty he looks when he fucks, his dark hair falling into his face, his cheeks flushed, his plush lower lip caught between his teeth. And he looks back. 

But then his eyes flicker away from yours. 

He fucks you over your panties, murmuring how good of a toy you are for him, how he wishes he could fuck you properly, fill you up.

“Please,” you gasp, desperate for more. “Fuck me.”

“When you behave,” he grunts. “I will.” Another thrust. “When you follow my rules, I will.” 

When he comes, he presses the head of his cock to your clit. You can feel it twitching against you as he groans and sighs, his come painting your panties white. 

With the head of his cock pressing so rhythmically against your clit, you’ve built up to a delicious pleasure, so close to coming. 

“Jimin, Jimin, I’m so close. Please.” Your hips tilt up, searching out the pleasure he keeps denying you. 

But Jimin just grins at you and sighs dramatically. His breath still comes a little quickly, he seems a little winded.  

“If only you hadn’t been so intent on misbehaving earlier. Maybe I could have let you come.” 

“Oh, come on,” you groan, about a second away from throwing your fists on the bed in proper tantrum form. “You’re in charge. You write the rules. Who said you can’t let me come?” 

“The rules I wrote say so, actually.” 

You huff. 

“Well then. Maybe I’ll just have to take care of it myself.” 

In a swift action, Jimin leans over you, pinning your hands above your head. Your breath leaves your lungs in a quick gasp. 

“Wha—” 

“I think you know you’re not even supposed to be thinking about that, let alone doing it.” 

You tilt your head.

Jimin laughs, a hint of playful hardness in his voice. “Don’t you remember?” You shake your head. “You’re forgetting all of your promises today, aren’t you? Jin had you promise that you wouldn’t be coming unless it was because of one of us.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“Shit. I forgot.” 

“I know you forgot.” 

You throw your head back and groan. “But I thought you said you’d always take care of me.” 

“I did. And I do. But sometimes it’s good for you to wait a little for your reward. Today you took your punishment—” He tilts your head up so you’re looking at him and the pout that had taken over your face fades a little. “And tomorrow, I’ll give you your reward.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Fine.”

“You think you can do that? Wait until tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh. 

“You’re so good for me,” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. His hands glide down to your hips, dipping beneath the band and you think, oh, maybe he’ll do it now. But your hopes are quickly dashed when he tugs on them and says, “Maybe it was a good thing I had you wear these afterall.” He shimmies your come-stained underwear down your thighs. “Easy cleanup.” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, always surprised when Jimin’s practical side pops out alongside his gregariousness. But he balls the panties up, and before tossing them into the laundry basket near the door, holds them up in his hand, shaking them, as if directing attention to them. 

 “I should remind you why I asked you to do this?” 

“I know why you asked me to. You liked the secret of it—?” You think back to what he had said to you, all those days ago, though it feels like a lifetime ago:

“I like walking around, knowing I’m the only one who has your sweetness on my tongue. I love talking to the others while getting to taste you still. Getting to remember the way you squirm underneath my touch. I do it because I want to.”

You still shiver, thinking of those words. But that had been before everyone knew about you and Jimin. 

“I did like the secret of it,” Jimin says, breaking through your reverie. “But there’s more than that, too.” 

You raise an eyebrow, prompting him to go on. 

“There’s knowing you do it for me.” 

He grins, before strutting to the bathroom. You watch his ass as he goes. Plump, you think. When he returns, he’s cleaned up and still grinning. Mulling on what he’s said—”for me”—an image of all eight of you on the living room floor arises. What are the boundaries between one person and another with this set up? What are the lines? What is owed? Your head spins, and you settle into the pillow. You’re still humming in the sensation of your dwindling pleasure, receding far away from your orgasm, and you sigh. 

“If the only way people are going to punish one another around here is by giving them blue balls, I’m going to get tired reeeeal quick,” you murmur to yourself.

“Is that so?” Jimin says from behind you as he collects your clothes. “If that’s the case, we better start coming up with new forms of punishment.” 

“Yes, maybe you should,” you say, mock-grouchily. 

“I’ll start thinking up new and innovative ways. Maybe I’ll consult Jin—he seems creative when it comes to this stuff—especially if you’re going to be so quick to forget what you promised him.” He helps you into your clothes again, but remains naked himself. 

“But—” 

“No buts.” He seals your silence with a kiss. “Just do what you’re told.” The statement stings through you like a bolt of electricity. As much as you hate to admit it, you love when he tells you what to do. Even if you love fighting against it just as much. “You know why you should do what you’re told?” He continues, as he kisses down your throat.

“Why?” 

“Because then I can reward you. I can make you come again and again until you’re crying to stop, or hold you at the edge long enough that when you’re finally ready to tip over, it’s the best fucking orgasm in your whole life.” 

You can’t help but giggle. “Are you saying you’re the best fuck of my life?” 

“No. Not yet. But I can be.” He pulls away from you enough to see the shit-eating grin on your face. 

“I think some of your friends might fight you for that position.” 

“Maybe they should.” 

“Maybe they should what?” a voice comes from the door. 

“Hoseok—” 

Hoseok stands in the doorway, a confused look on his face. You imagine what he must be seeing, a naked Jimin in bed, and you, now entirely naked, too, now that Jimin stripped you of your panties, tangled up in each other. 

“What’s going on here?” Hoseok asks. 

“Do you really want to know?” Jimin asks.

“Um. Not really.” Then his gaze focuses on you. He lingers on your face, reading you, trying to figure you out. But then he catches himself. “Uh, maybe I should come back later.” 

“No!” you say, perhaps a little too eagerly, sitting up. “What is it?” 

“I just was looking for you,” Hoseok says, a little shyly. “I was hoping to steal you away.”  

“Let me get dressed.” 

You stand up, and pull your clothes back on, noting how Hoseok’s gaze flickers to you just in time to see you pull on your leggings without any panties on underneath.  

Jimin sits up quickly, pulling a pillow over his crotch for the sake of Hoseok’s modesty. “Just so you know—if you’re going to go together—I already said that if someone was going to wear panties that someone wasn’t going to be able to come.” He turns to you. “So don’t you go running off to lover boy, thinking you can get your rocks off.” Jimin turns his attention back to Hobi. “This one is very much not allowed to come. At least for the rest of the day.” 

Hoseok coughs. 

“Oh, I, uh, I wasn’t, I wasn’t presuming.” 

“Yes you were, asshole,” Jimin laughs. “We’re all presuming.” 

Hoseok flushes red all the way to the tips of his ears at the implication, but you find it charming. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hoseok says.

You glance at Jimin, who leans back with his hands laced behind his head. He looks like the perfect image of relaxation and… is that pride? There’s a soft smile curving at the corner of his lip, a kind of jesting smirk. 

“Go on,” Jimin says. “I’m already taken care of.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Asshole.” 

But you stand and make your way to Hoseok nonetheless. 

“You have time?” he asks.

“I have all the time in the world.” 

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[whitedarkmoonflower]

Hey! Just wanted to say love your Sihtric fics. They literally give me life. As a new Last Kingdom fan (just started watching the show, on season 2 now). I was hoping you could write a one shot of Sihtric x Fem reader. Where the fem is like a healer very similar to Iseult in season 1. But this time reader is patching up our boy Sihtric. The reader is extremally worried for Sihtric. Hope this ask is okay. Thank you again!

The Witch

Part 1

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: Dear Anon, I'm so sorry it took me so long to write this. I loved the request, but unfortunately there were so many things in between. And lately I really struggle with writing, so I can tell you I have rewritten it at least five times and if I don't post it now, I will probably start all over again tomorrow. Sorry, I didn't manage to put all in a one shot, so this is Part 1.

Warnings: a bit of fluff and as per usual angst, but in delicate doses

Word Count: 3,4K

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

Sihtric's gaze repeatedly drifted toward the upper end of the grand hall, where Sigefrid and his brother Erik were seated. He tried to force himself to look away, just to find himself staring again as if pulled by an irresistible force. It was not the commanding presence of the two brothers that captivated him. No, it was you. 

The first time Sihtric had seen you was on the very first day of his arrival in Beamfleot. Deliberately, he guided his horse into a slow walk as he passed through the city gates, determined not to appear hasty or restless. He was supposed to look just like one among the numerous Danish warriors lured in by the boastful promises of wealth and vast lands, spread by Erik and Sigefrid. 

He paused at the stables, casually tossing the reins to a stable boy, and began to unfasten his saddlebag, taking in his surroundings with vigilant eyes, all the while sensing an unfamiliar presence, as if someone's gaze bore into him.

Sihtric turned around, finding no one behind him. His gaze shifted upward, scanning the city's encircling walls, counting the watchtowers and the spears positioned within them. It was precisely at that moment when he caught sight of you. You stood upon the ramparts, your attention firmly fixed on him, making no effort to conceal it. 

The sun danced through your unbraided hair, fluttering in the wind and what was meant to be a fleeting glance began to feel like an eternity for Sihtric, as he found himself unable to tear his eyes away. He was ensnared by the boundless depths of your dark, scrutinising eyes, as if they possessed the ability to peer into the recesses of his soul, reading his very thoughts. 

"Hey, you, lunkhead," a mocking voice snapped Sihtric's attention back to the present. "Barely arrived, and already fallen under the witch's spell?" 

A small group of warriors approached him, and Sihtric felt a slight flush of embarrassment as he chuckled nervously.

"What's it to you?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, the woman up there on the ramparts. The seer and Sigefrid's personal healer," one of the warriors grinned knowingly.

Sihtric shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I was just taking in the view. No harm in that, right?"

The warrior smirked. "Oh, there's harm, my friend. They say she can see right through a man's soul. Best be cautious with those lingering looks."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sihtric chuckled, feigning nonchalance, but as the group of warriors continued to jest and banter, he couldn't resist stealing one last glance in your direction, only to find the ramparts empty, with a few mocking ravens cawing at him. 

Sihtric didn’t expect to see you soon again, but there you sat, positioned to Sigefrid's right. Your slender fingers, adorned with golden rings, idly played with the ale mug before you, while your large and expressive eyes swept across the scene of feasting, drunken, and brawling warriors in the hall. In another corner of the hall, a more serious argument appeared to be escalating. Your voice cut through the commotion, addressing one of the warriors by name, and your firm and assertive gaze landed on the group. Instantly, their voices lowered, and the quarrel that had been unfolding came to a halt. It was as if you held a power over the gathering, a power that made Sihtric’s heart race and his palms grow sweaty. 

Each time your eyes wandered in his direction, Sihtric felt a shiver run down his spine and he hurriedly turned away, clutching his mug and engaging in forced conversation with a nearby companion, all in an effort to avoid accidentally locking eyes with your watchful and discerning gaze, just to find himself stealing secret glances a moment later.

No matter how hard Sihtric tried to clear his mind, your presence lingered like an indelible mark. Even as he finally sank into the bed assigned to him within one of the large barracks nestled along the city walls and closed his eyes, he found no escape from your haunting image in his dreams. It was a frenzied vision of a wild sprint through a dense forest.

"Come on, catch me if you can," your voice, soft and melodic, teased him, urging him in the direction of its origin. There you stood, leaning against a tree, a playful smile gracing your lips as you extended an inviting hand. He ran towards you, his breath heavy, not so much from the wild chase as from the electric anticipation coursing through his veins. Sihtric loomed over your fragile and gentle frame, trapping you between his body and the tree. Your lips half parted, so red, full and inciting lured him in with a soft moan, your fingers trailing up and down his chest. His hand tenderly caressed your cheek as he leaned closer, his heart pounding in his ears and his eyes widening in surprise as you dissolved into thin air just a moment before his lips could meet yours.

"Catch me, I'm here, I'm waiting," echoed again from a different direction, and the wild chase began anew.

Upon waking in the morning, Sihtric discovered himself drenched in sweat, his breath laboured, and his heart pounding, as though he had just completed an actual race. He cursed silently at his own foolishness, swearing never to venture near the grand hall in the evening to evade encountering you again. 

And during the day he even managed to focus on his direct tasks, he inspected the barracks, visited the camps outside the city gates and casually walked nearby the docs to get an overview of the ships and the crews on them, however, each time as the evening descended, there he sat, nestled in his preferred corner at the far end of the hall, his back against the wall, surreptitiously stealing glances at the beautiful witch, drawn to your every movement and word. 

Sihtric seethed with frustration at his own weakness, resenting the magnetic pull you had over him. At times, he couldn't help but wonder if you had really somehow bewitched him, making his attraction to you feel all the more maddening and cursed himself for not being able to get over this hopeless infatuation.

—----------------------------------------------

You had long been aware of the handsome, young, and bashful warrior whose gaze seemed perpetually drawn to you. It didn't escape your notice how his cheeks would flush with a rosy hue every time your eyes met his, and how he attempted to steal glances at you, convinced he was being discreet.

Your heart couldn't help but warm to the endearing way he watched you, the earnestness in his big, expressive eyes mirroring a genuine curiosity and fascination. It was as though he were a moth to your flame, his shyness only adding to his charm. You were used to men looking at you with desire, but the sweet, innocent adoration that radiated from the young warrior made your heart fill with an unexpected sympathy.

You found yourself secretly delighted by his persistent glances, amused by his attempts to hide his interest. There was something about this young and undeniably handsome Dane that piqued your curiosity in return.

While the whispers and rumours surrounding you had labelled you as a witch, you knew well that your abilities were far from magical; they were rooted in your sharp wit, ability to observe and listen and your keen reasoning and you couldn't help but take notice that the young warrior always seemed to keep to himself. Unlike the boisterous and rowdy men in the hall, he never engaged in quarrels or brawls, and you had never once seen him completely drunk. 

You were intelligent enough to put things together and after inquiring discreetly and listening carefully to the tales and whispers circulating among the warriors and local folks, you were certain that the enigmatic young man was a spy. The question remained who had sent him. The idea that Alfred, the Saxon king, would employ a Dane for such a task seemed improbable.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, it struck you – Uhtred, the infamous Dane killer. This must be it. You had heard countless stories about him, a Saxon and a Dane, steadfast in his devotion to the old gods despite the repulsion it elicited from his King, renowned as a formidable warrior and a nobleman whose lands harboured both Danes and Saxons, living together in peace.

Your curiosity knew no bounds as you contemplated the implications of this discovery.

You had vehemently opposed this ill-conceived plan and had attempted to dissuade Erik and Sigefrid from their reckless pursuit. Impulsive and driven by their unquenchable thirst for conquest, they often lacked the foresight to plan for the long term. They were warriors, not settlers. Meanwhile, you found yourself tired —tired by the ceaseless cycle of men waging war and longing for someone with the courage to forge peace.

The weariness ran deep, as you were exhausted of mending wounds that you knew would barely have a chance to heal before the next battle, the next the final blow, erased the lives of the very fools you were striving to save. You had grown weary of gazing into the hollow, despairing eyes of the widows and children who had followed their men in pursuit of the elusive promises of wealth and fertile land. You were a healer, and you longed for an end to the relentless cycle of violence.

Even as both Danes and the Saxon town folks referred to you as a witch, with the former showing respect and the latter reacting with fear, crossing themselves and spitting in your direction, you knew who you were and had no need for anyone else's approval.

For you, healing was not just a trade—it was your heritage, your calling, a legacy coursing through your veins. You had absorbed the knowledge from your mother, who had received it from her own mother, continuing a long line of wise and strong women passing down their carefully gathered wisdom from one generation to the next. It was a blessing and a burden you carried with equal measures of pride and devotion. And as a healer, you held within your heart a sacred dream of peace and prosperity for your people. In a world already burdened with pain and suffering, there was no room for the needless and futile wars incited by foolish, power-hungry men.

Just a few days prior, you had experienced a heartwarming surprise when a young Saxon girl had come to you under the cover of night, secretly seeking your aid for her little son. She had knocked on your door, her trepidation clear, fearing the judgement of others but driven by her desperation for help. You had not hesitated to assist her.

Today, while crossing the bustling marketplace, your paths had crossed again. Your gazes had locked for a brief moment, and in that instant, you knew that the boy was well. Your heart swelled with warmth as you witnessed the unmistakable joy shining in the young mother's eyes. It was moments like these that constituted the greatest reward, the very purpose of your existence—to apply your knowledge where it was needed most, to offer help to those in dire circumstances.

—-----------------------------------------

"Damn," Sihtric muttered under his breath as he withdrew his knife from the lifeless body, observing as it slowly slumped to the ground.

Wincing at the unusual ache that prodded at his consciousness, Sihtric instinctively reached for his right side, as though attempting to locate the source of the unpleasant, slightly burning sensation that was steadily intensifying. Something sticky and warm trickled through his fingers, prompting Sihtric to extend his hand for a closer look, his vision blurring as the burning sensation in his side abruptly erupted into a sharp, overwhelming pain.

Blood. So much blood. It dripped from his fingers and streamed down his arm. With a forceful grunt, he pressed his hand against the area where the pain was most intense, as if attempting to quell it, and leaned heavily against the wall.

He had carefully avoided all the quarrels and brawls in the city, but this time there hadn't been any other option; the robust, black-haired warrior with a scar marrying his left cheek had recognized him and attacked in rage without a single word of warning. 

Gasping for breath, Sihtric tightened his grip around the hilt of his knife as the world around him began to blur slowly.

"No, no, no... come on... get a hold of yourself," Sihtric muttered under his breath, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his vision.

With a resounding groan, he straightened and forced himself to move forward. Each step sent waves of pain through his body, nearly causing him to double over. Gritting his teeth, he continued to stumble through the deserted, narrow streets of Beamfleot, using the wooden walls of houses to support himself.

Where to? He was alone here, without a clan, without friends or a leader. There was no one who would be willing to help him. It wasn't a conscious decision, but rather a pure instinct that guided him toward a small house standing apart from the others, nestled under an ancient oak tree with its imposing wooden arms stretched protectively overhead. Some distant memory in his pain-addled mind had led him to choose this small house as his last refuge.

Shivering, cold sweat covering his forehead, Sihtric pressed on, forcing his trembling limbs to take another step and then another until there was no wall left to lean on.

"Come on, just one more step... You can do it, you're almost there," a loud groan escaped Sihtric's lips as his knees and hands collided with the unforgivingly hard ground. He lay there for a moment, still, listening to his laboured breaths and feeling his heart racing in his chest. He was too close to give up now. He wriggled back to his feet, took a few steps, slipped and fell again, his hands and knees bruised and aching. The small house loomed just before him, just a few strides away. Stretching out his arm, he dug his fingers into the muddy earth, his nails breaking against some hidden stones in the trampled ground as he forced himself back on his feet again.

Sihtric had always imagined that death would come swiftly, like a clean cut from a sharp blade. But now, it felt more like falling asleep after a long, exhausting day, with everything around him dissolving into a soft mist.  He had fallen again and his strength was slowly waning, as with one last effort, he propped himself up on his elbows and crawled the final few steps to reach the door.

—--------------------------------------------------

It was late, nearly midnight by the moon's position in the sky, and the fire in the hearth was on the verge of dying out. You added more wood to the fire and watched as the flames danced and licked at the fresh fuel, gradually regaining their strenght. Sleep was a luxury you couldn't afford at the moment. The ointment for treating wounds was running dangerously low, and it was just the right time to prepare the fever-reducing potion, it was a new moon - the perfect timing to achieve its best effect.

Your eyes roamed around the spacious room, taking in the herbs hanging on lines along the walls, then returned to the mugs, flasks, and pounders scattered across the table before you. This place had once belonged to a local healer who had fled as the Danes drew near. Being Sigefrid's personal seer had its advantages, as no one had dared to challenge your declaration of this house as your own. 

A peculiar sound at the door jolted you from your thoughts, instantly commanding your attention. It wasn't a customary knock, but rather a feeble scratching. Instinctively, your hand sought the dagger hanging from your waist. With a gentle but purposeful motion, you retrieved the small yet potent weapon, a faithful companion that had saved your life on more than one occasion. Cautiously, you approached the door and swung it open.

"What in the world..." you exclaimed, taken aback as your gaze fell upon the grimy, hunched figure of a young man—a Dane. He gasped for breath, his body trembling violently, his right hand pressed to his side, and blood seeping through his fingers. His face contorted with pain, his large, expressive eyes silently begging for help.

By the way his eyes periodically rolled back, it was evident that he was on the brink of losing consciousness.

"Hey, look at me." Kneeling down beside the young warrior, you firmly gripped his chin, locking your gaze with his. And then, in a sudden rush of recognition, you realised who he was—your sweet and bashful admirer, the young warrior, the very spy sent by Uhtred.

"You're going to be alright. You're in the right place. I will help you. Do you hear me? You are safe here," you assured him as he struggled to catch his breath. The Dane nodded, sucking for breath in short, shallow intervals.

"I need you to stay awake. Can you do it for me?" The young man's eyes began to roll back again. "No, no, no, stay with me, look at me," you hissed in frustration and pressed your finger onto the wound in his side. The Dane cried out, but his gaze cleared.

"What's your name?" you asked, not because you needed his name, but because you needed his focus.

"Sihtric," came a barely audible whisper from his lips.

"I'm sorry, Sihtric, but I need you to stay awake and make one last effort. I need you to summon all your strength and help me get you on your feet. Come on, I know you can do it. You are strong," you said, placing his left arm around your neck and wrapping yours around his waist. As you pulled, you didn't expect his lean body to be so heavy, but to your relief, he still had enough strength to follow your lead. With a loud groan, he managed to rise to his feet. 

"Good, you're doing very well. The hardest part is behind us now. Just a few more steps to that table over there. Can you see it? You can lean on me. I won't let you down, I promise. But you have to find the strength to move your legs. I can't carry you," you reassured him, tightening your grip on his waist as you both took a step towards the table. You could feel his body trembling from the effort, leaning heavily on you, his breaths growing even more uneven and sharp. However, he managed to stumble in the right direction.

"Good, just one more step, and we're there," you kept talking, trying to maintain his focus. And then, you reached the table, allowing him to slump down. You supported his head as it slowly descended onto the hard surface and quickly lifted his legs, placing them on the table.

"This is going to be a long night," you murmured to yourself, your hands already in motion as you hastily gathered your supplies and placed the kettle filled with water over the flames of the hearth.

Your experienced fingers deftly unfastened the belt, untied the laces, and carefully removed the armbands. Eventually, everything was loose enough to pull the thick and heavy armour from the young Dane's body. Cutting away the blood-soaked linen shirt that clung tightly to the wound, you gasped in astonishment as your gaze traced the well-built, muscular frame of the injured warrior, wincing in pain on your table.

His body was marked with scars. You recognized each one, having treated them countless times before, but it was rare to see so many of them in one place. There were the short, deep scars left by knives, the long, straight ones undoubtedly from a whip, some uneven burns, healed sword cuts, and a few from axes, identifiable by the deeper cuts in the centre that gradually faded at both ends. Each scar had a different colour, with some older ones slowly fading away and others more recent.

He was so young; you would wager he hadn't seen more than nineteen or maybe twenty summers. Yet, his body was like an open book to your skilled eyes, recounting a long tale of torment and pain. Too long for his young age.

"Drink this," you gently lifted his head and brought a small mug to his lips. "It will dull the pain."

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

[sophie1973]

Seven Sentence Sunday

I was tagged this week by @onthewaytosomewhere and @whoevenknows-things (tagging you back, lovelies)

So this is probably the last snippet I will share for Bloodstream, since we are reaching the end of the line * and if all goes well, the last chapter (and the epilogue) will be posted by next weekend.

*yes, this is a Stucky reference.

Snippet and tags under the cut :)

He pauses, looking earnestly into Henry's eyes. “And since you and I started…this,” he says, gesturing between them, “I came to realize something important. I want what they have—a love that endures any challenge, a happiness that stands the test of time. Henry, I've existed for one hundred and sixteen years, feeling like something was missing. Until I met you. But I can’t do casual with you. I want the kind of love June and Nora have. And I want it with you. I will not settle for anything less.” It takes Henry a few seconds to process the words before an overwhelming wave of relief washes through him, and he bites back a sob. “Oh my fucking Christ,” he mutters, putting his face in his hand, and he misses as worry replaces hope on Alex’s face.  “I know we avoided labeling this thing between us, and ok, I might have been coming on a bit too strong with my big declaration, but-”  “No, Alex, that’s not…I thought you were ending things with me.” “What? No! I just told you the exact opposite. I love you, you British nitwit.” Henry lets out a half laugh, half-sob, and since he doesn’t seem to be able to form a sentence, Alex continues. “Listen, if you don’t feel the same way, it’s perfectly understandable, and I’m not going to deny I will be extremely devastated but-” “Alex, shut the bloody hell up. Please.” Alex’s eyes widen, and Henry takes a deep breath, focusing on his handsome face. “The last few years have been…complicated, to say the least, and I often wondered what was the purpose of it all, and then…Alex, being with you feels like the only thing that makes sense in this insane world.”

Oh look, those two idiots are finally figuring things out.

Tagging with no pressure : @stellarmeadow @iboatedhere

@fullerthanskippy @firenati0n @bitbybitwrites @tailsbeth-writes

@piratefalls @theprinceandagcd @blueeyedgrlwrites

@thesleepyskipper @tintagel-or-cockleshells @taste-thewaste

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| When Girls Telephone Boys ||

Fratt x female reader

Tags/warnings: E 18+ some phone fun while your two favourite guys are working away. Oral (m rec), Bukkake 😁

When he answers your call, hearing Frank's voice always fills you with a warm contentment.

"Hey sweetheart, everythin' alright?"

You smile widens, forever grateful that he always checks in on you.

"Yeah I'm doing fine, just really missing you both. What're you up to?" You ask, the probing, not-so-innocent curiosity dripping from your tone.

