#i want to get them something as soon as possible

[vibelladonna]

❛ 𝓌𝑜𝑜𝒻 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝓍 𝑔𝓃!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Lately, things have been feeling off. You’ve been getting way more attention than usual, and not from anyone you’d expect. Someone’s been sneaking around your place, and you’re done just sitting back.

Here’s the twist, though—what if this person actually wants to be your dog? Yeah, you read that right. With a few clues, a little digging, and hanging out, you’ll know.

And you might just be hearing a “woof” real soon. 

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: This one's for @1heartsubm1ssivemen. Sorry for the delay, love, but I wanted to make sure I wrote the best smut possible for you. Honestly, when I read that request you sent me in the middle of class, it totally made my mood—it was so out of pocket, and I absolutely loved it. 

I’ve woven a bit of my own lifestyle into this, shaping it into how I personally see myself treating Sol.

Trust me—you’re gonna love every second of it.

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: fem!Body, sub-Sol, dom!reader, gn!reader, smut, bdsm, possessive Sol, teasing, manipulation, power dynamics, pet play, praise kink, control, dominance, vulnerability, kink, intimacy, emotional intensity, slow burn, forced proximity, teasing, obsessive behavior, body worship, raw tension.

Look, living alone in an off-campus apartment?

Absolute dream. 

No roommates leaving passive-aggressive notes about dishes, no weird smells wafting in from a shared fridge, no one side-eyeing you when you stumble in at 3 AM with a suspiciously large tote bag full of things you probably didn’t need but absolutely had to buy. 

Just you and your perfectly curated chaos.  

And your place? It’s whimsical as hell.

The walls are covered in mismatched tapestries and posters—half of them vintage, half of them weirdly cryptic, like something out of an indie horror film. Fairy lights snake around the ceiling, tangled in ways you weren’t there last night, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. There’s a collection of odd little trinkets scattered across the shelves—porcelain dolls with unsettlingly glassy eyes, tiny jars filled with things that look like cursed relics but are probably just cool rocks, and a slightly suspicious music box that sometimes plays a note or two on its own.  

The floor? Funky rugs galore. Every single one is different—one looks like an old Persian carpet stolen from a museum, another swirly like a fever dream from the ‘90s, and somehow, they all just work. The furniture is a mix of antique finds and comfortable, overstuffed pieces that you’ve practically melted into over time. 

Your couch? More of a nest at this point, covered in plush blankets, embroidered pillows, and at least three half-read books that you keep meaning to finish.  

The kitchen? Tiny, but absolutely drowning in charm. Mismatched mugs line the shelves, each one with its own little backstory—some stolen from diners, some gifted, some picked up because they spoke to you in some inexplicable way. There’s a jar of honey on the counter, a half-melted candle that smells like cinnamon and something vaguely magical, and a fridge covered in postcards, weird magnets, and cryptic notes to yourself that even you don’t fully understand.  

And the best part? The sheer vibe of the place. It’s cozy, it’s eerie, it’s you. 

A space that feels like it exists just slightly out of sync with reality, like if you turned a corner too fast, you might step into another world entirely. You love it here. You adore it here. It’s your little haven of weirdness, your own personal fairytale that doesn’t always make sense but always feels like home.

Except… there’s one tiny problem.  

You, uh… kinda have a stalker.  

Not in the full-blown, ‘call the cops and get a restraining order immediately way—at least, not yet’. But in the ‘this is getting really weird, and I might have to start locking my doors properly’ way.  

It started off small. Little things. Things that made you question your own memory more than anything. A book on your shelf slightly out of place, turned the wrong way when you swore you hadn’t touched it. Your favorite mug—you know you left it in the sink, crusted with juice from your all-nighter, but somehow, it was mysteriously washed and put away. Annoying, but whatever. College was melting your brain, and maybe you were just forgetting things.  

And then there was the fridge.  

At first, you thought maybe you were imagining it, but no—there was more food. Not just any food, but your food. Your favorite snacks, the stuff you had literally run out of, were just… back. Sitting in the fridge like they had never disappeared in the first place. The expensive cheese you told yourself you wouldn’t waste money on anymore? Back in the drawer. A brand-new carton of oat milk? Sitting pretty on the top shelf like it had always been there.  

You almost convinced yourself it was a roommate thing—except you don’t have a roommate.  

Then, the underwear went missing.  

Yeah. That’s when you started losing it a little.  

One missing pair? Weird, but maybe it got lost in the laundry. Two? Annoying. But three? Okay, no. Now you’re pacing around your apartment, flipping through your drawers like a lunatic, muttering under your breath, "There’s no way I’m imagining this. There’s NO WAY." 

That’s when it hits you.  

Somebody has been in your apartment. Somebody who knows your habits. Somebody who washes your mug stocks your fridge, and—apparently—has an interest in your underwear.  

And that? That’s when things stop being weird and start being a problem.

Because it’s not just the missing underwear anymore. It’s not just the fridge stocking itself or your mug getting mysteriously cleaned like you’ve got a ghost maid.

It’s the dreams. At first, you brushed them off. Everyone has weird dreams. Stress-induced nonsense, sleep paralysis, the occasional why the hell did my brain come up with that? kind of dream. But these?

These weren’t just dreams.

These felt real.

Someone holding you. Not the fleeting, vague sensation of a dream-hug, but something solid. Firm. A grip that lingered, too warm, too sure, like whomever it was had done this before. Like they belonged there.

Breath—soft and even, ghosting against your skin. The press of lips, deliberate and lingering, trailing from your temple down to your cheek, your jaw, lower.

And the worst part? The voice.

Not some faceless dream-stranger, not the usual nonsense whispers that fade upon waking. This was clear. Intimate. Like someone was right there, mouth pressed against your ear, speaking just for you.

"So pretty like this."

"Mine." 

"You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll always take care of you."

And yeah, normally, you’d just blame it on sleep deprivation. Stress. Maybe even some weird subconscious bullshit messing with your head. But last time you checked? You don’t wake up with bruises.

This is exactly why you’re standing in your bathroom right now, one hand holding your hair up, the other gripping the sink like it might do something to fix this entirely unacceptable situation. Your reflection stares back at you, looking just as pissed and exhausted as you feel.

Yeah. Those arefucking bruises.

Upper neck. Side of your throat. Deep enough to linger, tender enough to ache under the brush of your fingertips. Right where someone’s lips would have been.

Like the kind of mark a lover would leave. Slow. Intentional. Possessive.

Your stomach twists, a sick feeling creeping up your spine like ice-cold fingers pressing between your shoulders. You prod at the bruises again, wincing when a sharp sting shoots through your skin. Yeah—definitely real.  

Unless you’ve somehow started aggressively making out with your pillow in your sleep or developed a habit of sleepwalking straight into a damn wall, there’s only one explanation.  

Something’s been in your apartment.  

Someone’s been touching you.  

The air feels thick now like the walls are closing in, the dim glow of your lamp suddenly too warm, almost suffocating. Either you’re being haunted by the horniest ghost imaginable, or—  

Your stalker is getting real fucking bold.  

You exhale sharply, raking a hand through your hair. "And what the hell were they even after?" you mutter, scowling at your reflection. If he wanted to actually do something while you were asleep, he could’ve. But they didn’t. Why? Was he holding back? What the fuck is thier game?

Ugh. You shouldn’t be this used to this. Shouldn’t be thinking like this.   

"This is getting ridiculous…" you grumble, shaking off the chills running down your spine. Stepping out of the bathroom, you do a quick sweep of your windows. Still locked. Deadbolt on the door? Secure. No signs of forced entry. And you live on the third floor, so it’s not like some creep is climbing in through the damn balcony.  

So how the hell is they getting in now?

Now, you could call the police. That’s an option. But, uh… what exactly would you say? "Hey, officer, someone is mysteriously cleaning my dishes, refilling my fridge, and also swiping my underwear? Please help." Yeah. No. That sounds insane. You’d be laughed out of the station.

You could move out. That would be the smart thing to do, right? Pack up, break the lease, disappear into the night like this is some low-budget horror movie. Except… yeah. That’s not happening.

Your lease isn’t up. And even if it was—this apartment is a steal. Literally. Because you’re not paying rent. At all. Your landlord? Super chill. Too chill, actually. All you have to do is work your very specific (and slightly questionable) job, and in return? Free apartment. Free utilities. And best of all? He’s paying your tuition. This setup is golden. Platinum, even. You are not about to throw it all away just because some weirdo with boundary issues decided to play Domestic Phantom.

Still, if some creep thinks they can mess with you—thinks they can slither into your life like some discount horror movie villain—they’ve got the wrong one. Because you? You’re not about to be the dumbass who ignores all the red flags and ends up in a true crime documentary. Nope. Not happening.  

There’s gotta be a way to handle this. A plan. A solution. Something.

But for now? You’re staying put. You wander into the kitchen, rip open a box of Pop-Tarts, and bite into one straight out of the foil—because, honestly, you’ve got bigger things to deal with than toasting the damn thing. Later, you’re changing the locks. And as for protection… your eyes narrow.  

Yeah. That might not be a problem.

You shove the paranoia down and focus on what you can control.

You get dressed. Something comfortable, something you. Mary Janes with soft knit socks, and a flowy black maxi skirt that moves like a whisper with every step. A black and red v-neck top sprinkled with delicate floral prints—subtle, but enough to make a statement. Over that, a knitted wool cardigan, loose and cozy, its sleeves hanging past your wrists. A thin black choker wraps snugly around your neck, a long beaded pendant resting over your chest.

Your hair? Down. Messy but intentional. Just enough to veil the bruises. A bit of makeup, too—not too much, just enough to cover what needs covering. Then? You’re out the door. Today’s agenda? Thrifting.

Something to take your mind off the weirdness crawling under your skin. You love thrifting—not just for the thrill of the find, but because it’s how you build your world. Your space, your aesthetic, your armor.

The thrift shop itself? A dump, but in the best way.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzz and flicker, the one in the far-left corner struggling like it’s gasping its last breath. The air is thick with the scent of dust, old paper, and cheap lavender air freshener, the kind that doesn’t actually freshen anything. The racks are overstuffed, clothes jammed together in a chaotic mess—vintage jackets crammed against grandma blouses, faded band tees fighting for space with outdated prom dresses.

And the shelves? A fever dream.

Antique picture frames missing their glass. Stacks of yellowed paperbacks nobody’s touched in decades. Rows of porcelain dolls, their glossy eyes following you no matter where you move. It’s a treasure hunt and a haunted house rolled into one.

And, like always, Sol is here. 

He’s become some sort of guard dog. You invite him thrifting, not because you love hanging out with him—okay, maybe you do, but you’ll never admit that to his face—but because no men come up to you and he’s always there when you inevitably find yourself hauling way too much stuff back home. Stuff you absolutely cannot carry alone.

And Sol?

He’s freakishly strong. Like, ’s so strong it makes no sense for a guy who dresses like he just crawled out of an indie film. Ripped sweaters, and oversized band tees, and his hair always looks like he’s just rolled out of bed—he looks like he spends most of his time listening to sad guitar riffs in his bedroom. Not exactly the type you'd expect to lift heavy furniture with one hand like it’s nothing.

But there he is, standing near the iron-metal-and-glass bedside table you’ve been eyeing for the past few minutes. 

You test its weight in your hands—yep, heavy. Not happening by yourself.

“Hey, loser boy,” you call over your shoulder, already planning to rope him into doing all the hard work. Sol, who’s busy inspecting a studded belt like he doesn’t already have three of them, looks up with that signature nonchalant expression. “What?”

You point at the table, a wicked grin creeping up on your face. “Think you can carry this for me?”

He sighs dramatically like you’ve asked him to do something impossible, but without skipping a beat, he steps forward. One hand easily slides under the table’s base, lifting it as if it weighs nothing. The action is almost effortless, making your smug grin falter slightly as you watch him handle the furniture with way too much ease.  

His rings catch the bad fluorescent lighting in the store, glinting like they’re part of some mysterious charm he’s wearing for the day. Sol effortlessly shifts the weight to one arm and starts moving without even blinking.  

“You know,” he mutters, voice dry, “you could just get a shopping cart.”  

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t need you.” 

His lips twitch like he wants to say something sarcastic, but the flush creeping up his neck betrays him. He’s embarrassed, or at least he’s trying to hide it, but you can see right through him.  

You take full advantage of the moment, your smirk widening, the kind of victorious grin that makes you feel just a little bit too smug. You know he hates it when you tease him like this. And yet, he always falls for it.

“Whatever,” Sol mutters, carrying the table toward the checkout area with a resigned look on his face. But you know, deep down, he doesn’t mind it. Not really. Because as much as he pretends like you’re a pain in the ass, it’s obvious he’s got a soft spot for you.

And that’s exactly why you keep him around. 

It’s not just the heavy lifting—although, that’s definitely a perk. It’s the way he’s always there when you need him, even if you don’t need him. You like having him around, even if you refuse to admit it out loud.  

At first, Sol's offers to pay for everything were just part of the routine, but then—he never stopped. Every. Single. Time. The way he’d shove his hand in his pocket, and pull out that crumpled bill with a look that said, ‘I’m paying and you can’t stop me’ was almost endearing. Almost.  

But you can’t let him.  

“I’ve got it,” you’d say, always with that perfect blend of aloofness and stubbornness.  

But Sol? He wasn’t backing down. You’d seen him try, so many times. At first, you thought it was just politeness—he didn’t want to feel like the moody guy who makes everyone pay for their own stuff. But no, there was persistence behind those actions. He genuinely wanted to pay for things, especially when you were involved.  

And, well... if he’s going to be so damn insistent about it, who are you to say no?  

Lowkey, you knew it wasn’t right to use him like this. You didn’t need to feel bad, though. After all, he was a volunteer. Mostly. You couldn’t help the way your mind wandered to the fact that well… Sol was cute. Tall, with that broody vibe that somehow always made him look like he was plotting something dangerous. He was the kind of guy who probably made people think twice before messing with him, though you knew better than to make assumptions.  

But more than that? The strength. The kind of strength that didn’t make sense for someone who seemed so out of place at times. He wasn’t one of the rich, perfect students walking around campus, acting like they owned the world. He wasn’t a golden boy who had everything handed to him. No, Sol had muscle. 

You liked that.  

That’s why, one day while sorting through cheap jackets in the thrift store, you asked him, “So, uh… ever been in a fight?”

He gave you that same annoyed look he always did, that eyebrow arching like you were the last person he expected to ask him that question. Then, slowly, a little smile formed. “Yeah. A few.”  

Of course, he had. He was the kind of guy who could handle himself in any situation, no matter how chaotic.  

“What about teaching me?” you asked casually, tossing another item into your pile. 

That got his attention. He stopped, looking at you like you had just asked him to walk on water. “Teach you?” he repeated slowly, like you were joking.   

“Yeah. You know, protect myself and stuff?” You shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve seen the way some of these rich assholes treat the first-gen and lower-income students around here. They think they can just push us around. Some of them even bully people or treat them like pets.”  

He went quiet.  

“I don’t want to end up like that,” you added, quieter now. You didn’t want to explain the deeper reasons behind your request—didn’t want him to see too much. But he must’ve gotten it.  

After a moment, Sol nodded. “All right. I’ll teach you.”  

You almost didn’t believe him at first. Sol teaching you how to defend yourself? You had assumed it was a joke, some offhand comment he made while trying to sound tough. But here you were, weeks later, in the middle of moving furniture around in your living room, the late afternoon sunlight filtering through the dusty blinds, casting long shadows across the floor.  

The truth was, campus life isn’t exactly a cakewalk. You’ve seen the way people look at you when they think you’re beneath them—like you don’t belong, like you're just another person to brush aside. You could keep pretending it’s all fine, playing it safe, and hoping it’ll never happen to you, but the truth? The truth was too obvious to ignore.  

If you don’t start learning how to protect yourself now, you might risk becoming just another target. A victim of the system. Of people who think they’re untouchable like they own the world simply because they’ve got the privilege and the right connections. 

So, here you were. 

Your apartment is quiet, the only sound being the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen and the occasional creak of the old hardwood floors beneath your feet. A soft light flickers from the lamp in the corner, casting long shadows that stretch across the walls and the floor. 

It’s not much—just a regular night. Except it isn’t.  

You moved the coffee table aside, and now the center of the room is cleared, the space a little too open, a little too exposed for comfort. Normally, this would be the part where you'd curl up on the couch, maybe grab a snack, or settle in with some comfortable TV show on your laptop. But tonight? Tonight, you're standing here in the middle of your living room, hands balled into fists at your sides, trying to ignore the slight discomfort crawling up your spine.  

Sol stands a few feet away, leaning back casually against the wall. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes? They’re locked on you, sharp as ever. Red-orange irises gleam in the dim light, intense and calculating. You swear he’s looking right through you like he's already analyzing every tiny movement you make.  

"All right, so, it’s all about balance first," Sol says, voice low and controlled. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, his expression hard to read. But then again, it’s always hard to read Sol. 

You swallow, trying not to make it obvious that you’re suddenly hyper-aware of how awkward this all feels. You're not exactly a fighter. You never had to be. Back in high school, you had a few run-ins and a couple of moments where you needed to stand your ground, but those were more the exception than the rule. 

Still, here you are, in the middle of your apartment, standing in a stance you’ve only ever seen in movies, bracing yourself not to look like a fool in front of the guy who, for whatever reason, agreed to teach you how to throw a punch.  

You nod, straightening up, trying to mimic his calm, practiced demeanor. The last thing you want to do is look like you’ve never lifted a finger in your life. Your fists are tight at your sides, the feeling of them somehow grounding you, even though they don't feel natural. You flex your fingers for a second, then tighten them again.  

Sol watches you for a moment, then his gaze softens, just for a second. You catch it—an almost imperceptible flicker of something in his eyes that makes you pause. It’s... amusement? You’re not sure. But before you can think too hard about it, he motions for you to step forward.  

“Shift your weight,” he says, his voice steady. “Lead with your hips.”  

You try, trying to remember what he said. Shift. Hips. Balance. It feels unnatural like you’re trying to bend in a way your body wasn’t built for. You step forward tentatively, unsure of where exactly your weight should go. It’s like every part of your body is working against you, your legs are unsteady, your torso stiff, and your movements jerky. You hate how awkward you feel. You feel ridiculous.  

Sol, however, doesn’t flinch. He just watches, those sharp eyes following every shift you make.  

“Better,” he mutters. “A little more fluid.” His voice is low, quiet, but still firm. “Don’t be stiff. Relax. You’re not trying to break something.”  

You nod, trying again, focusing on letting your body flow more easily, trying to mimic the ease with which Sol stands. But every move feels like it’s taking more effort than it should. Your legs don’t want to cooperate, and your arms feel like they belong to someone else.  

"Just focus on moving like you’re part of the room," he adds, voice softer this time. “Everything in here is in balance. You should be, too.”  

His tone shifts, becoming less like a drill sergeant and more... encouraging? Weird. You didn’t expect that from him, but it helps, just a little. You inhale deeply, steadying yourself. 

Sol’s still watching you, his stance casual but observant. There’s a subtle shift in his expression—a hint of satisfaction, maybe? It’s hard to tell. You try again, and this time, it feels a little more natural. Your weight shifts more fluidly; your posture loosens up. You’re not perfect yet, not by a long shot, but... it’s better. It’s not as awkward.  

"Good," Sol says, giving a small nod. "One more time. But this time—" He steps closer, just a fraction. His eyes lock onto yours, almost expectant. "Just let go. Don't overthink it."  

It’s hard not to. Hard not to get in your head about every movement. But somehow, with him so close, you feel a spark of determination, and before you can stop yourself, you let it all go. Your stance shifts, your weight flows, and your body moves more naturally. You feel it this time—your body, your balance, your control. It’s not perfect, but it’s... close enough.  

Sol takes another step back, his gaze lingering for a moment before he lets out a low breath. “Not bad. You’ll get there.”  

For a brief second, his tone is... softer. Like he's genuinely impressed. You can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, even if it's only the first step.  

You glance up at him, not entirely sure what to say. You're not used to this—being taught by Sol. Hell, you’re not used to feeling like you can stand up for yourself, physically or otherwise. But here you are, one step closer to something you didn’t think you needed.  

Suddenly, your stomach dropped when you heard the rumble of Sol’s stomach. You both stopped mid-lesson, realizing you’d been at it for a while. He tilted his head toward you, his mouth pulling into a half-smirk.  

“Want me to order dinner?” he asked casually like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m thinking Chinese food. Like, the good stuff. Rice, bourbon chicken, sweet orange chicken…”  

Your eyes narrowed, half-worried he was trying to get out of finishing your lesson by offering food, but at the same time, the thought of not having to cook yourself was tempting. Your stomach growled in agreement.  

“You’re paying, right?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.  

“Obviously,” he said with a smirk that almost made you roll your eyes.  