"Ah, nothin' much. At a motel for the night, just out the shower."

It's as if he does it on purpose, you're unable to stop your mind conjuring up the image of Frank wet and naked.

"Are you together?"

Matt's laying on the bed in just sweatpants. His fingers twitch when he hears your question over the receiver.

"Yeah." comes Frank's short reply.

"Good. Put me on speaker?"

Frank snorts out a little laugh. "Sure thing darlin'."

"Hi Matty." You call out to him.

The corners of Matt's lips pull up when he detects the layer of mischief there even within your simple greeting.

"Hi sweetie, what can we do for you?"

You hum with a little sense of satisfaction, knowing this was heading in exactly the direction you had hoped. "Just wanted to help you and Frankie relax after your hard night. That's all."

"Mm I see. Well yeah, that would be nice. We miss you honey, wish you were here."

"Oh I know." You pause for a few seconds.

Matt reaches out from the edge of the bed hooking his fingers in the rolled edge of the towel that Frank has wrapped low around his hips and pulls him in between his spread legs, the towel loosening and falling down to puddle on the floor. The taut skin of his stomach is still glistening with droplets of water that gather on Matt's fingers as he trails them down.

"So is he naked?"

You hum, considering the almost endless possibilities.

"Yep."

"On your knees for me Matty."

"Of course."

Frank's eyebrow quirks up and a slow smile spreads across his lips as Matt quickly gets up, switches places with him and sinks down to the floor like he was just waiting for the excuse. Frank places the phone down on the edge of the bed.

His hand cups Matt's jaw and he nuzzles into it. "He always looks so good on his knees, don't he, baby?" Frank notes. His cock bobs before him, the evidence of anticipation there in a perfect clear bead of precum leaking from his slit.

"Go on Matt, I want to hear him make all those pretty noises I like."

Matt wets his lips.

Frank groans in response and closes his eyes as Matt's tongue languidly laps over him, tasting him as he takes him into the soft, wet warmth of his talented mouth.

"Mhnh, shit…"

"You doing okay there, Frank?" You ask, a smile in your voice.

Matt kisses at his shaft, runs his tongue all the way along the prominent vein on the underside, swirling his tongue around his head as he curls his fingers around the base of him and starts jerking him off.

Frank responds with a chuckle that turns into a long, low groan as Matt takes one of his balls into his mouth and sucks.

"Fuck me devil-boy, you know every god damn thing I like, don't ya?"

Matt gives him a quick grin as he pulls off, before sealing his lips back around the swollen head of Frank's thick cock again and sucking him with fervour. He can hear the thumping beat of Frank's pulse loud in his ears and it goads him on.

Frank knows he's not gonna last long if Matt keeps this shit up, he feels too good, looks too fuckin' good. You can hear the strain in his voice as he tells you he's close and asks what you want him to do.

"Paint me a pretty picture, Frankie."

Frank groans, quickly pulling his dick out of Matt's mouth and wrapping his own fist around it, jacking himself off.

"Close your eyes sweetheart," he says, and Matt obeys, tilting his face up towards him and shutting his eyelids just in time.

"Hnngh- oh fuck, fuck!" Frank gasps as he comes, striping thick white lines of his release over Matt's face. It's dripping down the side of his nose, over his parted lips, and down his chin onto his chest which rises and falls with his own clipped breathy moans as he spills over his own fist.

Frank laughs breathlessly as he comes down. "Stay there." He tells Matt, and you hear the rustling as he picks the phone up from the bed, then the electronic 'click' of the camera app.

"Alright, there ya go."

A few moments later your own phone dings with a notification, and you open the picture Frank had sent you. Matt looks gorgeous. A completely fucked out mess, but so pleased with himself. His hair's thoroughly disheveled, some strands hanging over his forehead, cheeks flushed and red, and tongue caught mid-swipe licking over his lips as Frank had snapped him.

"Oh you boys, now I'm never gonna be able to sleep tonight! Thank you for that."

Frank squeezes the last few drops of come from the end of his cock, flicking them right on Matt's waiting tongue.

"Mmm. You're welcome sweetie," Matt calls, "can't wait till we're back home."

Tags (please let me know if you want added or removed, I will probably make a fratt taglist!): @peterman-spideyparker @pastafossa @mattmurdocksscars @mattmurdockspainkink @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass @briefcasejuice @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @imperfxctly-me @murnsondock @stupidthoughtsinwriting @m0nster-fvcker @creatingjana @echos-muses @lazyxsquirrel

@divinearchangel @saintmurd0ck @castlesnchurches @mindidjarin @hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @chvoswxtch

@father4giveme @stress--relief @e-dubbc11 @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @marvelswh0re @feelmyskinonyourskin @honeyedheartss @evilbubu @nkeiiin @anna-hawk @frankcastlescumslut @reborn-rekall @chellestrash

[cockneydio]

I especially find it funny when the person who made snide remarks about your detailed hc (which is refreshingly outside of the norm) has a reblogged post regarding this very thing: someone's hc is widely agreed upon and the second someone has a difference of opinion, they are jumped on and that's not cool. It's widely accepted that Giorno is a Hero(TM) and honestly, that's great, I love that for him. But to see someone embrace (possible) darker parts of him? I don't see an issue with that. (1/2)

Then just discuss. Don't go into someone's blog and find reasons for "gotcha." I've seen that person's posts in the tags from time to time and I might not agree with them, but they strike me as a true JoJo fan with good and honest insight. You're not contributing positively by trying to shit talk them on anon to me. You score no points with me or anyone else that way.

Anyway. There's a difference between literary analysis and headcanons. These meta posts aren't stuff I just make up or believe for no reason, like the random shitposts I make about how Bruno decided upon his stupid stupid absolutely incomprehensibly stupid hair and clothes, or how people have ideas about gender/sexuality/race/etc. or characters' backstories that fill gaps not covered in the text. I'm doing a critical read and making arguments based on my interpretation of evidence in the canon. That's all. It's basically an 11th grade Lit essay for fun and I'm the first to admit it's exactly as asinine for me to do that as it is to draw pictures of these characters and make up my own stories about them. It's fandom.

I appreciate your willingness to hear ideas that run counter to your take on Giorno. But my meta has nothing to do with embracing "possible" "darker" aspects of Giorno's character. Because I'm not making value judgments about whether what Giorno does is right or wrong, good or bad. That sort of conclusion is of little interest to me, except to say that the read of Giorno as a Hero, versus simply a Protagonist (or, I would argue, a deutoragonist secondary to Bucciarati but that's another post) is misguided. If for no other reason (and there are others but again, another post) than there is a pile of bodies at his feet when he ascends the throne, including innocents, all for a contextually less critical goal than stopping a serial killer or vampire brigade or Pillar Man shenanigans. And anyone who ignores that because they like the character is being disingenuous at best.

I like it when stories work well, when authors make smart choices and layer complex themes into the narrative, like Araki does with the entire JJBA series. I love Giorno Giovanna as a character because he gives me all this material to ponder. And I spend my time in fandom talking about that stuff. It'd be nice if other ppl, reading my meta, understood that's what I'm doing, not attacking their faves, and by and large I'd say they do.

[harringtons-cupid]

Mary - Eddie Munson X Reader:

Word count: 3.4k

Warning: 18+

Praise kink, skin touching, kissing. Oral sex, oral fixation. Love bites, love/hate relationship. Use of the word 'Mary' as a biblical reference. Student/teacher/tutor.

Work is proof read.

Tagged list:

@fvk0fff @oo0lady-mad0oo @jonathansonlysweetheart @xbreezymeadowsx @gttrgrrl @thatonebackgroundcharacter

[Feedback/reblogs are extremely meaningful. Please support your content creators]

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You had been lusting over Eddie Munson since that one tutor session in 1985. He didn’t listen to you then and he didn’t listen to you now.

He raised his eyebrows with a smirk every time he saw you. Insisting on calling you ‘Mary’

He irritated you, the way he spat after every drag of his cigarette.

The way he stared at your fake cross dangling down your neck, his fingers were still imprinted from that one tutor session.

You had changed from trousers to skirts in the pathetic hope he’d notice you. Almost mimicking the appeal of those girls that you’d seen him with, he insulted you on this.

This autumn day, you had been called into the principal's office. Sighing you pushed open the glass door, to your surprise a brown curly haired boy had his back to you. Your breath hitched as he turned around, grinning in your direction. The dim lighting bounced off his head as the sun faded, you were captivated by those beautiful brown orbs once again.

“Hello Mary” you felt yourself freeze at the sound of his voice, it sounded soft in your ears. Drowning out the principal's voice as you stumbled towards the empty chair next to him.

He was smirking as you perched yourself awkwardly next to him, the strong scent of weed and male aftershave wafted up your nostrils. Clearing your throat as your hands were placed uncomfortably underneath your thighs, his eyes burnt into the side of your face as you tried your hardest to focus on the principal.

“I see you have met Eddie Munson?” The principal's voice was cold, lifting you out the dazed slumber.

You had met Eddie Munson, the boy you had been dreaming about for over a year. The boy who winked at you every time he saw you. The boy who insulted your new dress sense.

The rude obnoxious boy had you quivering to your knees.

Uh, yes I have” you stuttered, your eyes found his. They were dark and stormy, a glint of amusement floated to the surface as his eyes searched yours.

“Well that makes it easier for us all then, as you know you are the smartest person in this school. All A’s across the board” he paused, you glanced at Eddie who smirked. Indicating you were a goody two shoes, blushing you turned to face the principal once more. 

Eddie’s fingers traced the remainder of the chair closest to your skirt, you gasped edging to the furthest part of the chair. Not realising there wasn’t any, your body fell quickly onto the floor. 

Winding yourself lightly, Eddie peered down with that menacing smirk. You scowled at him, embarrassed you climbed back onto the chair. Smoothing out your skirt, as the principal's eyebrows knitted together with confusion before continuing. 

Your thighs were glued tightly shut as your hands burnt into the plastic chair, sitting furthest away from Eddie. His arm was leaning across yours, his back was still firmly imprinted into the back of the chair. He was gazing between you and the principal, bored at the conversation already he stood up. 

“Can we leave now? We get it, she’s going to be tutoring me” your stomach flipped as he addressed you. Your eyes gazed up at him as he towered over you, that glint of amusement appeared in his eyes once more. 

The principal sighed exasperated and nodded, Eddie picked your bag up from beside you. 

“Come on, little one” his voice disappearing into a whisper as he breathed the last part into your ear. You shook at the feel of him being so close to you, your eyes still gazing up at him. You nodded, not saying a word as he led you out of the room. 

Still carrying your bag as you rushed to catch up with him, almost wanting to whine and try to jump for your bag but you decided not to. Not wanting him to know how weak you are. If he didn’t guess that already. 

Making your way to his van, he swung the door open chucking your bag into the passenger seat. Turning to face you, his eyes were dark and stormy, not filled with amusement. 

‘’Get in’’ he growled at you, his arms crossed watching as you scurried into the van. Shutting the door behind you, he made his way into the van. 

Not wanting to admit it, but he slightly scared you. He was tall, mysterious and intimidating and you fell for him every time. 

His hand grazed your thigh as he changed gears, glancing at you slightly before placing one arm behind him and reversing the van. His eyes only shifted slightly to look out the window before they were focused back on you. Your cheeks were flushed red, your breathing was heavy at his gaze. 

He drove until he pulled over, parking up at Lovers Lake. Gasping you watched him walk round the car, roughly opening the door and extending his hand to you. His gaze was on the water in front of you both, as you slipped in the mud crashing into him. Your cheeks flushed a maroon colour as embarrassment crowded your thoughts.

‘’Clumsy, aren’t we’’ his hand was still firmly locked into yours, his eyes were filled with amusement once more as a smirk curled at the end of his lips. 

It seemed that he enjoyed your embarrassment, getting a kick out of it. Feeling frustrated, you pushed past him and walked angrily towards the lake. 

“Hey what’s the matter with you” he spat, annoyed at being knocked backwards by you. 

Chasing after you, your blood boiled with anger. He was always picking on you in the corridors, sneering at you as he walked past. That nickname ‘Mary’ made your skin crawl, the idea of it sent uncomfortable shivers down your spine. 

“I asked you a question” his voice was stern and closer to you now, his hand firmly on your shoulder forcing you to face him. 

Shooting him a sour look, your lip curled at him. You disliked him, no, hated him, you hated him. 

His eyes burning into you, he looked angry. His fingers digging deeply into your shoulder, hurting you. 

“I hate you” it came out of your mouth so quickly that it burnt you, as you saw the bewildered look in his eyes. 

A smirk appeared on his face, placing both his hands on your shoulders forcing you to look into his eyes. 

“Want to repeat that, little one” his hand twirled the fabric of your cardigan, meeting your skin. You stuttered as his fingers explored underneath your cardigan, unable to muster up the words to speak. 

“You hate me?” Still smirking, his fingers traced the skin of your neck before they sat comfortably under your chin. Making you gasp as he brought your faces closer together. 

“Uh— yeah—“ you still couldn’t say the word again, melting completely in his touch. He knew this as he stared into your eyes. 

“Well since you feel that way, let’s go” instantly dropping you from his grasp, heading towards the van. 

Your eyes stung as tears finally slid down your cheeks, hurting yourself with your words. He turned to face you, a scowl was staring through you. Your breath was hitched as you felt yourself cry softly, walking towards him. 

You didn’t truly hate him. 

You couldn’t 

This man standing in front of you had you wrapped around his finger and he knew this. 

‘’Let’s get you home’’ his voice was soft as he walked with you closer to the van, wiping the excess tears that stained your skin. Locking eyes with him, you saw worry flood his body as he lifted you up into the van. 

He looked at you once before walking round to the van, sitting in silence as he drove you back. You felt embarrassed for breaking down in front him, fidgeting with the cuff of your cardigan his hand reached down and touched your thigh. 

‘’I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable’’ he cleared his throat, lifting his hand off your thigh. A cold gust of wind rushed to where it once was. 

‘’For the record, I don’t hate you but I hate being called Mary’’ your voice squeaked quietly as you finally spoke to him. He looked softly at you, listening to you. 

He focused on you even after he parked outside your house, his hand grabbed you as you turned to leave the van. Your lips crashed into his, shocked your breath shuddered against him. It lasted for a few seconds before he pushed you away, looking at you with a look of lust but confusion. 

He went to kiss you but instead your lips grazed together. Making you want him more,still feeling embarrassed for letting him see you cry lightly

‘’See you later Mary’’ he smirked, calling out between the gap in the door, catching your eye and shooting you a wink. 

Wanting to take back the words even more as you watched him drive off with a scowl on your face. The name ‘Mary’ sent shivers through you. 

You thought about him for the rest of the evening, the feeling of his lips against yours. Wondering why he did that, secretly hoping that there was a purpose. Your lips shuddered as you touched where his lips had been, not wanting to taint it even more. 

The next day you felt nervous about seeing him, you had been requested at the reception desk the moment you set foot inside. Sighing wandered through the empty school, you were always early, another thing that Eddie noticed. 

 Entering the bright white reception room, your eyes scanned the room until they found the curly haired boy slumped in the corner. His eyes were closed with his head buried into his arms, still asleep. 

Rolling your eyes you perched yourself on the spare chair next to him, the sound of your body hitting the chair made him jump. You giggled at his reaction, missing his glance as you stared at the clock. He smiled lightly in your direction before closing his eyes again. 

He didn’t move until the Principal's booming voice called you both inside, he grunted and slowly followed behind you. Slumping into the chair next to you, his arms tightly folded as he stared emotionless ahead. 

You sat perked up, enjoying the mornings and enjoying school. The learning part, not the social part. You listened to the rough timetable set out by the Principal, Eddie’s attention had been drawn to the noise outside not listening to anything that was said. 

After the meeting ended you watched as Eddie fled out the door before you, your heart sunk at the idea of not speaking to him until after school. The door shut behind you, the corridor was empty as you stood there. Eddie’s body popped out from round the corner, making you squeal with fright. He laughed loudly, his head tipping back as he winked at you. 

‘’Meet you after school, Mary’’ his voice trailed down the hallway, still amused by you as he disappeared round the corner. Leaving you alone once more. 

Feeling irritated at him, you sighed and walked in the opposite direction towards your first class.

The day went by in an anxious whirlwind, Eddie appeared in your mind whilst you were intently writing. It naused you, the inadequate feelings of not being in control when it came to him. 

You slowly walked out of class at the last bell, hoping time would pass you by and you wouldn’t have to see him. 

He was standing against the wall, his leg was holding him up as he dragged on a cigarette. His friends were crowded around him, leaving just enough of a gap for his eyes to meet yours. 

A smirk was pinching his skin as he finished his cigarette, spitting on the floor as he stubbed it out. Saying his goodbyes, you heard the dreaded word ‘Mary’ trailing away as he walked towards you. 

‘’Hey Mary’’ there it was again, that word. It made your skin crawl, watching as he walked closer and closer. You were standing in between the wall and his van, the tension made you whimper quietly. 

His body brushed past you closely, his breath hit the back of your neck. Your eyes followed him as he opened his van, your body froze still getting over the feel of his breath. 

‘’You coming?’’ he turned to face you, his head was tilting towards the van. His eyes were soft as they examined you. 

‘’Yeah--’’ you blinked heavily before slowly walking towards the van. His eyes followed you round as you clambered inside, patiently waiting for him. Kicking your legs against the chair, your skirt was riding against the leather. 

 ‘’Are you a good girl? Waiting there for me?’’ His voice was dark and husky as he started the van, his eyes were dreamy and leering. 

Stuttering, you felt yourself melt into the seat. Your underwear suddenly damp at his words, all you could do was nod and peer at him innocently. Watching as he bit his lip at the sight of you. 

You directed him to your house, your eyes stared ahead at the road in front you. The feeling of him looking at you made you feel hot and wet. You had never got out the car quick enough in your life, the unknowing tension of his eyes on you drove you crazy. You didn’t want to be one of his ‘subjects’, you knew from rumours around school that he liked the idea of taking a girl’s virginity like some kind of mission. 

Scrambling to get your keys into the lock as you heard his footsteps, you felt nervous and hot as his body hovered behind you. Your breath became heavy and hot as his hand touched yours, you pushed your body closer to the door gasping at the release of it. You both toppled inside, his body falling on you with an ‘oof’. Your cheeks flushed red, your faces inches apart. His breath was hitting your face, your lips were dry and aching for his touch. 

His mouth edged closer to your cheek, kissing your cheek. You quivered as his tongue licked your skin, a moan escaped your mouth. Your eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment, hoping he hadn’t heard you. 

He had. 

Leering at you, as he nibbled on your ear. Another moan escaped your mouth, your eyes still tightly closed as the embarrassment got stronger. 

‘’I know you like me’’ he blew on your ear, watching you melt on the floor. Squirming at the sensation, your underwear was even damper. 

‘’Oh?’’ you uttered as his lips made their way to your neck, sloppily your skin. 

‘’Yes, I see you looking at me’’ his voice was muffled as he began to suck on the skin. 

‘’Well-- I have seen you looking at me’’ your voice began high pitched as he sucked harder on your neck. 

‘’I have been, Mary’’ he whispered into your neck, your blood boiling at that word. Beginning to wiggle underneath him in annoyance. 

‘’I told you that I hate being called Mary, and Eddie we need to study’’ you spat, shooting him a dirty look. 

He rolled his eyes, sighing, getting up from on top of you. Extending his arm out to lift you up, your bodies crashing into each other again. Winding you, his scent making you feel dizzy as he held you close. His fingers placed firmly under your chin lifting you up to look at him, quivering as you stared into his eyes. 

‘’Eddie--’’ you whined. 

Before you knew it his lips were firmly against his, moans escaped your mouth as you fumbled against his lips. Unsure whether you were doing it right, never having kissed anyone before. You had dreamt about this moment for a year and as his hands gripped your cheeks, pushing you further onto his lips. 

His lips were wet and rough, moaning quietly against yours. You were putty in his hand, he was pushing you closer to the stairs. Falling down, your back uncomfortably arched against the carpet as his hands explored your body. 

‘’I have thought about you’’ his hands were trailing up your thighs, listening to you shiver as they reached your underwear. 

‘’You have?’’ Letting out a squeak as his hand stroked your clit. 

‘’Very much, Mary’’ he moaned into your neck. Mumbling ‘fuck’ as he felt the wetness around your clit. 

The idea of tutoring Eddie had disappeared as his hands fumbled on the lace at the top of your underwear, hooking his fingers under the material touching your skin. Pulling it down, exposing your dripping pussy to him. He moaned instantly, fighting the urge to bury his face deeply between your thighs. 

‘’God you have such a pretty pussy’’ groaning, he kissed your thighs and just above your clit. Watching you quiver on the stairs, your arms holding tightly around his neck. 

His tongue was hovering over your clit as his eyes met yours, dark and intense as he suddenly buried his head. His tongue finally meeting your clit, you exclaimed loudly your head fall back onto the soft carpet as he ran circles around you. Your fingernails digging into his skin as his lips took your clit between them, sucking on it lightly before slowly increasing until you moaned loudly, your eyes rolling back. 

Continuing to suck on your clit until it was red and throbbing, whining and shaking underneath him. He lifted his head up and brushed your lips together, tasting your wetness on his tongue. His body firmly pressed against yours, your hands tangling themselves in his hair. 

“Come on little one. You gotta teach me now” his breath was hot against your skin, your clit was still exposed to the air as it throbbed. 

You whimpered and bucked your hips  towards him, biting your lip. You felt pathetic as your eyes glazed over, needing to be touched more by him. 

He pulled your skirt back down, his rings hitting your thighs causing you to twitch. His eyes were full of desire and lust as they dug into your skin. 

“If you’re good for me, I will reward you for being such a good teacher” he smirked at you, his voice was raspy and gruff as his hands traced your skin. 

Looping his fingers between yours and lifting you up, you felt dizzy and hot. His tongue was still imprinted on your clit as your body found its way to him again. His fingers on your chin, look down at you with a cheeky grin. 

Reluctantly, you led him into your dining room. A small cosy room, with dark brown furniture and a big open window. Light streamed in through the curtains as you sat side by side, presenting him your textbooks as he threw out his scrawled additions. 

His hand fell down onto your thigh, tracing your skin as you worked through the textbooks given by your teachers. Unable to focus after an hour of repeatively explaining it to Eddie. 

“Are you listening Eddie?” Exasperated, you scowled at him. 

“Of course Mary” his lips curled as he smirked at you. 

Rolling your eyes, you knew he wasn’t. It had happened last time you tutored him, he left early that day as a girl turned up to his house. Irritating you profusely, today he sat with his hand on your thighs throughout the whole session.

Your legs were getting wetter and wetter by the touch, you moved away from him in annoyance. 

“Eddie, I’ll cut you a deal. If you complete this first bit of the textbook, you can have whatever you want afterwards” your eyes met his, a suggestive glint flickered as he buried his head deeper into the book. 

“Good boy” you whispered into his ear, unbeknownst to you. His dick twitched at your praise. 

He struggled to walk through the textbook, sighing exasperatingly. Scribbling roughly on the papers, in anger he picked the book up and threw it on the floor. Standing up, he placed a cigarette in his mouth and walked out to your front lawn. 

Waiting a few moments before following him, he looked hot standing against your wall. Smoke billowing out his mouth. 

“You okay?” You peered out the door, he rolled his eyes. Staring up at the sky above, you walked out and stood next to him. 

“I think I should go soon” he broke the silence, finishing his cigarette. His eyes staring into you, wanting you to tell him to stay. 

Not waiting for a reply, he pushed past you. Grabbing his stuff and meeting you back outside, his hand stroked your skin as he slowly walked away from you. 

“I’ll catch you later Mary” he winked at you, you stood there with your arms crossed as he got in his van. 

[cozyenigma]

Among the Stars

This one turned out pretty cute!

Word Count- 775

Request?- Yes!

Summary- You liked to think you were close to your crew. Well, close as a captain should be anyway. You were responsible for their well-being and you were determined to see it done right. Two of your crew though hoped for a something a bit more personal.

Tag List- @cookielover0001010​ , @swag-droid , @watchoutforfrostbite​

Warnings- None

"Captain, you're going to catch a chill like that."

The light scolding was accompanied by something warm settling over your shoulders. You blinked, looking up from the display to see Celci, putting a coat on you.

"Huh? Celcion-"

"Just Celci, please, captain," she makes a face as she says it, "the only person who calls me Celcionna is my grandma."

"Right..."

You were still left confused as she reached down, taking your wrist and maneuvering your arm into the sleeve. Despite her hand being gloved she was surprisingly warm.

"Where did you even get this?" You asked, knowing better than to try and argue you're not actually all that cold.

The coat was more similar to hers than the standard issue ones she insisted everyone wear. It had soft, poofy fur around the collar. It was even in one of your favorite colors.

Celci merely shrugs, stepping away and putting her hands behind her back.

"Just something I picked up on the last station," she smiled, "better than those flimsy uniforms anyway, right? Do you like it?"

It was much better. You very much doubted it was something you could just pick up off the rack. It was definitely something you shouldn't accept as the captain but...

You nodded, feeling warm all the way up to your cheeks.

Celci brightened, the same sort of gleam in her eye as when she talked about the intricacies of the cryo system.

"Say Captain, I was thinking-"

Whatever she was going to say next was drowned out by the hiss of the door sliding open. The both of you jumped as your head engineer rolled in.

"Oh, there you are, captain!" He gave you a winning smile that immediately soured as soon as he saw who you were with.

"Something break again?" Celci asked, following him with narrowed eyes.

Mark raised a hand, vicious denial with pointing included at the ready, when he paused. Frozen, glancing between you and her.

"No!" He snapped back a bit too loudly. "I was just- wanting to give the captain some updates. My ship is called the Invincible for a reason."

She rolled her eyes, correcting, "Invincible two."

"Alright!"

You're not given much chance to ask any questions before Mark had you by the wrist, dragging you out of cryo. His hand was warm too. Instead of Celci's smooth, soft gloves, his were worn down. And from the feel of it he'd been elbow deep in the bowels of the ship just recently.

"What kind of updates did you have for me?" You asked, concentrating on that as opposed to... everything else.

Mark jumped a bit, like he had forgotten, and you're abruptly tugged in a new direction. He shot you a sheepish grin.

"Well, not so much of an update in the traditional sense but," he drew the word out, pulling you along a bit faster.

The bridge was deserted. Displays shined back at you but their light was easily dwarfed by what was outside the window.

"Woah..."

The nebula before you wasn't one you were familiar with. It stretched as far as you could see across the inky black in a sea of purples, blues and pinks. Dotted with more stars than you could ever hope to count. In your career you'd seen plenty of space but it still managed to take your breath away.

"Thought it'd be a shame if I was the only one to see it."

When you turned to Make his eyes were on you instead. He looked back out the window quickly, hurrying to continue.

"See? I keep telling people that windows are a must have when you're in freaking space but does anybody believe me? No. You get it though captain."

You simply smiled and nodded, enjoying the moment. It was true that they weren't the most practical additions to a spaceship. Safety issues aside, it took a lot of effort to get materials that would stand up to the elements in space. But what was the point in travelling with your eyes closed?

"Thank you," you said, smiling a bit more at Mark's curious look, "for showing me. It's amazing."

He waved you off with a nervous little laugh, saying something about his duties and getting all embarrassed.

Holding your new coat a bit closer, you looked back out the window. You couldn't ask for a better crew. They strengthened your resolve to get everyone to their destination everyday. You made a mental note to pay both Mark and Celci back at some point. Maybe you could even be lucky enough to count them among your friends at the end of the journey.

[omgjumin]

what is mine - han jumin!

summary: this fic is based off of jumin's birthday special event 2019. for those who have not yet unlocked this special event, this scenario happens when jaehee asks jumin, “what kind of thoughts do you usually have during showers?”

tags: established relationship, fem! reader, possessive jumin, he wants to mark you as his :(, smut, shower sex

notes: oh, to be held by jumin in bed as we share sleepy kisses...

Jumin thought that the only thing that would come out of his mouth today was a series of “thank you”’s. It wasn’t bad of course, he had expected this since it was his birthday. The RFA members greeted him with many happy birthdays, his father greeted him with the same thing. Jumin has been reminded of many birthdays before this year spent with the RFA members. The way Yoosung set his office sprinklers on because he missed lighting the candles on the cake, setting multiple documents on fire. Zen had given Jumin a horrible gift. It was an alarm clock that had the recording of Zen’s voice. Supposedly to Zen, it was meant for his fans and not Jumin. Well, it’s not like Jumin cared because as soon as he had heard Zen’s voice waking him up one night, he asked one of his guards to lock it up where he could never find it. Jaehee made a self note to ask the security guard where the alarm clock was so she could have it for herself. Last year, everyone was chaotic on Jumin’s birthday. That is why Jumin settled for a chill birthday party. There is no way he would let the RFA gather up again together for his birthday. Instead, the RFA members got to ask Jumin a series of questions in the chatrooms and he would answer them.

Having a relaxed and relatively free morning, gave Jumin the opportunity to stay in bed with you. He didn’t stay in very long considering he still had to leave for the office later on in the day. Jumin held you in his arms all morning. He adored your sleeping figure. There is nothing he would not give up just for you to be in his arms all day. The way he looked at you was like a thousand cherry blossom flowers had bloomed right in front of his face. His lips attached themselves to your face. Small and soft kisses were placed on your forehead, cheeks, nose, neck and lips. They weren’t meant to wake you up but just actions to show his affections towards you in that moment. When he saw a little stirr in your sleep, he paused from kissing you. “I hope I didn’t wake you, my love.” Without opening your eyes and getting blinded by the sunlight that peaked through the windows, you smiled and shook your head. “I was bound to wake up now anyway.” Jumin smiled and left another kiss on your lips. “Good morning, Mrs Han.” He chuckled; it’s been a while since you two got married but he couldn’t help but keep calling you your married name. It gave him a sense of calm. He knew you were his and his only. You were his beloved wife that he cherished. He always needed to remind himself of that. “Good morning to you too, Mr Han.” The two of you stayed in bed for a while. As Jumin rolled your body to where you were on top of him, you wrapped your arms around his warm body, taking all of his available body heat. Jumin kept his arms around your back tying you down to the bed. Kisses were shared between you two. To Jumin, kissing you was addicting. His lips could not leave you. It was pitiful when he had to leave for work, but he knew as soon as he got home, you were there to greet him with a loving kiss and a tight hug.

“My love, I believe it’s time for me to shower and get ready.” You didn’t want to move. You ran your hands through Jumin’s black fluffy bed hair and brought your lips onto his. The kiss was sensual, you let your hands roam his body and soft sighs fill his mind. “Are you trying to make me stay in bed?” Jumin pulled away from your embrace and held your hands in his to prevent them from roaming even more. “Is it working?” Jumin nodded and laughed. “I have already stayed in bed with you enough. Although, I don’t think I can ever get enough time with you. But I need to get ready for my only meeting today.” You sighed as you let yourself fall out of Jumin’s arms as he got up. “I’ll be back before 4, my love. Don’t worry, the meeting won’t be that long.”

Right as Jumin had headed into the bathroom, a chat room had started. Jumin grabbed his phone from his pocket and entered. “Mr Han. Happy birthday to you.” Jaehee congratulated Jumin. “That is the 325th time I heard that today. And here is my 325th answer of the day. ‘Thank you’”. Jumin paused before setting down his phone while preparing his shower. “Here is a question. ‘I usually think about the embarrassing things I did before or fall deep into thoughts as I take a shower. What kind of thoughts do you usually have during showers?’ Jumin chuckled. He didn’t want to tell his assistant what his real thoughts were during a shower so he played a joke on her. “They are different every day… but recently.. I have started to concentrate on the water in order to practice dark magic for beginners. I draw water marks in the shape of footprints with my telekinetic power.” Jumin had let out a little laugh as Jaehee had questioned his answer. “That was a jest. However, I’m afraid that I cannot provide details on the thoughts that run through my mind as I shower. A vast majority of them are private.” Jaehee acknowledged his answer before Jumin continued. “To give you a hint…. I usually think about what is mine. My company, my pet and…. my spouse…. That would be it.” Jumin made a note and left the chat room.

Jumin removed his night clothes and stepped into the shower. As he let the water fall onto his skin, Jumin let his mind run through the thoughts he mentioned just a second before. His company… He had a meeting with a director from another company today. If the meeting went well, he could invite the director to the next RFA party they held. His pet… He got up earlier this morning and fed Elizabeth before crawling back in bed with you. His spouse… The way your hands roamed around his body, caressing each side of him. Your lips on his, breathing slowly as you made out with him in bed. Your lips never left his but when they did, they traveled to his cheek, down to his neck, nibbling up to his ear, sighing softly. In that moment, you wanted each other, you had each other. Not that Jumin noticed but his hands replicated the same movements as yours did. His hands slid over his body slowly rubbing against his skin. The soap he held in his hand dropped, letting the sound caused upon intact on the ground draw him from his thoughts. Jumin was already touching himself. No wonder he felt good. His eyes that were previously shut were now wide open. The hand that was sliding up and down on his throbbing cock had sped up. He wanted you instead. "Are you okay? I heard something fall and.." You opened the door from the bathroom hearing the soap bar falling down and wondered if Jumin was okay. After the soap had fallen, you had heard a spewing of whimpers and groans. You wondered if the soap had fallen onto his foot. But that was not the case.

"Oh…" You had let out a small chuckle. Luckily, he wasn't hurt but the situation you had found him in was more or less than surprising. Jumin, to your knowledge, had never touched himself when he was alone. He preferred you to touch him, to satisfy his needs as he did the same to you. Jumin would always return the favor if you had made him finish. Give and take is what he called it.

Curious as to what made Jumin begin stroking himself, you took a look at his unlocked phone. Jumin froze within the moment. He was caught off guard for sure however, it didn't stop him from feeling more needy. Something about the thrill of being caught by you was even more exciting. As you scrolled through his past messages, you grinned. "Jumin, what is it that you are thinking about right now?" You set down his phone and started undressing yourself. Jumin let out a little gasp as you stepped in the shower with him. "I am thinking about you." You tilted your head, a sign for him to continue with his thoughts. "Your hands roaming on my body, your lips attached to mine. Your moans, your sighs, your-" His thoughts were cut off as you removed his hand from his hard dick and replaced it with yours. "Go on, what else." You smiled, this was the only time you were in charge. Though Jumin could easily take control and put you into submission, he'd rather not. He was enjoying the sensation you brought upon him. As you slowly started moving your hand up and down his hard-on, moans were released from Jumin's mouth. "Mmm only you could make me feel this way. As you are mine, I am yours. You make me feel so good." With deep sighs, Jumin closed his eyes shut, focusing on the way you stroked him in your hand. As quietly as you can, you kneeled to the floor of the shower and kissed the tip of his head. Only after getting a reaction out of him, you took him in your mouth. His eyes remained shut only now focusing on staying steady. "Jumin, look at me." You sternly said. "Focus on me and how you feel."

Jumin opened his eyes to meet yours. Lips wrapped around his cock, your tongue swirling around the base. He felt like he was in heaven. The warmth of the water still pouring down on the two of you only added to the sensations he was feeling. You were so good. He wanted to kiss you to seal his moans but he couldn't then. Jumin rarely cursed during the most passionate times however now was an exception. "You are doing so well for me, fuck, don't stop…" A flow of sighs, moans, and curses were drawn from him. The kind of broken moans that sent a heat wave straight between your legs. You shut your legs closed, the slight friction that you had gotten from the sudden movement made you moan around his length. Oh, you wanted him so bad. His cock started twitching in your mouth, his legs began to shake, his breath was uneasy, you knew he was about to release. You wanted to hear him cum. The unsteady breaths Jumin was letting out, only sent more heat to your core. His stomach muscles were flexing from the pending orgasm he was holding. Jumin was reactive to your every move. It was torturous for him to keep straining his release. He couldn't restrain himself anymore. Giving him a wink and a kitten lick to his tip, he released himself onto you. His white fluids dripped onto your chest, only to be washed away by the water when you stood back up. Your eyes looked right into his as you rose to your feet. "I was worried if something had dropped onto your feet and it hurt you, however it looks like I was the one to drop to my feet." Jumin looked away, disregarding your joke made to him.

"It seems I'll be running late to my meeting today because I want to return the favor you gave me." Almost as if on cue, you jumped and wrapped your legs around Jumin's waist as he caught you. You smiled at him as you two looked at each other. "You are so beautiful. You are the only gift I want." Jumin pinned you against the shower walls and kissed you breathless. Jumin's tongue won over yours as he entered your mouth. He began sucking on your bottom lip, traveling down to your neck and shoulders. He sucked harshly leaving marks behind as he moved to another spot. You are his. These marks reminded you, him, and everyone else that would see them of that. That is what he thought about in the shower. How he could make marks on you.

He always tried to keep his possession over you to a minimum. He wasn't perfect, he never was. It was hard to keep it under control when you had come to the penthouse the first time. Now that you were married to him, this was the way he could remind himself that there was no one to take you away from him. "Mine." Jumin mumbled as he pushed his length into you. It was sudden but the pain wasn't there. You shouted his name as he began to thrust in you. Rambles of his name flew out your mouth, moaning when he had bit onto your shoulder. Your sex was trembling and clenching onto his throbbing cock inside of you. You felt so full yet you wanted more. His hands that were already keeping you steady on him traveled to your ass as he grabbed onto it. "Scream my name. I'm the one who can make you feel good." Jumin whispered into your ear. You were sensitive, all the simulations around you made you shiver from his breath near your ear. You screamed Jumin as you locked on him tighter. Your legs gripped onto his waist tightened as you came. The sweat and fluids you had released washed away by the shower still running. You looked down at the marks Jumin had left onto your chest then glanced back up at him. "So these are your shower thoughts? I should join you in the shower more often." Jumin chuckled before leaning in to give you a gentle kiss. "Unless it's after work, don't dare to. I will be late to work everyday with you in here with me." Jumin placed another kiss onto your forehead before washing the two of you up. He knew he was well beyond late for the meeting but he didn't mind. The more time spent with his wife on a special day, the better.

[prettyboykatsuki]

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later | m. izuku 

➳ tags ;; fluff, confessions, deku is smooth, kissing, fluff, fem!reader implied i think 

➳ wc ;; 2.4k (wtf) 

➳ a/n ;; brainrot...... 

➳ plot ;; izuku midoriya listens to you when you tell him to confess to you again later. he’s waited his whole life for you but he doesn’t know how much longer he can

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He thinks to himself often that it has to be you he’s been chasing all this time. 

This isn’t so much a revelation to him. It’s nothing like eureka moment, an aha that he uncovers after years of reflection. After all, he’s not the type to know what he really wants. 

Which is funny for many reasons but mostly because he’s a hero. He did want that, still does - but it wasn’t really an active choice. It wasn’t the desire to become a hero in terms of glamour and fame but a deep-seated knowing about the fact he had to become one. That the desire to save people above all else was rooted and deeply ingrained in him that there would never be anything that would fulfill him quite the same way. 

He finds it more often than not he’s acting out of pure instinct. Something carnal and perhaps other-worldly that pins him to the world in an almost divine way. All or nothing, there’s one way to approach existence and it’s with this unwavering desire to be kind. 

He’s always been that kind of person.

But, if he sat down and thought about it, the desire to be with you is perhaps one of his own. It’s one of the only things he’d chase to the ends of the earth. 

Izuku Midoriya has loved you since he was 14

The first time he ever confessed to you was when he was 15, about half way into his first year at U.A. It was outside of your apartment - your childhood home. He’d walk you there after his classes, when he caught you returning from your own. It was an awkward and clumsy teenage confession even then but he can remember the details clearly. 

It comes to him a series of images. Orange-yellow light that fell over your face, hairs sticking a little your head, trembling hands, ricocheting heartbeats, the sound of cars passing. He wasn’t very confident then, it makes him laugh thinking back at. But he told you anyways, bursting at the seams with his feelings. 

“I like you!” 

Your first reaction was shock immediately followed with a somber smile. Though he told you he had liked you, it was in the brief moment afterwards that he though there was more to it than that. He wouldn’t call it a rejection, but a wake-up call. You leaned in to kiss his cheek before whispering something back. 

“If you mean it,” ― you whisper, hand on his shoulder and eyes heavy ― “Tell me again later,” 

With that, you turned on your heel and went home. He wasn’t sure how to feel for a while, because it’s not like you said no. And you kissed him so that had to mean something.

Rather predictably after that, he became so caught up in hero work, it was only natural that you two grew distant. Once frequent conversations became words in passing, spoken quietly to each other. He went off to become a great hero, and you went off to study what you love. 

It was a natural occurrence - he knows this now. He wonders what kind of thinking you had to have been doing to know that at 15. The older he got, the more he thought about what you said. How the once vague mention of “later” became a narrow time-frame. Not a moment too soon and not a second too later. 

Izuku Midoriya has loved you all of 8 years. For most of them, it’s been a passive yearning. The emptiness of his bedframe and his disinterest. 8 years and he’s tried and failed to love other people. Maybe he was testing if later would ever come. 

He’s 22 and he thinks to himself that he’s been chasing the feeling of loving you this whole time. That adrenaline from when you kissed his cheek all those years ago, he wonders to himself if it’s still there

He’ll have to go find out

_ 

After a night-out, you are unfortunately sober on the walk home. Work dinners should have a general policy for how much someone can drink, you think. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to shovel your boss into a taxi and remain regrettably conscious through a series of uncomfortable or agitating questions. 

It wasn’t like he was invasive but he was.. annoying? And the fact you couldn’t sit through it by downing half a bottle of wine was a real shame . You’re so stone cold sober that your body shivers in the night air. Heels clacking against the pavement, eyes heavy and exhausted. You could endure it, you were finally going home after all. 

You’d take a warm bath and hit the hay. Your body yearned for your bed and you don’t blame it. You sigh to yourself, hands in coat pockets. 

“Just a little bit more,” ― you sigh, yawning and wiping your eyes ― “A little more and I’ll be...home?” 

You were home, the front door to your building. There was an ominous looking figure sitting on the front steps. Your first reaction was to reach into your pockets and grab your keys between your knuckles. Your heart stuttered as you broached slowly. It was too dark to see clearly but maybe he was nice. 

“Uhm.. excuse me, sir” 

When he turns his head - your first reaction is to flinch. You step back as he turns his head only to grow stiff. A pair of warm green eyes and head of forest green locks await seems to be staring back at you. He gives you a warm smile - standing on his feet. 

In a way, he’s unrecognizable to you. Though you see him all the time, Pro-Hero Deku making news, the image of him in your head is permanently small and frail. In front of you now, he’s grown up to be so big. A whole head taller than you and broad. He’s lean but clearly muscular. Intimidating in a sense. 

“Ah, you’re home,” ― he says, non-chalant. You’re trying to recall the last time you spoke to him, the last time you’d even seen him. Maybe a year ago now? ― “I wanted to talk to you,”

Your first though is to ask questions. You had so many of them though, you’re not sure where to start. You want to ask how he’s been, and how did he find you, and how’s work going. You want to ask why he’s here after all this time and if following his dreams has made him happy how he hoped. You want to ask if he remember what he said to you at 15 - wondering if he still gets caught up on it like you do. 

None of your words seem to string together right so you just shake your head a little, managing your disbelief. 

“About what?” you ask. He pauses for a second, rubbing his chin before smiling at you. 

“It’s later,”

Your eyes widen as he steps out of the way, using his hands to gesture towards your apartment. You blink at him but his smile is as cheeky as ever. Teasing and unusually handsome. You flush down to your neck before nodding. 

“Oh, uhm.. right. Okay,”―  you say, walking towards your complex doors ― “C-come on in,” 

_

“You can uh.. take your shoes off at the door,” ― you say, after taking your own heels off and rushing to the kitchen ― “The green slippers should fit you,” 

He nods as he watches you disappear to the kitchen. He takes in your apartment with a soft smile. Photos of you with your friends and family litter the entrance way. It’s filled with a soft yellow light, cozy like he’d expect. From below him, he hears a soft purr 

A beige cat walks around his legs, observing him quietly before nuzzling against his thigh. His smile grows wide as he squats down and holds his hand for the kitty, waiting for it to approve of him before reaching and petting him. The cat is quick to the jump into his forearms. 

“Who’s this?” 

He ducks as he enters into the main area of your apartment. Your eyes widen as your usually stand-offish cat nuzzles comfortably in your childhood friends chest. 

“His name is Creampuff,” ― you say, mildly stunned ― “He’s two,” 

“What a good boy,” 

Your heart races as you see him. After all this time, his presence still gives you those nervous butterflies. Maybe it’s because he’s become so attractive. Broader and taller but more rugged to look at.You feel like the floor might swallow you up. 

“I’ll.. put on some tea,” 

You take off your coat but you’re still in your work clothes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s staring at you. You’re too afraid to look behind you and see, confirm but his gaze is so heavy you’re almost certain. He traces the outline of your body and back with his eyes. 

He can’t help but think you’ve filled out some. Even from behind - you look awfully pretty. You look disheveled and sleepy like you did back in highschool, after cramming for exams. A little older now with that same cute expression on your face. It’s hard to hold back or tear himself from you - so he doesn’t try. He just watches as you pour the tea into mugs and let it steep. Minutes pass and it’s quiet but not as uncomfortable as you’d expect. 

You return to your kitchen table with two mugs, setting his down on a coaster. 

“Careful.. it’s hot,” 

He nods, taking the mug in his hands and blowing on it before taking a sip. He hums. 

“Ah.. it’s good. Thank you,” 

A silence settle between you briefly. Your heart is in your throat, hands trembling a little on the table. When he notices, he reaches for them. This is another of his habits, you think. Comforting people must be second nature to him, but it only makes you more nervous.

“So.. how’ve you been?” 

It’s the only thing you can think to ask. He studies your expression for a while. It used to the opposite of this. He used to be the nervous one, stuttery and unsure. You were always confident and steady - he’s sure you still are. This side of you is endearing though. He chuckles. 

“I’ve been good. Work is hectic but that’s always,” ― and you’re going to ask him another question. Dodge what he’s really here for, but he cuts you off ― “I’ve missed you though, so I came to visit,” 

You can feel it. This tension that presses against your back and makes you sit straight. He has that determined look in his eyes, easily recognizable when you watch him. In interviews and during fights and everything in between - like he knows what he’s going up against. To have it directed at you is so nerve-wracking, you find yourself doling under the pressure of his gaze. 

You fidget, voice shaking like a leaf in the wind. He was always too much for to you handle. 

“O-oh?,” 

He nods, taking your hand in his. He holds it to his lips, kisses your knuckles like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You wonder where he learned to act like this. He’s different but the same. It’s too much for you so you shut your eyes. 

He stands until he’s on your side of the table. Rests on the corners edge with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks at you with fondness, an unmistakable affection. After all these years, it’s only grown. Double and tripled in size. No matter how much he would try and punch it down, it never deflates. 

He thinks loving you is an act of heroism. The only way he could ever really save himself. 8 years and it feels like you’re old friends. Nothing unnatural or wholly uncomfortable. It’s strange. 

“I thought about what you said. About telling you later. This time though,” ― he drops to the floor, crouched between your legs so slightly. He does it to look straight at you ― “This time though, I have to tell you properly so you can’t make me wait again,” 

“I wasn’t making you wait,” you insist. He takes your hand in his and you unravel, body slumped. He kisses the palms of your hands, the inside of your wrist and it feels like gravity has no mercy on you. 

“It felt like hell,” ― he tells you ― “I can’t sit still anymore so I’m telling you now. Even if you want to run away, I can’t let you,” 

You frown, heart rapid. 

“That’s not very heroic,” 

He smiles. 

“Good. I don’t wanna be your hero. I just want to love you selfishly as Izuku and not Deku,” ― he says, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles ― “So tell me you love me back and grant my wish. I waited all this time,” 

You’re stunned into silence at his request. Eyes feeling especially water as he leans into you. It doesn’t make sense but it feels right. Your heart is beating - like you can feel all the blood pumping in you and your head feels light. 

“You say it so easily,” 

He laughs. It’s bright just like how you remember. 

“How could you know after all this time? How could you be sure?” 

He shrugs. You hit his shoulder at the nonchalance but he only chuckles. He  leans in closer to you, inches away from your face. 

“I waited for you all this time. Shouldn’t you give me a chance to show you?” 

You sniffle as his hands cup your cheeks. His smile is so inviting, how could you refuse him?

“I’d like to kiss you,”  ― he pauses, shaking his head  ― “I want to show you. Let me,” 

You nod as he leans into you. His lips are pillow and soft - touch addicting. You give into him so easily, tongue tied. He keeps you close, hand at the base of your neck. It feels so good, so perfect. You believe him when he kisses you like this With secrets under his tongue, between his teeth. 

“Tell me your answer,”  ― he demands, soft but stern  ― “You didn’t before. I need to hear it,” 

You give him an exasperated laugh. 

“I love you.. obviously” 

Right. Obviously indeed. 

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[darklydeliciousdesires]

From Blood, Love and Courage - Chapter Three.

Big thanks to those who are engaging with this, I appreciate you so much! I thought I’d give an extra update this week, see if I can get the ball rolling more on it, drum up a little more interest, too! 

Previous chapters - One  Two

Words - 4,769

Tag list - In the comments, please message to be added/removed

Warnings - Mentions of rape and the associated trauma of such to come in future chapters. While I do not plan on detailing these overtly graphically, there will be detailing of such and conversations surrounding the subject, so if this is a trigger for you, you’d be best not to begin reading the story. 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

It was with the knowledge that she hadn’t slept nearly enough as she’d have liked to that Lily awoke after a few hours of sleep, aching between her legs, absolutely fucked out by the gorgeous, raven-haired outlaw at her side, who slept on while she peeled herself out from beneath his arm. 7:07am, she saw when checking her phone. Time to make her exit.  

She treated it for what it was, a one-night stand, because there was no way, no way in this world that a guy she was that attracted to, or had so much in common with, or she had enjoyed talking to and fucking as much as she had would be interested in anything more. They never were. Why prolong it, or give him chance to give her some lame promise of him calling, only for his call to never materialise? Nope, after one last lingering look at him, sighing with a rueful smile, Lily got dressed and left quietly, rooting in her bag for her cigarettes and lighting one as she began to walk up the street, looking into calling herself an Uber.  

With it being quite early still, the nearest available car was a fifteen-minute wait, Lily sitting down on a small rock at the end of his street, wishing she’d had the sense to grab herself a glass of water prior to leaving Angel’s place, her mouth a little parched. Replaying moments of her night with him while she waited, she had to pause for a second, wondering if she should go back and slip her phone number under his front door, or at the very least, leave it in the mailbox. Had she been too hasty in absconding without explanation?  

Nope, not too hasty. Because she knew her luck wouldn’t extend to him being interested beyond the five or so hours that he’d spent fucking her off and on during the early hours of the morning. “Let that be the memory, Lily.” she muttered to herself, taking a drag on her cigarette as she rifled through her jacket pocket, finding a pack of chewing gum and taking a piece out. Her mouth instantly felt better for such a discovery.  