“Fine. I’ll make room for your… generosity”  

You helped him with the call, and after a few minutes of placing the order, you shuffled back to the center of the room to keep practicing. Sol leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, and you could tell he was silently judging your form—but there was something in his expression that told you he wasn’t *all* that serious about it. You weren’t the most graceful person in the world, but at least you were trying. And honestly, that was more than a lot of people ever bothered to do.  

Soon, the smell of food started wafting in from the front door. The delivery guy had arrived. Sol made his way to the door, leaving you to do some last-minute stretching as you mentally prepared to eat your weight in takeout.  

When he returned with the bags of food, you felt a sudden wave of relief wash over you. Sol’s presence had a way of making you feel oddly safe, even though you were still pretty sure half the world would probably see you as just a piece of trash to kick around. But right now, right here, you had something for yourself. A plan. A way to stand up for yourself. 

And for once, maybe it wouldn’t feel like the world was just out to get you.  

You started setting up the food on your kitchen counter, the familiar scent of takeout filling the small space, making everything feel just a little bit warmer. Maybe it was the food. Maybe it was the lesson you’d just gone through with Sol—his unspoken instructions that made you feel just a little bit more capable. Or maybe, just maybe, it was him. There was something comforting about having him around, even when he was gruff, his usual silence hanging heavy in the air. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

“All right, dinner’s here,” Sol said, rubbing his hands together with a playful glint in his eyes. “You ready to actually fight someone yet?”

You glanced at him sideways, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Maybe. But only if they start with the orange chicken.” You pointed your chopsticks at him for emphasis, “That’s non-negotiable.”

Sol’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he rolled his eyes, stepping past you to the counter. You moved to the cabinet to grab the plates, feeling oddly lighter. Everything just felt easier in this moment, even with Sol hovering around. The dull hum of the refrigerator, the quiet flicker of the overhead light—it was all just normal*, for once. Not a single thing felt out of place.

You reached for the plates, your fingers brushing the cool ceramic. But then, as if by instinct, a sudden movement behind you made you freeze. 

Before you could even process it, Sol’s large hand reached right next to yours, his fingers brushing against your skin as he grabbed the plates instead. His proximity was close enough that his shoulder grazed yours, and for a split second, you felt your heartbeat skip. You didn’t even realize how startled you were until the breath caught in your throat.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak you out,” he muttered, a little too quickly, the words slipping out as if they were forced, like he didn’t quite expect his sudden action to unsettle you.  

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, his next words caught you off guard. He was so close now that his voice seemed to vibrate against your ear. 

“You know if you ever actually want to learn to fight... it’s not always about hitting first.”

His words, casual and low, sent an odd shiver down your spine. Not because of the content itself, but because of the way his voice sounded—soft, but with something else. Something deeper. 

Unsettlingly familiar.

You blinked, your hand stiffening on the counter, unsure of what exactly had just happened. Was it just the way his voice was wrapped in that strange intensity? You'd always known Sol had a low, gravelly voice, but now that it was right against you, so unexpectedly close, it sounded different. Almost like—whispering to you. In a way that felt a little too personal.

For a brief, inexplicable moment, you wondered if he knew the effect his voice had on you. Maybe he did.  

You shook your head and tried to shake off the odd feeling creeping up your spine. It was probably nothing. Just Sol being Sol—gruff, distant, and surprisingly close when you least expected it.  

But still, something was definitely... off. 

Or maybe just on—in a way you didn’t want to think too hard about.

The rest of the evening passed in a comfortable blur. You and Sol settled on the couch, the two of you sharing the takeout containers, laughing over your less-than-adequate attempts at chopsticks. The usual tension between you seemed to melt away, replaced by something... easier. 

Sol wasn’t exactly the warmest person, but you’d learned over time to appreciate the way he didn’t expect you to be anything other than yourself. Even when he was being annoyingly gruff, he somehow managed to make you feel... well, normal.

You leaned back into the couch, feeling the weight of your full stomach and the quiet warmth of the room. The soft hum of the fridge, the distant sound of traffic outside—it was oddly peaceful. 

“So,” you said, glancing over at him. Sol had already pushed his food aside and was staring at the half-finished puzzle on the table—something you'd long since given up on. “Where do you even get your outfit ideas? You’re always looking so... put together. I need some tips.”

Sol gave you that side-eye like you were asking him about the meaning of life. "Outfits? What, you wanna dress like me or something?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Nah, not really. Just curious. You’ve got that... thing, you know? That whole alt vibe. It’s kinda cool."

He shrugged, his usual “I don’t care about anything” face back in place. "Doesn’t really fit with your... vibe. You're too, I don't know, whimsical for it."

"Whimsical?" You rolled your eyes. "Dude, I'm not a damn fairy."

Sol didn’t even blink, keeping his eyes on whatever he was staring at. "Not exactly emo like me either. You’re more like... whimsical goth, you know? Mixing those flowery, goth vibes with a little playfulness. All those lush florals, patterns, moody colors, layers, and random little celestial shit. Doesn’t match." He paused, then added with a dry smirk, "You can't exactly wear black leather and chains and still call it cute."

“Cute…?” You raised an eyebrow at him, suddenly getting the feeling he was messing with you. “And I don’t even smell like a hippie, okay? I’m not out here smelling like patchouli.”

Sol leaned back, smirking like he knew something you didn’t. “Nah, you’re all about that herb life, I can tell. It’s like rosemary and lavender. You’re probably one of those people with a whole stash of essential oils or some shit.”

You stopped mid-bite, fork still in your hand. “Rosemary? I don’t... use that stuff.”

He gave you a lazy look, clearly unfazed by your surprise. “Yeah? Well, you kinda do. It’s not overpowering or anything, but it’s there. Like, maybe it’s in your hair?”

You blinked, taken aback. Lavender you could explain—you used that stuff occasionally, especially when you were winding down for the night, but rosemary? You hadn’t exactly been using it religiously. You had a bottle of rosemary oil you mixed into your hair care routine on occasion, but it was a once-in-a-while kind of thing. 

"Really?" You asked, feeling a slight heat rise in your cheeks. "Is it that strong? I barely even notice it."

Sol just shrugged. "It’s not like it’s overwhelming or anything. Just... normal. You know, like some people have a scent that’s, well, theirs. Yours is herbal. Rosemary, lavender. You just feel like... fresh air."

It was strange hearing him describe you like that—like something natural, even pleasant. You wanted to argue, to brush it off, but for some reason, his words stuck. You never really thought about your scent beyond the occasional self-care routine. You’d never imagined someone would notice it so specifically. 

It felt oddly personal, but not in a bad way. 

You leaned back, trying to shake off the weird, almost embarrassed feeling that was creeping up your spine. "I’m not a freaking herb garden, Sol," you muttered, more to yourself than anything, but of course, your voice carried. 

Sol just let out a low chuckle, the kind that sent a little shiver down your spine, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. "Sure, whatever you say. But hey, if you ever want outfit advice, I’ve got you. Just don’t expect me to foot the bill. No way I’m going shopping with you," he said, sounding way too smug for his own good.

You raised both hands in mock surrender, grinning. "Deal. But you’ll owe me one for not making you teach me your ‘grumpy badass with a whole wardrobe of black’ look.”

His smirk only grew wider. "Yeah, well... you'd probably look ridiculous in it anyway." His voice had that unmistakable tease to it, the same one that made you want to roll your eyes and laugh at the same time.

"You're lucky you're cute," you muttered under your breath, trying to keep the teasing tone going. You shot him a playful glance, your lips curling up just slightly.

Sol didn't immediately respond, which was a little weird. Usually, he'd fire back with something sarcastic or just give you that deadpan stare. But this time? He just shrugged it off and leaned back into the couch like it was no big deal.

Not wanting to let it go, you suddenly got an idea. With a mischievous smile, you crawled over to him on your knees, careful not to knock over the empty takeout containers still sitting on the coffee table. Sol glanced at you like you were out of your mind, but you didn’t care. 

You tapped his nose gently, just enough to make him blink and look at you in surprise. "Cute," you said with a wink, leaning in closer, your breath a little shaky but definitely playful.

Sol raised an eyebrow, clearly annoyed by your closeness, but you couldn’t help it. You weren’t gonna back down now. As you hovered over him, your eyes naturally dropped to his neck, and that’s when you saw it—the green choker he was wearing, snug against his throat.

You couldn’t help it. A smirk slid across your face as you leaned back slightly, grinning. "Nice choker, emo boy. You trying to start a band or something?" you teased, your voice dripping with that sarcastic sweetness you knew would get under his skin.

His face went from mildly amused to instantly irritated. "Shut up," he muttered, leaning his head back just enough to avoid your gaze, clearly trying to act unaffected. But you could tell—he was annoyed, and maybe even a little embarrassed.

"Aw, come on," you teased further, tapping the choker lightly with your finger, "I didn’t know you were such a dark soul." You joked

"You're really pushing it now," Sol grumbled, but you could see the corners of his lips twitching like he was trying not to smile. He looked away again like he was pretending he wasn’t at least a little amused by your antics. 

You laughed, enjoying the playful tension. "Okay, okay," you relented, leaning back slightly and giving him a little space. "I guess you do look kind of badass in that choker, but—" you paused, narrowing your eyes teasingly, "—just don’t start trying to summon demons in my living room, all right?"

Sol rolled his eyes, but there was a faint, exasperated smile tugging at his lips. "You’re a real pain, you know that?" he muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, but you love it," you shot back, grinning widely. "Or at least, you put up with it. Big difference."

You couldn’t help it. With a playful smirk, you leaned in a little closer, your finger sliding under the clasp of his choker. You gave it a subtle tug, just enough to create tension, just enough to make him shift in place, but not enough to hurt. The motion was lighthearted, almost teasing, as you kept your eyes locked on his reaction. 

"Careful there, puppy," you teased, your voice sweet with mock innocence as you tugged on the choker once more. "You might wanna think twice about who you’re calling cute. Last time I checked, I’m a grown woman in college, and I can handle myself just fine."

Puppy? 

You could see his reaction before it even hit his face. Sol froze for a split second, and you could feel the air around you shift. His breath came out a little sharper, a little more ragged. His chest puffed up like he was trying to keep it together, but the tension in his jaw gave it all away. 

His usual, icy ‘don’t mess with me’ glare was nowhere to be found today. Instead, you got something darker—a mix of irritation and maybe a little something else that he was clearly fighting to suppress. 

You couldn’t help but smirk at the sight.

For all his tough guy persona, it was clear that ‘puppy’ had hit a nerve.

He chuckled, but it sounded more like a nervous little exhale. "Says the one who asked me to teach them how to fight," he shot back, trying to sound all tough and detached. But there was this subtle hitch in his voice that you caught.

You didn't break eye contact. Oh no, you were in full tease mode now, smirking like you’d just found a secret treasure. Slowly, you tugged on the choker again—just enough to make him squirm, watching him closely for any sign of cracking.

"Yeah, I did," you said, as casually as you could manage, even though your grin was practically stretched across your face. You leaned in a little closer, closing the space between you two. "But hey, it’s the least you could do for me, right?" you added, letting your words hang there like a little trap. "I mean, I’m just using you for your skills."

His chest gave a little hitch, and for a second, you thought he might drop the whole ‘I’m too cool for this’ act. His lips parted just slightly, like he was gonna say something, but couldn’t quite manage it. You could practically feel the internal struggle. 

Oh yeah, you were definitely getting under his skin now. 

Sol’s hand reached up toward your shoulder, and you followed his movements, almost mesmerized. It was like he was fighting with himself, trying to keep that icy composure. But you could see it—the tension in his jaw, the way his grip tightened, like he was trying to resist something. 

A smug grin spread across your face. Oh, this was good. You gave the choker another playful tug, just enough to make his breath catch, and raised an eyebrow at him. "Like what?" you asked innocently, feigning confusion.

Sol let out a low, frustrated sigh, leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing in on you with something that was definitely not just irritation. No, there was something else there now—something darker, like he was starting to unravel. His voice dropped an octave, rough and raspy. 

"You know exactly what you’re doing."

Oh, you heard it—the strain in his voice, the rough edge he was trying to mask. It wasn’t working. And you were loving every second of it. "Do I?" you asked, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper, just barely audible. 

"Maybe I do… or maybe I don’t…” 

Your eyes narrowed as you slid off the couch with a casual stretch, giving him just enough time to let it sink in. You stretched your arms over your head with an exaggerated yawn, finally deciding to show Sol a little mercy. “All right, all right, I’m done messing with you,” you said, pushing yourself up off the couch. “I need to clean up and crash early anyway.”  

Sol blinked a few times like he was still trying to shake off whatever the hell just happened between you two. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah?” His voice sounded a little off—like he was still recovering from you messing with him.  

You nodded, already gathering up the empty takeout containers. “Yeah, there’s an estate sale happening in the morning, and I want to be the first one there.” You shot him a grin over your shoulder. “They always have the best jewelry and vintage clothes—velvet, lace, the whole deal. I’m not risking some old rich lady snatching up everything before I get there.”  

Sol snorted at that, standing up and grabbing some of the trash to help. “Yeah, sounds totally worth losing sleep over,” he said, rolling his eyes. But then, after a beat, he asked, “You going with someone?”  

You paused, thinking for a second as you tossed a takeout box in the trash. You hadn’t really planned it out, but now that he asked…  

“I haven’t hung out with Crowe in a minute,” you said, turning to look at Sol. “Might text him later, see if he wants to come with.”  

It was subtle, but you caught it—the way Sol’s shoulders tensed just slightly, the way his fingers curled against the counter before he quickly shoved them into his pockets. His usual frown deepened, his mouth pressing into a thin line.  

“…Right,” he muttered, nodding a little too quickly like he was trying way too hard to seem unbothered. “Makes sense.”  

You raised a brow, amused. “What? Jealous?”  

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Pfft. As if.” But his tone was just a little too defensive, and you didn’t miss the way he definitely wasn’t looking you in the eye.  

You smirked but decided to let him off the hook this time. 

For now, anyway.

As you started gathering the trash and stacking the empty containers, Sol—surprisingly—didn’t bolt like he usually did when chores were involved. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and started washing the dishes without a word. You side-eyed him but didn’t say anything, just smirked to yourself and kept cleaning.  

The silence between you two wasn’t uncomfortable, just filled with the quiet clatter of plates and running water. Then, midway through scrubbing a pan, Sol spoke up. “I made you chamomile,” he said casually like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s on the counter.” 

You blinked, looking over to see a mug of tea steaming gently next to a little bowl of freshly washed fruit. Your gaze flicked back to him, a little thrown off. “Uh… you made this?”  

“Yeah?” Sol didn’t look at you, focusing way too hard on rinsing off a plate. “I mean, you always eat it before bed, right? Figured I’d save you the trouble.”  

You leaned against the counter, crossing your arms, a slow grin creeping up your face. “Huh. Didn’t know you paid that much attention to my nightly routine.”  

He clicked his tongue, finally looking at you with a glare that didn’t quite reach his usual level of menace. “Don’t get weird about it.”  

You chuckled but didn’t push it—he’d already looked about five seconds away from regretting saying anything at all.  

Once the kitchen was spotless, Sol muttered something about heading to bed early and, true to form, made a swift exit—like he couldn’t leave fast enough. You watched him go, amused at how suddenly eager he was to disappear.  

Finally.  

You let out a deep sigh, rolling your shoulders before heading to the bathroom. A hot shower sounded perfect right now—just you, the steam, and no one hovering or throwing weird energy into the air.   

The water was bliss, washing away the long day, and whatever lingering tension still clung to you. After drying off, you slipped into your favorite tank top and matching shorts, the soft lace trim brushing against your thighs as you moved. It was nice—cozy, comforting. Just what you needed.   

You grabbed the small bowl of fruit and the still-warm chamomile tea from the counter before flopping onto your bed, letting out a content sigh as you scrolled through your phone. Mindlessly, you popped a blueberry into your mouth, the burst of sweetness barely registering as your thoughts started drifting back to earlier.   

You squinted down at the cup of tea in your hand before sighing and setting it on your nightstand. Normally, you’d drink it, let the warmth settle in your chest, and let it lull you into sleep like it always did. 

But tonight? You weren’t feeling it. 

The night had settled into that eerie kind of silence—the kind that made everything feel heavier like the world had momentarily paused. No cars passing by, no distant hum of city life, just the quiet hum of your apartment and the occasional creak of the building settling.  

Wrapped in the warmth of your blankets, you lay on your side, staring at the ceiling. Your room was dimly lit by the soft glow of your bedside lamp, casting long shadows along the walls. The scent of chamomile still lingered in the air, mixing with the faint traces of rosemary and lavender from your hair.  

Sleep was creeping in, slow and heavy, but your mind had other plans. You had this weird way of thinking in the in-between—half-asleep but not quite dreaming, like your subconscious was having a conversation with itself. Thoughts came and went without effort, lingering just long enough to make you wonder if you were awake or not.  

And right now, those thoughts were circling back to him.

Sol paid more attention than you ever gave him credit for. That much was obvious now. The fruit, the tea—hell, even the way he noticed your bedtime habits. It was weird. Not bad weird… just interesting.

You weren’t sure what to make of it yet.  

But that moment—the way his voice wavered, how his whole demeanor shifted the second you mentioned Crowe?  

Mhm.

That says everything.  

You turned over, pulling the blankets tighter around you. At some point, exhaustion won, and you drifted off, the weight of your blankets making your body sink into the mattress, warmth cocooning you. Everything was still. Comfortable. And then… Something changed. A shift. 

Subtle. Small. But enough to pull you from the depths of sleep, your subconscious whispering that something wasn’t quite right. The air around you felt heavier like something unseen had crept in, pressing down on the room itself. Your subconscious stirred before you did, that primal instinct kicking in, whispering that something was off.  

You were not alone.

You didn’t move—not yet. Your breathing remained slow and steady, the perfect mimicry of deep sleep. But something was off. It was like something air felt different, charged with an unnatural stillness like the world was holding its breath.  

And then, you felt the stare.

Not touching you, not yet, but hovering just above—too close, too present. A shadow pressed against the darkness, an unseen figure dressed in black standing at the very edge of your space, watching. Studying. The fine hairs on the back of your neck prickled, a slow, creeping chill sinking deep into your bones. 

You didn’t need to open your eyes to know that whatever it was, it hadn’t moved. It was waiting.

Carefully, slowly, you shifted beneath the blankets, rolling just enough to press your face further into the pillow. The movement was subtle, natural—the kind of mindless stirring someone might make in the depths of sleep. But beneath the act, your mind aware, calculating.

Your fingers slid beneath the pillow, brushing against the cool metal tucked away underneath. The weight of it was grounding, a quiet reassurance against the uncertainty pressing down on you. Your breathing remained steady, even—controlled—but your pulse told a different story, hammering quietly against your ribs.

Still, the presence above you remained unmoving.

Whoever—or whatever—it was, they were patient.

If it were planning to kill you in your sleep, they'd have to get closer. You knew how this worked—hesitation was a killer. Worst comes to worst, the second they touched you—And then you felt it.

A subtle shift in the bed, a slow, deliberate movement that crept over your body, causing your heart to beat just a little faster. 

“Fuck… you smell so good as always…” The words came out in a low, almost reverent murmur, sending a ripple of heat through your spine. So human after all unless the demon can speak…

Your breath caught in your throat as something—someone—shifted, climbing over you with ease. Their weight settled above your back, warm and steady, and the air around you thickened, pressing against your skin as if the very space you occupied had shrunk. It was suffocating, but not in the way you were used to. 

“Let’s see…” the voice mumbled softly, each word vibrating against your skin as they gently moved your arm, lifting it with slow precision before letting it flop back down like a feather touching a surface. You barely moved, still lost in the haze of sleep, your senses tingling at the intimate gesture. “Like always, deep in sleep…”

A soft, almost teasing nibble landed on your neck, followed by a kiss, and then another, lingering longer this time, until the sensation made you involuntarily let out a soft whimper. The warmth of his lips left a trail of heat on your skin, and you could almost feel the ghost of his smile against your neck, something possessive in the touch.

He didn’t stop there, though. The kisses kept coming, gentle at first but quickly growing more urgent, more insistent. A few more laps of his tongue, the wetness lingering on your skin as a mark slowly began to form—a visible reminder of his closeness. “I wish you were already mine,” he mumbled, his voice thick with a mix of frustration and desire.

You barely had time to react before you felt his hands—large, warm, and deliberate—sliding over your sides then through your tank top before cupping your bare breasts, and squeezing gently. His touch was slow as if savoring the warm sensation, his palms pressing against the soft body fat.

“We had such fun this week…” Sol murmured, his voice thick with something unreadable, his body flush against your back. Every inch of him was pressed into you, a heavy, unmoving weight that kept you caged beneath him.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead burying your face deeper into the pillow, hiding the deadpan look threatening to cross your face. Not that he would’ve noticed—he was far too preoccupied with you. He didn’t try to remove his hands, didn’t loosen his grip, just held you there, his fingers flexing slightly as he pulled you even closer as if that was physically possible.

His breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of your neck before he nuzzled into it, his hair tickling you just enough to make you squirm. He exhaled a shaky sigh, his lips brushing against your pulse. “So warm…” he muttered, voice low, almost dazed. His thumbs lazily circled your nipples through your tank top, drawing a sharp, involuntary shiver from you.

Then came the pressure—slow, deliberate, and completely overwhelming. His hips rolled against yours, a steady, unrelenting grind that had you sinking deeper into the mattress, trapped beneath his weight. Every shift, every movement, pressed you further down, his body practically molding to yours like he had no intention of letting go.

Your heartbeat hammered in your chest, breath caught somewhere between shock and something dangerously close to pleasure. You couldn’t move, couldn’t even think straight. The realization of just how powerless you were in this moment sent a strange thrill up your spine, one you weren’t sure you wanted to acknowledge.

Then—his hands tightened. His fingers suddenly pinched down hard on your nipples from inside the thin fabric of your tank top, sending a sharp jolt through you. A muffled gasp escaped, but you bit down on the pillow, silencing yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was react—at least, not in a way that would give him more satisfaction.

But god, no matter how absurd, how insane this situation was… the way his breath hitched, the way he whined against your neck, it was impossible to ignore the way it made you feel.

“But you just had to bring him into everything, didn’t you?” His voice took on a sharper edge, and you felt the grip on the edge of the bed tighten, the sheets crumpling beneath his hand with an intensity that made your stomach drop. His breath was heavier now, almost ragged. “Why…? You’re supposed to be mine. No one else.”

A sharp, metallic zip cut through the silence—too close to your ear, making you tense instantly, every nerve in your body screaming. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. 

“You belong to me.”

Your stomach lurched. 

Oh, hell no.

In another world, in another life where you were just a normal person, you would have screamed. You would have thrashed, kicked, fought with everything in you. But here, now, at this moment, you were frozen—trapped in the paradox of something so inherently wrong yet laced with a twisted kind of exhilaration. It was sick, it was deranged, and yet, some primal part of you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted, betraying every rational thought screaming at you to move.

But enough was enough. The suffocating weight of him, the heat of his breath against your skin, the way his hands roamed like he had some kind of right—it was pathetic. The creeping tension thickening the air, the sheer audacity of being cornered in your own bed by someone who had no business touching you—it had all gone too far.

Before he could whisper another possessive word, before he could dare push this delusion any further, you acted. Fast. Instinct took over, that survivalist part of you finally snapping out of its trance.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you reached beneath your pillow, your hand gripping the cold steel of the knife that had become a silent protector in your room. In a single fluid motion, you pulled it out and pointed the blade at the shadowed figure hovering over you, your knees digging into the bed as you spun to face them. Your breath came fast, adrenaline surging through your veins.

“What in the hell are you—!” You barely got the words out before a hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a vice-like grip. Your pulse raced as they overpowered your attempt to retaliate, their fingers digging into your skin like a vice.

You couldn’t believe it. Your mind scrambled to process what you were seeing, but your body reacted first—stiffening, every muscle tensing as your breath hitched. Your narrowed eyes locked onto the face hovering above you, the weight of the moment pressing down like a vice.

You blinked, once. Twice. The air in your lungs stalled.

Sol?

Draped in all-black—shiny jeans catching the faintest glint of light, a hoodie pulled just loose enough to shadow his face, and that unmistakable green-and-black striped hair tumbling down around his sharp features.

Your stomach lurched.

“Fuck,” you exhaled, the word barely more than a whisper, but the weight behind it was heavy. Reality hit like a slap to the face, sinking deep into your gut as your heart pounded against your ribs.

The knife trembled in your grip, muscles taut as you fought against the force pressing down on you. Sol’s hands wrapped around yours, strong—might you add—moving back with enough urgency to make your arms strain. But you weren’t weak—you could feel the resistance, the way your strength shocked even him as the blade hovered dangerously between you both, a sharp, gleaming threat trapped in the tension.

Then came the weight—his body bearing down on yours, shoving you back against the mattress. Your breath hitched as his legs straddled you, pinning you beneath him with an overbearing heat that had your skin prickling. His chest almost pressed against yours, the rapid thud of his heart hammering against your palm where you still clutched the handle of the knife. It was erratic, unsteady.

His face was so close now—red-orange eyes wide, pupils blown with something unreadable. Shock? Confusion? There was a flicker of something frantic beneath it all, something desperate, something almost wild.

For a moment, the chaos in the room dulled. The air hung thick and unmoving. Your breaths, his heartbeat, the overwhelming rush of emotions—you were drowning in it.

The knife was just inches beside your neck, the cold steel almost grazing your skin, but you couldn’t even move it, even as you tried to hold your ground. His eyes were locked onto yours, filled with something almost like guilt—but something darker, too. 

A strange, terrifying silence followed as your free remained pressed against his chest, the other still gripping the knife, but completely helpless in his hold. His fingers wrapped around your wrists, pressing them hard.

And yet, despite his forceful position, despite everything that was happening, there was an unsettling calm in his eyes. He wasn't angry. He was shocked, thrown off balance. Caught in a moment of pure disbelief. The usual coldness of his gaze was gone, replaced with an unfamiliar, confused vulnerability that rattled you to your core. 

It was as if he was seeing you for the first time—like he'd never expected this. Never wanted this.

His lips parted in something between a gasp and a murmur, but the words never came. There was nothing but that intense, breathless stare, his grip tightening just a little more on your wrists as if trying to make sense of the situation.

Your mind was a chaotic whirlpool of shock and confusion. You couldn’t quite process it all—the shock of seeing Sol's face so close, lips almost touching—so overwhelming, the knife still a hair's breadth from your skin. And then the words came, so casually, as if this entire situation was something he had been expecting. 

"Shit, you scared me. You were awake this whole time?" Sol’s voice was rough, tinged with something between frustration and genuine surprise.

Your eyes—wide, almost bugged out—narrowed sharply at him. 

Who the fuck asks that type of question?

You couldn’t help the incredulity that bubbled up in your chest. "You're the one who scared me, dumbass." you snapped, irritation lacing your tone as the reality of the situation set in. The breath that had been held in your chest finally exhaled in a short, sharp burst of air. 

Sol seemed to snap out of whatever dazed state he had been in, his posture shifting as he let go of your wrists and lifted his body off yours. He cursed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Oh, sorry, that was kind of a reflex," he muttered, his hands still slightly trembling as he gently moved you, guiding you back onto your knees on the bed.

Your body, still wound tight with the fight or flight instinct, barely had time to process when he asked, almost too nonchalantly, "Seriously, sorry. I didn’t hurt you, did I?" The sheer absurdity of another question was enough to make your blood boil. Like this was all just some casual misunderstanding. 

As if you hadn’t just almost killed him for scaring the living daylights out of you. You felt your grip on the knife loosen slightly, but then, without thinking, you grabbed a fistful of his hair with your free hand and yanked it back—hard. He grunted in pain, eyes widening as you forced him to look up at you, his expression shifting from confused to slightly pained.

"I'm gonna kill you," you growled through gritted teeth, aiming the knife close to his neck—your voice low, but dangerously calm. "How the fuck did you get in here?"

Sol stuttered for a second, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift in power. He tried to collect his words, his lips moving but his voice barely rising above a murmur. "I, uh… I used aluminum foil to make a replica key and some string to take care of the chain door..." He trailed off, his eyes flickering to the side in embarrassment.

You blinked, dumbfounded for a moment. Aluminum foil? Your mind raced as the pieces slowly started to connect. 

“You damn criminal…” you muttered, more out of disbelief than actual anger. You couldn't even figure out if you were mad or just genuinely shocked. You hadn't expected him to be that resourceful—or reckless.

Sol winced, letting his shoulders slump in a mix of guilt and embarrassment. "Look, I didn’t mean to freak you out," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just… I just wanted to… see you."

Your breath came out in a slow exhale, still trying to process everything. The initial fear was starting to wear off, but the unease lingered in your chest. You'd thought you were dealing with a creepy stalker—and you kind of were—but this? 

This was something else entirely.

You let go of his hair slowly, your fingers slipping from the strands as you watched him wince, his body stiffening before he straightened up. He seemed almost... unsettled, unsure of how to process everything that had just happened. His eyes were wide, his breath still heavy, but there was a strange, almost fragile tension about him that you couldn't ignore.

"Y'know what?" You said, your voice steady and cold, a stark contrast to the mess that had just unfolded. "Sit right there on the floor. You're getting a lecture."

You pointed firmly to the ground, watching as Sol blinked in confusion, his brow furrowed in that typical, defensive way. "The floor?" he asked, clearly thrown off by your calmness, by the way, you were handling this whole situation as if it were just another normal day.

"Sol," you said, a slight edge to your voice now. "I will call the police if you don’t get your damn outside clothes off my bed and sit down."

The tone in your voice left no room for argument, and within seconds, he was quick to obey, taking a seat on the floor with an uneasy expression. His movements were jerky, almost like he wasn’t sure what kind of punishment he was in for. 

"On your knees."  

Your voice was steady, but the look you gave him? Pure judgment—like he was some guilty puppy who just got caught chewing up your favorite shoes. You sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, watching him with the kind of unimpressed stare that could make anyone squirm.  

He hesitated, just for a second like he was debating whether he could still push his luck. But in the end, he obeyed, sinking down like some reluctant, defiant dog waiting for its scolding.  

Your patience? Gone. Shattered. There was no point in playing nice anymore.  

"I'm done trying to use big concepts like 'crime' and 'common sense' with you," you deadpanned, your voice flat with irritation. "Clearly, that doesn’t sink in."  

Sol looked up at you, something between guilt and stubbornness flashing in his eyes, but you weren’t interested in whatever weak excuse he was cooking up. Not tonight.  

"For a stalker," you continued, tone sharp but eerily calm, "you really suck at this. First off, your voice. You talk too damn much. Every word practically screams ‘hey, it’s me, Sol.’" You tilted your head slightly, watching as his jaw clenched. "And your face? You flinched the second I mentioned Crowe, like you had something to prove."  

Then, as if casually dropping the final nail in his coffin, you added, "Oh, and nice touch with the fruit. Real subtle. Using it to hide the fact you drugged the chamomile tea. Let me guess—sleeping pills?"  

His reaction was everything. Just a flicker, just the smallest crack in his expression, but you caught it. His pupils dilated, his breath hitched—not enough for the average person to notice, but you weren’t average, and this wasn’t your first rodeo.  

You let the silence hang for a moment, let him feel the weight of it pressing in. Then, you drove the knife in deeper.  

"This whole time," you murmured, eyes narrowing, "you’ve been drugging me through my tea, haven’t you?"  

His gaze flickered, darting to the side for just a second—just long enough to confirm what you already knew.  

"Pathetic," you muttered, exhaling slowly as if you were genuinely disappointed in him. "You’re not good at this. And I’m done pretending I don’t know what’s going on."

Sol didn’t say anything at first, his lips pressed together as he took in your words. You could see his mind racing, trying to find the right thing to say, but for once, he was quiet. Completely still.

Your mind was still reeling from the chaos of everything that just happened—the weight of Sol on top of you, the knife almost glazed your neck, and the shock of realizing it was him who had been lurking in your space. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you kept your gaze locked on his—definitely not letting him off the hook. 

“Now, next subject,” you said, keeping your voice steady and unyielding, though your mind was still racing. You had to know why, had to understand this twisted mess. “Why in the hell were you trying to do me?”

Sol went stiff like you just smacked him upside the head with reality. His whole body locked up, and for a second, the air between you both felt suffocating. His mouth opened, but no words came out—just a slow swallow, his throat bobbing as his eyes darted downward like he was hoping the floor would just swallow him whole.  

“It started…” he finally muttered, voice strained like it physically hurt to admit. “How you’re always around Crowe whenever I see you.”  

You blinked. What?  

“And I thought…” he hesitated, shifting uncomfortably before finally meeting your gaze. “Leaving bruises across your skin would show that you’re taken.”  

You stared. Just. Stared.  

“…I’m sorry, what?”  

There was no way you just heard that correctly. No damn way.  

Sol's eyes flickered, guilt flashing across his face before he kept going—because apparently, things weren’t insane enough yet. “Which made me start… visiting. At night. While you were asleep.” His voice was quieter now, but not quiet enough to miss. “To leave those bruises.”  

Your stomach twisted.  

“And I—” He exhaled sharply, like even he knew how fucked this sounded. “I used those sleeping pills so you wouldn’t wake up during the process.” A beat. “Plus, that way, I could… look at you all I want.”  

Oh.  

Oh, hell no.  

Your entire body locked up as the reality of his words crashed into you. “Sol…” Your voice came out shaky, but the disbelief was firm. “You do realize that, like… literally everything you just said is beyond illegal, right?”  

A stalker.  

Your stalker.  

The one who had been making your life hell for weeks. The one who left those bruises, the one who drugged you, the one who had you spiraling, trying to figure out who the hell had been creeping around your home. Also, to mention that he’s been stealing your underwear—which is expensive may you add. 

And it had been him.  

Always him.  

You exhaled sharply, forcing your pulse to settle as you leveled him with a look. “I could have you arrested for this,” you said flatly, letting the weight of your words sink in.

Sol flinched at the weight of your words as if he finally realized the severity of what he had done. His face twisted with something like regret, “Please wait, I... I didn’t think it through,” he mumbled, his voice cracking under the pressure. “I just... I couldn’t help it,”

You shook your head, still processing, still trying to make sense of it all. 

"Couldn't help it?" you echoed, voice dripping with disbelief. "Couldn't help it?"  

Your hands clenched into fists as the weight of everything crashed over you again—every bruise, every unsettling feeling of being watched, every sleepless night where you knew something was off but couldn’t prove it. And now? The proof was sitting right in front of you, looking like a kicked dog, as if that was supposed to make any of this okay.  

Sol’s jaw tensed, his fingers twitching at his sides. His usual cold, unreadable mask was crumbling, revealing something desperate underneath. “I know it was wrong,” he said, voice raw. “I know I shouldn’t have… but every time I saw you with him, I just—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into his movements. “I wanted to make sure you were mine.”  

Your stomach churned. “So your big-brain solution was drugging me? Marking me without my knowledge?” Your voice sharpened, incredulous. “Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?”  

“I wasn’t thinking straight!” His voice rose slightly, frantic before he caught himself and sucked in a breath. He looked down, hands gripping the fabric of his hoodie so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “I just—” He stopped, struggling for words. 

“I just wanted you to see me.”  

You couldn’t even look at him right now. The shock of it all, the violation of your trust, the utter betrayal—like a rush of cold water had splashed over you, freezing you in place. Your mind was still reeling, trying to comprehend what had just happened. 

The man you’d trusted, the one you’d laughed with and joked around with, was now on top of you, his hands constricting around yours, pinning you down with a knife at your throat. The betrayal ran deeper than any wound he could have physically inflicted.

You couldn't understand it. 

Your grip tightened around the knife’s handle as you fought to steady your breathing, but the weight of it felt alien now, placing it on your nightstand. What was once a tool for defense had become a useless object in your hand. 

The rush of adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a creeping, suffocating clarity that made your stomach twist. The weight of everything that had just happened pressed down on you, but instead of fear, something sharp and cold settled in its place. You scoffed, shaking your head as a humorless smirk pulled at your lips.  

“Oh, trust me, I see you now.” You flicked your fingers at him in a lazy, dismissive gesture. “And let me tell you, puppy, the view from down here? Not your best look.”  

Before he could process that, your hand shot out, gripping the collar of his hoodie in a tight fist, yanking him down toward you. His breath hitched, and his eyes widened for just a second—just long enough for you to see the flicker of surprise before he masked it. But he didn’t fight it. If anything, his weight sank further onto you, his chest rising and falling against yours, heart hammering like a drumline.  

You lifted your chin, gaze locked onto his with a dangerous kind of calm. “Woof for me, Sol.”  

Silence.  

His pupils flickered, something unreadable swimming in that fiery gaze of his. Disbelief? Annoyance? Shame? You weren’t sure, and honestly, you didn’t care. What mattered was the way his body stiffened like you’d just flipped the entire dynamic on its head.  

After all,

Punishment is needed for a bad puppy.

His pulse was wild beneath your grip, his breath warm and uneven against your face. But this wasn’t about fear or retaliation—it was about control. A reminder. A boundary carved into stone. You weren’t some weak little thing he could toy with. He had crossed a line, and now? He had to face the consequences.  

“I…” His voice cracked slightly before he swallowed thickly. “I—what—”  

You tugged his collar tighter part from his hoodie, bringing him so close your noses almost brushed. Your voice was even, unwavering, not a trace of amusement left. “Woof, Sol. Or I call the cops.”  

That hit something. You saw it—the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the way his jaw clenched like he was biting back something ugly. The frustration flickered through his expression, tangled with something deeper, something messier.  

His breathing came heavier, nostrils flaring, hands tightening at his sides like he was debating whether to push back or fold. And then—  

A low, guttural growl rumbled in his throat, sharp and reluctant.  

You tilted your head, unimpressed. “Didn’t catch that.”  

Sol let out a slow, shaky breath, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to pull himself together. His muscles, once taut with tension, eased just a bit, and he averted his eyes, licking his lips before hesitantly murmuring, “W-Woof?”  

You stared. Blank. Unmoving.  

…Did he seriously just question-mark bark at you?  

A deep sigh left your lips, exaggerated and dripping with disappointment. “Wow. That was sad.” You shook your head, crossing your arms. “Sounded more like you were asking for permission than actually committing. Maybe you’re not cut out for this after all. Maybe you’re not fit to be my dog—”  

“No—wait!” He stiffened, desperation flaring in his eyes as a soft whine escaped his throat, almost involuntary. “I can do it! I swear.” His voice wavered, but the need in it was unmistakable. He looked up at you, wide-eyed and eager, like he’d just been threatened with abandonment.  

And damn it, the whimper got to you.  

Your smirk faltered just a little as you reached out, fingers tracing along his cheek. “Oh, Sol…” Your voice softened, just enough to make him lean into your touch, his head tilting slightly like he craved it. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”  

But then—because you couldn’t resist—you let your smirk return, amusement lacing your next words. “But… I gotta admit, seeing you like this is kinda cute.” Your fingers trailed down, ghosting over his jaw as he pressed into your palm like a touch-starved puppy.  

His lips parted, breath hitching, but his eyes… oh, his eyes were full of determination now.  

He needed to prove himself. Needed to show you he was worthy of this. Worthy of you.  

And so, with far more confidence, he straightened up, held your gaze, and—  

“Woof.”

You had to bite back a laugh at how fast he reacted—it was honestly too damn funny. Sol, all broody and distant most of the time, but the second you threw him a little attention? A whole different story. 

And that tiny, earnest little woof he let out? Oh, so adorable. 

"Good boy," you murmured, your voice coming out softer, maybe a little breathier than you intended. 

The second the words left your lips, his whole body shuddered. Like the damn phrase physically did something to him. The satisfaction on his face was instant—like a puppy finally getting the praise it had been dying for. And god, that lovesick little smile of his? Paired with the way his red-orange eyes practically sparkled, pupils blown wide and pleading? Yeah, you were toast. 

How the hell were you supposed to say no to that?

With a soft sigh, you ran your fingers through his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp. 

That was all it took. 

“Please…” he whispered, his voice barely holding together.

You tilted your head, pretending not to notice the way his whole body was trembling. “Please what, Sol?" 

His breath hitched. He knew exactly what you were doing, but he still took the bait. He had to. 

"Please," he rasped, looking at you like you were the only thing keeping him alive. "Please… praise me more… call me a good boy again… just—just touch me, please.”

You know what? Hell yeah.  

Your eyes flicked down, taking a deliberate glance at the hard bulge straining against his black skinny jeans before looking back up at him. The pout on his lips? Adorable.  

"Fine," you sighed, acting like you were doing him a favor.  

That was all it took. A grin split across Sol’s face, his whole demeanor flipping in an instant. “R-Really?” His voice cracked slightly, full of disbelief and excitement.  

You smirked. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he had a tail, and it was wagging at full speed. "Mhm," you hummed, dragging it out just enough to make him squirm. "But first, we start where you already touched."  

With deliberate slowness, you peeled off your tank top, tossing it aside to reveal a lace bra that hugged your skin just right. Still sitting, you let your fingers slip under the waistband of your shorts, teasing just a little before sliding them down to reveal the matching underwear.  

Sol stayed on his knees, watching you like the eager little puppy he was. His gaze was fixed, his lips slightly parted, and the pink on his cheeks deepened. He looked like he was about to start panting at any second.  

You sighed dramatically, tilting your head. “You do realize this is my last good set, right?”  

His eyes snapped up to yours, confused.  

“Because, you know, somebody keeps stealing my underwear,” you accused, raising an eyebrow.  

He swallowed thickly, nodding, looking almost guilty. “I… I understand.”  