She huffed while sitting watching her Uber app, feeling prickled by her decision to leave. There was a tiny little part of her screaming in pleading not to do it, the part of her that had enjoyed their conversations, the part that felt like something could actually bloom from her meeting with the handsome, sexier than hell man, other than the pure sexual, if only she were brave enough to stick around and find out. The depth of their sharing in all they’d talked about, it was too all a bit too personal just to confide in someone the other planned on never seeing again.  

Her voice of reason, though, or some might say the voice of pessimism, it boomed over that tiny squeak of hope, told it to pipe down, that thoughts such as those always inevitably lead to her becoming hurt, all because she’d attached herself to a person or situation that proved only to end up as a temporary fixture.

‘Go back, just say you went out for a breath of fresh air and the door closed accidentally. Just go back and see, give him a chance. He might not be like the rest of them.’

Lily had never been gladder to see her Uber arriving early, getting up and striding to the curb to open the door and climb in before she could do something stupid, like change her mind. Still, she looked back at his house wistfully as the car pulled away, sighing, tightening her lips as she continued to read the messages she’d missed the previous night, mostly from her work friends congratulating her on her win.  

“Mama! I love you!” Ahhh, there he was. The one constant male in her life, greeting her lovingly as she entered her apartment after the twenty-five minute Uber ride. Charlie paced the top platform of his sprawling cage, Lily putting her keys down before moving to open it and tap her shoulder.  

“Hey beautiful boy! I love you, too. Want some grapes?” The bird pattered onto her shoulder happily, his comb coming up before he began to dance, suddenly beginning a stream of his usual gibberish. He was extremely chatty when happy, scared or mad, most of it complete nonsense, but there were a few phrases and words he knew.  

“Angie grapes!”  

“No, boo. Angie isn’t here, it’s just you and me.”

“Diego grapes!”  

She laughed softly through her nose, walking to her kitchen. “No, Diego isn’t here either, honey.” They were two people who always brought him a few of his favourite treats upon visiting.

“Mama grapes!”

“Yes! That’s right, here they are. Let me get them prepared for you.” Pulling the pack from the fridge, she pulled three from the bunch, washing and slicing them for him, feeing him the pieces as she went about making herself a large bowl of oatmeal, her usual, slow burn energy breakfast staple. It tasted like shit, but she dressed it up with a little protein powder, chia seeds, cinnamon and banana slices.  

“Damn, I need a shower. I smell like dude.” she muttered to herself, still able to smell Angel all over her. Whatever cologne he wore, it was absolutely delicious. However, she wasn’t so fond of also being able to smell the tinges of sweat, or the load he’d shot over her tits at somewhere around the 4am mark. Those were two lingering fragrances she could definitely live without.  

She sighed again while thinking about him, placing the bowl of oats and milk she’d put together into the microwave, offering Charlie another slice of grape. While she was lost in the memory of the night before, the man whom she’d enjoyed it with was just waking up, rubbing his eyes, turning over to see an empty space beside him. Damn.  

After waking up a little more, he got up and pulled his boxers on, stumbling out of the bedroom in search of coffee and Lily, realising the latter had left. Double damn. He then had a preliminary glance around for a note, hoping she might have left him her number while his coffee machine brewed. No note was found. Triple damn.  

That was a whole lot of damn for eight eighteen of a Saturday morning.  

“Fucking damn!” He exclaimed, a little more following as he scowled, watching the coffee pot steadily filling. He’d thought he’d been onto something with Lily, but with the morning came a scene filled with all evidence to the contrary. Apparently amazing, mind-blowing sex and thoughtful conversation did not lead to her being interested beyond that, but yet as he stood and thought on it after fetching his cigarettes and lighting up, there was a huge part within Angel that point blank refused to accept that.  

He knew he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer at times, he also had the propensity to think with his dick a little too much, but he wasn’t stupid. They’d connected. He’d felt it, he knew it was real. It wasn’t just sex either, although that was a huge part of it, Angel smirking at he looked down at his chest. He was decorated quite liberally in little pink teeth marks and bruises beginning to blush violet. No, it definitely wasn’t solely that.  

He didn’t find the conversational ease he’d experienced with Lily often, if at all, really, when taking some of his more questionable female conquests into consideration. Lily wasn’t a conquest either, she was someone he’d been very confident over seeing again, prior to her leaving without a trace and exploding that idea right in his face.  

He took a sharp breath in through his nose, straightening up and stretching. “Wasn’t meant to be, man. Get over it.”  

He managed until the following Friday, until it began to drive him to distraction.  

“Angel!”

Obviously, Taza had been trying to get his attention for some time. “Sorry, what?”

The older man shook his head softly. “We’re sitting down, come on.” Club business. It was literally the only thing that pulled his focus away from brooding over Lily. He was glad to receive orders from Bishop over their endeavours for the rest of the day, the club currently ass deep in cartel strife, meaning he didn’t have much time to devote to his brooding. When he did at the end of the day, though...

“Yo, are you even here, homie?” Coco asked, Angel staring at the fire pit before him, a club party swirling all around, his interest not roused beyond the occasional acknowledgement of hello to people arriving. His usual favourite girl, Amelia, had even attempted to climb onto his lap at one point, Angel shaking his head and waving her away.  

Revolt coffee, rebel coffee, revolution coffee... fuck! What the fuck was the name of the place Lily worked at called?  

“Angel!” EZ suddenly bellowed in his ear, cracking up completely when his elder brother nearly flew from his seat. He was not the kind of man to raise his voice, but when needs must.  

He was met with the kind of prickled bile he expected. “What? What do you want?”

“For you to stop staring at the fire with the kind of concentration you only usually reserve for a topless girl,” EZ chuckled. “They’re over there, by the way.” Four of them were sauntering around braless... and he hadn’t even noticed. “What’s up?”  

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie,” Coco observed, lifting his chin as he grinned. “What? Lily finally break your pecker?”

“Will you stop going on about that!”

Oh, a nerve had been touched. “Oooh, easy homes! I was just playing!” He probably should have left it alone, but this was Coco Cruz, after all. He had a habit of making a nuisance of himself at someone else’s expense. “Ahhh, she did! She gon’ snapped your little wang, bro!” The look he received in reply from Angel was nothing short of his usual annoyed indignity.  

“Who’s Lily?” EZ asked. He might have figured his brother’s current state boiled down to someone female. He was nothing if not predictable.  

“MMA chick he banged after the fight night we went to last week,” Coco confirmed, Angel shooting him daggers. “What? What’s with the face? She’s hot, you should be proud of that, man!”

“I am, or was.” He stumbled over his words, his chest tightening as he chewed his thumb aggressively, closing himself in as he took a drag on his cigarette. “Ain’t nothing happening there, so nothing to talk about.” he then confirmed to EZ, whose eyebrows fluttered in acknowledgement, pacified.  

“Why not?” Of course, Coco and his running mouth wouldn’t be so easy.  

“One night stand.” He muttered, Coco about to give him more shit, Angel suddenly straightening up in his seat and heading into the clubhouse. The song that had just come. Renegades of Funk by Rage Against the Machine. Renegade Coffee. That was it. That was the fucking name of the coffee shop Lily worked at, the very shop he intended to visit the following day, no more willing to accept that what he’d experienced with her truly was a one night stand any more than he had been upon waking up to find her gone, regardless of what he’d just told Coco.  

With that, he had his plan for the following day in between club business. Track down the coffee shop, hope to fuck Lily was working, and hear it from her mouth whether she was only interested in it being a one-night thing between them, because he didn’t want to go on obsessing over it. It wasn’t him, and he was pissed off at himself for it, too.  

Well, either way, the following day would draw a line under it, whatever the outcome.  

“Lily, can you steam some half fat milk, please?”

A week ago, and she’d been just getting into work after her night with the man she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of. And now where was she? Same place, same thoughts, but no man.  

“Lily! Milk!”

She shook herself, reaching into the fridge at her feet for the carton. “Sorry, Carol.”

“Concentration, please. You’ve been lacking it for the past week, so whatever your issue is, do snap out of it soon.”  

“The only thing I wish would snap around here is her damned neck,” her colleague and friend, Carlos whispered as he came to her side while she steamed the milk, shaking a liberal dusting of cocoa powder of a cappuccino, passing it to Diego to call out the order. Nope. Not one person at Renegade Coffee could stand their boss for anything longer than a few minutes here and there, and hated when she spent time behind the counter too often, but with the lunchtime rush of Saturday, they needed every set of hands they could get. “You okay, mamacita? I’ve noticed you looking a little vacant of late.”

Carlos. He was such a mother hen, noticing right away when something with his little work family was off.  

“She’s sad Lily,” Jodie interjected with, leaning around to kiss her cheek fondly. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.” That was Jodie all over. She never put pressure on anyone to speak before they were ready to, merely letting them know her ear was open whenever they decided to make that happen.  

Carlos pouted slightly. “But I hate sad Lily.”

She poured the steamed milk into the takeout cups Carol required it to go into, passing them to Diego before grabbing the espresso beans, noticing the level low in the machine. “I’ll be okay, eventually. It’s just that...”  

Her words were cut off then, Carlos grasping her arm as his mouth dropped open. “Oh baby, you gotta hold that thought. The guy who just walked in, Jesus in slingbacks!”

“Is he hot?” she questioned, undoing the coffee beans bag and beginning to pour.

“He’s tall, he’s jacked, jet black hair, tatts, and he’s a goddamned Mayan.” Her eyes widened in an instant, spilling a few of the beans onto the floor. “Oh lord, help me. I’m having a hot flash.”

“Only menopausal women get hot flashes, honey,” Jodie observed, taking a brownie from the display and plating it, passing it to a young girl with a big smile.

“He makes me feel like I’m getting it!” Carlos cried, Lily too stuck in ‘oh my god, that description is so much like Angel! Is it Angel? Is he here?’ to even laugh at the hilarity of his statement, her cheeks burning as she closed the lid and pressed the button to grind, not daring look over at the counter. A counter Angel had just approached, Jodie moving to greet him.  

“Hey! What are you having?” she chirped.

“A word with Lily, if she’s free?”

“Lily? There’s a man here to see you.”

Her heart all but leapt into her throat at hearing his voice, swallowing hard, Carlos gawping at her.  

“Mami! He’s here for you? Oh, girl. Colour me green with fucking envy!”  

She didn’t react to his words, taking a deep breath and turning around, her stomach rolling pleasantly at viewing Angel. God damnit. How could he be even more attractive than she remembered? And then he smiled, and she felt like she was about to fall over.

“Hey. Do you have a few spare minutes?”

“Erm, I dunno. We’re pretty busy,” she fumbled, feeling her cheeks flush.  

“Sir, if you aren’t ordering please move away from the counter and stop holding up the line,” Carol barked at him before turning her attention back to the sandwich press. His forehead furrowed, mouth tilting into a smirk as he pointed in her direction.  

“She do MMA, too?”

Lily couldn’t help the snicker that fell from her mouth, covering it with her hand as she moved around the display case to where he’d walked to. “Sorry, she’s...”

“El Chupacabra?”

More laughter followed. “Hold on.” She approached Carol, asking if she could take her break once the lined had thinned, her boss glancing back at the waiting people.  

“Take ten minutes now, we can cope. The yoga class over at the gym will be kicking out shortly, so we’ll need you then more.” Pulling off her apron, she exited the serving space, jerking her head towards the door, Angel following her. Walking around to the side of the building, she took a seat on the large steps that lead to the side door fire exit, Angel sitting down at her side.  

“So...” she trailed off, turning to look at him. Just sitting next to her, the heat of his body, the smell of him, god. Already, it had a heady effect. “Why are you here?”

He snorted softly, looking at her with mild incredulity. “Ain’t it obvious?”

“Nope.”

“Seriously?” Okay, that had come out sharper than he’d intended, Lily stiffening a little bit. He knew right then he had to rein in his penchant to go right to the dramatic in his responses. “You left without a word last week, and I kinda wasn’t expecting that.”

She nodded dumbly, pressing her lips together tightly. “I thought that was what you wanted.”

He straightened, seeming to grow about a foot taller. “And how would you know? You didn’t stick around to ask me that.”

“I didn’t need to,” she began, sighing. “I was a one-night stand, wasn’t I?”

“Would I be here now if you were?” He seemed on the verge of losing his temper, but not in a scary way. It was in a way that made her heart begin to do a wild acrobatics routine in her chest. He obviously felt very differently to how she’d assessed the situation. “So, what? You thought just because we had sex right away, that’s all I wanted?” And there was the confirmation.  

She felt so awkward, shrugging, her Vans covered toe nudging at a small stone upon the floor. There he was, a member of the, oh, ten percent of guys who didn’t lose interest if a girl gave up her pussy right away. “Nothing to say?” he continued.

She shrugged again, letting her hair fall in front of her face. Angel read her well, realising she was embarrassed. “Alright, I’ll talk. I gotta admit, a lot of the time, I ain’t in the habit of finding girls for anything more than a little casual fun with, but see, the thing is...” He paused for breath, his eyebrows drawing together a little. “I like you, Lily. A whole lot, in fact. You’re tough, cute, funny, smart, have great taste in music, amazing in bed, and everything else you might be, I need to find out. I want to find out. Just because we had sex right away don’t mean I’m done and moving onto the next, you hear me? Look, even though you’ve been temporary to a lot of other people so far in your life, it doesn’t mean you are with me, alright? I think that’s what it boils down to for you, isn’t it, if I may be so bold as to suggest? You got the fuck out of there before I could ditch you. I ain’t doing no ditching, carina.”  

He was right, he’d read her like a damned book, and furthermore, he hadn’t been put off by what he’d correctly assumed. All he’d wanted to do was reassure her that he didn’t intend on being temporary, as she still saw herself ending up as with anyone new in her life.  

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I do have a profound fear of things being too good to be true, and that people I even so much as get a whisper of interest in being around will only ever be in my life for a short time,” she finally confessed, emerging from behind the dark curtain of her hair, resting her head atop her knees as she turned to look at him.  

“Hey, I might be one of ‘em still. Neither of us know what the future holds, and I might fuck it all up yet and end up receiving the Johnny Boswell treatment.”

She snorted laughing, reaching to stroke his face. “Well, I hope you don’t, because I wouldn’t like to resort to that.”

“Okay, time for my honesty here. I have a habit of messing things up by being really fucking stupid when something good comes along, but shit, I don’t wanna be that guy any more. I knew I didn’t when after a week, I realised that I missed you like crazy, and that shit’s the fucking definition of crazy as I barely know you well enough to miss, but I want to. I want to get to know you, because something tells me that if we made a go of it, you and me, it could be amazing.”  

How was this real? How was this happening to her, Lily Armstrong, who never had the luck where men she liked were concerned? Yet, there he was. The outlaw she hadn’t been able to stop daydreaming about, coming to her and telling her very much otherwise to what she’d been thinking about him.  

She began nodding, her smile making her whole face light up. There it was, the smile he’d missed having aimed right at him, Angel opening his arms. “Come here.” She stood, seating herself astride him. “Well, I did mean for you to sit on my lap rather than astride me. You’ll get sore knees.” he continued, leaning forward and kissing her cheek a couple of times.  

“Eh, worth it.” The kisses they fell into sealed that for her, that no amount of concrete step scraping on her already training tender knees would prevent her from wanting to sit astride the handsome man who she guessed she was now dating.  

“God, you smell so good,” he murmured, moving his face to her neck and inhaling her scent, kissing her throat a few times, Lily feeling like her entire being was glittering. “What is that?”

“I don’t even think it has a name, it’s just sweet pea perfume oil,” she spoke, nails gently stroking his beard.  

“Sweet pea. How apt.” Her scent, her smile, her kisses, they made his insides flutter happily, Angel knowing he’d done the right thing in seeking her out, sensing that her demeanour before she’d bolted on him in the early hours of the previous Saturday morning hadn’t matched what he’d felt coming from her as they’d lain talking in between bouts of incredible sex. Oh, how he didn’t want to let her go, someone else lamentably making that choice for him.  

“Lily, we need you.” Carol called, ducking back inside the shop again, Lily sighing sadly.  

“When can I see you again?” he asked, standing with her in his arms. Nope, he wasn’t prepared to let go right until the last minute. No, the last second. God, she had him so sprung on her.  

“I have training tonight, until 9pm. But, if you wanted to go for a drink afterwards?” she asked, suddenly kicking herself mentally. Was that making herself too available to him too soon? Before she could panic, though, he smiled widely, nodding.

“I’ll pick you up outside the gym at about 9:15, then?” he suggested, finally putting her back onto the ground, albeit with huge reluctance.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.” They moved to the front of the shop, kissing one another goodbye, Angel heading back to his bike with the biggest grin slapped across his face, and Lily re-entering the shop to a barrage of wolf whistles from Jodie, Carlos and Diego.

“Stop it!” she admonished, her cheeks turning pink as she heard the deafening roar of Angels bike starting up outside.  

“I hate you but my god girl, that smile! What did he do to you around the corner to make you grin like that, huh?” Carlos teased, pinching her arm playfully.

“Stop!”

“You fucked him yet, chica?” he then asked, sweeping by with a large latte and calling out the order. “Latte for Jose!”  

“That’s none of your business!”

“That’s a yes!” Jodie snorted, slapping her butt playfully, taking a package of cookies and tossing them gently to Diego, who handed them across the counter to the lady waiting, who was not looking too impressed by their topic of conversation.  

“I mean, of course, she has! Did you see him? Oooh, child! Does he swing both ways? I would pray to every deity in existence to get under that absolute tattooed daddy of a man for a few hours, let him have his way with me!” Carlos offered, comically humping the air, pouting flamboyantly.

“No use of the D word!” his colleagues all cringed at once, Jodie taking a spare apron and smacking his legs with it.

“Not as far as I know, but even if he does, you can get your own!” Lily cried, tonging a banana muffin from the display and plating it, passing it to Diego, their finely oiled machine working perfectly as they worked their way through the rush.  

“Is he a beast? I bet he’s a beast. He looks the type,” Carlos then continued, Carol heading back to the counter with a stack of plates and cups.

“I should not be clearing tables, and I have warned you all about discussing the topic of your sex lives in front of the customers. Enough!” she warned, the four feeling like naughty children at being publicly admonished by their boss, Lily grabbing a cloth and some surface spray to go and relieve Carol of the duties she definitely thought beneath her as manager of the coffee shop, the stern woman herself stomping back to the storeroom to continue her stock inventory.  

For the remainder of her shift, she buzzed with excitement over seeing him again later, finishing her work and closing up the shop, staying behind to eat with her friends before quickly running home, feeding Charlie, grabbing a change of clothes and heading back to the gym for her training session.  

“Jab, cross, jab, cross, spinning back, body shot, round kick body, round kick head, spinning back, jab, body shot, uppercut, jab, cross! And again!” Larry called, Lily pouring with sweat as he worked her hard. “Faster, come on, Lily! That’s it, the power is there, just bring in the speed, that’s it! And again!”

“Oh my god! I just did thirty minutes on the treadmill to warm up!”  

“No such thing as too much cardio! Come on, I gotta keep you primed, there’s another fight I want to put you into in nine weeks, and just because you knocked Johnny Boswell out cold, it don’t mean you’ll be so lucky next time!”

“Why, who am I fighting against?”

“The nemesis.” Lily stopped immediately at hearing that.  

“Gabriella Martinez? Ahhh, fuck!”  

Larry rumbled a laugh, touching the focus mitts he held to her shoulders. “You gotta face her again at some point.” The girls loathed one another, being two of the most prominent faces upon the Californian amateur circuit, Gabriella utterly decimating Lily with a knockout head kick the last time they’d met within an octagon. “Playing it safe never works. You need to stand up to your fear.”

“I’m not afraid of her!” she spluttered, rising in heigh a little.  

Larry smirked, holding the focus mitts aloft once more. “You should tell your face that. Now, back as we were. Jab, cross, jab, cross, spinning back...”

It was the very news she needed to hear in order to bring her speed out, Lily knowing she’d been played, but somewhat grateful for the motivation. He worked her so hard, she was pleasantly exhausted by the end, so focused on her routine, she hadn’t noticed that she’d had a spectator for the last ten minutes, one who’d arrived early.  

“Nope, not ever,” Angel said as she approached, wiping her face with a towel.  

“Not ever, what?” she asked, receiving the kiss he leaned to plant on her lips.  

“Am I ever, ever pissing you off.” She dropped her head, laughing softly. “You gonna be long?”

“I’m all finished, just let me go shower and change and I’ll be done.”

“Alright,” he nodded, pointing back at the door. “I’ll meet you outside.” He winked, turning to leave, Lily feeling her stomach tingle. Walking back to the locker room, she couldn’t keep the grin from her face. It was the fastest shower and quick preen she’d ever taken.  

A/N - So, you’re at the end of the chapter. Did you enjoy it? Please, if so, engage with me, leave a comment, and reblog it, us content creators are crying out for engagement and visibility right now, so if you could help with that, you’d have no idea how much I’d appreciate you for it :)

[cazimagines]

Perfectly exasperating

Synopsis: You really disliked Zemo, but one person you disliked more? John Walker. After bonding over how you disliked him with Zemo, you have the unfortunate situation of running into John. He flirts, insults, and hurts you and Zemo is ready to put him in his place.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings/Tags: Use of swear words, John Walker being a dick, soft Zemo, protective Zemo

Author’s note: I was not intending this fic to come out as long as it did. This was one of the ones I had been putting off to write other stuff till I finally pulled myself around to writing it and ended up getting really into it. Funny how that happens.

Masterlist

Sequel

Part 3

Part 4

“Would you care for a Turkish delight?”

You bite the inside of your mouth in annoyance, refusing to even look at him. Instead of forcing your eyes to focus on a spot in front of you, not moving them in the slightest. Zemo waited for a few moments before sighing and turning away from you.

“You’ll eventually have to talk to me, y/n” he exclaims as he walks over to the kitchen side of the room. You were sitting in the safe house Zemo had provided. There wasn’t much to do, just sit and wait till the funeral started. Zemo sought to communicate to you to keep you two occupied, but you didn’t want to talk with him, so you didn’t. You just sat on the settee, staring at the sofa opposite you while Zemo walked around looking through the cupboards for food.

You were pissed when Bucky revealed he broke Zemo out of prison.

The avengers had been your family. Whenever you needed them Steve would be there to offer you advice, Tony there to make you laugh. Nat there to beat up whoever required it. Everything was wonderful in your life. For once. And he had ruined it.

He caused the family you loved to split, hate each other, and that left you alone. So alone. Losing both Tony and Steve made you more mad at Zemo. He robbed the last years you could have spent with them, so yeah, no wonder you refused to talk to him.

He loved to annoy you, though. Any moment he got he was beside you, creating sarcastic remarks about what was happening, trying to joke around with you. Trying anything to communicate with you. The worst of it was when he insisted you had to be his date on the mission in Mandripoor. Feeling his arm wrap around you, a kiss to your temple, the smell of his cologne flooding you, drawing you in. It pissed you off knowing how easily you fit into the role of his date. Yet you knew deep down why. Every time he made a snide remark, you had to bite your tongue to stop making one back. Every time he tried to joke with you, it took all your effort not to snort. You hated him and everything he does, yet you could sense a fondness growing for him, just a slight one, in the deepest corner of your heart. Left there to be locked away. Never acknowledged.

“So, the new Captain America, huh? What’s he like?” you hear Zemo ask, leaning on the counter of the kitchen table, his eyes burning into the side of your head.

You feel bile rise to your mouth as he spoke.

John Walker.

John fucking Walker.

If you hated Zemo, you despised John Walker. Just thinking of him brought a scowl to your lips. Steve meant everything to you. He was a father figure to you. He stood for all you believed in. He was your hope, your light in the darkness. And John Walker seemed to tarnish it. You wouldn’t have minded him if he was a different mascot for America. If he became America’s new hope. It was the fact that they called him Captain America. That he had the shield. The title belonged only to Steve. He claimed he wasn’t trying to replace Steve, but that is what he was doing. Him being called Captain America felt like a spit on Steve’s memory. People would forget him, everything he did for the country he loved. They would only focus on John Walker, and you detested that.

You didn’t blame Sam for giving away the shield, unlike Bucky. You could understand why he did it. That shield held such a responsibility, such a legacy it seemed impossible to ever live up to. No, you blamed the people who took the shield away from the museum. Without Sam’s permission. They should have asked Sam. But of course they didn’t care. They didn’t care at all.

“I see by your reaction that your impression of him isn’t a pleasant one,” Zemo says, bringing you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

“Have you met him?” he asks

You try to hold back your opinion, but John Walker made you so frustrated, you knew if you didn’t rant about him you would burst.

“Yes. He’s a dick,” you spit out

Zemo quickly straightens up, surprised you actually answered one of his questions.

“Oh? Are you finally speaking to me.” he inquires, walking around the kitchen counter towards you.

“Don’t push your luck” you mutter, side eyeing him as he sits down opposite you. Sam and Bucky were out leaving you alone with Zemo. At the moment you were all waiting till the funeral. Zemo claimed there were a few hours to kill before everyone had to gather. Sam and Bucky decided to check out the town, make sure they knew it well in case a situation occurred where we had to dash. They had forced you to babysit Zemo.

“No, no, I like to hear you talk. Please, if talking about how this new Captain America is a dick is how I get you to speak to me, then let’s continue.” Zemo says, pouring out a glass of whisky for you and him. He holds the glass out to you, an eyebrow raised. You sigh, grabbing the glass out of his hand and drank, feeling the warmth creep up your throat. Zemo chuckles as he watches you, leaning back on the sofa, his arms resting on top of it.

“My, my. The man must be terrible if just the thought of him is making you talk and accept drinks from me,”

“He’s so infuriating! He thinks because he is Captain America he can stick his nose in other people’s business!”

“Ah, so he is one of those people. Doesn’t understand boundaries. How rude,”

“And get this, he got annoyed at us! Telling us we should stay out of his way when he is the one getting in our bloody way!”

“No” Zemo fake gasps

“Yes!” you exclaim, going into a rant, “I can’t even bear to call him Captain America. He doesn’t deserve to be called that. His actual name is John Walker. He claimed he wasn’t trying to replace Steve, but that is exactly what he is doing! And how he talks to me as well. He’s so condescending, treating me as if I am a kid while trying to compliment me and act like he’s all that in front of me,”

Zemo’s eyes narrow and he places the glass down on the table between you two, “You mean he flirts with you?”

“If you could call that pathetic excuse flirting. I suppose. It pisses me off though,”

“I can imagine. He sounds nothing like what Steve was. Nothing like his legacy,”

It was your turn to narrow your eyes, watching Zemo curiously. “I assumed you hated Steve”

“I never hated him. No. I can admire what he stood for, I just find unrealistic. All superheroes are flawed. Innocents will consistently be collateral damage while superheroes are allowed to exist.”

You stare at Zemo, amazed. Not realising the silence you were making. You had always thought he hated Steve. It always seemed that way. Yet he didn’t? Knowing he didn’t hate the guy you always viewed as a father figure mattered to you. And you don’t know why.

Zemo stared back at you. He was studying your eyes, trying to figure out what you were thinking. He didn’t realise what he thought about Steve would have affected you, but it appears he was wrong.

“Don’t worry y/n we’re back and guess what! We found your fav-” Sam shouts, opening the doors of the room and strutting in but he pauses, noticing you and Zemo staring at each other from the sofa’s. “What’s going on here?”

Zemo is the one to pull out of the eye contact trance, smirking as he looks over at Sam, “We were just discussing John Walker.”

Bucky who had followed Sam in grounded at hearing Zemo utter that name. “Perhaps you two would like a drink and join us in considering how much of a dick he is?” Zemo asks, raising his glass to them.

A few hours later you walked down the street following Zemo to find his associate. You didn’t appreciate how secretive he was being, but you understood it. He had many people who wanted to get him, and the second he wasn’t useful to us. He would be doomed.

“It’s too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit” you hear a whiny voice shout. Peering up, you notice John Walker and his sidekick ‘Battlestar’ or whatever jogging down the steps towards you.

“Ah! How did you find us now” Bucky shouts with his arms raised, striding towards them.

“Come on. You really think three Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention,” his friend responds.

“No more keeping us in the dark,” John mutters angrily

Zemo, who you were walking besides, turns his head to you, “I understand what you mean by infuriating”

You chuckle as John looks angrily between you two, “You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison,”

“He did that himself technically” Bucky replies, and Zemo grins at you, as if bragging about it.

“Aw, this better be an unbelievable explanation-” John Walker exclaims, reaching up to you.

“Hey take it easy before it gets weird,” Sam suggests, interrupting John.

“I know where Karli is,” Zemo reveals to John Walker, his seductive accent sticking out from the rest of them. He tries to walk past John. You, Bucky and Sam follow, but John stops him, placing a hand on his chest.

Zemo glares ahead, disgusted at John for even daring to touch him.

“Well, where” he says, getting into Zemo’s face

“All we know is, it’s a memorial so we are going to intercept her there,” Sam adds, trying to defuse the tension.

Zemo grabs John Walker’s hand and pushes it off him, striding forward again, and you jog to catch up with him.

“See why I call him a dick now,” you whisper

Zemo smirks, looking back at you, “Yes. He’s perfectly exasperating”

“What? No. Wait. No! No! Stop. Hold on. Stop. Okay?” John exclaims running forward and stopping you all in your tracks again after something Sam had said. “I think we are way past reasoning with her”

Zemo just stares ahead, fed up with John while you groan in annoyance. Not being able to even bring yourself to look at the man in front of you.

They argue for a few moments while you and Zemo stand idly to the side, Zemo glances at you rolling his eyes making you giggle. You smack his arm slightly trying to get him to stop making you laugh, but that only makes Zemo chuckle along with you. Eventually they calm John down but he glares over at Zemo, “We will deal with you later.”

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion” Zemo says, gesturing with his hands. He walks ahead, searching for his associate while John Walker moves beside you. You try to pick up your pace, but he keeps up.

“So working with a criminal now. Not very avengery like. I thought Zemo hated Steve. I wonder what Steve would think of you working with him,” he mutters peering at you.

“Need I remind you-you are also working with him now,”

“Come on, darling, don’t be like that,” John responds grinning, placing his palm on your back.

“Get your hand off me” you growl scowling at him

“Most women would fawn over me” John cockily resorts, still not removing his hand

“She asked you to remove your hand” you hear Zemo state, glancing over you see he had stopped walking forward, turned around and was now glaring at John. “Do I need to remove it for you?” he says angrily.

John frowns at Zemo. Finally, taking his hand off you and striding up to Zemo. Zemo tilts his head, his jaw clenching in fury as he stares at John.

“You are nothing but a dirty criminal. Don’t think for a second you can talk to me like that,”

“I will when you are being rude and disrespectful towards a lady,”

John scoffs, peeking over to you, then back to Zemo. Everyone else was standing to the side, not sure if they should intervene or not.

“What did she suck you off or something?”

Chaos ensured.

Bucky and Sam had to leap forward to stop Zemo from launching onto John while Battlestar had to hold John back. “Too far man, too far” he muttered to John

Zemo was snarling at John, his teeth bared in rage. His hair had fallen loose from their usual position and was hanging down over his forehead, giving him a more wild look. The vein in his neck stood out, twitching. His eyes were raging with fire as he looked at John. He kept trying to push past Bucky and Sam to get to John, but eventually gave up knowing it was futile.

You were standing at the side, shocked that John would have the ego to say something like that and at Zemo’s rage towards John for saying it. John adjusts his head. Not looking you in the eyes, but looking in your direction. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t of said that”

Pulling your senses together, you walk up to John, glaring at him. “Yeah, you damn well shouldn’t have. You’re a dick. Nothing like Steve. You never will be,”

John wrinkles his nose in anger, frowning at your remark. You walk over to Zemo now that Bucky and Sam had let go of him. You give him a nod, showing your appreciation, and he nods back, though still glaring at John.

“Who I choose to associate myself with is none of your business. Who I choose to suck off is none of your business. Perhaps you can go fuck yourself and learn a bit of decency,” you spit at him.

A brilliant thought crosses your brain for another way to twist the dagger of your dislike into John. You reach out and grab onto Zemo’s hand, clasping it.

The action causes everyone to turn wide eyed to you. Including Zemo. He glances down at your hand in his then back to yours, surprise in his gaze but he immediately covers it up turning back to John smirking. He turns to behind himself, then back to the group.

“My associate is up ahead,”

You all turn to look forwards and see a little girl staring at you. Walking forward again, gripping his hand, Zemo nods to the girl as you all approach.

“Hello my friend,”

He holds out some money, a lot by the looking of it, and says to her, “This is for your family”

The girl hastily snatches it, obviously in need of it, and you can’t help but feel your heart warm a bit, seeing how kind Zemo was being to her.

“Can you show us the way?”

She beckons with her hands and walks forward. Zemo looks back at you, nodding to make sure you were okay, then follows her.

“What the hell” John murmurs from behind.

Following the girl, she leads you to a building. She turns, pointing inside a doorway, and runs inside not to be seen again.

“Karli’s in there,” Zemo tells the rest of the group. Sam replies and heads inside to talk to her while John suddenly grabs Zemo’s arm and yanks him against the machine on the wall.

Zemo moans as he is shoved into it, the hard outer piece hitting into his chest roughly.

“Hey. You’ve got ten minutes” John shouts to Sam as he takes out a pair of handcuffs and attaches them to Zemo.

“Really” Zemo mutters as John cuffs him to the machine.

“Then we are doing things my way,” John declares ignoring him

“Aggressive” Zemo jokes, though from his eyes you could still see the anger he harbors towards John.

He twists his head to watch John stride forward, staring at Sam, then back to him. “But I get it”

You wander over to stand by Zemo as you wait for Sam to talk to Karli.

“This day has brought a lot of changes. This morning you refused to say a single thing to me and now just moments ago you were holding my hand,” Zemo speaks quietly to you.

You shoot him a glare, “I did that to agitate John,”

“Sure, that was the only reason” but you knew from his eyes he didn’t believe you. They sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you.

“That cuff must bother you” you mention glancing over at them.

“I don’t mind. I quite enjoy cuffs, in the right setting of course,” he quips.

You turn on your side, looking at him, your lips curling into a smile. If we are going to play that game, you thought.

“Oh, what setting would that be?”

Zemo’s smile deepened, enjoying seeing you play along, “I’m sure you would like to know”

“Do you have to do this here!” John exclaims, glaring at the two of you. You quickly step back from Zemo, forgetting that you two had company. Your eyes snap to Bucky’s with worry, but he wasn’t looking at you. He glared at the ground, not seeming to care what was happening between you and Zemo.

After that Zemo tried to engage you in conversation again but you effectively ignored him, going back to how you were treating him earlier, which you knew was frustrating him.

John was looking down at the shield, then squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, panting. Both you and Zemo glanced up, watching him cautiously. You glanced at Zemo and he stared back, confirming you were both thinking the same thing about Walker.

He got up and started shuffling towards the doorway. Both you and Bucky eyed at each other for the first time with the same recognition in your eyes. You leave Zemo’s side to walk over to where John was.

“No, no, no. This is a bad idea,” John mutters as he paces around. Zemo watches him like a hawk while you and Bucky stand side by side, arms crossed.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Sit tight,” Bucky replies.

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me,” he spits back, pacing around.

“He knows what he is doing,” you reply

There’s silence for just a moment. You watch as John turns towards you and walks fast, hitting his fist against the shield, “I’m going in”

Bucky walks forward and places his hand on John, stopping him from moving further.

He tries to antagonise Bucky, trying to make him guilty for what could happen to Sam. And you could tell his words were influencing him.

“You will not be going in till ten minutes are up,” you state sauntering over to them

“Oh, so the whore has something to say,” John spits out

In the back, Zemo growls, tugging on the cuffs that connected him to the wall. You feel the outrage prick up on you as John’s remark.

“Don’t call her that” Bucky says, glaring at John

“She’s been openly flirting with the terrorist over there, so yeah, I think it’s appropriate to call her that,” John bites back

You rush forward, attempting to punch John in rage, but he was able to sidestep you and brings the shield up, connecting it harshly to the side of your head. Pain soars across your face as you fall down onto the ground. You groan, your eyesight going dark around the sides and black patches covering parts of what you could see.

“BASTARD” you hear someone shout with a beautiful accent. From the floor, you can’t make out much of what is going on. Someone with a metal arm attacking another guy. A man with a shield being attacked by a man in a trench coat. It was all too confusing for you. You just wanted to sleep.

You could feel yourself fading in and out. Your eyes begging to close. You could hear shouting. Someone talking.

Your head was raised. Someone was holding it in their hands. Your vision is blurry but as they get nearer your eyes could focus on them. Beautiful brown eyes, messy brown hair, cute thin lips. It was him.

“Y/n!?” Zemo shouted at you, “Y/n stay with me”

“My head hurts” you mutter to Zemo as he lifts you up, placing you against the wall. Slowly your eyesight came back, and you could see your surroundings. Only you and Zemo were left.

“Zemo, where is everyone?” you ask turning your head, but in doing so it makes you feel incredibly dizzy. You groan as Zemo places a hand on the side of your face to stop you moving.

“They went after the Sam,”

“I need to help them!”

“No, you need to stay here and recover,”

You look over at the wall then back to Zemo, “How did you get out of the cuffs?” you ask

“Ah well…” Zemo says and glances down at his hand, your eyes follow and widen seeing his hand, bruising covering it, his thumb sticking out at an odd angle.

“You broke your hand to get out!?”

“Well, I couldn’t let him get away with saying those things and hurting you,” Zemo mutters, smiling slightly but you could see the pain flickering in his eyes, “I gave him a well-deserved punch in the face”

You chuckle at the thought. Leaning forward, you kiss him lightly on his forehead, a gesture of you wanting to ease his pain. You move back just in time to see him looking at you, surprised, before your vision faded.

Taglist: @multiyfandomgirl40 @ineffablebean @freyjasamael @avgravy @huntheimpossible @checkurwindow @there-goes-thefighter @bunniwritesx @montypythonsholysnail @yallgotkik @wonderwoman292

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: six ( 15.5k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

what is hybrid marking

8.2 million results. 

While scent mixing (heretofore referred to as ‘scenting’) is temporary and lasts a maximum of twelve hours if left undisturbed, scent marking (‘marking’ in common parlance) is semi-permanent. A ‘mark’ is created when the pheromones present in a hybrid’s bodily fluids are applied directly to their markee’s skin. When said chemical compounds seep below the epidermis and bond to the sweat glands found within the dermal layer of the skin, the target has been officially ‘marked’. Between domesticated hybrids and their human caretakers, this is most commonly done by applying hybrid saliva to the skin of the neck, where a human’s scent tends to be strongest. While the behavior involved in marking resembles some aspects of human foreplay, it is a non-sexual expression of mutual trust and affection. It is important to note that most hybrids of age are able to mitigate the oral secretion of pheromones and cannot mark accidentally-

“How do I look?” 

The sound of Jimin’s voice makes you jump. You fumble with your phone, trying to exit out of the website, shove it in your pocket and look at the leopard hybrid’s outfit at the same time.

“You look great!” You tell him once the device is safely tucked away.

He rolls his eyes at you. “You’ve said that about everything I’ve shown you.”

You had, but only because it was true. No matter what the trio of hybrids tried on, they all looked great. You weren’t sure what it was, but seeing them in something other than neutral sweat suits made them look even better than they already had. You were discovering they all had unique senses of fashion too. Taehyung preferred earth tones, soft fabrics and slouchy cardigans, Yoongi tended toward plaid overshirts and dark denim and Jimin had just come out of the dressing room in his sixth button down and second pair of chelsea boots. 

When the four of you had arrived at the mall that afternoon, you’d told them to go wild and call you when they were ready to check out. There was an entire section of the shopping center that catered specifically to hybrids and you were certain they’d be able to find everything they needed and more. You’d been all set to sequester yourself in a booth in the food court and indulge your hybrid research habit, but Taehyung had fixed you with a forlorn look the moment you tried to part with them and Jimin had insisted that you personally review every piece of clothing he put on. You wouldn’t deny that you were having fun, but surreptitiously trying to google what every little thing they did meant without getting caught was getting harder and harder. 

Jimin breezes past you to the semi-circle of mirrors on the far end of the fitting rooms, brushing his tail against your shins as he passes. That was another thing that had changed. Since the talk you’d had with the boys last night, it seemed like they were always finding some excuse to touch you or brush up against you . You didn’t know if it was a manifestation of their cat genes or them just wanting physical reassurance that you were there, but it seemed like every time you turned around there was a tail curling around your calf or a nose tip against your ear or a shoulder brushing your own. You were practically wreathed in them. Even Yoongi hadn’t seemed to mind when your fingertips had brushed against each other at breakfast when you’d passed him the juice. You didn’t know if you should count that as progress, but you want to. 

You’re not entirely used to physical contact and nearly every time Taehyung rubs his cheek on the top of your head or Jimin reaches out to link your fingers together, you jump. It feels strange, to have people be so blatantly physically affectionate with you. It’s not like you dislike it, exactly, it’ll just take some getting used to. Whatever adjustments you need to make, you know you’ll need to make them quickly. You don’t think the hybrids will give up on friendly hugs just because you never initiate them first.  

“Y/N-ah,”Jimin calls, catching your attention. He’s twisting this way and that on the platform, trying to catch his reflection in every possible angle. He hums in disappointment as he turns back to the front, tail waving behind him. “This collar,” he says, tugging on the offending band of bright green plastic around his neck, “-is ruining my outfit. We’ll need to get real ones today.” 

You feel like a stone has settled in your stomach. Your shoulders sag, but if the leopard hybrid notices, he doesn’t say anything. “Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, you’re right.” In truth, you’d hoped to put it off for a little while longer. Collaring and leashing a hybrid had always seemed odd to you. After all, weren’t they people too? The law was the law, you knew, but something about publicly and visibly marking someone as property...well, the morality of it was gray at best. The temporary collars had provided you with a stay from the inevitable, but there was no avoiding it any longer, you supposed. They’d have to get collars. 

“I saw a store for them a couple shops down,” Taehyung supplies as he steps out of his dressing room in a white linen shirt and cream drawstring pants. “We could go there?” 

“That works for me...Taehyung, one of your buttons is in the wrong hole.” 

The tiger hybrid squints down at his shirt, feels blindly for the hole he missed, but can’t seem to find it. 

“No,” you tell him. “Not that one, the other- do you just want me to fix it?”

He pauses and looks up at you for a solid three seconds before giving a single, slow nod. 

You come to stand in front of him and start undoing the buttons from the top. There’s only four of them but each one you pop open reveals more and more of his honey brown skin and prominent collar bones. Your fingers brush his skin accidentally and he chuffs happily, one hand resting on your lower back as you start buttoning him up again. Heat starts crawling up your neck unbidden. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, you can feel the warmth of his palm, how long his fingers are. He presses you closer until your arms are nearly flat against your chest as you try to finish buttoning him up. It’s hard to move squished between the insistent pressure of his hand and the- surprisingly- hard line of his body, but you make do. “There!” You pat him gently on the chest as you finish the last button. “All done.”

He dips forward and rubs his cheek against your forehead, rumbling so deep in his chest that the vibrations pass into you. “Thank you.” He releases you and pulls away, but as he does, his lips brush against your hairline. You try not to read too deep into it. 

The tiger hybrid sidles over to his friend in the mirror, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist and dipping his head into his neck. Jimin reaches back and scratches behind one of his ears and your heart swells in your chest. It was nice to see them be so openly affectionate with each other. They’re so close in a way you can’t even begin to understand. It’s beautiful. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you thumb the screen to life. An incoming call from Mr. Seo. “You guys keep trying stuff on,” you tell the pair, already standing to make your way out of the dressing room. “I’ve gotta take this.”  They both call at you to hurry back and you give them a shout of assent as you rush away. 

The second you’re outside the store, you answer. “Hello?”

“Ms. L/N,” Mr. Seo’s voice crackles on the other end of the line. “I trust you’ve settled in well.” It isn’t a question and the tone of his voice makes it clear that he doesn’t wish to spend what precious time he has exchanging pleasantries with you. 

“Yeah, everything’s okay.” Everything had most certainly not been okay when you’d emergency dialed him two days ago about the tiger on your couch. The text he’d sent you back six hours later had told you to figure it out. You had and you knew you weren’t his responsibility, but him tossing you in the deep end was still a sore spot for you. 

“There’s been a change of plans.” 

You grimace. Straight to it, then. “What’s going on?” 

“Black Mountain Canines- the company your uncle purchased two of the hybrids from- changed their pick-up date. They want you to come get them in person today.”

“Pick-up?” You frown. “No, they were supposed to drop them off.”

“They were,” Mr. Seo confirms, “But it’s apparently no longer profitable for them to drive all the way into Seoul to hand-deliver two of their charges. They also claim they’re incurring additional expenses by feeding and housing two hybrids who’ve already been purchased, but we’ll see about that when we arrive.”

Your anxiety spikes and your fingers wrap tighter around your phone. You’d promised the boys a whole day out. All you’d done so far was get them phones of their own and furniture for their room. There was still so much to do, so much to see. “What about Yoongi and Jimin and Taehyung?” You blurt out.

Mr. Seo sighs and his breath crackles over the receiver. “Those are the cats, I assume? I suggest you let them know sooner rather than later that they’ll have to share their space.” There’s a flurry of movement on his end of the line, the sound of someone calling his name and papers shuffling. “I have to go; they need me to look over some case files.” He tells you. “I’ll be at Haneul Tower to pick you up in three hours. Be downstairs waiting.”And the line clicks off. 

You sigh and hang up. What were you going to tell the boys? Day one of your new friendship and you were already breaking promises. 

“Trouble?” Yoongi’s voice right behind you makes you flinch and whirl on him. His ears press back against his head and he takes a step back at your sudden movements. 

“Sorry!” You tell him, forcing your spine to relax. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you there; I thought you were still shopping. ”

“I can tell,” he snarks, but there’s no heat behind it. His eyes trace the line of your shoulders, still tense and flick to the phone in your hand. “I dropped my stuff at the register. What’s going on?”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, nerves making your stomach ache. “C’mon,” you tell him, walking back into the store. “Let’s pay and grab some lunch. I’ll tell you when we sit down.” He follows after you a few paces behind, trying not to let worry prick in him at the anxious shift in your scent. Something was about to change, he was sure, and not entirely for the better. 

Twenty minutes later, the four of you are sitting in the food court, a mess of shopping bags at your feet and a bowl of tteokbokki between you. Yoongi and Jimin had picked out all the fish cakes first and were bickering good-naturedly over who the last one should go to, but Taehyung seemed content to just gnaw at his rice cakes. You’d hardly touched anything, your eyes flicking back to the time on your phone. 1:20 P.M. Two hours and forty minutes ‘til Mr. Seo would be at your apartment to pick you up and bring you to get two more of the hybrids your uncle had bought. You push a rice cake around on your paper plate with the end of your chopstick. Well, no point delaying the inevitable. 

“Hey, guys?” You call softly. Three pairs of ears swivel toward you immediately. The words die in your throat and your tongue feels like lead as they look at you, all their eyes focused and expectant. You clear your throat and force yourself to continue. “So...you know how I…” You search for the right word, but there’s really no other way to say it. “...inherited you guys from my uncle?” 

Taehyung’s eyes flick toward Jimin and the leopard hybrid brushes his tail against the tiger’s. Silent communication you couldn’t even begin to decipher. “Yeah,” Yoongi says, tossing his chopsticks down and leaning back in his chair. “I told them.”

That was right. What you’d blurted out at Yoongi yesterday on the street you had yet to disclose to his juniors. “Thanks, Yoongi,” You tell him, meaning every word of it. He’d spared you from yet another uncomfortable conversation. 

“...For what it’s worth, we’re glad it’s you,” Taehyung tells you, his tail twining around your ankle under the table. He looks at his hyungs for confirmation and when neither of them deny it, he settles his amber gaze back on you. “We like being here with you, even if you didn’t pick us. It’s...It’s nice.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips at his words. He beams at you, his boxy smile soft despite the sharp incisors poking his bottom lip. “I like having you guys around, too,” you admit, taking the time to meet each of their eyes. Jimin purrs as you look at him, the corners of his mouth curling. When your gaze meets Yoongi’s, his ears twitch but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t blink either, just holds your stare with an intensity that makes heat crawl up your neck. You suddenly remember the warm stretch of his body over your’s, the sensation of his lips against your neck. You snatch your eyes away and cough to cover your lapse in speech.  “It would’ve been scary, I think, if I had to deal with all this alone.” 

You couldn’t even imagine it.That clinically clean apartment with its blank white walls and its imposing emptiness would have driven you down until you couldn’t stand it anymore. You’d always had a little pit of loneliness inside you. You didn’t know how long it’d been there. Maybe it always had been, a seed of something sad and dark at the core of your soul. You’d done well keeping it contained. You felt it in your goshiwon, but your room was small. It couldn’t grow beyond your keeping. In Oliver’s penthouse, it would’ve had endless room to sprawl and with no one to clip it back, you would’ve choked to death on vines of doubt.

“There are others,” you tell them, before you can down spiral into the mire of your own thoughts. “He bought other hybrids before he died. They weren’t supposed to be coming until next week but their company wants me to come get them today.” 

The mood at the table shifts almost immediately. Taehyung’s ears and tail sag, Jimin’s smile goes sharp at the edges and Yoongi’s lip curls. “How many others?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You notice he does that when he’s nervous or uncomfortable. It’s a defense mechanism, no matter how at ease it makes him seem. 

“Four,” you answer and the bobcat hybrid’s ears tilt back in irritation. “Two are coming home today and the other two toward the end of next week.” Jimin doesn’t say anything, but you see the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. He’s annoyed. Taehyung drops a hand onto the smaller hybrid’s back and rubs circles in it, trying to soothe him. 

“Maybe it’ll be okay?” The tiger hybrid offers. He’s trying his best to be diplomatic, but you hear the strain in the deep timbre of his voice. “Having other cats around again might be nice. We used to live with a lot back at the center…”

You wince. “...they’re canines.” Almost immediately, all of their ears go flat against their skulls and they hiss in unison. Yoongi stifles himself the quickest, setting a hand on Jimin’s knee and squeezing to get the leopard hybrid to get a hold of himself. 

“Hybrids of different species don’t play well together,” he explains. “Especially not when our animals are solitary in the wild. The only reason Jimin, Tae and I are able to stand sharing the same territory is because we’ve known each other since we were kids and we’ve had to do it before.”

Before? A question forms in the back of your mind, but now isn’t the time to ask it.

“We don’t like sharing what’s ours,” Jimin continues for his hyung, interlocking his fingers with yours on the plastic table top. “It’s instinctual.”

“I know, I know.” You squeeze his hand lightly, trying to reassure him. “But the apartment is big; can’t you avoid each other starting out?”