You grinned. “Oh, I know you do.” The tension crackled between you and him, thick and electric. You knew exactly how badly he wanted this—how much he wanted to touch, to feel, to worship you.  

It didn’t take long before he was right where you wanted him—kneeling in front of you, completely bare, having shed every last piece of clothing just for you, braless. His boxers were the only thing keeping him from pressing fully against you, but even that thin barrier wasn’t enough to stop the way his hips instinctively ground against the side of your bed. His breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling like he was barely holding himself together.  

“Oh, Sol~” you murmur, your voice dripping with faux sweetness as you reach into your nightstand. His head snaps up, his dazed eyes following your movements, and then—oh, then—he sees it. 

The collar and leash. 

His breath hitches, his gaze locking onto the items like he’s both terrified and mesmerized.  

“Oh dear,” you tease, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “You didn’t think you were getting off that easy, did you? After all that stalking? Oh no, sweetheart. We’re just getting started.”  

"Time for you to make up for it."  

And you meant every single word.  

You sank back onto your bed, the softness of the pillow cradling your head as you let out a slow, deliberate breath. Your legs parted almost instinctively, knees bending as your hands slid down your body with a practiced ease. Your fingers are hooked into the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down your thighs and letting them fall to the floor in a careless heap. 

The cool air kissed your skin, but it did little to temper the heat pooling between your legs. You spread yourself open with two fingers, exposing your glistening folds, and waited.

Sol’s gaze snapped to you, his eyes widening as if he’d been struck. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he seemed frozen—caught between awe and the overwhelming urge to close the distance. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his pupils dilating as he stared at your pretty, wet cunt.  

“Come here,” you commanded, your voice low and firm. You gave the leash a sharp tug, pulling him forward with enough force to make him stumble. A faint whine escaped his lips, but he didn’t resist. He couldn’t. His body moved as if drawn by an invisible thread, his knees hitting the edge of the bed as he leaned in closer, his face now inches from your heat.  

“Have you ever done this before?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, your tone teasing but not unkind.  

He shook his head quickly, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. His hands fidgeted at his sides, unsure where to land, his entire body radiating a nervous energy that was almost endearing.  

You smirked, reaching down to tap your clit lightly with a fingertip. “Sooo… You lick and suck here,” you instructed your voice steady but laced with a hint of amusement. Then, you dragged your finger down, circling your entrance before sliding back up in a slow, deliberate motion. “You can stick your tongue in here too, or use your fingers if you want. Got it?”  

He nodded vigorously, his eagerness almost comical. Without hesitation, he hooked his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer until your hips were flush against the edge of the bed. His breath fanned over your wetness, hot and uneven, as he leaned in, his nose brushing against your inner thigh.  

For a moment, he hesitated, his inexperience showing in the way his hands trembled and his breath stuttered. But then, as if something primal had taken over, he dove in. His tongue swiped up your slit in one long, clumsy stroke, and the sensation made your back arch off the bed.  

That first taste seemed to ignite something in him. His movements became frantic, almost desperate, as if he’d been starved for this. His tongue lapped at your clit with a messy, unrelenting fervor, his lips sealing around the sensitive bud to suck hard. Saliva dripped down his chin, his face a wet, glistening mess, but you didn’t mind. The sloppiness only added to the raw, unfiltered intensity of the moment.  

He was relentless, his focus singular. His tongue flicked and circled your clit, alternating between broad, wet strokes and sharp, precise flicks. Every now and then, he’d plunge his tongue deeper, exploring your entrance with a curiosity that bordered on obsession. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as if he were afraid you’d pull away.  

You let out a breathy laugh, your fingers tangling in his hair as you guided him, encouraging him to keep going. “That’s it,” you murmured, your voice thick with approval. “Just like that.”  

The praise seemed to spur him on. His lips wrapped around your clit again, sucking with a rhythm that had your toes curling. His tongue worked in tandem, flicking and swirling until the room was filled with the sound of his messy, wet kisses and your soft, shuddering moans.  

You loved watching him—the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the way his cheeks hollowed as he sucked, the way his entire body seemed to vibrate with the effort of pleasing you. He was a quick study, his movements growing more confident with every passing second.  

His arms tightened around your thighs, pulling you even closer as he buried his face deeper, his nose pressing against your mound. His tongue dipped inside you, curling and probing, before retreating to lavish attention on your clit once more. The alternating rhythm was driving you wild, and you could feel the tension building low in your belly, coiling tighter with every swipe of his tongue.  

“Good boy,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.  

The words sent a shiver through him, his hips jerking involuntarily against the bed. He moaned against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. His hands slid up to grip your hips, holding you steady as he devoured you with an almost feral hunger.  

You let your head fall back, your eyes fluttering shut as you gave yourself over to the sensation. His tongue was everywhere—flicking, sucking, probing—and you could feel the heat building, spreading through your body like wildfire.  

Sol’s mind raced, his thoughts a jumble of heat and hunger as he remembered your earlier words about fingers. His arm shifted, sliding back as he pressed a single digit against your slick entrance. You were already so wet, and the way your body clenched around him as he pushed inside made his pulse spike. 

He curled his finger experimentally, and the sharp twitch of your hips told him he’d found the right spot. A low groan rumbled in his throat as he repeated the motion, his finger hooking inside you while his tongue dragged messy, sloppy strokes over your clit.  

The sounds were obscene—wet, hungry, and utterly unrestrained. His tongue flicked and sucked at your sensitive bud like he was starved for it, his lips sealing around you as if he could drink you in. Your legs shook, thighs trembling on either side of his head, and you let out a breathy moan as your head fell back against the pillows. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to the sensation, but the noises kept you tethered to the moment: the slick slide of his finger, the filthy slurping of his mouth, the way he devoured you like he’d been parched for days and you were the only thing that could quench him.  

Sol’s gaze flicked upward, his eyes locking onto your chest. Your bra clung to you, the fabric doing little to hide the hard peaks of your nipples. They seemed to taunt him, begging to be freed, and his free hand moved almost on instinct. His fingers trailed up your stomach, slow and deliberate, until you felt the warmth of his palm near your breast.  

Your eyes snapped open, and you looked down just as his hand inched closer. With a sharp tug on the leash, you yanked him back, forcing his mouth to leave your clit with an audible pop. His lips were glistening, his expression a mix of frustration and guilt as he scowled up at you.  

“Sorry, no tits for you,” you reminded him, your voice dripping with lazy amusement. “Remember? You already touched them earlier. No touching.”  

Sol’s frown deepened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he watched as you reached behind yourself to unhook your bra, letting it fall away. Your breasts bounced free, and you couldn’t help but tease him, your hands moving to cup them, fingers rolling and pinching your nipples just enough to make him groan.  

“Eyes down, Sol,” you chided, though your tone was more playful than stern. Reluctantly, he obeyed, his mouth returning to your clit with renewed focus. His tongue swirled and pressed against you, and you moaned, your hips rocking forward to meet his face. The heat of his mouth, the way his slender tongue worked you over—it was too much and not enough all at once.  

You tangled your fingers in his hair, guiding him as you moved against him, chasing the pleasure that coiled tighter and tighter in your core. Sol’s hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as he devoured you, his every movement a silent plea for your approval. 

And as your moans grew louder, your body trembling on the edge, you knew he’d do anything to keep you right there—teetering between control and chaos.  

Sol’s brain was still playing catch-up. Like, seriously, was this real life? He, Sol, the guy who’d barely figured out how to flirt without tripping over his own words, was here—between your legs, giving you head as his life depended on it. 

And holy hell, you were hot. Like, unfairly hot. If he could’ve paused time right then and there, he would’ve snapped a mental picture of the view: your legs spread wide, your chest rising and falling with every shaky breath, and your tits right there, practically begging for his attention. It was almost too much to process, but hey, he wasn’t about to complain.

Then you moaned his name, and his entire world tilted.  

“A-ah… Right there, Sol.”  

Your voice was like a jolt of electricity straight into his system. If he’d had a tail, it would’ve been wagging so hard it could’ve powered a small city. Instead, he’s humping your bed—to get off as much as he can.

He doubled down, his tongue working faster, more deliberately, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. One hand gripped your thigh, pushing it up to give him better access, while the other slipped a second finger inside you, curling just right to hit that spot that made your breath hitch. And his hips—god, his hips—are hammering against your bed like he’s trying to drill a hole through it.  

All from the way you reacted—arching your back, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer—was enough to make his head spin. And when you started rocking your hips against his face, chasing your release, he felt like he was floating. Or maybe combusting. Honestly, it was hard to tell at this point.  

“F-Fuck, good boy,” you gasped, and wow, if that didn’t just short-circuit his brain entirely.  

You heard a low, guttural whine that vibrated against your clit. His eyes roll back, his body locks up, and then he’s cumming, just like that. It’s messy and raw and completely out of his control, his hips stuttering as he spills into his already ruined boxers. 

His chest heaves, his face flushed a deep red, and for a moment, he looks like he’s not even sure where he is. Like he’s just been launched into some other dimension where the only thing that exists is the aftershocks of whatever the hell just happened to him.  

Sol collapses against you his body completely spent. He’s trembling, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he lets out this shaky, broken groan that sounds like it’s been dragged out of the deepest part of him. His mind is a foggy mess, his limbs feel like jelly, and his cock? 

There’s was intoxicating about knowing you’re the only one who’s ever reduced him to this—who’s ever made him fall apart so completely that he can’t even form a coherent thought. 

It’s a power trip, really, and you’re not ashamed to admit how much you love it.  

But of course, you’re not done with him. Not even close.  

You tugged on the leash, pulling him up until his face was level with yours. His lips were a mess—glossy with your slick, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes wide with a mix of pride and desperation. And then you kissed him, deep and hungry, your tongue sliding against his like you were claiming him all over again.  

When you finally pulled away, a thin string of saliva and your cream connected your lips, and Sol couldn’t help but stare, dazed and a little smug.  

“Such a good job,” you murmured, your voice low and approving, and he felt like he could’ve run a marathon right then and there.  

You slowly pinned Sol to the bed with a firm hand on his chest, your fingers splayed over his rapidly rising and falling ribcage. His breath hitched as you leaned down, your lips brushing against his collarbone before trailing lower, leaving a trail of soft, teasing kisses down his torso. His skin was warm, slightly damp with sweat, and every touch made him shiver beneath you. 

When your fingers hooked into the waistband of his soaked boxers, he let out a shaky groan, his hips lifting instinctively to help you slide them off. 

His cock sprang free, already half-hard again despite the mess he’d made earlier. You couldn’t help but smirk at the sight—he was average in length, sure, but the girth of him was something else entirely. Thick and heavy in your hand, it twitched as you leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the tip. Sol’s entire body jerked, a strangled sound escaping his throat as his hands fisted the sheets.

“N-not fair,” he managed to choke out, his voice wrecked.  

You chuckled darkly, your breath ghosting over his sensitive skin. “Oh, sweetheart,” you purred, your tone equal parts teasing and commanding. “You’ve already come once. Now it’s my turn. And here’s the rule: you don’t get to come again until I do. Got it, puppy?”  

He nodded frantically, his eyes wide and pleading, but you could see the flicker of determination in them. Good. You wanted him desperate, but you also wanted him to try.  

You climbed over him, straddling his hips, and took him in hand, guiding him to your entrance. The first press of his cock against you made you both gasp—him from the overwhelming heat, you from the sheer stretch of him. Even though you’d prepared yourself, the girth of him was still a lot to take. You bit your lip, sinking down slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he was fully sheathed inside you.  

“Fuck,” you breathed, your head tipping back as you adjusted to the feeling of him. He was stretching you so wide it almost hurt, but in the best way possible—like he was made just for you.  

Sol’s hands flew to your hips, his grip tight but not controlling. He was holding on for dear life, his chest heaving as he fought to keep still. “Y-you’re so tight,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “I—I don’t know how long I can—”  

“You’ll last,” you interrupted, your tone leaving no room for argument. “Because if you don’t, I’ll make you regret it.”  

You began to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles, savoring the way he filled you so completely. Every drag of his cock against your walls sent sparks shooting up your spine, and the way he looked beneath you—eyes blown wide, lips parted, every muscle in his body taut with restraint—only fueled your own pleasure.  

“That’s it,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry. “Such a good boy for me. Just hold on a little longer.”  

Sol whimpered, his fingers digging into your hips as he fought to obey. But you could feel the tension coiling in him, the way his cock twitched inside you as he teetered on the edge. You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest, and picked up the pace, your movements growing more urgent as your own climax began to build.  

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you moaned, your voice breaking as the pressure inside you reached its peak. “But don’t you dare come yet. Not until I—” Your words cut off with a sharp cry as your orgasm hit, your walls clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses. Sol’s restraint shattered the second he felt it, his hips bucking up into you as he spilled himself inside you with a broken groan.  

You yanked the leash still connected to his collar, forcing him to face you. Both of you were panting, trembling, but you couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that tugged at your lips.  

“I said not to come yet,” you warned, your voice low and dangerous, though your eyes sparkled with mischief.  

Sol let out a breathless laugh, his arms wrapping around you as he pressed a clumsy kiss to your shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. “You’re just… impossible to resist.”  

You shoved him back onto the pillow, your hand pressing firmly against his chest to keep him in place. “You’re lucky I’m on the pill,” you said, your tone dripping with mock sweetness. “Thank god I can do this now…”  

Before he could respond, you shifted your weight, lifting yourself off him just enough to slide back down onto his cock in one smooth, punishing motion. He gasped, his hands flying to your hips, but you slapped them away.  

“No,” you said firmly, your voice leaving no room for argument. “You don’t get to touch me. Not after disobeying me.”  

Sol whined, his head falling back against the pillow as you began to ride him in earnest. Your movements were relentless, each bounce of your hips driving him deeper into you, the stretch of his girth still overwhelming even as your body adjusted. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep them off you.  

“P-please,” he stammered, his voice breaking as his hips twitched upward, desperate for more friction.  

“Please what?” you taunted, slowing your pace just enough to drive him mad. “Use your words, Sol.”  

He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a strangled moan as you clenched around him, your walls fluttering deliberately. You smirked, leaning forward to grab the discarded pair of your underwear from the side of the bed. Without warning, you shoved them into his mouth, muffling his whines and moans.  

“We don’t need the neighbors hearing you,” you said, your tone light and teasing despite the intensity of your movements. “Wouldn’t want a noise complaint, would we?”  

Sol’s eyes widened, a mix of humiliation and arousal flashing across his face as he nodded obediently. You could feel the way his body trembled beneath you, the way his cock twitched inside you as he fought to hold back another orgasm. But you weren’t done with him yet.  

You picked up the pace again, your thighs burning with the effort as you rode him harder, faster, each movement calculated to push him closer to the edge without letting him tip over. His muffled cries grew more desperate, his hips bucking weakly beneath you, but you kept him pinned, your hands braced on his chest for leverage.  

“You’re going to learn to listen to me,” you said, your voice steady despite the way your pleasure was building again. “Or I’ll stop.”  

Tears welled in Sol’s eyes, “N-no, please don’t…” his body writhing beneath you as he struggled to hold on. The sight of him like this—completely at your mercy, tears streaming down his cheeks, his cock buried deep inside you—was almost enough to push you over the edge. But you held back, determined to make him suffer longer.  

Finally, when you could feel him teetering on the brink, his muffled whines turning into broken sobs, you leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear.  

Even as his body shuddered beneath you, his hips twitching weakly, you kept moving, riding him through your high and his, your pace unrelenting. His hands, which had been gripping the sheets for dear life, now lay limp at his sides, his strength completely spent. His chest heaved, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he stared up at you with glassy, unfocused eyes.  

“P-please,” he managed to choke out, his voice barely audible. “I—I can’t…”  

“You can,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the way your own body trembled with exertion. “And you will. Because you’re mine, Sol. My puppy. My guard dog. My pet. And you don’t get to stop until I say so.”  

You shifted your weight, grinding down on him in slow, deliberate circles, the overstimulation drawing a broken whimper from his lips. His cock, still half-hard despite the exhaustion wracking his body, twitched inside you, and you smirked, leaning forward to trail your fingers along his jaw.  

“Look at you,” you murmured, your tone equal parts teasing and adoring. “So desperate, so wrecked. And all for me.”  

Sol’s eyes fluttered shut, a tear slipping down his cheek as he nodded weakly. “Y-yours,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “Always yours.”  

You kissed him then, deep and possessive, your tongue sliding against his as if to claim him all over again. When you pulled away, his lips were swollen, his face flushed, and his body trembling beneath you.  

You might’ve come like three times? Four? Honestly, you lost count at some point, too lost in the haze of pleasure to keep track. But Sol? He hadn’t come at all. Not once. And the fact that he’d held himself back like that, with his cock buried deep inside you, was nothing short of impressive. 

You could feel the tension coiled in his body, the way he trembled beneath you, his self-control hanging by a thread. It was intoxicating, the way he fought to keep himself in check, all because you hadn’t given him permission yet.

You leaned down, brushing a strand of damp hair from his forehead, your touch almost tender despite the relentless pace you’d set. Your fingers trailed down the side of his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw before coming to rest on the collar that still sat snugly around his neck. The leather was warm from his skin, and you gave it a gentle tug, just enough to remind him—even as he teetered on the edge—of who he belonged to.

“Such a good boy,” you murmured, your voice low and sated, a purr of satisfaction that seemed to echo in the quiet of the room. Your heart-shaped pupils dilated as you admired him, your gaze sweeping over his prone form. He was a masterpiece of submission, every inch of him marked by your control, your desire, your ownership. The sight of him like this—so vulnerable, so utterly yours—sent a shiver of pride and possessiveness through you.

But you weren’t done with him yet.

You began to move again, your hips rolling in slow, deliberate motions, each one designed to drag another broken sound from his throat. His hands twitched at his sides as if he wanted to touch you but didn’t dare, and the sight of him like this—completely at your mercy, completely yours—was almost enough to push you over the edge again.

“Please,” he choked out, his voice ragged, barely more than a whisper. “I can’t—I can’t take it anymore. Please, let me—”

You shushed him gently, your fingers tightening around the leash as you leaned in closer, your breath hot against his ear. “Not yet, pup,” you whispered, your voice soft but commanding. “You don’t get to come until I say so. And you’re going to take it, aren’t you? You’re going to be good for me.”

He nodded frantically, his eyes squeezed shut as another wave of pleasure—or maybe it was torture—rippled through him. His cock twitched inside you, and you could feel the way his body fought to hold back, the way he clenched his teeth to keep from crying out. It was beautiful, the way he struggled, the way he gave himself over to you completely.

You kept going, your pace unrelenting, each movement calculated to push him closer to the edge without letting him tip over. His begging grew more desperate, his voice breaking as he pleaded with you to let him come, to give him release. But you just smiled, your heart-shaped pupils gleaming with satisfaction as you watched him unravel beneath you.

“Now you can come, pup,” you whispered, your voice soft but commanding.

The second the words left your mouth, Sol’s body convulsed, his cock pulsing inside you as he came with a muffled cry. You followed him over the edge, your own orgasm crashing over you in waves as you clenched around him, milking every last drop from him. It was with a force that left you breathless, your walls clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses. Sol’s body jerked beneath you, his cock twitching inside you as he came again, his release spilling into you with a broken groan.

You rode him through your high and his, your pace unrelenting even as his body went limp beneath you, his eyes fluttering shut as he passed out from the sheer intensity of it all. When you finally stilled, both of you trembling and breathless, you looked down at him with a satisfied smile as the leash was still in your hand, the collar around his neck a stark reminder of his place. Your pet. Your puppy. Your guard dog.

And he looked beautiful like this. 

Completely wrecked, completely yours.

You shifted slightly, feeling the slickness between your thighs, the evidence of his release still dripping from you. The sensation only deepened your satisfaction, a tangible reminder of the power you held over him. You could still feel the faint twitch of his cock inside you, even as it softened, and you clenched around him once more, savoring the way his body instinctively responded, even in his unconscious state.

With a soft sigh, you finally pulled yourself off him, your movements slow and deliberate. Sol’s body twitched at the loss, a faint whimper escaping his lips, but he didn’t wake. You stood, stretching languidly, your own body humming with the afterglow of pleasure. Your gaze never left him as you reached for a nearby blanket, draping it over his prone form with a surprising gentleness. 

Even in his submission, even in his wrecked state, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of affection for him. He was yours, after all, and you took care of what belonged to you.

You picked up the leash from where it had fallen beside him, running the soft leather through your fingers as you considered him. He looked so peaceful like this, so completely at ease, and you couldn’t help but smile. This was where he belonged, where he thrived—under your command, under your care. 

Your guard dog, your loyal pup, your Sol.

As you turned to leave, you paused, glancing back at him one last time. “Rest now, pup,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm. “You’ve earned it.”

And with that, you slipped out of the room, leaving him to his dreams, knowing that when he woke, he would be just as eager to serve, just as desperate to please. Because he was yours, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Little woof. 

[zlut4rina]

Airplane mode

Storyline: On your way back home from your trip to the Bahamas, your girlfriend decided now would be the perfect time to use her bet winning prize.

Pairings: Nonidol!Giselle x Fem Reader

Warnings: Fingering, public sex, cum eating (?), little plot in this one.

Note: blonde giselle I miss u blonde giselle 💔🙏

Word count: 1.5k (it's short ik 💔, hardly proof read btw)

___________________________________________

After a quick week long get away with your girlfriend Giselle, it was time to head home. Packing your things and making your way to the plane which would be a 16 hour ride back home.

About 6 to 7 hours in, you and your girlfriend were enjoying your time together. Watching movies and shows you both enjoyed. Playing games while laughing amongst each other. Losing the track of time, due to being distracted by one another. Time flew by and honestly you didn’t want the trip to end, but all good things have that outcome sooner or later. That was until your girlfriend spoke: “Hey, remember that bet we had back at the air bnb?” She questioned looking over at you. You looked at her a bit confused before a huge smile formed on your face. “OH YEAA, you cheated me in that” you said crossing your arms. Giselle smiled at your antics before placing a hand on your thigh rubbing circles on you with her thumb.

“Do you remember what the prize was if either of us won?” she questioned this time now gripping your thigh a bit harder sinking her nails into your skin a little. You bit the inside of your lip, placing a hand on top of hers. Giselle leaned down to your ear “You have to do whatever I tell you to..” She whispered in a low husky tone. Your face flushed with a tint of red, you gripped her hand off of your thigh holding it next to your body. “What about it?” you asked trying to keep a bit of composure in your voice. Your girlfriend chuckled a bit, wrapping a arm around you pulling you closer to her. “I want you to do something for me..” her voice laced with a hint of lust. She pulled you as close as she could get you to her, closing any possible gaps between you two.

You looked at her giving her a questioning hum in response. She took her arm from around you and went to squeeze your thigh a bit harder than before, this time looking you in the eyes. “Do you think you can be quiet from me pretty girl?” She questioned tilting her head a bit at you. You finally catching on to what she was planning you took her hand off of you. “What the hell, really? Now? Here?” you basically bombarded her with questions and concerns. Yapping away at how risky and scary it is to even think of doing something like that on a plane.

Your girlfriend smirked at you “I mean does it really matter as long as your quiet.” She asked slightly annoyed. “Besides I won that little game fair and square, you owe me.” That was all she said before her hand started trailing up your thigh. Moving up and down at a slow agonizing pace that she knew would set you off. Her fingers rubbing against your heat ever so slightly before going back to caressing your thigh. You try to close your legs only for her to pinch you instead , forcing them to stay open. “Now? Are you serious…” you said softly below a whisper. Your girlfriend smiling at you “Everyone is sleep, nobody is gonna care”. She slowly brought her hand up to your chin making you face her, pulling you into her kiss. Which soon turned into a a sloppy make out with you trying to contain tour moans. Whimpering in her mouth she put her tongue inside, you both immediately fighting for dominance. Which she obviously beat you to, taking this opportunity to slide her hand down and unbutton your pants.

She rubs your clothed clit through the fabric of the panties she bought you during your trip. “So pretty” she spoke into your lips. Moving down to work her magic on your exposed neck. Her pace with her fingers grew faster, causing you to jolt your body into her touch. Using your hands to push her away, to no avail she didn’t even flinch. “Wait, what if someone catches us?” you whispered reaching to cover your mouth after, due to the way she was working on your neck. She finally let up “nobody’s gonna catch us, as much as I wanna hear you. As long as you keep it quiet, we’ll be okay.” While she spoke her hand went into your panties rubbing circles on your sensitive clit. Her fingers trailed down sliding into your wet warm cunt immediately coating her fingers. She brought them back up to your clit making it wet and slippery. “For someone so against this you sure seem to be enjoying yourself, huh.” Trying to contain your moans you grit your teeth together placing your hand on your mouth. Her motion on you stopped abruptly, your entire body relaxed to the sudden disappearance of her. “You sound so cute trying to hold back. But I love it better when I can hear you.” A grin formed on her face looking you in the eyes. “Let me hear you.” She took your hands away from your mouth, starting her way back in your neck leaving noticeable marks all over your neck. You moaned a little too loud biting your lip right after realizing. Causing your girlfriend to smile against your neck, leaning up to kiss you again.

Her fingers went back down on you, digging her digits deep into your heat her fingers were soaked and covered with your juices. Finally done with her teasing she slowly entered two fingers inside you. Pumping into you slow and steady, earing quiet soft whimpers from you. Finally letting off your neck she sat up straight in her chair looking out the window or ahead of her as if she wasn’t ruining you. All it took was for one of your seating neighbors to awaken, and be met by you sweating, hands clamping on your chair and the arm of your girlfriend. Throwing your head back, mouth slightly open taking in quick gasps, drying your throat. You let out airy moans and silent curses under your breath. Beads of sweat sticking to your forehead and neck. You girlfriend on the other hand was checking her phone and looking around as if everything was casual. You gripped her arm tighter digging your nails into her skin leaving marks there, she’ll definitely tease you for later. Her movement became faster and messier causing the wet noises between your legs to grow louder. You were sure not everyone on the ppane was sleep, and with how loud things were getting between you two you were sure they could hear faint noises in the distance. Or maybe the people behind you or in front of your were listening all along.

“Fuck I’m close..” you said in between breaths leaning your head on your girlfriends shoulder. Her fingers became quick, adding an extra digit fucking you with three stretching you out in the process. You bit your lip, tucking your face into the crook of her neck. Allowing yourself to let out the most sinfully sounds. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer the way you clenched around her, struggled to keep your legs open. The way your body humped her hand desperately, looking for some extra friction. Giselle lifted your chin up to face her bringing you into a sloppy heated make out as you came all over her hand. She didn’t stop her movements, continuing to fuck you deeply as you came down from your high. Closing your legs around her hand trying yo pull her away with your hands. You moaned into her neck a little drool flowing out the corner of your mouth and onto her shirt. She took her hands out of you slowly, bringing her fingers to her mouth licking all of you off. Still acting nonchalantly looking out the window, not paying you no mind. She finally turned her head to you “Your such a great listener baby” you smiled against her as your chest rose and fell like crazy.

You finally let her go, relaxing in your seat whipping the sweat from your forehead, still trying to catch your breath. “I should go clean up.” You said quietly attempting to get out your seat to make your way to the bathroom. Giselle stopping you by holding your hand down. She looked at you in the eyes with a stupid smile on her face, “There’s no point baby, it’s just gonna be way worse for you when we get home.” Your face flushed with red once again, sitting yourself back down comfortably. You felt a kick on the back of your chair, Turing around to see who it was, to give them a piece of your mind about it. You were met by multiple glares from the people behind and across from you. Of course your worse fear had to happen. You turned back into your seat sitting up straight staring at the back of the seat in front of you. Slowly Turing your head to your girlfriend she had a stupid smirk on her face.

Maybe next time you should bet on things your confident you would win.

___________________________________________

Sorry this took forever to post 🙏

Glaze it rn n ill give u a big smooching 👅

[mimikittysblog]

The Princess - Prequel

Pairing: Mafia! Poly! Ateez x Fem! Stripper! Reader (ever so slightly Hongjoong focused but not by much)

Genre: Angst, fluff, a hint of smut (no actual sex scenes just mentioned)

Synopsis: Looking at ATZ you’d never expect that they were capable of being in love. Yet they are. How did this happen though? How did you get tangled up in this? And why were they so determined to keep you safe?

Warnings: Kidnapping, major violence, death/murder (not of the major characters), implied sexual activity, MxM of course, alcohol consumption, nightclubs, reader was a stripper, not proofread. So because of all of this please ⚠️MNDI⚠️ if I missed anything please let me know.

Word Count: 5,8k

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE!!!! I won’t blabber here for too much! So I really hope you like this! Any feedback is appreciated! As well as any questions! Enjoy!

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Goodness this place is gorgeous!!” You squeal as you twirl around in your villa.

As San suggested, for your ten year anniversary, you and your husbands went out on a vacation. This year it was to Greece.

“You chose well my smart husband.” Hongjoong compliments Yeosang with a kiss.

“Thank you.” He smiles.

“You guys are too much!” You giggle as you open the glass doors that lead to the beach.

“Nothing is ever too much for you our princess.” Seonghwa says.

You can only smile back as you continue exploring the villa. Later that night you all, as per your request, laid on the beach to stargaze.

“Hmm 10 years with my amazing husbands.. what did I ever do to deserve thissss?” You sighed

Hongjoong who was beside you, reached over and grabbed your hand. Brought it to his lips and kissed it.

“Existing. You exist.”

Before you could protest all of your husbands sounded their agreements to captains statement.

While some of that statement holds true. As the moment the boys met you all those years ago, they knew they would give you everything you ever wanted.

The thing is.. something actually did happened to you.. something that technically you did.

That thing made them want to forever repay you. To make sure a smile will forever be on your face, your heart always content and your mind forever at ease.

The truth is your kidnapping that happened almost a month ago now, was not the first time you were taken from them.

There was only ever one other time.

That fateful night is what changed your husbands to be as protective as they are towards you now.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Let’s start at the beginning though.

See, while now the name ATZ sends a chill down most people’s spine in your town. Possibly even your province. Soon it’s possible even your entire country. As they’re the most powerful group of them all. 8 powerful men who wouldn’t let anything get in their way.

They didn’t start like this though.

They started out as 8 unfortunate boys all from different parts of town. Some came from cruel families, some were even orphans. Yet somehow they all met each other and instantly clicking like it was fate, or destiny. They all completed each other in a way and shared similar goals and dreams. As well as similar feelings towards the cruel world.

Hongjoong hated how he was constantly looked down upon. Yunho loathed his abusive high class life. Seonghwa and San despised the cruelty society showed them. Yeosang never understood the health care system. Mingi and Wooyoung also loathe their living conditions all because of loan sharks. Jongho hated stupid rich families that took away his.

So they set out to do something about it. Maybe not necessarily to change the world, but to change their situation. It started small, just petty theft. They then moved on to scams and then to grand larceny and so on. Their crimes kept growing and growing in severity. Eventually establishing themselves as a worthy threat.

They knew they became monsters. Somewhat becoming the thing they hated. They thought it was only fair though. If the world was going to be cruel to them, they’ll be cruel back. Sometimes even crueler.

Eventually they could take small breaks and reward themselves after all the work they’ve done.

Plus men like them need to unwind somehow. So what better way than at a nice club with cold drinks and hot strippers?

In the beginning they actually never went to the same club twice, just to make sure they’re always moving. Yet one night at this particular club, something or specifically someone, made them want to stay there forever.

You.

You were the top stripper at this club. Everyone wanted a piece of you. They were no different. Well… maybe a little different. As their desire for you from the moment they saw you was a strong familiar feeling. It felt like when they first met each other for the first time all those years ago.

What they didn’t know is that when your eyes met theirs, you felt exactly the same way. Somewhere deep in your heart you knew they were the people who will make you feel complete.

Just like that, after a single private night with you (which they paid over 10x your usual rate, just to make sure they have you all to themselves), they went from constantly moving clubs to only ever going to this one. You never complained though.

They were your favorite clients.

Behind closed doors though, they were more than that. They were yours. And you weren’t gonna have it any other way. You always got what you wanted anyway. So when they first started becoming regulars, you did whatever it took to make them want to keep you.

You didn’t have to do much really.

They were already yours the second you gave them your famous lap dances.

Yet they weren’t gonna refuse whatever you had to offer. And what you had to offer was incredibly valuable.

Inside information.

People love to talk, especially when they thought no one was listening. Yet your ears were always wide open. Always looking out for the latest inside scoop or internal plans that the boys might need. So when the next time they see you, you always have something to tell them.

While you ride them of course.

Not something you do with your clients but yet again they’ve always been the exception. They give nice tips and more.

There was also actually something unexpected that you were able to give to them. Actually far more valuable than the information you had.

Comfort.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

It isn’t easy being them. They always have to suck up the hard parts of being what they are. It is their consequence. Sure they enjoy some parts of the job, they gain some sick pleasures for the cruelty they inflict. Yet sometimes it’s still a lot.

However with you now being with them, you’re able to just be there to lend an extra shoulder. It made things much easier. You were somehow able to make them feel human again. Not like the monsters they believed they are.

What was first an exchange of goods truly became much more. Now half of the time the guys show up, they truly just wanna hang out with you and drink.

Sure they hope to possibly get a kiss here and there too since they could never resist you. But it really wasn’t really their main reason to see you anymore.

And actually, hanging out with you was also what caused them to realize and admit their feelings for each other.

“..You don’t realize the rest has feelings for you?” You say with a raised eyebrow at the four who decided to give you a visit tonight.

They don’t always go to your club together, sometimes they go alone or even in small groups.

“Heck you guys don’t realize you all have feelings for each other?” You chuckle.

“You look out and care for each other the same way you do me! And as far as I can tell! You don’t look at me as just a friend.” You continue with a smirk.

Oh the looks on their faces. You’ve never seen these men be so shy before.

“…FUCK ALRIGHT FINE! I’ve been in love with all of you for a year now!” Wooyoung finally snaps.

“…me too..” Jongho then admits after a moment of silence.

“..I.. didn’t realize what I felt for you guys was.. love.. romantically I guess..” Mingi says sheepishly.

“..me neither… fuck I never thought I’d ever feel anything romantically.” Yunho whines.

“You’re still only human Yunho. And love like this is something most humans are capable of.” You say as you move to sit in his lap.

“What now..?” Jongho asks.

“That my dear Jongie, is up for you and everyone else to decided. But one favor? don’t leave me out of it?” You giggle.

Yunho could only chuckle before pulling you into a kiss.

“Never.”

Soon another round of fun commenced, where the boys became slightly more touchy towards each other. The next time they visited though, you could tell they were significantly more touchy. More happy too.

So after two years of constantly meeting up with you, they were able to become much more than friends. And they wanted you to be apart of them.

How could you ever say no?

It was all really wonderful.

After a few more visits since making it official the guys decided they wanted to do this properly. So they often took you out when you weren’t working. Being more lovely than all of the guys you’ve ever dated to the point you wondered if they were really a mafia group.

Every date they took you on was just filled with joy and love.

Here they also got to learn more about you as well. How funny you are, brightening their day with laughs. How kind you are with how much you care for them. How smart you are whenever there are problems to be solved and you even helped them with some of their plans. They also learned of your unfortunate background like theirs. How relatable it was. It just makes them fall for you even more and just solidifies how much you mean to them.

Because of that they started to really treat you like a Princess. They even started calling you that. You didn’t think you deserved it but they always told you otherwise. To them you were a princess.

Their Princess.

Despite everything you all should’ve been more careful though.

Cause love is a double edged sword.

And someone was about to exploit that.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Good night my Joongie.” You smile as Hongjoong is leaving your club.

“I’ll miss you princess.” He says softly stroking your face before giving you one last kiss.

“I’ll miss you too.”

Tonight it was just Hongjoong visiting. Just a quick meet up to see and treat you for the night.

He shouldn’t have.

Or maybe he should’ve stayed longer.

Or He should’ve taken you home even.

‘Cause even until now, he believed if he did, what happened to you would’ve been avoided.

That is because only an hour after he left. Someone paid you a little visit. It definitely wasn’t for your services though.

Or at least your normal services.

You were just in your dressing room counting the money you made for the night. Chuckling when you realized literally half of it was from Joong, despite you no longer charging them.

When suddenly your room was busted into.

“What the fuck?!” You yell jumping up from your chair.

“Wrong room fellas. If you’re looking for the bathroom it’s on the other side of the building! Now please get out of my dressing room. And if you’re actually here looking for a night with me, tough luck my shift is over.”

They didn’t reply. Instead they took steps towards you with cynical smirks.

You immediately knew they were bad news.

Your heart rate quickened as you tried to figure a way out fast. The men were blocking your door so your window was the only option. Once you realized that you quickly threw a nearby chair at them and scrambled to the window.

You were unfortunate still too slow, or maybe they were just too fast. They grabbed you but you did whatever you could. You kicked, you clawed, bit, screamed.

Whatever you could.

The men were kinda impressed at your efforts but they weren’t gonna deal with you like this. So one of them got out a cloth of chloroform and put it over your airways. You still fought as best you could but the chemical was taking its effects.

“You’re a feisty one. I can see why ATZ likes you.”

That’s the last thing you hear before you passed out. Panic fills you as you realize the reason why they’re after you. They’re trying to get to your loves using you. But you were determined to not let them.

When you finally regain consciousness, you saw you were in a dark room. Most likely a basement. You also felt the rope that was digging into your skin, and the rough scratchy wooden chair.

“Ah! So you’re finally awake!”

You looked to your side and saw the same man that took you. Along with his thugs.

“What the fuck do you want from me?!” You growled, playing dumb.

“Oh don’t act stupid.” He snapped. “We know about your little relationship with ATZ.”

“They’re my clients?!”

“Oh no no. Word on the street is that they’re more. And after just watching you for a few weeks.. we see that they’re so much more.” He chuckled.

“Creep.”

“Maybe. Look pretty, just tell me where their hideout is, what their upcoming plans are and any weaknesses that they have. That’s all and we’ll let you go.” He said with a smirk.

“They’re literally my clients you idiot. Nothing more. I don’t fucking know anything besides their names.”

SMACK

“Stop lying.” He suddenly snapped after smacking you across the face.

He then showed you an abundance of pictures of you and your boys in the club looking far too close to simply be clients. Then he even showed you some pics of you all out on those dates.

You and Yeosang on the beach.

Seonghwa and Hongjoong taking you shopping.

San eating with you at a fancy restaurant.

Yunho, Jongho and Wooyoung having a staycation with you at a 5 star hotel.

Mingi with you at a drive in theater in his most luxurious car.

And more.

You gulped in fear looking at all of these photos. However you just took a deep breath before looking back up.

“I don’t know anything.”

You’re not breaking.

The man then chuckled before leaning down to get up all in your face.

“Pretty. Why are you keeping secrets for them huh? Do you really think they love you? You? A stripper? They’re just bored sweetheart. They’ll get rid of you eventually.” He starts laughing at you. At the absurdity that you thought that they love you.

“So you know what I say? I say get rid of them first. Throw them under the bus! Just tell me what I want to know okay? Then I’ll let you go. Promise!” He continues. Just before pulling out a switch blade and pressing it into your cheek.

“…I don’t want to have to ruin your pretty face and body. Don’t make me angry.”

…

He waited patiently while looking into your eyes. Wanting to read your expression. He then smirked widely when he saw your eyes water.

A single tear then flowed down your cheek. Thinking he’s finally got you. But to his surprise…

You’re not. Breaking.

“Never.”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Hongjoong! Back from seeing darling?” Jongho ask when he saw him return home. He then walked up and gave him a hug.

“Mhm. How was the mission? Everything went well?” Hongjoong asked.

“Of course it did. Better than expected!” Wooyoung suddenly chirped in and snuggled into Joong.

“Good. Now get off me.” He said rolling his eyes. Pretending he didn’t like it.

“…Naaaahhhhh! I missed you! And our Princess! You smell like her.. hmm How is she?”

“Wonderful as always. She decided to end her shift early today.”

“Well why didn’t you take her home with you then? We all miss her you know that.” Mingi asks as he approaches Hongjoong as well. “And get off him! He’s had a long day!”

“I did too and this is how I recharge!” Wooyoung retaliates hugging Hongjoong even closer then giving him a kiss.

“I would but… I don’t know.. She also had a long day and maybe she’d want some alone time tonight..” Hongjoong explains as he moves to the couch.

“How about we just call her?” Jongho shrugs as he sits next to him.

“Yeaaahhh! If she really wants some alone time we’ll let her of course!” Wooyoung reasons as he looks up at him. “Don’t you miss her already too? I seriously can’t take being away from her for too long.” He continues.

“Enough with your whining! I’m calling her now.” Yeosang suddenly says as he walked into the room, phone in hand.

“Hmm she’s not picking up.” Yeosang frowns.

“She’s asleep already?” Mingi asks. Confused as you’re usually still up.

“Maybe she’s that tired.. lets not pester her…” Hongjoong tries to reason.

“Just try one more time. And put it on speaker!” Wooyoung says.

Yeosang only smiles at his whiney boyfriend’s antics as he dials your number again. Putting it on speaker per his request. The phone rang for a while. It rang to the point they were gonna give up and just let you rest. Thinking the assumption of you being asleep to be correct. However the phone was eventually answered.

“Oh darling! You’re still awake! Or did we wake you? Sorry love… we just wanted to know if maybe.. you’d want to come over? We all miss you! Joongie too even though he just saw you hehe” Yeosang explains with a big smile. The others expressions matching his, waiting for your response. Yet.. you didn’t? It was almost dead silent on your end.

“..Darling?”

Soon they started to hear soft panting.

A sinking feeling started to settle upon them.

“Didn’t think you’d call so soon.” A cheery voice suddenly said.