All three of them give you a strange look and Jimin’s lips curl in a way that isn’t quite a smile. “...right,” he purrs, a little delayed. “The apartment.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, anxiety sinking its claws into you. “I’m really sorry to spring this on you guys, I know it’s not great, but…” Your shoulders sag. “I don’t want to have promised someone a home and rip the rug out from under them, you know?” You knew what that felt like. You wouldn’t wish that feeling on your worst enemy. “I’m just...I’m worried that they’re not being treated well.”

“They were up for sale,” Yoongi drawls. “They definitely aren’t.” 

The taxi ride back to Haneul Tower is uncomfortably quiet. Jimin still holds your hand and Taehyung still leans on your shoulder, but nobody says a word. You help them carry their bags upstairs and drop them off in the master bedroom. You’d told them they could have separate rooms if they wanted, but they’d insisted on sharing, so you thought it was only fair that they get the largest room in the penthouse. Clothes went onto hangars and into closets and before you knew it, there were only ten minutes until Mr. Seo’s arrival. 

“You don’t have to go,” Taehyung huffs. He’s got you wrapped in a bear- well, you suppose a tiger hug and his cheek is mashed against the top of your head. You don’t even think he’s actively scenting you at this point, just keeping you from leaving. “Send your assistant instead and stay here with us.”

You let out a puff of laughter and pat the hybrid on the back in a way you hope is soothing. “Mr. Seo isn’t my assistant, buddy, he’s my uncle’s attorney.” You give a little tug away from him and he lets you go, albeit with a sad little mrow that makes him sound just like a disappointed cat. “I couldn’t ask him to do that. The only reason he’s coming is because they broke the contract. And I can’t drive.” 

The look Taehyung gives you is so downtrodden that you toy with the idea of calling the whole day off and staying with them- but no. You can’t bail out now, especially not with what you’d put Mr. Seo through when the first group of hybrids were delivered. “I’ll be back before you know it,” You tell him with a steadfast smile. 

“You’d better,” Jimin says, nudging the taller hybrid out of the way. Taehyung gives a half-hearted growl, but settles as Yoongi squeezes his shoulder. “The longer you’re away, the longer you’ll have to sit in the stench of those mutts.”

You frown. “Jimin-”

“Only joking,” He soothes, bringing both of your hands up to his cheeks. You don’t believe him, but you don’t press it. The leopard hybrid nuzzles into your palms, purring happily at the feeling of your skin against his. Your palms nearly burn from how warm he is. You feel a warm puff of air against your fingers and tense as Jimin presses all ten of them against his lips. 

“Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice is hard, but his junior’s lips curl up in a satisfied smile, one of his incisors pricking at the pad of your index finger. 

“Hurry back,” he murmurs. You try not to shiver at the feeling of his plush lips moving against your oversensitive fingertips. 

“I’ll do my best!” You say,  a pained smile tugging your lips apart. He hums in response and drops your hands, his fingers trailing across yours as he lets you go. 

“Hyung,” he calls over his shoulder. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Y/N-ah?”

“Don’t let them scent you.” Is all Yoongi says as he breezes toward the stairs. “You know better now.” 

It’s as much as you were expecting. “I’ll see you guys later,” You tell them as you head out the door. “Finish setting your phones up and text me if you need anything!”

True to his word, Mr. Seo is parked out front at 4 o’clock on the dot. You haven’t seen him in a little over a week and you’d almost forgotten how imposing he was. He cuts a sharp figure against the backdrop of the bustling street, dressed in all black and leaning against a brand new Buick Enclave. The poor valet stationed at the front door looks like he’s been trying to work up the courage to ask to park his car for the past twenty minutes and sags in relief as you start heading over.

The lawyer dips his head in acknowledgement at you and checks his watch. “Miracle of miracles,” he says, popping open the passenger side door for you. “You’re on time.”

“I was late one time,” you huff, sliding past him and into your seat.

“And that was enough,” he snips back, closing your door before you can come up with a retort. You grumble to yourself, but don’t press him. You know he’s right. He’d gone out of his way to help you and you’d put him out. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him as he settles into his seat and reaches for his seatbelt. “It won’t happen again; I know you’ve got other things to do.”

He stills and looks at you over the gold frames of his glasses. For a long moment he holds your gaze, unblinking. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Had you done something wrong? 

Finally Mr. Seo blinks and finishes buckling himself in. “I apologize for staring, I wasn’t sure if I’d heard you correctly.” He push starts his car and pulls away from the curb. “I never thought I’d see the day a L/N would apologize to me.” He edges the car into the steady stream of Seoul traffic and you’re off, zooming toward the freeway.

Silence fills the car again, but as Mr. Seo takes on-ramp, you work up the courage to ask your question. “Did Oliver never apologize to you?”

Mr. Seo snorts and it’s such an undignified sound that you almost can’t believe it comes from him. “You could tell your uncle the sky was blue and he’d argue that it was red until he was. And your grandfather-” He seems to catch himself, reigning back whatever meager bits of his personality had managed to slip through the cracks in his normally flawless veneer. You’re all ears.

Up until a week and a half ago, you hadn’t known you had any family, much less an uncle who owned buildings and bugattis. Now you were finding out that you had a grandfather too. “What about my grandfather?” The word feels strange in your mouth. It’d been years since you’d followed the word ‘my’ up with any type of familial relation. 

Mr. Seo cuts his eyes at you, and flicks them back to the front. “Nothing,” he replies, clearly done talking about him. “I spoke out of turn.” He reaches forward and turns on the radio, the sound of national news filling the silence.

You pout and slouch in your seat, disappointment setting in as the promise of new information slipped out of your grasp.

The rest of the drive is easy. Mr. Seo takes the highway out of Seoul and up into the foothills but you’re asleep before he even finds the exit. You’d slept more in the past two days than you had in the previous three weeks, but it seemed like years of bad habits were catching up to you.

Last night, you’d passed out halfway through the second movie snuggled up between Jimin and Taehyung. They’d been so warm and soft and the quiet thrumming of their heartbeats had lulled you to sleep before you knew what was happening.You’d woken up with them still curled around you and -maybe most surprising of all- Yoongi plating breakfast in the kitchen.

Still, it seemed even twelve hours of the best sleep you’d gotten in years and a peaceful morning devoid of stress -for the most part- hadn’t been enough.

You wake up just as the asphalt transitions into gravel, the sound of it crunching under the tires and the car’s shaking waking you up. You’re bleary-eyed and confused, but a sign up ahead snaps you to wakefulness. Standing like a guardian over a chain link fence topped with barbed wire is a metal sign, imposing as it is tall: Black Mountain K-9s, written in stark font.

“We’re here,” Mr. Seo says, as if it’s not obvious. He kills the engine and without its purring to distract you, you feel nerves starting to boil in your belly. What kind of place was this? You half expect sinister organ music to kick on and lightning to start flashing from black clouds. Neither of those things happen, though. The sky remains startlingly clear and the only things you can pick up are the sounds of whistles being blown, dozens of people doing call and response, and one voice, louder than all the others screaming for people to ‘Run faster! Get those knees up!’

You pop the door and step out of the car before Mr. Seo can open it for you and head around to the nose of the car, taking in the compound. 

“This facility produces some of the highest caliber bodyguards in the country,” He says, coming to stand beside you. The attorney rebuttons his suit jacket and flicks his sleeves up before settling his arms over his chest. “Politicians, celebrities, even a few former presidents all have hybrids from this training center.”

“It looks more like a prison,” You remark, nodding toward the barbed wire. “First big cat hybrids, now this...Why didn’t Oliver just get regular pets if he was lonely? Was he worried someone was after him?” 

“Anything I can tell you would be pure speculation,” He replies, walking away from you and heading for the callbox. “Your uncle very rarely confided in me.”

“But you were his attorney.” 

For just a second, the tight grip Mr. Seo has on his composure slips. His lips press together and his shoulders sag- but just as quickly as it’d lapsed, his mask is in place again. “Yes,” he says after a beat. “I was.” And he presses the button on the call box before you can pester him with any more questions about the dead men he’d known.

The call box crackles to life, speakers squealing with feedback. You flinch and slap your hands over your ears to protect them from the splitting sound. Mr. Seo doesn’t react at all and you’re stunned, wondering how he can stand it.

“Seo Seunghan and Y/N L/N for Lim Hangyeol.” 

The person on the other end doesn’t respond. The speaker cuts and a second later, the metal gate before you starts rolling to the side, pushed by invisible hands. It’s like a curtain going up at the theater. 

Before you lies a wide, dusty yard, devoid of any plant life. The thick-trunked trees and lush grasses of the surrounding mountainside had been stripped down to the roots here. All that remains are a few weeds poking out around the base of the long metal buildings that ring the fence, and even those seem like an intrusion. People are making use of the space in whatever way they can. A group of people with matching cropped black ears and docked tails run past you in four straight lines, all perfectly in step with each other. Over to your right, there’s a pack of teenagers working in pairs to scale a ten-foot tall sheer wooden wall and in the center of the field, twenty kids are running through taekwondo forms, supervised by a widely smiling instructor.

You’re in awe of it all. Every single person is like a cog in a well-oiled machine, all in the same black tactical pants and compression shirt. You’d never seen so many hybrids in one place before and certainly not all of the same breed.

Mr. Seo places a hand in the center of your back, steering you away from staring and toward a squat cement building.You let him lead you.

“When we get inside,” the lawyer begins, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “Let me speak first. If we can get him to admit to breaching the contract right away, it’ll be much easier to get him to agree to a settlement.”

You frown at that. “Why would we settle?” You ask him. “It’s not like I need the money.”

“It’s a matter of principle, Ms. L/N.” He sighs, pulling open the heavy metal door and ushering you into the building. “He did something wrong, and it’s most easy for him to bear the brunt of atonement financially. Without requiring damages be paid for breaches, contract law would collapse.” 

“Can’t you just have him apologize?”

Mr. Seo’s mouth twists up like he’s just tasted something unpleasant. “As you attorney, it is my duty to advise you against accepting restitution in the form of an apology. You’ll get a reputation for being a pushover.” 

You wanted to be anything but. “Alright, alright,” you concede, “Do whatever you think is best.”

The building you’ve ducked into seems to be an office. Along one wall are a set of metal folding chairs doing their best impression of a waiting room. Along the other is a metal door covered in peeling paint and one suspicious dent bearing a plaque that reads ‘DIRECTOR LIM’. Set between you and it is a desk covered in a mess of paperwork. An old desktop stands among it like an island in the ocean and middle aged hybrid woman in coke bottle glasses is hunched before it, tapping away at the keyboard at a mind-boggling speed. One of her ears twitches as the pair of you approach. 

“Take a seat,” she orders in a reedy voice, not bothering to look up from her work. “The Director will be with you shortly.”

“Send them in, Eunjung!” Someone shouts from behind the metal door  just as she’s finished. She doesn’t look up or stop typing or even acknowledge you two again. Mr. Seo takes it upon himself to breeze past her desk and open the door for you. 

The office is militaristically organized, all right angles and bare metal surfaces. There’s a black leather couch that’d seen better days to your left as you enter, a half empty water cooler to your right. Bookshelves lined with trophies and textbooks dominate the western wall. You scan the titles as you pass: Predatory Instinct: The Teaching and Training Canines, The Utility of Force, On Raising Hybrids, The Art of War, all dangerous and daunting as the man they belonged to.

Lim Hangyeol is the most grizzled man you’ve ever seen and the only other human besides yourself and Mr. Seo in the compound, it seems. He looks like a drill sergeant from an old action movie, his salt and pepper hair buzzed short and his face craggy with frown lines. There’s a semicircle of pockmark scars marring the skin of his right cheek and as you get closer, you realize they’re teeth marks. You shoot a concerned look to Mr. Seo, but he’s more focused on giving the director a shallow bow than allaying any of your fears. 

“Director,” He says, straightening back up. “Thank you for having us-”

“Spare me the bullshit,” The older man orders, kicking back his office chair and sinking back into it. “Take a seat. Let’s talk business.” 

A cold smile settles on your attorney’s lips and you see a cord twitching in his jaw, but he merely nods and replies in a breezy voice, “Of course.” 

The two of you do as you told, settling into two metal chairs in front of his desk. These ones are nicer than the folding ones in the waiting room, but no more comfortable. You try to slide yours forward only to find that it’s bolted to the floor. 

“Stops the dogs from throwin’ em when they get bad news,” Director Lim tells you as you uselessly tug at the legs. “Got tired of replacing windows.”

You grimace. If the awards on the bookshelf, what Mr. Seo had told you and the dozens of hybrids running boot camp drills outside were any indication, the man before you must’ve had some idea what he was doing. You didn’t end up providing security for high profile public figures without a smidge of credibility, you knew, but the bite marks on his cheek, the little crack about people throwing chairs at him and the way he’d referred to them as ‘dogs’ didn’t inspire confidence in you. 

This was your first time visiting a place that produced hybrids, you realized. You’d never even been into a shelter before and certainly not a breeding center. Were they all like this? Devoid of anything soft or comforting, rigid with rules and regulations? Had Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung come from a place like this? You don’t know and you’re not sure you’d like the answer if you did. 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice,” Mr. Seo starts, popping open the hinges on his briefcase and pulling out a few sheaves of paper. “After the sudden cancellation of your company’s contract with Ms. L/N, I was concerned for the state of our business relationship.” He slides one of the packets across the desk to the director. 

“If I remember correctly,” Director Lim says, scanning the lines of ink and unintelligible legalese, “Me and your boss signed for delivery, not me and whoever this little girl is you brought.” 

Your eyes narrow and your lips curl, but before you can give voice to the nasty thing crawling up your throat, Mr. Seo gives a subtle shake of his head and taps you twice on the knee, out of eyeshot of the director. You grumble, but cage it behind your teeth. 

“See?” The man jabs one gnarled finger at the page, right over your late uncle’s flourishing signature. “It says it right there: L/N Oliver. Last I checked, he was dead. I’m not holding on to a dead man’s dogs. ”

That same muscle tenses in Mr. Seo’s jaw. “The contract states that Black Mountain Canines would deliver the hybrids my client purchased to his residence on December the eighteenth and that they would be received by a proxy if he was unavailable. You were made aware of the fact that he was unavailable, as well as the fact that he now has a proxy-

“I’ll pay the goddamn fine!” The Director barks, throwing his hands up in the air. “Christ above, I don’t know why he wanted those two fuck-ups in the first place, but I don’t want them on my property a second longer.” 

You shoot Mr. Seo a look of confusion, but he just watches, blasé, as the Director rifles through his desk drawers. The man finds what he’s looking for and drops two manila folders on top of the contract. “The pair of them are useless. If it weren’t for my reputation, I’d’ve had them both sent to shelters years ago. Or put down, but you know how touchy the law is about that.”

“I don’t.” You say, your voice edging dangerously close to a snarl. It slips out before you can stop it. Mr. Seo shoots you a warning look and you ball your fists up in your sweater sleeves, fingernails biting crescent moons into your palms with the effort of keeping your mouth shut. 

You can’t stand this man, you decide. He’s awful. You should’ve known that from the moment you saw elementary school aged hybrids stumbling through taekwondo drills with their ears taped and bandages on their tails. You’re going to take whatever hybrids Oliver bought, get them the fuck out of there and never look back. 

If Director Lim had heard you growl at him, he gives no sign of it, just flips open the folders. “To be honest, I should be paying you to take them off my hands. They’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since they aged out of training. I told your uncle he could have his pick of the litter for what he was paying, but he wanted a wide-eyed buffoon and a mutt who’d rip your hand off soon as look at you.” Clipped to the insides are photos of two men, staring back at you in black and white. 

One has the same black and tan cropped ears as every other hybrid you’ve seen thus far. Unlike them, he’s smiling. His eyes are little upturned crescent moons and he beams at you through the photo paper. There’s so much light in his face it’s nearly blinding. 

The other is not nearly as inviting. The photo is taken at an odd angle and it’s blurry at the edges, like whoever took it was much shorter than the subject and had to zoom in to even get the shot. His ears, larger than any of the other hybrids and longer furred, are pinned back against his head. His jaw is clenched and he glowers down into the lens, one eye soot black and the other piercing blue. 

There are stats listed on the pages behind their photos: height, weight, shot records and the like. Among them, you see their call signs, highlighted in yellow: Hope and Monster. 

“I don’t know where I went wrong with him,” the director says, tapping Hope’s photo. “He went through all the training, passed all the tests, but when it comes down to it, he just doesn’t have the instinct.” He gives a single shake of his head, clicks the tip of his tongue against his teeth. “No one wants a guard dog that’d sooner talk an intruder’s ear off than actually guard what he’s supposed to. He’s not good for much but nannying the pups, but he’s too soft on them too.”

A light bulb clicks on and you realize the hybrid in question had been the one instructing the kids outside in the center of the yard, his tail wagging a mile a minute as they completed another form correctly.

“Now this bastard…” the director continues, jamming a finger onto the second photo with so much force, it rattled the cup of pens on his desk. “Is my biggest failure.” He crosses his arms and kicks back in his chair, his dislike of the hybrid in question obvious. “His mother was the cornerstone of this facility for nearly a decade. I sold her pups to assemblymen and actors alike. Centers around the country wanted pups with her genetics. If it weren’t for her, we’d never have grown to this size.” He sounds wistful as he spreads his hands out, gesturing around himself like a king taking in his holdings. “But all good things come to an end,” He sighs. “A pack of wild hybrids settled a little higher up on the mountain.” His face darkens and his lips twist. “Wolves,” he snarls with all the disdain he can muster. 

“All that about them being noble and self-sacrificing? Complete and utter bullshit,” He scoffs. “They’re transient lowlifes who’d slit your throat as soon as look at you. At first I didn’t care. They stayed on their side of the mountain and I stayed on mine, but then they started sneaking down here at night to steal my food and fuck my dogs. By the time I managed to get the cops out here, they’d cleared out and my top breeder had gone with them.”

He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “I tell you, I thought I was ruined. But wouldn’t you know it, she came stumbling back here six months later, barefoot and howling to be let in and heavy with some wild thing’s pup.” Director Lim snaps both the folders shut and slides them to you across the desk. “The thing about breeding hybrids is, the money’s all in the bloodlines. No one wants a dog with mystery genetics. The only way to solve that problem is to cut it off at the root- but it was already too late by the time she got here.” 

You feel sick to your stomach. You hope he isn’t implying what you think he is- that hybrid children he hadn’t planned out himself were mistakes in need of correction- but you know he is. Deep in your gut you know.

“And she spoiled him. She let him run roughshod over everyone and everybody in this compound. I tried telling her wild hybrids need a firmer hand- he certainly did if we were gonna break that wolf he’s got inside him, but she wouldn’t hear it. I tried to crop him with the other pups his age, he gave me these,” he said, gesturing to the teeth marks in his cheeks. “We keep him shut up away from the others, now, in the back when he can’t bother anyone. He gets his meals delivered but we don’t ever let him out.” The grizzled man shakes his head. “A drain on resources is what he is.”

“And his mother?” You ask, quietly. 

“Eunjung?” he questions. “You met her on the way in.” The director stands and unclips a ring of keys from his belt buckle, making his way around the desk and gesturing for you and Mr. Seo to follow. “I’ve got her doing desk work now. Gotta keep her close so she doesn’t cause any more trouble.” He pushes open the door to his office, barks something at his secretary and steps outside, not looking back to see if you two are following. 

You shoot Mr. Seo a look before you stand and he meets it, evenly. “We’ll discuss this in the car,” he says, stuffing papers back into his briefcase and flicking the clasps shut. Oh, you most certainly will discuss ‘it’ in the car. 

You don’t really know what it is or where to even begin. The kids with bandaged ears? The fact that Director Lim seemingly decided who was allowed to see the sun and who wasn’t? You think back to the conversation you’d had with Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi last night. Right now, it seems years away, in some unreachable, idyllic past before you knew how breeding centers worked and how security hybrids were made. You feel foolish. Who were you to try to get them to let go of their pain and their hurt? If what they’d been through was even a little like what was going on here, they wouldn’t be able to for a long time. You’re angry. You’re disgusted. You are unquantifiably fucking sad. 

You pass Eunjung on your way out. In your time in the director’s office, she’s pulled her ash brown hair into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Peeking out of the collar of her sweatshirt you can see a faded scar in the shape of a ring, little puncture marks pale and glossy. It looked similar to the one on the director’s cheek, but this one was a complete circle and not ragged at all, like she’d stayed completely still while it was given. Teeth marks. 

You swallow. You want to do something, to give her some words of encouragement, but you have no idea what to say. You still don’t as you slow to a stop beside her desk, but you open your mouth to speak anyway. “I’m sorry,” You tell her, with all the sincerity in your heart. 

She doesn’t answer, but one cropped ear flicks toward you and her fingers slow in their incessant race across her keyboard. 

You turn to go. Mr. Seo was holding the door open for you and you can hear the director barking orders at a group of trainees to run an obstacle course faster. Just as you set foot over the threshold, she speaks. Her voice is so quiet, you have to strain to hear her over the steady clack-click-clack of her nails on the keys. 

“He likes green things,” she says, not looking up from her work. “And old books.” 

You look over your shoulder at her. Her face is a mask of neutrality, her eyes clear and her mouth set in a relaxed line. She looks fine, but there’s an ocean of meaning behind her words. You see her, just for a moment, as she’d been all those years ago, barefoot in the snow and begging for shelter, her stomach full with one of the moon’s own children. You commit the sight of her to memory. Then you turn and you go.

The director is waiting outside, shielding his eyes from the sun and regaling Mr. Seo with some long-winded explanation on the best way to treat hip dysplasia in Doberman hybrids. “Where to?” you ask, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. 

The man gives you a disgruntled look but despite the anxiety you feel spiking in your belly, you meet it evenly. Once upon a time, anyone in a position of authority looking at you the way he was would’ve sent you into a tailspin of self-doubt and nerves, leaving you shivering as your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, warning you of non-existent danger. If you were honest, it still did- but you didn’t have the luxury of running away and hiding anymore, not when there were people who needed you. 

“Hope’s bags are in the barracks. He just needs to grab them, and he can be on his merry way,” The direction grunts. “Monster’s still locked up, so I’ll-”

“I’ll go.” You can feel Mr. Seo stiffen beside you. 

“Ms. Y/N-”

“If he’s really that aggressive,” you start, your eyes not leaving the director’s for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to meet him now instead of when we’re packed into a car on a two hour car ride?” Director Lim narrows his eyes at you, but you don’t falter. You hold your hand out for the key. Your boldness surprises you. He drops the key ring into your open palm and you wrap your fingers around it, stuffing it in your pocket before he can snatch them back. You turn on your heels and march off in the direction he tilts his head in, nothing but a hiss of your name from Mr. Seo’s lips to accompany you. 

You walk quickly, eyes straight and willing your legs to go faster with every stride. It’s a long way across the compound but the less time you spend walking, the less time you have to stew in anxiety. None of the hybrids training in little packs spread across the yard pay you any mind- except for Hope. 

Your path takes you directly behind the group of kids he’s working with. You give them a wide berth, not wanting to disturb them, but you get a little distracted. Your steps slow for just a moment as you drink him in. He’s tall- the same height as Taehyung, if you’re judging it right, but there’s an ease about him the tiger hybrid hasn’t yet mastered. Everything about Taehyung is pulled in. He’s always coiled tight, like he’s preparing to spring forward at any moment, all his energy drawn into the center of his being. Even last night, when you’d been cuddled up with him on the couch, he’d pulled you tight against his side, shifting and rearranging himself til you both fit on one cushion. He’d held you tight through both films, his tail curled around the both of you and his spine tight, like if he let himself relax for a moment, you’d both turn to dust on the wind. 

Hope has no such fear. Everything about him is spread wide open, from the heart-shaped smile on his lips to his arms as he demonstrates a series of punches to his little pack of students. They all watch him with rapt attention, ears perked up and bandaged tails wagging. One of them asks him a question and he laughs, ruffles their hair. He laughs in a way you’ve never seen before, shoulders shaking like he can’t contain the force of it alone. It makes your heart flip. 

His ears twitch, picking up the change in the cadence of your footsteps. He looks up and your eyes meet for the first time. He looks surprised to see you, for a moment, face blank- but then it melts into a soft smile, brimming with affection you’ve done nothing to earn. You snatch your gaze away and fix it to the dirt in front of you, embarrassed at being caught. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him cock his head to the side in confusion, but he doesn’t go after you. All the better, you’re all but running away from him now. 

You shuffle across the compound in a blur of scuffed sneakers and frayed nerves. You barely give yourself time to look up at the small cinder block building before you, shoving the key in the padlock before you can lose what unearned confidence you have left. You twist it, yank the rusted thing open, take a deep breath and enter.

You don’t know what you’d been expecting, but it’s certainly not what you find. The way Director Lim had spoken about him and this place, you’d been expecting cobwebs on the ceiling, blood spatters on the wall and rusty nails on the floor. What’s before you is almost entirely the opposite.

The room is a veritable Eden. 

There are vines climbing every available wall, wrapping around structural posts and digging their way between concrete blocks. Every surface is crammed full of flowering plants in makeshift pots: lilies in old water jugs, violets in a worn out boot, black-eyed susans dripping orange petals from an upturned helmet. The floor is in a similar state, ferns and foxgloves turning what little space around his bed there is into a meadow. It’s beautiful. 

“He likes green things,” you marvel, stepping into the room and pushing the door shut behind you. It seemed every living thing that’d been uprooted to expand the compound had found a second life here, sheltered from the Director’s violence. Maybe the hybrid who lived here had too. 

A plant different from all the others catches your eye. It’s set up on the cardboard box serving as his bedside table and it’s the only one in a real pot from what you can tell. It looks just like a miniature tree, complete with knobs on it’s trunk and tiny leaves. You let out a little sound of wonder and crouch in front of it, your fingers reaching out on their own to trail across the delicate branches-

A massive hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you cold. “Don’t touch that.” 

You hadn’t heard him approach, but now you knew he was there. You could feel his presence behind you, heavy and warm. He’s looming over you. You swallow and make your arm go limp in his grip. No need to give him a reason. “I won’t,” You tell him. “Will you please let go of my wrist?”

He drops your arm without protest and relief floods your body. You weren’t sure if there was a hybrid version of lockjaw and you certainly weren’t itching to find out. You sit back on your heels and struggle to your feet, still hyper aware of the person behind you, his eyes boring holes into the back of your head. By the time you turn around, he’s back where he came from, standing in the entrance for a bathroom you hadn’t seen, half hidden behind a curtain of vines. 

He looks different than the others. You’d been expecting that, but the full-length fluffy tail held stiffly behind his back and the long-furred ears pointed away from you are still a surprise. His fur, instead of being in rigid black and tan points, is marked by whorls of black, brown and gray. Instead of the lean musculature all the other hybrids had -all trim waists and narrow ankles- he’s sturdier, his shoulders broad and the veins in his forearms popping as he clenches his fists. He’s looking at you with that mismatched glare, his chin tilted toward his chest and his eyes shining aquamarine and obsidian. 

“If you’re new,” he starts, voice raspy. “They should’ve told you: you’re supposed to knock before you come in.”

“No, I’m not-”

“You can leave the food over there.” He nods toward a little plastic folding table jammed into one corner. It’s the one surface in his room that’s devoid of plants and there’s nothing on it besides a metal cafeteria tray, licked clean. “I won’t move when your back is turned.”

“I’m not here to deliver your food.”

He frowns, brows drawing together as his shoulders tense. “Then why are you…?”

You ball your hands up in your sweater sleeves and turn to face him full on. “I’m here to take you home with me.” You tell him. “They didn’t tell you?”

He laughs, but it’s a cold sound, devoid of joy. “Nobody tells me anything.”

Based on the short conversation you’d had with Director Lim, his sudden cancellation of contracts and the way he seemed ready to bulldoze over anything and everyone that didn’t fit his agenda, he didn’t seem the sharing type. Still it was hard to believe he hadn’t told him he’d be leaving the compound that’s been his home for over twenty years. 

“You don’t have to come with me,” you add, softly. “If you don’t want to. I know I’m a stranger. But you can leave-”

“I can’t go anywhere.” He taps the collar around his neck. At first, you’d thought it was the same as the ones every other hybrid had been wearing. You can see now that it isn’t. Theirs had all been leather with thin silver buckles holding them in place. His was leather too, but the band was broader and double-layered. There’s a little box on the side with hinges and a small drawing of a lighting bolt. A shock collar. 

Your stomach turns. 

You take a slow step toward him, but the second you do, his ears go flat against his head and he pulls his lips back, revealing sharp teeth. You freeze, hands held up and the keys dangling from your thumb. “I have the keys,” you say, extending them toward him. 

His eyes flick from your face, to the keys in your hand and back again, like he doesn’t believe what’s happening, like he can’t believe you’d actually want him free. The silence drags out into a little eternity before he speaks again. “If I try to unlock it, it’ll shock me.”

You blink up at him and risk another slow step forward, hoping you’ve caught his meaning correctly. This time, he doesn’t growl but his ears stay pinned back as he watches you through narrowed eyes. You close the distance between the two of you. 

When you were six, your mom scraped together enough money to take you to Busan for your birthday. You’d spent the day down at the beach, building sand castles with sea shell windows and wading through tide pools. After the sun had set, someone had set off fireworks and you’d watched them cuddled up in your mom’s arms, eyes wide and filled with a riot of colors you had no name for. It’s strange, you know. The ocean is miles away, but that’s what he smells like: the sea and the sand, and the last curls of smoke from homemade bottle rockets. He smells like that day. 

You lift your hands to the clasp on his neck and slide the key home. You twist it and the collar falls to the ground, a monster that can’t hurt him anymore. His skin is warm under your fingers, but puckered with scar tissue. There’s a ring of it around his neck, branching with whatever current had run through him in different directions. There’s no way this was legal, no way anyone with half a heart could treat another person like this. Your fingers trail one of the splits over his adam’s apple and he swallows beneath your touch, snatching your wrist again. 

“Dont.” His voice is cold. You blink, shaking off whatever spell you’d been under and shuffle back quickly, eager to give him space. He cradles his throat with one long-fingered hand, massaging the skin. He rolls his neck and you look away. You shouldn’t stare; the last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable. “I’ll go with you,” he rasps, answering the question before you can ask it again.

You gape for a second. You really hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “Really?” You can’t stop a note of relief from creeping into your voice.

“Anywhere’s better than here.” He answers back. So, you were a means to an end. It doesn’t bother you. You’ll be whatever you need to be to get him away from this place and that man who seemed to only want to drive him down. 

“Do you need time to pack, or-?”

He gives a firm shake of his head. “There’s nothing from this place I want to keep.” And that’s the end of it. You push open the door and stride back out into the cold mountain air, trying your best to exude the confidence you know you lack. The hybrid slinks behind you, head hunched between his shoulders and every step stiff. He hesitates at the threshold and looks up at you, uncertainty written in the rigid line of his spine. He’s nervous. He has every right to be. 

How long had he spent in that little cinderblock room, shut away from every living thing? How long had he spent being told that he was a monster? You didn’t believe it, not for one second. No one who was as violent as the director had painted him out to be could’ve raised that garden. 

He leans out of the door frame, sniffs the air and lurches forward, out of the shadow of his room, His shoulders bunch up even higher around his head and he goes stiff like he’s waiting for a shock or a shot or a shout- but none comes. The sun is still shining and he’s barefoot in the sand, standing for the first time in years under the open sky. He exhales in a short puff and it looks like he’s going to walk beside you- but he turns on his heels on goes back inside. 

You make a little noise of distress in the back of your throat. Had he changed his mind? Did he not want to come with you anymore? You go to call his name out of concern- but realize you don’t know it. All you have is the call sign he’d been given and you sure as fuck aren’t calling him ‘Monster’. You don’t have to flounder for long. He comes back out two seconds later, cradling the bonsai that’d caught your attention to his chest. 

“I’ll take this,” he mutters, shuffling into place behind you. You can’t smother the smile that starts tugging at your lips. Yeah, no one hateful would hold a little tree with as much tenderness as an infant. 

You give him a little nod. “There’s a terrace where I live,” you tell him, starting your trek across the yard once again. “It’s got a garden and a little greenhouse on it. It’s not very big, and it’s not as pretty as your’s, but you could grow new things there, if you wanted.”

His ears twitch in response, but he keeps his glower firmly focused on the plant in his arms as he shuffles along beside you. It’s then you notice he’s barefoot. “Do you wanna go back and get your shoes?” You ask, trying to make the question sound as innocuous as possible.

“Don’t have any,” he grumbles back. “Don’t need them; I never go outside.” 

Alright, that was understandable. Your first stop when you got back into the city would be a shoe store to get him a pair to wear- or maybe not with the way he kept flinching every time a whistle blew and his ears were swivelling like satellites at each new sound that reached them. You chew the inside of your lip. You don’t want to ask, but you know you should. Better to rip the bandaid off now, than get surprised later. “How long were you shut in for?”

“Fourteen.” He bites out. 

“...weeks?” You venture. There's a hopeful uptick at the end of your words. Even that would’ve been horrible, even that would be worthy of the litany of profanity you’re mentally lobbing at Director Lim- but it’s still better than the truth. 

The hybrid cuts a flat look at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Years.” 

A wall of your scent hits him like a freight train, vacillating between the thick, cloying odor of sadness and the burn of anger. His nose wrinkles at it, brows drawing together in confusion. 

However little you might’ve known about hybrids, however limited your view of them was, you knew they weren’t supposed to be locked up. Domesticated hybrids like hamsters and cats might’ve been fine inside a house all day, assuming they still had regular interaction with people- but dogs weren’t. And he was half wolf. Wild, he’d have had dozens of square miles to roam over, and he’d been limited to a four-by-four yard room for fourteen years. Your goshiwon was a similar size, but it hadn’t been your whole world. All he’d had was one tiny window and what narrow view he’d managed to glimpse in the doorway when his meals were delivered. 

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but you’re cut off by a scream of delight and a snarl keying up in the hybrid next to you’s chest. Your jaw snaps shut with a click. 

A few yards ahead, there’s a group of kids wrestling in a massive pile. They’re all giggling and rolling over each other, tails wagging a mile a minute as they play bite and make grabs for the person at the center of their puppy pile. A head of black hair and a pair of cropped ears pop up and you see that it’s Hope, smiling bright as the sun as his students try to pin him. 

“You can’t leave!” One particularly determined kid yips, adamantly pushing his shoulder back to the sand. “Who’s gonna teach us?”

Hope just laughs.”Lisa is gonna teach you with the older kids-“

A chorus of disappointed barks and howls breaks out. “Ms. Lisa’s classes are too hard!” A little girl complains.

“Yeah!” Someone else chimes in. “And she’s strict!” 

The hybrid ruffles both kid’s hair affectionately, careful of their bandaged ears. “Just because she won’t let you get away with skipping night practice doesn’t mean she’s strict,” he laughs. He’s only met with more grumbles and complaints. 

It warms your heart to see. Even if these kids were at the mercy of their director -for now, at least- it was good that they had him to rely on. Your eyes meet and the sheer force of light in his face makes your own heat up. You look away, but he’s spotted you. He disentangles himself from the mess of kids and draws himself up to his full height. He’s in the same uniform he was in before, albeit with a black tactical bag now strapped to his back. He takes a step toward you and the wolfdog hybrid's ears go flat against his skull. He’s not deterred. “Joonie?”  It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to the hybrid next to you. “Kim Namjoon, is that you?” Hope takes one step forward and the hybrid - Namjoon - takes a step back to counter him. Hope looks like he’s going to advance again, but a small pair of hands wrapped around one of his own stops him. 

A little girl is holding on to him. She can’t be more than six years old. Her tail is still long and her ears are still floppy and she looks so small in her child-sized boots and cargo pants. “Mr. Hobi,” she whines, her head craned back to look up at him. “Please don’t go.”

He falters. His eyes flick from the pair of you back down to her, then he crouches, holds both of her hands in his. “I have to, Sowon-ah,” he says softly. 

She sniffles pitifully and juts out her lower lip.”But why?” 

It’s a fair question. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to come with you if he  doesn’t want to, but he beats you to the punch. “Because it’s my job, sweetheart,” he tells her, smiling softly.

“Y-your job is to teach us,” she hiccups back, face growing blotchy as tears well up in her eyes. Hope swipes one of them away with his thumbs. 

“I teach you so you can grow up well and protect your person, right?” She nods, little hands balling the fabric of her cargo pants up in her fists. “Right. Well this,” he continues, turning and looking at you with a soft smile. “Is my person. And I’ve gotta go make sure she stays safe.” 

You feel your heart jump into your throat. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky and you don’t deserve it. You’ve done nothing to warrant that much unearned loyalty. Sowon rubs at her eyes with the back of her hands and Hope pulls her into a tight hug. 

“Ah, don’t cry, Sowon! You’ve gotta make sure you get stronger so someone takes you home, okay? You don’t wanna get old and still be here like me, right?” He squeezes her and goes to stand, but gets mobbed by his students again, all wanting their own hugs and making him swear to write them letters. It takes another five minutes of tearful goodbyes and Director Lim approaching for them to turn him loose.

“Get back to your training, all of you!” He barks, stomping out of the office and slamming the door, Mr. Seo on his heels. The kids scatter to the four winds almost instantly, not wanting to be underfoot for whatever scolding the director was about to deal out. Hope’s face remains the same but you catch his ears droop just a little as his students leave him. The wolfdog hybrid- Namjoon, you remind yourself- on the other hand has his ears flat against his skull. A growl bubbles up in his chest and rips past his lips. It’s a dark, full bodied thing that has you taking a step back and Hope shrinking with a whine. 

“Joonie-” he pleads. 

“Don’t fucking call me that.” All the fur on Namjoon’s body is standing on end, from the points of his ears to the tip of his tail. Even his hair has fluffed out. His mismatched eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals his incisors and all that fury, all that rage, is leveled on Director Lim. 

To his credit, the grizzled man doesn’t shrink back an inch before the enraged hybrid. His lips twist and he yanks a little remote out of his pocket, mashing a red button in the center. Namjoon flinches, his hands fly to his neck- but nothing happens. The shock collar is gone and the director has no power over him anymore. 

The man in question’s eyes widen, flicking between the remote to the column of Namjoon’s throat, now devoid of his one element of control. “Where’s his collar?” He demands. “How the hell did you get your collar off?” He advances on the tall hybrid, his hand in the air and though he doesn’t stop snarling, Namjoon ducks his head, anticipating the blow. 

You don’t know what moves you. Maybe it’s Hope pleading for it all to ‘stop, just stop!’. Maybit’s how Namjoon knows exactly how to move when he’s about to get hit. Maybe it’s your own lack of self-preservation. Whatever it is, you blink and you’re in front of Namjoon, your hand up and clutching the director’s forearm, stopping him from striking the hybrid behind you. You’re not strong enough to stop him, not fully. Your elbow buckles in and you stumble back, your back pressing into the wolfdog hybrid’s chest.

The director yells something at you, red flooding his face. You can’t hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears, the pounding of your heart. You force a dry swallow down your throat, put on your bravest face and glare up at him. “Don’t hurt him anymore.”

He reaches out with his free hand to tug you out of the way, but before he can touch you, Hope is there. He presses close to your side and holds the director’s wrist firm, his eyes on the sand and his shoulders hunched up by his ears.

Director Lim looks angry enough to spit. “Hell of a time for you to grow a backbone,” he snarls at Hope, making the doberman hybrid flinch. “I want all four of you off my property now.” He snatched his arms free and you don’t miss the nasty glare he casts at Namjoon. “And if this mutt ever shows his face around here again, I’ll-”

“Director Lim,” Mr. Seo cuts in, his voice cool. “You’ve made yourself clear; we’ll leave. You needn’t make threats.” There’s an underlying warning in the attorney’s voice. The director locks his jaw.

“Get out.” He breathes. Hope ducks around him, his head low and his docked tail pressed close to his back. If he could tuck it, you think he would. You follow after him, eyes fixed straight ahead and your back ramrod straight. He might’ve scared the shit out of you, but you weren’t going to let him see that. Mr. Seo fixes you with a hard look and the second you’re within arms reach, he presses a hand to your back and ushers you toward the gate. The only one who remains is Namjoon.

He looks like his anger has rooted him to the spot. His ears are still flat against his head, his lip still curled. 

“Do it, boy,” the director taunts. “Give me a reason-”

“Namjoon.” At the sound of his name, his ears prick up and you turn around. It’d come not from Hope- which you’d expected, seeing as he seemed to be the only one who actually knew his fellow hybrid’s name- but from the open door of the office building where Eunjung stood. She looks at him, her expression unreadable and he stares back. All the tension in his body has shifted and for a moment, you think he’s going to spring toward her and fall into her arms- but she gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head and his face hardens. His arms tighten around his bonsai. You think you know, now, why it was the only plant in his room that had a pot. 

“Go,” she says and all the tension leaves him. His shoulders curve in and he drags himself past the director, out from the fence and toward Mr. Seo’s car. There’s something final about the way the gate rolls shut after him. If you hadn’t known better, you’d’ve sworn you heard him whine as it locked. 

The car ride down the mountain is...interesting to say the least. Hope insists that the seating arrangements inside the Buick be done to his specifications,( “You’ve gotta sit in the middle,” he tells you, pointing to the narrow center seat. “And Joonie and I will sit on either side of you to protect you in case we crash!” His tail is wagging a mile a minute behind him. You’re surprised it can move that much, given how short it is. Mr. Seo looks affronted at the unintentional jab at his driving and Namjoon just looks irritated. “I told you to stop calling me that.”) and he keeps throwing an arm across your middle everytime the car hits a bump. You’re going down the side of a mountain. There are a lot of bumps. He also keeps pressing his nose against the glass of his window, ears pricked up and trying to take in every tree that passes by. Namjoon, on the other hand, slouches back in his seat, his body curved around his plant and ever so slightly away from you. He still watches the world pass by, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of you or speak- which would be fine if anyone else would. Hope seems to be doing his best to appear stoic and alert every time you look at him and Mr. Seo seems comfortable with the quiet. So, you’re left to ride the two hours back to Seoul in silence. 

You almost cry with relief when your phone buzzes with an incoming text. You fish the device out of your pocket, thumb it to life and scan your notifications.

Unknown Sender [7:13 PM] where are you

You frown. Very few people had your number or any reason to text you. You’re about to chalk it up to a wrong number when the second text rolls in.

Unknown Sender [7:14 PM] it’s yoongi

Now that’s a surprise. When you’d hurriedly told the boys to text you, you’d been expecting Jimin to urge you to hurry or for Taehyung to ask for updates, not for their hyung to check your progress. A little smile pricks at your lips as you rush to reply

You [7:14 PM] We’re on the way back now!

Unknown Sender has been changed to Yoongi 

Yoongi [7:14 PM] can i call

You bite the inside of your lip, suddenly nervous. You know there’s no reason to be. After all, you tell yourself, what’s scary about a pair of roommates talking on the phone? You give him the go ahead and not three seconds after the delivered notification pops up, you get a call. You answer it on speaker.

“...Hello?”

“Did you just start driving?” Yoongi’s voice is thick with sleep, like he’s just woken up. It’s different than normal, his usual smooth drawl gone gravelly. 

“Y-yeah,” you reply, trying to ignore the way Hope is watching you out of the corner of his eyes and Namjoon’s ears have swiveled back toward you. “It’s gonna be awhile, still. Are Taehyung and Jimin-”

“They’re fine; They ate dinner earlier and they’ll be asleep til you get back.” He yawns and you picture him slouched on the couch, his hair mashed up on one side and his face puffy.  “Why do you sound nervous?”

“I’m not,” you counter. It’s a blatant lie and he knows it. He hums in doubt, but doesn’t press you.

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Do you want me to text you when we’re close?” It’s an innocuous question. There’s no reason you can see for him to pause as long as he does. For a second you think you’ve lost him- after all, mountains aren’t known for having great reception- but then you hear his breath fan over the receiver. 

“...Yeah.” 

You give a little nod you know he can’t see. “Okay.” He makes a little noise of assent and then his line clicks off. You hang up. Just as you do, another text comes through. 

Yoongi [7:16 PM] don’t let them scent you

“Who was that?” Hope asks in a small voice, pulling you away from your phone screen and Yoongi’s insistence that you remain scent-free. His tone is open, but you can tell by the way his knee is bouncing that he really, really wants to know. “Is that your husband?”

The bark of laughter that rips past your lips is out before you can think to stop it. Namjoon flinches and you wince at him in apology, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. Hope is frowning at you in confusion, his head cocked slightly to the side. You force yourself to calm and answer him. “No, Yoongi is not my husband.” You weren’t sure if you even really qualified as friends at this point. “He’s another hybrid that lives with me.”

Hope perks up in his seat. “You have another hybrid? Director Lim always told us that once we left the center, we’d be alone.” Your expression sours at the mention of the ill-tempered man and you shake your head. 

“No, there’s a lot of hybrids in Seoul,” you tell him, eager to dispel some of his misconceptions. “The three that live with me are named Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung. Yoongi’s around your age, I think. Jimin and Taehyung are younger.” The doberman hybrid sits at rapt attention, soaking up every bit of information you give him and waiting eagerly for more. What else could you tell him about them? You remember the boys’ reaction that morning when you told them you’d be bringing dog hybrids home. “...They’re all felines,” you say, slowly, trying to gauge their reactions. 

“So that’s why you smell like that.” It’s the first words Namjoon’s spoken since you all piled into the car. You turn to him, but he’s not looking at you.

“What do you-?”

“You smell like other hybrids,” Hope says, covering for him. “But I’ve never smelled any that weren’t other dogs before.” He leans closer, his seatbelt stretching. You tense and lean away from him, but he’s not deterred. The tip of his nose brushes your neck and you have to fight off a shiver as he breathes you in. “They smell the same…” he starts, his breath fanning over your throat. “...but different? And one of them isn’t as strong as the others-” He presses closer, trying to catch the scent that’s eluding him. You make a noise of mild distress and lean further back, pressing into the solid wall that is Namjoon. 

“Hoseok, let it go .” Hoseok. That was his real name then. To your surprise, the dog hybrid pulls back as instructed, settling back into his seat without so much as a whine.

“I’ve never met a cat before,” he muses, turning his attention back to the window. “I hope they’re nice.”

You think about the chorus of hisses you’d been met with when you told the boys they’d have to share their space. You hope so too.

It’s 9:30 by the time Mr. Seo drops you off back in front of your building. He wishes you a good night and promises to call later in the week to discuss Black Mountain Canines. You’re not sure if there’s anyone to report him to or anything you can do, but you want to try. What you’d seen at the compound was wrong any way you looked at it. It made you sick to leave anyone there knowing how the director treated Namjoon and Hoseok. No one was useless. No one deserved to be locked away for years at a time for the sheer crime of existing. You’d make them see that. 

The moment you step out of the car, Hoseok is all wide smiles and exclamations. “Woah, you live here?” he asks, tilting his head back to take in all fifty-one floors of Haneul Tower in their sparkling, glass-paned glory.

“Yeah,” you tell him, handing him his bag. In his excitement to get out of the car, he’d abandoned it and Mr. Seo had nearly driven away with it. “But I just moved in a couple days ago, so it’s still pretty empty.”

Hoseok nods, scanning the windows like he’ll be able to pick out which one’s your’s. Behind you, Namjoon is lingering on the sidewalk.

He’s still got his bonsai clutched close to his chest and he’s hunched down around it like he’s trying to stop unseen hands from picking at it. His shoulders are bunched up by his ears, and he flinches with every car horn, every siren that comes to you on the wind. He’d grown up in the mountains and spent the better part of his life indoors. It only made sense that he’d be sensitive to the sounds of the city. 

“Is there a security system?” Hoseok asks, still enamored with the building. “How many entrances does your apartment have?”

“Just one second,” you tell him, forehead wrinkling as you take in Namjoon. You slide slowly toward the wolfdog, not wanting to startle him. “Namjoon?” He flinches when you call his name, head whipping toward you. “Do you wanna go inside? I know it’s new, but it’ll be quieter, I think.”

His mismatched eyes flick from you, to Hoseok, to the building and back to you before settling firmly on the concrete at his feet. He seems different than he had in the mountains. He’s smaller, quieter, less sure of himself. Was it because this is all new territory for him? Or had the snarling hybrid in the mountains just been a roll he was forced to play, the mythic monster to the director’s tyrant king. 

“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to,” you tell him, in a voice you hope is reassuring. “We can wait, if you need to.”

“I’ll wait with you, Joonie,” Hope chimes in, giving the larger hybrid the same soft smile he’d given his students earlier. 

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “It...it’s fine,” he mutters, “We can go in, I just…” He takes a few hesitant steps forward and huddles closer to you. There’s still an inch between you, but it’s closer than you’d thought he’d come. 

You peer up at him. “Okay?” You ask. He gives a single nod and your little group moves through the double doors and into the lobby. 

It’s quieter at this time of night. You don’t recognize the woman standing behind the reception desk. There’s no one really around except one man, pacing the width of the lobby looking thoroughly put out. You can’t really see his face, but there’s something familiar about the slant of his body. He whirls around as the glass doors click shut and you catch sight of a fringe of gray hair, pointed ears, narrowed yellow eyes and an all too familiar pout. 

Yoongi. 

“Fuck.” You’d completely forgotten to text him. Judging by the look on his face as he stalks toward you, he wasn’t happy about it. To his credit, Hoseok does his best to guard you, sliding in front of you and pushing you behind him. You can’t see Yoongi’s ears beneath the hat he’s wearing but if his curled lip and narrowed eyes are any indicator, they’re pinned straight back. 

“Move.” He snarls at the doberman hybrid. Hoseok is taller than he is, but the closer Yoongi gets to him, the smaller he seems to shrink. There’s fire in the bobcat hybrid’s eyes. Hope whimpers and slinks out of his way, ears low. 

You wince. “Heeeeey, Yoongi. I’m sorry I forg-“ before you can even finish the sentence, he tugs you toward him by the shoulders. His face roves your neck, sniffing in earnest as he tries to pick up the scent of the other hybrids on you. All is well until he reaches the right side of your throat and grazes over the exact spot Hoseok had nosed earlier. He pulls away slowly, his shoulders tight. His head turns slowly to the doberman hybrid, mechanical. 

“You.” He hisses at the other hybrid with so much virulence it makes your blood run cold. He takes one step toward him, teeth bared in a snarl, but Namjoon slides in front of him bumping him back. A growl bubbles in the bobcat hybrid’s chest and the wolfdog matches it, both their ears pinned flat against their skulls. 

“Hey-” If either of them hear you, they don’t react. They’re too focused on having a staring contest. “Hey!” You push between them, a hand on either of their chests. Namjoon snarls as you touch him and Yoongi looks ready to skin him alive for that alone. He pushes against your hand, trying to get closer to the taller hybrid. You ball your hand up in the fabric of his shirt. “Stop it!” The receptionist already has the lobby phone in her hand. She’s whispering earnestly into it and you’re sure security will be on the way any second. You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut. “Everybody, elevator.” 