A cheery male voice.

“What the fuck?!” Mingi suddenly burst.

He then grabs the phone out of Yeosangs hand.

“Who are you?! Where’s our girl?!?”

At the loud boom of his voice, the other lovers suddenly rushed to the living room.

“What’s going on?” Seonghwa asks concerningly.

“We.. we tried calling Y/n! But.. this guy answered?!” Jongho explains in a soft panic.

“What?!” San screams.

“Your girl? Cute. Hey pretty. They’re looking for you. Why don’t you say hi? Hmm?”

“Who the fuck are you?!” Mingi continues to bark.

Suddenly a chill runs down their spine once they heard your whimper.

“Darling?? Princess are you alright?!” Yeosang yells into the phone.

You still don’t say anything, just another soft whimper.

“Speak up! They wanna hear you pretty! Oh! Maybe this will make you talk.”

“..N-no!!!”

Just then your painful ear piercing scream came through the phone.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

It’s so much.

it’s almost too much.

The pain.

For what seems like hours these men have been subjecting you to so much pain. In hopes you’ll finally talk. You’ll finally break.

But you won’t.

You can’t.

They’ve also been subjecting you to mental pain. Screaming insults and lies. Telling you how much you don’t mean to your boys, so you should just give in and tell them what they want. How there’s no point in you keeping your mouth shut. How if they weren’t gonna kill you, your “loves” eventually will.

But you didn’t care.

You’re too far gone. Maybe you’re stupid. Maybe you’re insane.

Or maybe you’re simply in love.

So even though you’ve come to acknowledge that maybe they’re right. Maybe you really are nothing but ATZ’s plaything to use when they’re bored. That they wouldn’t even blink an eye at the fact that you’re here or if you died.

You still didn’t care.

Sure it hurts…

The thought that the men you love so much wouldn’t think twice abut throwing you away was almost unbearable.

Almost.

What was unbearable for you though was the thought of them losing. Losing everything they’ve worked for. Everything they’ve built. And especially if they lost their lives.

No.

You knew from the first moment they held you, you’d do anything for them.

As pathetic as that is.

You couldn’t care less.

You love them.

Even if they didn’t.

So you’ll die here. Tortured beyond reason. Just so they stay protected, hidden and alive.

Or so you thought.

Cause the truth is they do care…

‘They called me…’ you thought to yourself

To initially invite you over cause they missed you.

But now their concerned voices are screaming out to you. Begging to know if you’re okay. Begging for your captor to let you go. Bargaining anything for your release.

Hearing all of that you could only whimper.

Overwhelmed with a sense of relief that they in fact did love you.

But you’re determined to keep them safe. So you kept your mouth shut.

Well…

Until that knife came down into your thigh.

“NO STOP IT!!!”

“LET HER GO!! WE’LL TELL YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT! WE’LL GIVE YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT!!”

“PRINCESS!!”

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! BASTARD!”

“Princess talk to us! Please!”

Your captor laughs.

“Awww.. maybe we were wrong pretty. Maybe they do love you. No matter. Still just tell me hmm? Tell me where they are.” The man taunted you. Harshly digging his finger into one of your wounds. Eliciting another scream for you.

“That’s what you wanted to know?!? FUCK FINE! WE’LL TELL YOU! WE’RE-“

“No!”

With whatever strength you had left. You yelped out a plea, cutting Hongjoong off.

“D-don’t.. don’t tell him anything..! AHH!” The finger dug in deeper.

“Even now you’re still protecting them? You’re much more pathetic than I thought.”

“Princess… Princess please.. just tell him. Or let us tell him… don’t do this..” You hear San beg softly over the phone.

“Our love.. our everything please… We can handle it.. just tell him.. or let us! Please!” Jongho added.

“Huh.. I’ve been wondering for so long! What could possibly be your guys weakness?! Turns out… I’ve been giving her a beating this whole time.” Your captor laughs along with his other goons.

“I promise you. We’ll make you fucking pay for even daring to lay a finger on her.” Yunho growls.

“Hmm I’ve been doing much more than that haven’t I pretty?”

SMACK

“STOP!”

“So tell me!”

“We’re at-“

“B-boys stop..!”

“Oh my god stop interrupting them!”

“Y-you wanted me to talk so badly?! I’ll fucking talk! Just.. let me talk to them first!” You yelled.

He stays silent for a minute. Thinking. He then sees no harm in letting you talk to them cause you are finally talking. So he then rolls his eyes at you before moving the phone closer to you.

“..Boys…” You cry.

“Princess! We’re here!” Seonghwa yells, trying to reassure you.

“It’ll be okay our love! Just h-hang on okay?” San adds.

“Just tell him what he wants to know..! We’ll handle it yeah..?” Mingi asks of you.

“My lovely boys.. please listen to me very carefully…” You take a deep breath as you get choked up. Tears streaming down your face.

“I love you. So much. So please… Give this fucker hell for me.”

As soon as those words leave your mouth, you lurched forward and was able bit into your captor’s wrist.

“ACK FUCK!!! YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

He then drops the phone trying to get out of your bite. Now while your upper body was tied up, stupidly your legs were not. So with your free leg you stomped on the phone, effectively smashing it.

Cutting off your communication with your boys.

Soon enough your captor’s goons pulled you off of his wrist.

“You’ll never know where they are! And you’ll never beat them! And when they kill you, I’ll deal with you in hell myself you fucking bastard.” You vow with conviction and eyes filled with a crazed fiery passion, after spitting his blood onto his face.

“Well then enjoy hell you psycho bitch.”

Your world suddenly went black. His fist being the last thing you saw.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“What? Princes-“

BEEP BEEP

Call disconnected.

“NO!!!”

“PRINCESS NO!!”

“FUCK!”

Panic ensues. The boys are spiraling, still screaming pleas into the phone hoping it’s some kind of glitch. Hoping you can still hear them.

“Yeosang please tell me you got their location?!?! Please!!” San yells to the boy who was trying to locate you through the call.

“W-wait! I-it’s still searching!!” He yells back, eyes filled with tears after hearing everything. Eyes frantically looking at his laptop screen, begging for it to give him your location.

“The call ended!!! Are you sure the GPS can find it?!” Jongho asks.

“It has to!!! God knows what’s happening to her!!!” Wooyoung answers him.

“Please.. please princess hold on… we’ll find you..!” Seonghwa pleads softly into his shaky hands.

“FOUND IT!”

“LETS GO!” Hongjoong barks.

Within a blink of an eye, the boys got into their vehicles and were off. Disregarding any traffic laws and almost certainly causing some kind of accident. But that’s a later problem. They just needed to save you. Quick.

“We’re on our way.. please just hang on…” Yunho says softly as he floors it.

And just like that they found the place where the GPS says you were. It looked like an abandoned house. However based on the armed guards that were surrounding the area, they’ll bet that you were in fact in there.

“Everyone be safe!!! But do what you must to find and get her back!!!” Hongjoong orders through their radio.

Just like that, without mercy and a second thought they stormed in, killing anyone and everyone that wasn’t you in this wretched building. Every room they entered, their eyes searched frantically. Desperate to find you. Absolutely terrified of your fate.

Now you would think that they were outnumbered. As you would think the entire building is just filled with tens of henchmen and it was just the eight of them. You would in fact be correct. They were outnumbered.

However that didn’t matter.

The reality being nothing has ever stopped them before.

And nothing will stop them now.

Especially with your life on the line.

They’re filled with so much pure rage and determination. To the point that if they had to save you in hell from the devil himself. They would.

So what should’ve been a death trap for ATZ. Became a death sentence for your captors.

Eventually Mingi who was ahead of the others, found a looked door. With all his might plus with the adrenaline pumping through him, he broke it down. He saw it lead to a basement and he just knew you were in there.

“GUYS!!! COME HERE!” He shouted before running into the basement.

Yet when he got to the bottom, dread immediately plagued his heart. What he found should’ve filled him with relief but it didn’t. What he found was you. Unresponsive. Tied to a chair with your head tilted down. Bloodied and bruised beyond compression.

No.. you can’t be…

“P-princess…”

“Mingi?! Did you find he- ...no… please no…” Yunho whispered.

The others soon followed Mingi into the basement. When they all saw you though, they feared the worst. When Hongjoong saw the sight of you, he felt his world completely shatter.

“Princess…” He said before running to you and getting on his knees before you. You looked so broken. He didnt even have the heart to touch you.

He couldn’t see you breathing… So he believed the worst.

“Princess no..”

Some just catching a glance at you and already couldn’t take it. Causing them to turn away while holding in their tears. The others just kept staring at you, holding on to hope, approaching you softly.

Hongjoong then ever so softly moved your blood soaked hair out of your equally bloody face.

“Princess.. wake up… l-look at me please..”

Just hours ago he left you at your club after a lovely visit filled with laughter and love. Just hours ago he saw you smile so beautifully at him. Just hours ago you kissed him goodbye. Just hours ago… you were alive…

He’ll never forgive himself.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so so sorry…” he sobbed.

He looks down unable to look at your state anymore. At the sound of their boyfriends cries, they all broke down.

They couldn’t believe that they were too late. They couldn’t believe that they lost you. They knew that they should get out of there. They’re sure more men were gonna come after them but they’re finding it hard to care. You were gone. What does it matter anymore?

Or so they thought.

As Seonghwa was approaching you to cut you out. He noticed your finger twitched.

‘She’s alive..?!’ Seonghwa thinks, eyes widening

Then he sees you trying to move your head ever so slightly and he knows you’re still alive.

You’re still with them.

“S-she’s moving!!! She’s MOVING! she’s alive!! Hongjoong she’s alive!!!”

Hongjoong, who was closest to you, along with everyone else’s eyes immediately snapped back up and saw your own fluttering open.

“…j-joong..ie..”

“P-princess!!!! Cut her out now!! Seonghwa!! Yeosang!! Take her to the nearest hospital!! Do what you must to get her urgent care!! We’ll deal with everything later!! Princess hold on okay??? Just hold on!!” Hongjoong orders.

As quickly and carefully as they could, they cut you out of your restraints and carried you out. While Seonghwa and Yeosang left to take care of you. The others are going to deliver on their promise.

So they continued their massacre in this building. They continued to kill anyone in their sight, being more brutal now. Knowing you were no longer in this building. Also because they saw what they had done to you.

No person should live after what they had done to you.

Eventually they burst into a lavish office. Only to see just a man sitting at his desk sipping wine.

“So? You’re finally here. Did you get to her in time? Or did she kick the bucket already?” He chuckles.

Recognizing his voice, they knew this was the man responsible. They also saw the blood on his hands and clothes. It completely blinded them with rage once again, that this man could tease them like that as he was splattered in your blood.

So while usually the boys did enjoy some stupid banter between their enemies. Obviously though, they’re currently not in the mood.

So without blinking, let alone saying a single word. Hongjoong walked up to him and knocked him out with a single wrath filled punch.

Oh your captor will think hell will look like heaven when your boys are done with him.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Your eyes begin to open. Bright light is what greats you. For a split second you thought you died. Thankfully though you felt their hands on you. Knowing that it’s their way to make sure you’re still there with them. At the flutter of your eyes they perk up, waiting to see if you’re really waking up.

You did.

You opened your eyes fully and take in the sight of them.

My goodness…

They look so disheveled..

They’ve never looked this sad, this worried, this.. broken…

You couldn’t help but pout a little before slowly smiling when you really understood the situation.

You’re still alive. You’re still with them. And they’re right here.

“M-my loves…”

Not a single pair of eyes were dry in that room.

Everyone started to sob at the reality that you’re gonna be okay.

“We did what you asked princess… we killed him. We made sure he suffered too.” Hongjoong tells you in a whisper.

“He won’t hurt you anymore.” Yeosang adds.

“No one will.” Seonghwa says.

“We promise.” Wooyoung tells you as the others nod.

You smile at them before crying even more.

“I’m.. I’m just h-happy you’re here… I’m happy you.. you actually love me..” You sob.

“what?! Of course we do..!” Yunho says

“He.. he made me think… y-you’ll… you’d throw me away..”

“Never.” San promises.

“I was.. so scared… b-but I promised myself t-they wouldn’t get to you.. I.. I wasn’t gonna let them..!” You cried harder, remembering all they put you through.

The boys did what they could to comfort you. Reassuring you that they were safe and that you are very loved. Your cries and the stories you tell of what they did to you also causing them extreme pain.

At the end of your retelling, you heard a soft thump. You all looked over to see Hongjoong on his knees beside your bed.

“J-joongie..? My love what are you-“

“I’m sorry… it’s all my fault.” He starts, with a shakiness in his voice.

“Hongjoong my love that’s not true-“

“No. It is. I should’ve brought you home. I should’ve protected you. You didn’t deserve any of that. I.. I’m sorry.” He starts, tears streaming down his face.

“But I promise you princess. I will do. Anything. And everything. For you. To make sure this doesn’t happen again. To make sure you’re safe, happy and loved. I’ll make sure nothing will ever harm you again. I swear.” He vows to you still on his knees.

As you were about to speak, all of your boys then began to sink to their knees as well.

“We swear too.” Jongho vows as well.

“Darlings…”

“We’ll make sure you’re the most respected. The most feared. The most important person anyone will ever know. No one will ever dare harm you again.” Yunho adds to the vow.

You hear it in their voice. They mean it.

And these boys always delivers on their promises.

“My loves… Thank you.” You say softly.

Just like that, that’s how the tradition of people bowing down to you started.

It took you weeks to fully recover. The boys making sure to keep you company and you get the best service while you were healing.

Though they had lots to do though. They had to deal with the hospital and the traffic accidents caused trying to get to you. It was all worth it though. Because at the end of the day, you’re always worth it.

Once you were discharged they surprised you by revealing that they bought a new home. One where you’ll be living in with them. It really was a dream.

A couple of years later, you all finally decided to tie the knot. It was a lavish but small wedding. You nine are the only family you have. So it’s just you and the very confused officiate. You wouldn’t have it any other way though.

It really was the best night of your lives.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Ten years later here you are.

Celebrating your anniversary once again.

After your night on the beach, most of you were discussing what else to do while you’re on vacation. You noticed however that one of you was not there. You looked around the villa to find Hongjoong at one of the balconies.

“Joongie..? Sweetheart? What are you doing here my dear husband hmm?” You ask as you approach him. Hugging him from behind.

“…I can’t believe we’re here.” He softly mumbles.

“..in.. Greece?” You ask confused

Hongjoong chuckles before turning around to hug you.

“No. I can’t believe we’ve been married for ten years.. together for.. what 16? And.. happy. After everything…” He says softly cupping your cheek and rubbing it softly.

You giggle before nodding.

“Me neither darling.. but I can see the sadness in your eyes. What’s troubling you hmm?”

“..I just… I can’t believe you still love us after everything. My love.. you got kidnapped again…. after I promised.. I vowed. that I would keep you safe. You stayed with us after all of that and I can’t really see how... I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you suddenly ran away fro-“

You then cut him off his rambling with a kiss.

“Never say such ridiculous things my husband.” You said sternly. “I would gladly get kidnapped everyday if it means you’d be the one that saves me and I could be with you forever. Why? Because you’re worth it.”

“You’ve made me feel so happy, loved and alive all these years. When before you all I was just surviving. I love all of you so much. You call me your princess because you treat me like one. Why would I ever run away from that? …Please stop blaming yourself for what happened to me all those years ago and what happened recently. None of it was your fault. Besides! Remember what I told you all? What really harmed me that night was not the physical aspect of it. Sure it hurt. But what really made it torture was the thought that you wouldn’t save me… that you didn’t love me. But you do. So it made it worth it and I never once doubted your love for me ever again. So please never doubt mine.”

Before he could argue you cut him off with a kiss once again.

“No arguing with your wife on our anniversary. …or ever cause I’m always right anyway.” You giggle.

It caused Hongjoong to laugh too before nodding and pulling you into one last kiss.

“Alright.. I love you darling. Forever.”

“I love you more.”

“YAAAH WHAT ABOUT US??”

You turned around to see the rest of your husbands, Wooyoung in the middle all pouty.

“Oh just get in here already!” You say before they all quickly come over and wrap you two up in a big group hug.

Getting here wasn’t easy. There are also a million things that you guys went through that parts of you wish you didn’t. Sometimes you wish you all were just a normal married couple that wasn’t constantly targeted.

Yet moments like these…

Yeah.

It’s worth it.

“Sooooo ready to continue celebrating our ten years in this beautiful place my loves?” Yunho asks

“Let’s go!”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

© mimikittysblog 2025

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Join my taglist here!

[darlingstarkey]

think later - pt 20

series masterlist

summary - y/n, formerly a pogue princess, finally had her big breakthrough and got signed to a record label in LA. little did she, her boyfriend rafe cameron and the rest of her friends know how things would really change as soon as she becomes famous.

anything in dark mode is rafe's phone!

authors note: i really enjoyed writing/doing this part and getting back into the swing of writing this fic!! a few of my old readers are inactive and it makes me so sad to see my bbys gone but thank you to the new readers who are reading now! lowkey a three week break is insane of me lol

warnings: swearing, anger, fighting, stealing, long word fic!

-

with that text from topper, rafe stood from the couch and grabbed the keys to his ferrari. all he saw was red in this moment, what the fuck could jj possibly do to try to get you? he gave his truce to this crush he had on you when rafe had texted him about you. what the fuck could he possibly want? would he be able to get you? thousands of questions ran through rafes head as he practically ran to his car and got into it as quickly as possible.

the engine roar echoed throughout the neighborhood along with the sound of tires screeching, signaling rafe's departure.

white knuckling the wheel, going a steady 65 mph in a 25 mph, rafe sped past the neighborhood in mere seconds. he sped through the bridge that connected figure eight and the cut, almost nauseous at the thought of being here. sure, he had been down this road multiple times back when he would pick you up or bring you flowers. but this time, it was different.

this time it was to track down that pogue boy who always preyed over you. who always took your kindness and in his mind would twist it into something more. but of course, you being you, you let him do it because you simply didn't know he felt that way. but there was no way to know, the only person who did know was jj himself and rafe.

he always had.

rafe was close enough to see jj's stolen glances at your perfect lips, the soft grazes of the back of your arm, how he would hold onto your hand just a second too long when you did your handshake that was made up by the 5 year old versions of yourselves, the way jj made you laugh so hard you snorted, your inside jokes, your secret code words and signals, the way you two could just make eye contact and just know what the other was thinking.

rafe knew he couldn't compare to that.

"no. no. no.no. no. no." you yelped as you scurried between the two boys. rafe has already had his hand planted on jj's shoulder, a dark look in his eye as he stared at the pogue boy while gripping his boney shoulder sharply.

"guys. get away from eachother. now." you demanded as the boys continued their feral eye-contact. the silence is deafening as they stood, still as statues, while you try to break them apart.

"y/n, step away." rafe said between gritted teeth. "no!" you shot back,heat racing. . "leave eachother alone. god, what is with you two lately? can you just fucking stop for once and listen to me?"

for the first time, they both blinked. simultaneously, they looked down at you as you fumbled for your phone, which would not stop buzzing in your pocket.

"i-i- have to go.." your voice wavered you look up at the two boys, only to quickly turn and jolt instinctively back to your car.

rafe and jj could have sworn that you disappeared into thin air. they had never seen anything like it. they had seen your face turn white, immediately squeak words of utter nonsense, then bolt away.

confused and also terrified, the two boys were left standing there, a truce in their war for your devotion.

-

HOW AMAZINGLY FUN THIS WAS TO WRITE! next part tmrrw! do we like?!

taglist: taglist: @madkohi, @yesshewrites1, @grapejuice32, @leotapes , @givemylovetoall, @inlovewrafe, @bee-43, @larvalerius, @masongetinmybed, @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not, @mystargirl-interlude, @eddxemxnson, @sqfewrd, @pogueprincesa, @frankoceanluvr11, @raeven-marie43, @marleymarleymarleymarley, @mindfulmesses, @akobx, @spenceatiny18, @fluoxetinys, @lolxdswag123, @st8rkey, @ethanthequeefqueen, @drewrry, @jjmaybankmylovee, @disaster-rose, @sunshinedaisy21, @chillgal135, @amterasuu, @wtfisastiles, @sassyvillaintrophy, @bananaminn, @barnesboo1967, @pi4st81, @stvrkeysgal, @yktayy9669, @yesterdaysproblemm, @rafesbuzzcutseason, @dylsdaily, @jjasmiineee, @imjustagirl713, @voidangxls

xo, dylan

[shinycrybaby]

strawberry milk - gojo satoru x reader

Genre/Tags: Fluff, No Curses AU, Highschool AU, Implied Nerd!Gojo but also he's kind of like a jock?? I dunno man, his classmates are done crushing on him, twins!sukuna and jin, Satoru fell first he's going to fall harder

Warnings: Not proofread sorry :((

Word Count: 1.9k

Synopsis: In which confessions are a norm and yet among the other outcome he's calculated, this one was not something he considered a possibility

A/N: I honestly don't know what else to tag here because holy sht this was written on a whim. My neurons were activated I just locked in. Head empty, no thoughts, only Gojo Satoru.

Gojo Satoru was no stranger to receiving love confessions through gifts and letters. Throughout middle school, he’s experienced it all even in kindergarten. Girls and boys would flock to him for his bright smiles and hypnotizing blue orbs, wanting to play with him on the playground or simply just hold his hand.

All of this was the norm for him. So, when he enters his classroom and finds a lone carton of strawberry milk on his desk, he knows that it is ‘probably’ from a secret admirer. He was yet still to rule out the possibility of someone accidentally leaving it behind on his desk.

“Hey! Anyone left this on my desk?” He calls out to his rowdy classmates. Some just shook their heads while others teased that it was another of his secret admirers.

Finding that no one seemed to pay attention to him right after as they were all busy with their world and conversations, he asked his seatmate, Sukuna, who was moved to the front row with him because the two were too noisy being seated in their respective friend groups during classes. “Y’see anyone place this on my desk?”

The pink-haired boy looks at him incredulously, “Do I look like your watchdog or something? Of course, the fuck not.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, “I was asking nicely.”

“Yeah, well, I got here a minute before you did, and that thing was already on your desk,” Sukuna replies calmly; nicely. “Fucker.” He adds, wanting to not reply nicely anyway.

Satoru pouts, squishing the other boy’s face. “Aww~ Don’t be mean to me Kuna Tuna~ Otherwise I won’t share this strawberry milk with you~”

The boy hissed at him, slapping his hands away. Satoru snickers in turn at his reaction. Soon enough, their homeroom teacher enters, and everyone gets back to their seats. He settles in his seat, stashing away the strawberry milk for later when he gets home. Because that’s how he was – stashing away sweets for when he stays up late to do his homework and do a bit of advance reading.

Usually, when someone gives him a gift, it’s because someone has yet to gather their courage before confessing to him. And from his experience, the gift-giving would usually last for a week before the person would introduce themselves through a note along with the gift – asking him then to meet him somewhere within the school grounds so they could talk privately.

He'd calculated it well and yet this person was yet to show their face. Was yet to even leave at least a hint of who they were. He even ruled out everyone from his class. The girls in his class were so used to him that they just looked at him unimpressed sometimes (he started to think that they were all carbon copies of Shoko). That, or they were in love with his best friend, Geto Suguru, or the sweetheart that was surprisingly Sukuna’s twin, Itadori Jin.

Heck, he even ruled out each boy in class. However, they either had a girlfriend, were crushing on someone that was known in class and definitely not him, or were too hyper-fixated with their pixel husbands or wives. For shits and giggles, he even suspected Sukuna, started teasing the boy about it too. But of course, that did not end well.

If he wanted to know who this person was, he had to start ruling out the possibility of the students in their batch. It wasn’t just curiosity that was driving him to find the person, but it was his need to stop them, so the person didn’t get the idea that he liked them back. He wanted to not lead them on. He wanted to not hurt this person.

However, he kept receiving gifts on his desk each day for about a month and a half. He was honestly thankful for the free food, but he had to end it at some point, so he planned. A very foolproof and easy one at that.

He wakes up early. Going to school early, which was quite unlikely. Because he likes sleeping, especially after staying up reading a lot of books and playing.

Even then, when he arrived before anyone else did in class, the strawberry milk was already there. But like the smart kid that he is, he figures that maybe it was one of the students from the other class, so he walks around the hallway, peeking at classrooms to see if anyone was there. But no one was. And this sets him off because he just wants to end this no matter how thankful he is for the gifts. The last thing he wanted was to hurt someone because they thought he liked them back.

For another month, he was on edge. He wasn’t even sure if he should continue receiving the gifts. That was until a note finally came with the strawberry milk carton on his table. No, wait, the note was hidden in the compartment of his desk, just sitting effortlessly on top of his notebook – wasn’t even hidden, just sitting there on top of his notebook inside of the desk compartment.

Sorry for taking so long! I was really nervous about this. But can you please meet me behind the school? Right by the flowerbeds.

Satoru has seen handwriting far and wide, from his parents to his friends, from his classmates to strangers. All were ranging from the prettiest of cursive to the more… illegible ones. But as he rereads the note repeatedly, he can’t help but find that this is the prettiest handwriting he’s ever seen in all his short number of years living on earth. He’d grown ever more curious now of this person. Were they as pretty as their handwriting? Gentle and poised? Or was there some kind of gap that would throw him off and find it a hundred times more interesting?

He loved riddles and puzzles as they exercised his brain, and this person has been giving him quite the exercise he wanted for the past few months.  So, to say he was excited to finally give a face to this stranger, to this sweet and silent admirer was a treat he would be damned to let pass.

The day dragged on and he got so antsy in his seat that it annoyed Sukuna from his peripheral view, earning him a crumpled paper to the head while their teacher was not looking in the middle of class.

Finally, as the bell rang, he was so quick to pack his belongings that Shoko and Suguru could not even get a word in about how they were about to check out a café near the station a few blocks down. He’d muttered quick apologies as he sped down the hallways and stairs until he was a panting mess when he reached the entrance of the building by the shoe lockers. He composed himself, breathing in and out calmly as he changed his indoor to outdoor shoes before walking out and rounding the corner to the familiar place behind the school building. The flower beds greeted him while the afternoon summer breeze brushed through his hair.

As he approached, he was met with a girl crouched before one of the flower beds where one of the school cats rolled over the flower patch, “No, you shouldn’t do that. The flowers are getting crushed.” The cat meows in reply, not caring for the plant and only wanting to have its belly rubbed. “You’re a greedy baby.” The girl chuckles and the scene had Satoru’s breath hitching.

The scene before him was so soft and alluring. The heat of the summer wasn’t helping him too. He thought he was hallucinating for a second, so he fidgets, turning away and then looking at the girl again, before finally deciding that it wasn’t a hallucination. It wasn’t because as the wind blew hard this time, his eyes were unfortunate to catch the stray dust and dirt around them. He curses under his breath. “Useless eyelashes.”

This of course catches the attention of the girl. She looks at him surprised, familiar with the white-haired man who wooed everyone in school. “Oh. Hello, Gojo. May I help you?”

Satoru stopped rubbing his eyes before looking at her confused. “Did you not call me here?”

She tilts her head in question.

“Your confession. The note you left along with the strawberry milk.” He shuffles inside his bag in search of the colored sticky note and stretches out his arm to show it to her.

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise before panicking. “Why do you have that!?” She stood up hastily, surprising the cat who’d stopped rolling around, running away in fright.

The white-haired boy was confused at her reaction. Why would she panic when she was the one who placed it on his desk in the first place?

“That’s not for you! Give it back!” She reaches out, trying to grab the note which startles Satoru, making him step back from her.

“Huh? But…you gave it to me. You’ve been giving me strawberry milk for months too.”

“What? Why would I give you those? It’s for Itadori Jin! Give the damn note back!”

Satoru halts her, “Wait. Wait. What do you mean by Jin? You placed it on my desk, sweets.”

This makes the girl halt in her actions, looking at him, a little wide-eyed with evident confusion. “But…it’s beside Sukuna. That’s where Jin sits…”

The white-haired boy rubs his brows, feeling an on-coming headache. “That’s my seat.”

“Huh!? There must be some kind of mistake! I’m pretty sure he sits there! He always sits there when I pass by your classroom at break time.”

Satoru thinks she’s not wrong. Because Jin really would sit there during their break time, because he asks to switch. Jin would sit beside his twin while Satoru would sit beside his friends Shoko and Suguru at the very back of the classroom.

“That’s because we exchange places during break time. That way I’d get to sit with my friends, and he would get to sit with his twin and their friends.” He explains calmly.

The girl takes in his explanation, and when dawned with realization, she blushes profusely from embarrassment. “Oh God! I’ve been sending gifts to the wrong person!” She whines into her hand.

Satoru watches in amusement. Albeit relief that he hadn’t led the person on, there was a feeling he couldn’t quite name at the fact that it wasn’t him that this mystery person liked. Still, he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his chest. Full and bright and light-hearted.

The girl glares at him, “Please don’t go laughing at people’s misery.”

“No, it’s just,” he takes in a deep breath, trying to calm himself from laughing, “this is quite a turn of events!”

The girl stands there, unamused as she watches him wipe away a tear. “Are you done?”

The boy holds up a hand, before finally calming down. “Okay. I’m done.” He stares at her before a smile plays across his lips. “I like you. You’re funny.”

The girl grumbles before walking away and flipping him off. Satoru was hooked just from that interaction alone. He was right. There was a gap between that pretty handwriting and the attitude she gave him.

Sadly, he didn’t get her name that afternoon as he was for a few seconds just watching her retreating form. No matter, he’d have plenty of time to get to know her name.

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

© February 2025, shinycrybaby. All rights reserved. Reposting is prohibited.

A/N:

Will probably write a drabble about this. I dunno. Whatever flows I guess.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! Thank you!

[vixenofthemist]

I believe in Abysswalkers mask staying on till the very last moment. I want desperate kisses to be pushed against it bc she can't hold back affection any longer yet it's the last barrier of restraint for them both. I want the mask to brush against inner wrists and thighs. I want it to be electric and SO close yet remain on bc if it came off everything would become so much more. The mask is a restraint. A reminder of duty and honor to Lemuria. A wedding veil that shouldn't come off until the "I Do's" bc if his Beloved Bride cannot wear it in this lifetime he should. It gives him oxygen while preventing him from truly breathing in the ways Lemurians in love are supposed to. In the most romantic and poetic ways possible the mask stays on during sex. Her Highness is stripped bare and open beneath him and he's as clothed as possible because he might have to leave in haste at a moments notice to not be caught in the Princess' bedroom and killed. He's truly a fish suffocating on land while the ocean waves are cruelly wrapping their legs around his waist and begging for him to just dive back in and take in the essence of life back into his lungs- But he's going to have to take his dagger and carve out his own heart one day, and he doesn't know if he could if the ghost of her skin beneath his lips is something he knows in this life. So the mask remains firm and restraining, and desperate kisses beseech he remove it yet also understand he cannot. She wants to get as close as possible still because she wants to drown yet to her the ocean refuses to take her. So she smears her lipstick over the course leather and cries his name with enough air for them both. Too much air for someone open mouth in the current yet still the tides refuse to fill her lungs. I want the mask to stay on till he can't ignore the pleas of his devout follower anymore. I want it to be clawed off but neither know whose hand did it. I want the first kiss Rafayel gives her to be that crashing wave she's been craving that FINALLY pulls her under, while her open mouth fills him with the cleanest breath he's ever taken. They're both now in the sea yet still in the desert; but a Lemurians kiss gives the ability to breath underwater to a human, and to kiss your love is to ease any pain of a Lemurian. And now that the mask is off, the kissing isn't going to end anytime soon. They still have vows to make, and a kingdom to rightfully restore to the Sea God's Dominion. What better way to do so, then for the Princess who keeps everyone in the kingdom alive to force change by marrying the God of the Tides?

[dgybbvrcsacgswtcbkyv]

You're too Precious

Pairing : Fem!Yu Jimin x Fem!reader

Author's note: This is inspired by a snippet of a K-Drama. I came across it on ig but I couldn't find the clip again, and sadly I don't know the name of the show. If you do know it, pls do let me know. The title is inspired by James Blake's song of the same name. I recommend you give it a listen when you're in a quiet environment. It's an amazing song. Oh also, the reader is a loser with tattoos (like me :p )

P.S. I know I can't make a Tumblr header to save my life. I tried okay?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having just gotten out of lectures, you wanted to wind down as soon as possible, so you hightail it to the dorms. The early morning lectures took years off your precious twenties. The previous nights' late shift at the coffee house adding an extra strain on your tired body.

After a brief walk from your campus, you arrive at the subway and walk up to the terminal. Maybe it's because of the unusual time to catch a train, but the terminal is nearly empty. Only occupied by two girls who have their backs turned to you, sitting at a bench waiting for their train. Having heard your footsteps, they turn their heads and you catch their eyes. You almost let out an audible gasp. Both girls were beautiful. One had long pink hair and the other.. the girl with raven hair, she was absolutely stunning. The dark, wavy hair, the pale skin with pink dusted cheeks, the cat eyes and perfect nose. And to make matters worse she was dressed in a cute white sundress.

It was so difficult not to stare. You manage to not let your jaw drop and looked away upon meeting the raven headed girls eyes, trying to hide the pink hue dusting your cheeks. You realise they look unnerved as they size you up. You're used to the stares you get, though they usually come from older people. But now you feel conscious of the various tattos, and piercings that adorn your body, and your boots and all-black get-up wasn't helping your case either. You wished you wore longer sleeves, or white or.. or something-anything that didn't make them look at you like that.

You take another glance once she looks away, her dress is paired with cute sandals, and a light brown tote hangs from her shoulder. Upon closer inspection you see that there's Shin Chan badges adorning her tote. That's adorable. You think to yourself. Her wavy hair had a brown tinge to it. She was so beautiful and you felt an odd soothing in her presence. It felt like you were feeling the sunshine on a Sunday morning while laying in grass. You found yourself wishing you didn't look so unnerving. Then maybe you would've at least considered approaching them, but alas, their train pulls into the terminal and they enter the train.

~2 days later~

You feel absolutely ridiculous. This might be a new low, even by your standards. Dressed in a white shirt covering your tattoos, slacks on your feet and a casual denim on your legs, with your piercings taken out, and your usually unruly hair combed into an unusual tidyness, you stand at the same terminal.

Yes. You changed your style in hopes of running into that same raven haired beauty again. And this time you will somehow summon the courage to speak to her. She won't be put off by your appearance this time, or so you hope.

It's the second day since you embarked on your grand quest and there's still no sign of her. What were you expecting? It's a big city, thus the chances of running into her again are so very slim.

Frustrated with your own stupidity, you mutter "This is fatherless behaviour" to yourself as you kick at the floor with your brand new slacks. (Yes, you had to buy them and most of your new ensemble as they're not the usual pieces from your wardrobe)

From your peripheral vision you see someone walking up and stand next to you on the terminal. You slightly turn your head. You did a double take that almost gave you whiplash.

Black boots, fishnet stockings, leather skirt, black top, and dark makeup. It was her. The raven haired beauty. She's looking at you and you're gaping at her like you've never a seen a girl before. Well, you've never really seen one as beautiful as her. She lets out a little chuckle that had your knees shaking.

With a smirk adorning her face she asks, "Changed your style?" her voice was rough yet smooth, deeper than you expected, with a just touch of cockiness which made her that much more attractive.

You gulp, "I-um, well, yes." Wow. Great going doofus. All that planning just to fumble this bad. "I-I see you changed yours too." You say in an attempt to rescue the conversation you almost drowned.

"Yeah, thought I'd try something new. Do you like it?" she said, gesturing her hands over her black ensemble. "You look amazing." You say truthfully.

"Really? I gotta say, your new look shows a completely different side of you …?". "Y/N. It's Y/N." Before she could respond, the intercom comes alive with an announcement and the train pulls in. "Well Y/N, I'll see you around." she responds while walking away.

You absolutely love the sound of her voice, her personality matches her features perfectly and she oozes charisma. How completely unfair. If you look like the reincarnation of Aphrodite, you should at least have the common decency to have a bad personality. (You make a mental note to find out if she's bad at Math.)

But she was only annoyingly and undeniably loveable. You're thinking all of this after just a few words between you? You better get her name at least. You're in a stupor as your eyes have been following her figure as she walks towards the doors. Failing to notice that she was getting into the train.

"Wait!" you finally shout out. But she's almost inside the train and doesn't seem to hear you through the busy crowd. "Wait! wait!" you shout as you run towards her but lose sight of her through the crowd. You try to push through the crowd but the warning sound beeps and the train doors close. The train pushes away from the terminal and speeds off into the city.

[namgyunation]

rewatching s2 for writing reasons and seeing all of thanos and nam-gyu's interactions again, and omggg i love how much of a loser nam-gyu is lmao.

i'm personally a tragic one-sided thangyu and/or platonic thangyu truther because it's just so much more pathetic and interesting to me to view nam-gyu's loser, kiss-ass behavior towards thanos to be out of desperation to just have a fucking friend and to be considered even the slightest bit as cool / confident as thanos just by being associated with him.

jaewon said that nam-gyu's full of anger and resentment due to being completely disrespected by people his entire life. all he wants is to be loved and recognized, for people to respect him.

he wants it so bad but can never seem to convince people to view him that way. his insecurities and fear always show through, and to me he always comes off as so awkward instead of confident and strong. so when it comes to thanos, bro latched on to him right away. he thinks thanos is cool and craves his attention and validation in what i view as a 'fanboy' kind of parasocial type of way, as he clearly idolized thanos even before the games and rushed to be in a photo with him, despite trying to play it cool at first.

it made him feel good to bond with thanos and have the shared connection of being scammed by mg coin. being close to him and earning thanos's favor made him feel validated, and he had the desire to be seen as an equal to him and better than their other teammates.

nam-gyu is sooo mean to min-su because he seems him as weak, something that he desperately doesn't want to be associated with, and it just makes him an easy target for nam-gyu to feel stronger and better about himself whenever he pushes him around. he's mean as fuck to se-mi because she provoked him. she saw right through how insecure he was when she called out how he took thanos's pill and then tried to lecture the rest of the team, as if he wasn't clearly just as scared as the rest of them. she wasn't afraid to verbalize it, and it pissed nam-gyu off to be reminded of how he comes off to other people. he doesn't hesitate to be an asshole to people.

and yet, thanos repeatedly disrespects the fuck out of nam-gyu: brushing off his ideas, cutting him off, putting him down, and even going so far as to embarrass him in front of the whole team with the noona thing as soon as he tries to assert himself over min-su. jaewon has stated repeatedly that thanos didn't respect nam-gyu and looked down on him a lot.

despite thanos's behavior and the fact that nam-gyu clearly hates people looking down on him and reminding him of his own insecurities, he never directly speaks out against thanos, not even once, despite how clearly uncomfortable it makes him and how quick he is to speak out against other people (se-mi and min-su for example. min-su, especially).

i personally like to interpret it as him being so horribly desperate for a connection, a friendship, even if the foundation of said friendship is mostly built on them being on drugs together / wanting to get back at mg coin. so desperate that he'll let thanos step on him and put him down even though he so clearly hates it and is made uncomfortable by it. because thanos is "cool". because nam-gyu would rather take shit from him over and over than be alone, because at least when he's with thanos, he gets a crumb of validation every now and then, like when he repeatedly picks him in mingle. this is just how i prefer to view them as opposed to 'nam-gyu was desperately in love with thanos and pushed everyone else around bc he was jealous and wanted to kiss on him all by himself'

likeee give me pathetic, loser nam-gyu that clearly has a history of being disrespected his whole life that's turned him into a bitter, hateful person, and yet, when even the slightest possibility of something as simple as a friendship, a genuine connection and mutual respect, recognition from someone he deems as 'cool' is dangled in front of him, he's desperate enough to just let thanos step all over him.

thanos is strong, confident, capable of commanding a room, and not afraid to say what he wants. nam-gyu feels inferior to thanos, and thanos leans into it, but even then nam-gyu is still willing to take the blatant disrespect and let himself be pushed around in exchange for anything ambiguously shaped like a friendship.

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch 1

“For good service and cute waitresses”

pairing: idol!jungkook x laidback!oc

contents: mild language, no smut (yet), fluff, humour, celeb au, very mild angst.

wc: 1.96k

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: if anyone wants to join pls comment!!

A/N: inspired by the iconic 97liner pics. Hi guys, this is my first id say, proper? fanfiction, im planning on making this a pretty long series ! also im posting smth i actually like, shocker! ive had secret fuck buddy oc x military!jk on my mind for so long and im so happy ive finished the part i’ve had in my notes for a hot minute! lmk what u think :> i also couldnt wait for the poll to finish before posting this haha, anyways enjoy and tysm 4 reading

masterlist

<previous | next>

The diner is quiet tonight. Though speaking too soon may grant you with a consequence, considering its only 6pm on a Thursday. You glance at the clock realising you have a long night ahead, and complaining will utterly make everything 10x worse. What’s worse is Nari is late to her shift like usual, and your boss’ constant singing in the prep room is sure to drive you insane sooner or later. He’s still humming as your scrubbing down the bar counter- its not like it needs it, you just aren’t in the mood to be scolded by a chunky, 40 year old man.

You don’t even realise you’re scrubbing the table even more vigorously when a combination of your phone ringing in your trouser pocket and a squeal of costumers sitting by the hibachi grill completely catches you off guard. It’s Hibachi night, and your day seriously couldn’t get any worser. You’re rolling your eyes at the family of three who barely pay attention to the chef cooking in front of them, with all of their phones plastered to their faces, and when they’re finally placed down to take the plate out of the chef’s hands and your sure you dont see a gesture of thanks, your grabbing your phone, walking to the bathroom and calling Nari.