Yoongi hurls an accusatory finger in Hoseok’s direction. “These fucking-”

“Yoongi, please,” you plead. That gets him to stop. His arm falls to his side and he glowers down at you for a few seconds before stalking over to the elevators and slamming the up button. “I’m sorry,” you murmur to Hoseok and Namjoon. The smaller of the two hybrids is still hunched in on himself and the taller has Yoongi fixed in his mismatched gaze, his lips curled in anger. 

This was not the way you wanted this to go. You’d wanted them to have time to settle before you discussed next steps and gave them the same talk you’d given the felines, but it didn’t look like that was in the cards. You don’t know what’s gotten into Yoongi. You’d thought the bobcat hybrid was calm, cool and collected, completely unflappable in the face of anything. Apparently not. He seemed upset that some of Hoseok’s scent had gotten on you, but there’d been no way to help that. You’d been packed in a car with him and Namjoon for two hours. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?

“It’s not okay,” you tell them, wanting them to know you didn’t condone the way Yoongi had acted. “I don’t...I don’t know why he’s acting like this; he doesn’t normally. Do you wanna go up separately?”

It’s Hoseok who answers. “No, we’ll go up together,” he assures you with a small nod. “If...maybe if we get used to each other, it’ll be okay?” 

You’re not optimistic, but you give him a pained smile you hope is reassuring. “Yeah, maybe?” You cast a look back over your shoulders. Yoongi is waiting by the elevators, his arms crossed over his chest and his tail flicking in irritation. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Well, there was no avoiding it. “Come on,” you tell them. “Just...keep to the other side, for now. I’ll stand between you and him.” 

The four of you pile into the elevator, all tucked into your own corners. It’s strange, you think. It’s never seemed small until now. Hoseok keeps casting worried looks over at you, Namjoon keeps subtly shifting closer and Yoongi is still glowering at the both of them, angry for a reason you can’t quantify. 

“If it helps,” Hoseok starts softly, his voice an intrusion in the awkward silence. “I really didn’t mean to, honestly-”

“Don’t apologize.” Namjoon counters. “If it bothers him that much, he can speak up” 

You don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s too late that you realize the canines aren’t addressing you. Suddenly, Yoongi’s fingers are hooked through one of your belt loops. He yanks you backwards and you stumble, falling against the length of his body. “My bad,” You shoot out, before the hybrid can hiss at you. “I just lost my bala-” The words die on your tongue as Yoongi fixes his mouth to the soft skin of your throat. The elevator goes quiet.

The canine hybrids avert their eyes almost instantaneously, instinct telling them they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t be. Yoongi keeps them fixed firmly in his sights, a dark growl bubbling in his throat. 

Your fingers flex uselessly at your sides, hands clenching unclenching as the hybrid works over the sensitive skin of your neck with his teeth and tongue. ‘Don’t make a noise,’ you plead with yourself. ‘This isn’t what it feels like. Don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise-’ Yoongi’s incisors graze over a vein and a little whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it. The grip he has on your hips becomes bruising. You feel your legs turning to jelly beneath you. Any more of what he was doing, and they’d have to mop you up off the elevator floor. You force your throat to swallow. “Y-Yoongi, I think that’s enough-” You don’t know if he hears you over the noise he’s making, so you lace your fingers through his and untangle them from your hips. He releases you with a wet pop and you slap a hand over the skin he’d marked. Heat floods your face and a smirk spreads across Yoongi’s, his teeth flashing at the canines. He leans in again to rub his nose against the mark he’d made- but a hand on his chest stops him. 

“Can you stop?” You ask in a small voice. Honestly, you’re embarrassed. Regardless of what the articles said about mark-making being platonic, it doesn’t feel friendly. It feels possessive and mean and you don’t like it. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you like you asked, but what is with you today?” Yoongi’s expression changes from smug satisfaction to confusion and then surprise, like he hadn’t expected you to protest. “I know what I said about you being ready but…” You rub a hand over the mark, wiping away saliva and your sweat. The bobcat hybrid visibly deflates. The elevator chimes for the fiftieth floor and the doors roll open slowly. You rush out before any of them can and start punching the code in your door with shaky fingers. You don’t know what to say. You’re tired and stressed and you don’t know what’s going on. Was this about the apartment? You knew the felines wouldn’t be happy about sharing their space, but why had Yoongi gone this far?

“Y/N…” He trails after you, his ears drooping. You shake your head, You can’t talk to him right now. 

“In the morning,” you tell him as the door swings open. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” You can’t deal with everything that’s happened today, and Yoongi flipping out and getting the canines settled. You weren’t that good at juggling. 

By the grace of all that’s merciful, Taehyung and Jimin are still asleep when you walk in. You’d need to have an extended meet and greet tomorrow, you decide. Maybe do some icebreakers or team building exercises. If they reacted anything like their hyung did, you were in for one hell of an adjustment period. 

Hoseok and Namjoon trail you into the penthouse warily, sniffing the air. You want to give them time to explore and get their bearings, they deserve that, but with the way Yoongi still seems agitated when they venture anywhere but exactly in your steps, that’ll need to be saved until tomorrow morning too. You give them the most spartan tour you can muster up and show them each to a guest room, promising to order them furniture and get them the things they need tomorrow. 

By the time you collapse into your own bed, it’s damn near 11. You groan and drag a pillow over your face as you ask the universe for the thousandth time why it had decided to continuously kick your ass. Having three hybrids had been hard enough. Having five of all different species was likely to prove impossible and having seven was going to be a sisyphean task you’d had no training for. You groan and kick your feet in the air, allowing yourself the brief respite of a temper tantrum before crawling under your covers and flicking the lamp off. Maybe in your dreams there’d be no stress and no snarling hybrids with behavior you couldn’t explain.

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE SIX || AFTER RAIN

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + zenin maki + inumaki toge + panda from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of death + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 25 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.6k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : curse womb must die II

↳ next episode : assault 

↳ barista’s notes : hey hey hey~ let me admit, i have no idea how to write the next episode since you don’t see anyone in them except for gojo and itadori (domain expansion episode) ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ so i might have to improvise something now...BUT there’s nothing much happening in this episode, so i hope you still enjoy it even when there is no action or anything interesting going on ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique 

no cursed spells used this episode...

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing

“We’re in!” Fushiguro and Kugisaki simultaneously answered with determined looks on their faces before turning back to look at you, waiting for your answer.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, you knew that you had no way out of this since they looked so motivated for you to join, even if you disagreed with them.

“This is such a drag, but fine, I’ll join in too,” you replied with a small smile on your face leading them to nod at you before turning back to your seniors.

“But if I decided this training and exchange event is pointless, I’m quitting instantly,” Kugisaki mentioned.

“Same here,” Fushiguro commented, causing you to kick both of them on the back much to their surprise.

“So you drags make me do this event, only for you to dip when it’s pointless for you, besides I heard there are some interesting sorcerers in the Kyoto side, so prepare yourselves,” you stated before stepping down the few steps you were in front of before standing between them.

“Well, people this cocky are all more worthwhile to train,” Panda mentioned with his arms folded with a determined look on his face.

“Bonito flakes,” Inumaki said in a softer tone.

Looking up to the sky, you couldn’t help but brisk in the sunlight that was shining lightly down upon you, leading you to raise your hand over your face in order to not be blinded.

‘I wonder how I’m going to hide from this one now?’

                                                   ꕥ

“You’re late, Megumi,” Zenin obviously mentioned, as her head was turned with what seemed like to be a wooden combat pole in her hand as it casually leaned against her shoulder.

“Kelp,” Inumaki stated, as he was sitting on the ground, also having his head turned to look at the Shikigami user, ignoring what seemed to be a race between Kugisaki and Panda going on behind him.

“What were you doing?” Maki asked curiously, as Fushiguro made his way down the stone steps towards his upperclassman while zipping up his blue track top.

“What does it matter?” Fushiguro then questioned, not giving the weapon-wielder sorcerer a clear answer since he thought there was no need sharing the fact that he went to visit the mother of the man (that Itadori want to save) that had been killed by the special-grade curse back at Eushi Detention Centre to pay his condolences.

“Zenin-senpai...what kinds of people do you want to save as a jujutsu sorcerer?” Fushiguro queried, as he processed to stare down upon the ground trying to hide his emotions to compose his stoic nature, causing the mentioned sorcerer to turn her head once again to look at the other student.

“Huh? It’s not like I care if my actions save anyone,” Zenin answered in a matter-of-fact tone, causing Fushiguro to look to the side with an ‘I’m done’ expression.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Fushiguro muttered in a lowered tone, leading Zenin to instantly become annoyed as she eyed at the erratic-haired boy with instant irritations in her eyes as well as expression.

Suddenly…

“FUSHIGURO! Quit asking interview prep questions! Switch with me! I’m sick of these school uniforms! Let me go buy some cute tracksuits!” Kugisaki shouted in a fit of rage, as she was strangely spun around in a dizzy circle like she was at a funfair circus as a clueless gymnast before being thrown in the air by Panda.

“What are those two doing?” Fushiguro confusingly asked as he watched the amusing sight process while his classmate landed on the floor.

“Falling practice!” Panda announced as he pointed his finger in the air like what he was doing was obviously.

“Mustard leaf,” Inumaki stated as if to confirm Panda’s answer, as he too looked at the ridiculous scene.

“You’re both weak in close quarters, after all,” Panda stated, as he informed his younger classmen on why what he was doing, made sense to the training that he had planned.

“By the way, where is Y/N? She was with you when you both left to do whatever you were doing,” Zenin questioned, as she looked around the area behind her to see if you were there since she did miss your presence the last time you both met.

“She said she needed to go somewhere important, but will be back as quick as possible,” Fushiguro recalled, as he remembers after you both met with Tadashi’s mother, you informed him that you had to go somewhere for the time being, but didn’t tell him where you were exactly heading off to.

“That’s fine, I guess,” Maki replied back as she processed to swing around the wooden pole she had in her hand with such grace and accuracy before continuing with, “if what that idiot Gojo said to us about her is true, she could beat all of us in an instant, she’ll probably be perfect in the individual’s battle,”.

“Okay, land a blow on us,” Zenin stated, with her palm out, as if inviting Fushiguro to attack her.

                                                ꕥ

“I’m here, mother”

As of right now, you were holding a small bouquet of a beautiful arrangement of blue hydrangeas paired with white roses with some incense sticks in one hand, while the other was holding a wooden tub filled with water with a wooden ladle as well as a plastic white bag with items you quickly brought from the corner store causing you to quickly place your items down before leaving the delicate bouquet in a safe area.

Digging through the white plastic bag, you pulled out a cloth before removing the stubborn tags that refused to be taken off as you processed to soak the material before beginning to wipe down the marble gravestone that towered you as your crouched down before cleaning the vase that you had also brought from the corner store - yet you were surprised at the fact there were no weeds to be pulled.

After you had quickly clean the gravestone, you picked up the incense sticks in their rightful holder before lighting them up with a match (that you also brought from the store) before carefully removing the paper that held the flowers to gently place the floral plants in the same neat arrangement in the now cleaned vase.

Making sure the china vase was placed in the middle, you grabbed the wooden ladle that was in the wooden bucket, making sure it had enough water before standing back up on your feet to pour the clear liquid over the grave as you then placed the ladle back into the bucket.

Placing your hands together in prayer, before internally thanking your mother for protecting you as well as expressing your gratitude for her.

“They’re your favourite flowers right?” you gently asked, as you stared down at the flowers that were beautifully sitting in the vase. “Those were really expensive you know, I wonder how you were able to buy them so often without any regrets,” you muttered with a small smile before crouching back down as if you were going to look eye to eye with the gravestone like your mother was going to be sitting in front of you.

“I've been found…but...I wasn’t as bad as I suspected, the people at Jujutsu Tech are such drags but they’re really nice people,” you expressed, as you continued with, “I’m sorry I took so long to visit, you know Sendai to Tyoko is a really long journey, technically that’s both our faults since we agreed that we wanted to rest in Tokyo if we did pass,”.

Looking at the marble stone in front of you, you could see the thin smoke of incense that was slowly swirling into the air, as if it was trying to hypnotise you with its graceful movements. However, even though you knew you had to get back to Jujutsu Tech as quick as you could, you couldn’t help but utter a few more words to your late mother.

“I miss you mum”

                                                ꕥ

“Ah- am I late?”

At this current moment in time, it seemed like training had taken a pause since everyone was seated somewhere close to the stone stairs that lead the way down to the track field.

“Where were you? I needed you to train Megumi more,” Zenin asked, as you carefully made your way down the stairs with another white plastic bag in hand before making your way to your upperclassmen with one hand holding each handle, leaving an opening that was large enough to let her have a view on the contents inside.

“Sorry, I was visiting someone, but I got you guys some refreshments since I know you all were going to be tired by the time I came. Oh! The orange juice is mine by the way,” you mentioned, as you swiftly grabbed the orange carton from the bag as if someone was going to steal it if you didn’t.

Smiling at you, Zenin leaned away from the tree bark to see what she could choose from the bag, before reaching in, to grab that bottle of water as her choice before you processed to hold the bag around for everyone to get a pick on what beverage they wanted before you took a seat on the steps between Fushiguro and Inuamki.

“Where’s Kugisaki?” you asked in curiosity, as you looked around the fielded area only to not find your classmate leading Fushiguro to explain to you that she went out to buy a tracksuit since she didn’t have one, causing you to realise that you probably needed to change later but for now, you didn’t find being in your school uniform since the slit on the side of your long skirt, made it easier to move as well as deal with the warm environment that was coming in for the season at the moment.

“Gojo, your katana is a cursed weapon right?” Fushiguro asked, causing you to look at him weirdly after stabbing the straw into the carton before giving him a nod as a way to reply to his question.

“I agreed with the others that supplementing my close combat with weapons is the best choice right now, but with my cursed technique, I want to be able to free both hands at any time, with katanas, you lose time sheathing them,” Fushiguro explained, as he placed the pads of his fingers together while looking down at them.

“How do you carry your weapon when your cursed technique is used by your hands as well, also how did you manage to hide the chain attached at the end?” Fushiguro asked as he looked up at you, only to be surprised when he saw you looking at him with an annoyed expression.

‘That’s one way to somewhat expose me, I guess’

“I can utilise my technique by using only one hand, although there are times when I have to use both hands like you. However, I rarely unsheathe my katana, so it usually hangs on my back,” you described, causing Fushiguro’s to concentrate on you, trying to understand your technique since it seemed more complicated then you made it look at your battle with Sukuna.

“About the chain, the red charm cancels the chain being constructed since it will use my cursed energy, not a lot for me, but it’s a drag since I need the extra bit. When the charm is off, I use my curse energy to conceal before clicking my fingers to reveal it, if I want to, and when I use two hands, I can use the chain to pull it back,” you explained, causing the second-years to be surprised at the amount of cursed energy you have to use to employ such a simple weapon - maybe it wasn’t as simple as they intentionally thought.

“How much cursed energy do you possess, Y/N?” Panda asked as he placed his paw on his chin in a thinking posture, only for Fushiguro to answer the question.

“She has a lot more than she is showing right now, I don’t know how but she can hide it,” Fushiguro stated, causing you to smack the back of his head before placing the neglected straw back to your lips since you were desperately craving the citrus content that was in the carton.

“Zenin-senpai, you often carry more than two around with you, right? How do you do that?” Fushiguro queried as he rubbed the back of his head to soothe the pain you had given him.

“I made Panda carry them,” Zenin answered, as she pointed at the classmate leading to the animal sorcerer to proudly show off his muscles as if to inform you and Fushiguro on how strong he was.

“I shouldn’t have asked, part two,” Fushiguro muttered under his breath, causing you to giggle internally at the statement as you wondered what he must have asked the first time since ‘part two’ was in the sentence.

“Some sorcerers keep cursed spirits that can store and retrieve objects,” Panda presented a well-thought idea, even though there was a disadvantage to that.

“He can’t do that. It’s a rare thing and it takes time to tame them, as well. But if you find any, let me know,” Zenin countered, before Panda replied for the payment he wanted if he ever finds a curse for her, causing you to zone out from the conversation as you processed to stare down at the step before you, that was slightly darkened by the shade of your shadow.

In curiosity, you took a side glance at your classmate only to notice that he was in deep thought, leaving you to figure something out for him while he thought of his own solution.

‘His shikigami uses shadows for a medium, then if that is the case…’

Using your hand that was occupied with your orange juice, you leaned forwards slightly, letting the tips of your fingers touch the stone step below you while making them land in the middle of your shadow.

“I think you can do that,” you stated in a quiet tone, causing Fushiguro to look in your direction only to see you staying still in the position that you had set yourself in before slowly pulling yourself back up to sit in a normal position, leading Fushiguro to go back to what he was in deep thought about.

‘I don’t get it, though. Why...did you run back then? What a waste of talent, but the girl back at that place, she knows how to use her technique extremely well’

“You possess such intellect, such skill, such power and such talent and yet you refuse to go against me with your full potential, are you mocking me?”

‘I have the potential to beat special grades? Is that what he meant by that?’ Fushiguro thought, before turning to look at you to discover you were looking into the distance while continuously sipping on your orange juice like the addict you were. 

‘What was she trying to tell me? It seemed like L/N knows something...intellect?’

Slowly but curiously, Fushiguro began to reciprocate your previous movements by letting his hand touch the step between his legs before waiting for a second to see what you were trying to inform him, only for his hand to steadily go deeper into his shadow leading him to widen his eyes at this discovery.

“Tuna, tuna,” Inumaki mentioned, as he pointed at Fushiguro since he noticed what he was doing, leading Zenin and Panda to look at their classmate wanting to know what he was trying to bring their attention to.

“Huh? What?” Zenin asked in confusion, before turning her head in the shikigami user’s direction to realise what he was doing.

“Senpai, I think I can do it,” Fushiguro stated with a rare smile, before looking in your direction once again to see you were still staring at the field in front of you.

‘Such intellect…’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[angryschnauzer]

Moonlight On The Sand

Summary: Stationed to the desert for a short mission, you are on terrain inspection when the full moon emerges from behind the clouds. However little do you know there’s something about the Captain accompanying you that may change things forever. Based on this ask from @fairndsquare​

Pairing; Captain Syverson x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned) Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle (Movie) Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Werewolves, Werewolf!Sy, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Ovulation, Breeding, Outdoor Sex/Car Sex. This is NOT an ABO story.

I do not run a tag list, but please go follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post a new story. Masterlist got too big for Tumblr, so past works can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites​ or on my AO3

Only the finest, free range, organic typos for me, allowed to run wild and free.

Sy fumed silently as he drove the truck through the abandoned desert. He was furious that he had been overruled, but the general had finally done a site visit and his word was final; Sy had to show the new logistics planner the area, and there was no avoiding it.

What the General didn’t know was what Sy had been through during his posting in the dry and barren landscape. That mythical creatures didn’t always originate from leafy green valleys, or snow capped mountains, sometimes they dwelled in dry arid plains and rocky outcrops.

The truck hit a particularly proud rock on the dirt track and leapt into the air, your hands flying as you grasped for something to steady yourself on, one on the dash and one on the particularly meaty thigh of your commanding officer.

“Sorry” the gruff man uttered through gritted teeth.

“S’okay… the moon’ll be up soon and we’ll be able to see better as its full tonight” you casually replied, looking out over the desert surrounding you, surprised as the truck slowed down a little.

“The moon?”

“Yes, you know the big round rock orbiting the earth?”

“I know what the moon is darlin’, been cloudy the last ten days so hadn’t been keeping track…” he muttered to himself.

You used the small penstick flashlight to glance over the map;

“I need to see this valley, and get an idea of what it’ll be like to bring the trailers in with water tanks on”

The Captain glanced where you were pointing and nodded once, letting the truck veer to the right to follow the camel route up through the hills.

As the truck gained elevation Sy could feel his mouth watering. He could not only smell you, he could sense how you had grown wet in his presence. It was like a sickly sweet coating of pollen at the back of his throat on a spring day back home. Halfway through the day he’d been in a conference call as you stood in the corner of the room, observing as he updated his superiors back in Washington, when he’d picked up another sense, the only way to describe it was as if something had suddenly ripened in the room. It’d taken him until the end of the call to realise it was you and your body had just reached its most fertile point in the month. You were ripe and ready, you just didn’t know it.

That single thought had plagued Sy for the rest of the day, something in the pit of his belly was just telling him to flee, to get as far away from you as possible… for your safety. But then his military training had kicked in and he’d followed orders, and that’s how he found himself pulling the truck onto a rocky pullout on the curved track as it skirted around the hill, the view over the valley spectacular as the moon finally emerged from behind the clouds and illuminated the earth below.

Stepping out of the truck you used your night vision goggles to scan over the plateau in front of you, looking out over the wide vista. You felt the heat of his body first, standing behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. You knew what he was wanting.

-

24 hours earlier.

Scrolling your phone you checked the calendar, relieved that the mission to the desert would be there and back in the space of two weeks, back in time before your monthly bleed would start again. If there’s one thing you didn’t want to have to deal with, it would be tampons and sand. It would mean you’d be ovulating whilst there, but you had enough sugary snacks packed to keep the hormones subdued, and this wasn’t your first time being overseas, although normally you were confined to a small base north of Washington DC.

The flight had been long and bumpy, little more than a glorified cargo hold, so by the time you arrived at the compound and finally got to meet the infamous Captain Syverson, you were tingling with anticipation for what the next two weeks would involve.

-

When he finally spoke, it was low and deep, resonating through your spine;

“You need to get in that truck, and drive it far from here…”

You went to turn but his hand caught your arm, keeping you looking out over the valley;

“Captain?”

“Private, do as i tell you… there are things in these hills, that you don’t know of and don’t need to know of…”

It was then that you sensed it: the connection. It was like a spark shot up your spine, and in a moment of foolhardy courage you turned, the air being sucked from your lungs when you saw him. The Captain stood before you, his eyes burning into your soul, the ring of fire in his irises and his canine teeth just a little more prominent. Your chest heaved with a shaky breath, and his nostrils flared;

“Private…” he warned one last time.

But rather than running in the opposite direction, you slowly took a step forward, holding your hand to his cheek and for a moment your touch soothed him. You took in how his hair had grown longer, his shoulders even broader, he was virile and potent. That’s when he felt it, his senses clouded as the moon took hold, but finally he realised; you weren’t afraid.

His body slammed yours against the side of the truck, his lips on yours as his tongue pushed into your mouth; tasting you, devouring you. Your hands clung to the sides of his weather beaten uniform, pulling him ever closer so you could feel every inch of his body pressing against yours until suddenly his hands were on your hips and he was lifting you onto the still warm hood of the truck. With expert skill he had quickly shed you of your cargo pants and sensible undergarments, his face between your thighs and you watched with fascination as he inhaled deeply, humming as your scent hit his brain before he dived in. 

His tongue was everywhere; licking and tasting you, running firm circles over your clit before descending and pushing the thick muscle into your velvet channel, his sharp teeth pressed against your soaked folds as he tasted you from within. When you came you screamed into the night sky, your legs shaking as the feral beast between your thighs growled in satisfaction, his eyes glowing.

He pulled you from the hood and carried you to the rear of the vehicle, opening the tailgate before sitting you on the edge as he made quick work of his cargo pants, his thigh holster holding them up as his thick cock unfurled from the worn in cotton. You swallowed nervously; you were far from a virgin but the thought of the thick gnarled girth splitting your insides apart had you pulling away for a moment. That was until he gently cupped the back of your neck, pulling your face to his as he rested his forehead on yours and you instantly felt calmer and relaxed. The first touch of his hot flesh against your soaked core had you trembling with anticipation, before he paused, one massive hand resting over your stomach, and he growled as the warmth of your womb almost burnt into his palm;

“Mine...” he muttered, before those feral eyes met yours; “...ours”

“Captain… now, please…” you whined, knowing that what he knew about you, and you were ready.

With a roar he surged forward, your ripened walls parting for him as if welcoming him home. With his palm still pressed to your stomach he could feel himself inside you, the thickness pushing out your belly as he moved slowly and carefully, working to get just the right angle until he paused and you saw that ring of fire in his irises again burn bright.

It was then that he moved faster, the pull and push hitting every spot inside you, feral and wanting, an urgent need to to fill you with his seed, to breed you took over. Faster and faster he pounded into your soft body, drawing orgasms out of you quicker than you could process them, before he slowed and pulled you up so you were sitting, your bodies still connected. In that moment it was when the connection, the bond was finally fully formed, and as he pressed his forehead to your and started to fuck you again, you felt your spirit joining with his. His thrusts got faster, harder, his breath hot on your skin. The angle of his pelvis meant it took just a couple more thrusts and you were coming again, this time he threw his head back and let out a cry-come-howl as he released into your womb, his seed flooding into you as your body eagerly milked him of it.

You stayed joined in the most intimate of ways until the cool night air made a shiver run down your back, the movement of your body making you realise the Captain was still hard and nestled deep within you;

“So… are we stuck?”

“No… but this is the first time i’ve done… this… whilst i’ve been like… this…” he let out a huff of air; “I’m not exactly sure how long i’m gonna stay hard Darlin’... we could be here a while…”

“All night?” you said, a hint of hope in your voice

“I’m yours until the moon goes down Darlin’”

“And after the moon goes down?”

He Captain paused;

“What would a girl like you want with a beast like me come daybreak?”

Running your hand over his beard your thumb caressed the skin of his cheek;

“Everything Captain… i want all of you...” It was only in that moment that Sy saw it, the ring of fire in your own eyes. He had found his mate and you had found yours; “Breed me Captain…”