“Nari! Where the fuck are you? Its Hibachi night, you can’t leave me here alone on Hibachi night!” You’re drawing imaginary patterns on the stall wall with your fingers, shuffling your knees under your chin whilst sitting on the closed toilet seat. Nari’s quick to apologise and tell you shes on the way, and you tell her goodbye before fixing your hair in the mirror and going back outside.

You know you’re in for a long night when a group of people enter the restaurant, your boss greeting them with his signature, annoying high voice, and you’re just glad you’ll have someone to share the misery with when Nari gets here.

“Y/n! Go and serve table 3, and put a smile on your face, they’re quite the group!” You’re pushing yourself off of the bar stool, quickly taking menus and sending your boss a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The oblivious man dosent seem to notice.

Dragging yourself to Table 3, the group of men are already seated, seemingly finding something hilarious though when you step into their view, it seems to die down. You’re flashing them a smile, quickly bowing before noticing that all of them are seriously attractive.

You notice the one sitting alone first, in the best way possible, his face is sweet. He has a smile which makes his eyes turn into thin crescents on his face and you cant help but smile back at him. He’s wearing a beanie, and his face is so perfect it’s hard to keep composure. The two sitting in front catch your eyes next, one with the most beautiful tanned skin, effortlessly masculine face which makes you wonder if he’d been specially sculpted and put on the earth to kill with his looks shoots you a smile. Finally, the last one, he’s wearing a bucket hat hiding some of his face, and he’s fiddling with his lip ring. He looks the youngest out of the lot, big doe eyes peeking through his hat and, he seems to be…looking at you far more intensely than the other two seem to be. His sleeve is slightly rolled up and you cant help but stare a second too long at the most beautiful sleeve of art adorning his muscular ar-

Seriously Y/n! Get it together, be professional!

You clear your throat when he smirks at you noticing your shameless gawking placing the menus in front of them “Hello, i’ll be serving you tonight, i’m y/n, can i get you started on any drinks?”

The guy in the beanie is first to talk, voice light when he asks for a beer. His grin widens when you look at him, and it’s easy to see why people would gravitate to him like yourself. He just has that charm.

Your heart beats a little faster when the one next to him interrupts the silence of you taking his order down, asking for two beers rather than one, his gaze is equally intimidating as it is intriguing, and you’re trying so hard to keep it professional right now, “Alright, and you?”

“Water’s fine for me, thank you.” You take the orders down quickly, sure that if you stood there any longer your heart would pound out of your chest. Where the fuck is Nari?

You turn to head toward the bar to grab their drinks, and you hear the faintest chuckle from the table. “Hey, don’t you need to see my ID first?” The voice belongs to the guy in the bucket hat—the one with the doe eyes and that unreadable expression. You freeze for a second, unsure of whether he’s joking or not. You glance back at him, and he’s staring at you, lips curling into a playful smirk.

You blink, trying to keep it professional. “Uh, do i?”

He leans forward, still fiddling with his lip ring, his eyes twinkling. “I look too young for that beer, right? You know, like one of those guys who gets ID’d for everything.”

His tone is light, teasing, and for a second, you almost think he’s serious. But then his friends start laughing quietly, and you realize—he’s just messing with you. You can’t help but roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips anyway. “Uh-huh. Right, sure. Let me grab your ID then, Mr. Underage.”

The others crack up even harder at that, and he just shrugs, chuckling under his breath. “I swear, I get carded everywhere. It’s kinda embarrassing, but hey, at least I look young.” You smile and roll your eyes, walking away to get their drinks, but now, you’re trying not to laugh too hard at the mental image of him getting carded at the grocery store or a random café. But it’s no surprise to you, in fact his young face has you seriously considering if he was actually underage. Oh well.

When you come back, with drinks, you take down their orders for food, their effortless small talk and flirting has you feeling like they aren’t in no rush for you to leave them alone, but you remember that you’re at work, and go back to scrubbing the bar counters, but you cant help but glance down at their table every now and then.

By the time you bring out their food, the conversation around the table has picked up again, the atmosphere light and easy. You can’t help but notice the way they’re all leaning into each other, laughing over something you missed. When you set the plates down, you quickly glance around to make sure nothing’s out of place, and that’s when you spot Nari walking in. She’s just clocked in, looking hurried, but you can’t help the relieved sigh that escapes your lips.

You barely have time to throw the boys a quick wave before you head back to the bar, feeling the weight of their gazes follow you for just a second longer than you’d like. Rushing over to Nari, she’s changing into her work clothes before giving you a smile and opening her arms for a hug. “Long day already?” You groan, moving back after hugging her and fixing her hair which has moved in front of her face.

“It’s Hibachi night. Also theres a group of some serious fine men, look ove-“ Your eyebrows furrow when she follows your finger and gasps so loud you wince. “Shh! I know! But be quiet, they might catch us..”

The look on her face tells you she’s indeed not surprised about the way they look and rather “That’s the Jeon Jungkook, oh and is that- Kim Mingyu? CHA EUNWOO?!”

You blink. Then blink again. “Who?”

Nari turns to you so fast you think she might give herself whiplash. “Who?! Are you serious? Are you actually joking right now?”

You shrug, confused. “They just look like really hot guys to me… wait? You know them? Shit did you guys like-“ You make a hand motion which you hope she takes as ‘do a thing’.

She looks like she might actually pass out. “WHAT—?! Oh my god, I can’t do this right now.” Nari presses a hand to her chest like she’s physically offended by your assumption. “Do a thing?! Are you insane?”

You raise a brow. “Okay, so you didn’t. Then what’s the big deal?” She’s pulling out her phone, typing something into google.

She looks like she might actually strangle you. “Y/n, they’re famous.”

You stare at her blankly. “And? We get a shitload of famous people here, whats the big deal?”

Nari makes a strangled noise. “And?! And?! You’re telling me you don’t recognize Jeon Jungkook—of BTS?! Or Mingyu from Seventeen?! Or Cha Eunwoo, literal actor, singer, face genius?!”

You cross your arms, unimpressed. “I mean yeah, I guess i recognise it a bit but- Nari, you do realize I don’t live on the internet like you, right?”

She groans, dragging a hand down her face. “This is actually so embarrassing. You served them like they were just—regular people.”

You blink at her. “I mean, they are regular people?”

She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “No. No, they are not.”

You snort, glancing back to the table in question, The boys are still eating, but Jungkook’s eyes are quick to meet yours and you swear you see the corner of his lips quirk up like he knows exactly what your talking about. You will yourself to look away, and you see Nari sneaking pictures under the bar counter. “Well I guess it’s too late, I already treated them like normal guys, and they didn’t seem to mind.”

Nari doesn’t let up. “Okay, okay—since you’re so professional, why don’t you go check on their table? You are their server, after all.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re up to something.”

“Me? Never.” She puts a hand to her chest like she’s offended. “I just think it’s good service to make sure everything’s okay.”

You groan. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet, you’re still walking over.”

You mutter a few curses under your breath but do as she says, smoothing your hands over your apron as you approach the table again. They’re mid-conversation, laughing about something, but the second you arrive, Jungkook’s gaze flicks to you immediately. Great. Composure, y/n!

You take a deep breath before walking up, trying not to feel Nari’s eyes drilling into the back of your head. You’re just checking in. That’s it.

When you reach them, their conversation slows, and Jungkook glances up first, his dark eyes flickering to yours almost immediately.

“Hey, uh,” you clear your throat, gripping your notepad even though you don’t need it. “Just checking in. Everything good over here?”

Mingyu nods, smiling as he pushes his plate forward slightly. “Yeah, everything’s great. Thanks.”

Eunwoo hums in agreement, giving you a polite smile.

Jungkook, though—he doesn’t answer right away. He’s still looking at you, his fingers tapping lightly against his glass. You shift on your feet, suddenly aware of how intense his gaze is.

“It’s good,” he finally says, voice smooth but casual. “Didn’t expect to have someone checking on me so much, though.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “Huh?”

His lips quirk up just a little. “You’ve been around a lot. Just saying.”

You blink. “That’s-… literally my job.”

Mingyu huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

Jungkook exhales through his nose, barely a smile, but it’s there. “Fair enough.” He looks down at his plate, nudging a piece of food with his chopsticks before glancing up at you again. “But I don’t mind.”

Your breath catches for just a second before you snap out of it, nodding stiffly. “Right. Well. Let me know if you guys need anything.”

You spin on your heel before he can say anything else, making your way back to the bar—only to find Nari grinning at you.

“So?” she sing-songs.

You roll your eyes, pretending you don’t feel the warmth still lingering in your face. “Shut up.”

—

As the night winds down, the table of ridiculously attractive men finally finishes their meals, and you’re just about to go over when Nari beats you to it, balancing the empty plates with practiced ease. She throws you a look—one that’s way too smug for your liking—as she walks past.

You roll your eyes, pretending not to care, but you can’t help glancing over. They’re still chatting, laughing among themselves, but one of them—Jungkook—stands up, stretching a little before making his way toward the bar.

Toward you.

You pretend to be busy, wiping down an already-clean spot on the counter, but you can feel him approaching before he even says anything.

“Hey,” his voice is smooth, casual, but there’s a slight rasp to it. “Just wanted to leave a tip.”

He slides a bill toward you, and when you glance down, you realize it’s…a lot. Way more than necessary. Your eyes flicker back to him, skeptical. “This is kind of excessive, don’t you think?”

Jungkook shrugs, resting his arms against the counter, tattoos peeking out beneath his sleeve. “Service was good.”

You huff a small laugh, shaking your head. “You barely let me serve you. Nari took your plates.”

“Still counts, doesn’t it?” He tilts his head slightly, studying you in that way that makes your stomach feel weirdly unsettled. Not in a bad way—just aware.

You narrow your eyes at him, playful. “You do this everywhere you go?”

“What? Tip?”

“No.” You lean a little closer. “Flirt.”

Jungkook grins, running his tongue over his lip ring before speaking. “Only when the waitress is cute.”

Oh.

You open your mouth to respond—to throw back something equally teasing—but before you can, Mingyu calls his name from the entrance, signaling that they’re leaving. Jungkook glances over his shoulder, then back at you, his grin softening just a little.

“See you around?” he says, and you’re not even sure if it’s a question or a statement.

You don’t answer immediately, just biting back a smile as you watch him walk away. And when you finally glance down at the tip he left, there’s a note scribbled onto the bill:

“For good service. And cute waitresses.”

Maybe work wasn’t so bad tonight.

[sst4rdst]

can I request yan! Xiao fighting his urges to literally *eat* his darling because he loves them so much? Sorry cannibalism is just such a good metaphor for obsession

warnings : yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, implied kidnapping, cannibalism thoughts, xiao's karmic debt, force-feeding, xiao's getting progressively more deranged, long fic sorry (almost 5k words). author's note : ok anon ngl i think you unlocked smth in my brain that instantly made me spend my whole night writing this in one go 💀 but i agree! i think there's so much potential for yan xiao + his karmic debt, paired with his obsession and lack of experience with human relationships, like uuuuuuuugh i don't think i perfectly explained my thoughts here nor did i delve into things i wanted to, even though this one is huge 😭

the pain is getting worse.

it gnaws at the marrow of his bones, threads itself through every breath, coils around his ribs and squeezes. a weight, unbearable and inescapable. he knows this suffering like an old friend, but lately, it has been changing.

there is another hunger buried beneath the agony. one that does not belong to the stains of karmic debt, that cannot be blamed on the sins of his past. it is sharper. more unbearable. and it has a name. you.

he doesn’t know when it began. perhaps it was the first time you spoke his name without fear. or the first time your fingers brushed his wrist in passing, leaving warmth where he has only known cold. perhaps it was always there, waiting, lurking, festering beneath his skin like a sickness that only worsens with time.

he tells himself to stay away. he tells himself that this is dangerous. that you should not be near something like him—something broken, something cursed. but then night falls, and the pain becomes unbearable, and the only thing that soothes the madness clawing at his mind is the thought of you. so he watches.

at first, it was only from a distance. ensuring your safety, eliminating any threats before they could ever reach you. but soon, he found himself lingering, his body rooted in place even after the danger had passed. listening to the soft rhythm of your breath as you slept, tracing the shape of your silhouette through the blankets covering your body.

then came the dreams. the things his mind conjured in the quiet moments when he was weak. your voice, breathless against his ear. the warmth of your body caged beneath his own. the way you would say his name if he let himself have you, if he let himself take—

xiao wakes with his hand wrapped tight around his weapon, panting, aching, trembling with a need that is not his own. the weight of karmic debt should make him sick. should remind him that this is not something he is meant to have, that this is not something he deserves. and yet—he is growing greedy.

each time he sees you, it becomes harder to resist. the space between you is unbearable. he hates the mortals who take your attention, hates the way they steal your laughter, your smiles, your time. he hates that they can be close to you while he must remain in the shadows, watching, waiting, suffering. but he could change that. all he would have to do is take you, in every way possible.

it is an intrusive thought, one that should repulse him, one that should make him recoil in horror. but it doesn’t. it settles in his chest, makes a home in his mind, whispers to him when he watches you from the rooftop of wangshu inn. it is not fear that curls in his gut when he thinks of you in his arms. it is something else. something darker. his hands flex at his sides, aching to touch.

would you scream if he took you? would you hate him? or would you understand that this is the only way? that he has spent too long suffering, too long resisting? that he cannot fight this anymore?

his vision pulses at the thought, and something inside him snaps. the pain of his karmic debt no longer matters. the only thing that matters is you. and xiao is done waiting.

tonight, he is weaker than before. his self-control frays, unraveling thread by thread. the karmic debt surges, blackening his vision, poisoning his thoughts, and suddenly, standing outside is not enough. he needs to be closer. needs to see you, feel you, know that you are real beneath his hands.

he moves before he can stop himself.

the window slides open without a sound. he slips inside, barely more than a shadow in the dark. the room is filled with your scent—warm, comforting, intoxicating. his head spins. he shouldn’t be here. he shouldn’t—his knees press against the edge of your bed.

you shift slightly in your sleep, your face peaceful, oblivious. he clenches his fists. he should leave. he should go before he does something unforgivable.

but then you sigh, so calm, so softly, so clueless of the man so close to you. he cannot take this anymore. his fingers brush against your skin, trembling. you are so warm, so fragile. he could break you so easily. but he won’t. he would never. he only wants to keep you safe. he only wants to keep you his.

when you wake, it is not in your bed. the room is unfamiliar—dimly lit, silent save for the soft rustle of fabric. the air smells of incense, of something old and unchanging. your limbs feel heavy, mind sluggish as reality settles in. you are not alone.

a figure sits in the corner, watching. gold eyes gleam in the low light, unblinking, unreadable. but you know who they belong to. xiao.

your breath catches. your pulse pounds against your ribs, but he does not move. he only watches, his expression unreadable, his gaze heavy with something dark, something you cannot name. “where—” your voice cracks. you swallow hard, trying again. “where am i?”

xiao exhales, slow and measured. “safe.”

you push yourself upright, the sheets slipping from your shoulders, and his gaze flickers—lower, then back to your face. his fingers twitch against his thighs. there is something restrained about him, something barely held back.

“this isn’t—” you shake your head, fear creeping into your voice. “xiao, i need to go home.”

his jaw tightens. the silence stretches, suffocating. then, finally, he speaks. “you are home.”

his words settle over you like a cage. you do not understand the depths of his obsession. not yet. but you will. you have always belonged to him.

the today turned into tomorrow, and tomorrow turned into an endless amount of time. the sky never changes, the silence stretching endlessly. you do not know how long you’ve been trapped in xiao’s adeptal realm—only that the outside world has long since faded into something distant, something unreachable.

although, ever since your first time here, your ‘relationship’ with xiao hasn’t improved that much. if anything, it festers. a good thing for you, a nightmare for xiao. he does not speak much, does not touch you, save the times he made you eat something—you tried one time not to eat for a whole day, but it just ended with him shoving the spoon with food inside your mouth—or when you need to go to the bathroom, these are the only times he allows himself close to you.

lately, something has changed. his restraint is fraying, his control slipping in ways he cannot seem to stop. you first noticed it when he started lingering too long, his eyes darker, the space between you shrinking. and then, the baths began.

he does not look at you when he lowers himself into the water, his movements precise, controlled—painfully so. his skin is flushed, his breath slow and deliberate. his hands remain at his sides, as if holding himself back takes every ounce of his strength. he has not touched you. not yet.

but you can feel it. the way his restraint wavers, the way his hunger coils beneath the surface. it is only a matter of time.

the water ripples around him, faint waves licking against his skin, but his focus is elsewhere.

your bare shoulders glisten under the soft light, droplets tracing slow, winding paths down your skin. he does not look, but he feels it—feels your warmth in the space between you, in the air thick with steam and something unspoken, something dangerous.

this is wrong. and yet, he does not move away.

you shift, stretching out your legs, and the movement sends a ripple through the water, lapping against his arms. xiao inhales sharply, his muscles coiling so tightly it hurts. his nails bite into his palms.

his gaze secretly roamed your form, almost unnoticeable, except that you could feel the weight of his eyes. xiao notices the beauty marks and moles you have splattered on your body, memorizes every curve, and how soft your skin looks.

there is no explanation that does not expose the sickness festering inside him, the unbearable hunger clawing at his control, poisoning his thoughts with something possessive, something selfish.

softly, so softly it nearly drowns beneath the lapping water—you murmur, “are you going to hurt me?”

a sharp exhale. his head snaps up, gold eyes burning into yours, something dark and unreadable churning beneath the surface. his throat tightens. hurt you?

the thought alone is enough to twist his stomach, to make his grip on reality splinter at the edges. he could never. he would sooner rip himself apart than let harm come to you. and yet—his restraint is breaking.

he has been careful, has done everything in his power to keep his distance, to silence the thoughts that make him weak, the desires that make him unbearable. but every day, it gets harder. every second spent in your presence tightens the noose around his throat, suffocating, inescapable.

it should not be like this. you should not be here. but you are. and he is unraveling.

“no.” the word is hoarse, choked, ripped from his throat like it pains him. he swallows hard, shaking his head. “never.”

your gaze lingers on him, cautious, unreadable. he can see it—the war waging in your mind, the uncertainty, the way your body remains tense despite his answer. it wounds him more than it should. but more, because deep down, he knew he would, it was just a matter of time. he does not know how to fix this, how to fix him.

but he knows one thing. he cannot let you go. not when he has already come this far. not when the thought of losing you feels like something far worse than death.

lately, xiao has been feeling strange. his karmic debt has never been this bad, but the way he craves you—physically, carnally—has deeply worst. being close is not enough, touching you is not enough, he needs to crawl under your skin, needs to turn into an amalgamate with you, know how every muscle of your body is, how the pressure of your blood feels, how strong it is, and worst of all—how you taste.

he doesn’t know why, it just feels right. he wants you, of course he wants you, but maybe he’s wanting in ways that are not usual. but he doesn’t want to hurt you, he would never forgive himself, and yet, forgiveness has never been meant for him.

xiao's fingers twitch at his sides, his breath barely steady, shallow, like something inside him is fracturing at the seams. you sit across from him, your back turned, your shoulders drawn in. your perfectly shaped shoulders, the trapezius and deltoid contouring it, with the fat placed just right. 

if he bites you there, would you punch him? how would you scream? how loud would you scream? and if he bites you hard enough to bleed, how much blood would you lose?

of course, a bite wouldn’t kill you from hemorrhage, xiao’s aware of that, but the thought of biting you, and tasting the droplets of blood that eventually would leak off it, the unmistakable metallic taste, how good is it? maybe, just maybe, would it be sweetly metallic? or the usual bitterness? he thinks you’re oh so sweet, even your blood might be sweetened.

he shakes his head, placing a had on it. he should leave. he should force himself to step out, to put space between you before he does something unforgivable.

but he doesn't. he stays, barely breathing, barely thinking cohesive—only feeling. his skin burns, his throat dry, his restraint a fragile, splintering thing that no longer listens to reason. he wants. he wants too much.

his fingers curl against his palms, nails biting into flesh, but the pain does nothing to ground him. not when the scenarios in his head cloud his senses, thick and dizzying, not when his mind is drowning in images of how you would feel, how you would sound, how you would break beneath him—

he exhales, ragged, sharp, almost pained. you stiffen. he sees it, even without looking. you do not turn around, do not speak. but your body betrays you. you know somethings off with him.

xiao has fought monsters for centuries, has slaughtered creatures beyond mortal comprehension, yet nothing—nothing—has ever terrified him as much as this.

this hunger. this sickness. this unbearable, wretched need that festers inside him, rotting him from the inside out. he cannot let it consume him. not when you are here.

not when the line between protection and destruction is already so blurred, so close to breaking.

but you turn to face him, lips parted, eyes wary, trying to scan his true intentions, the rotten portrayals of his sins inside his brain.

“xiao.” your voice is quiet, uncertain. but your gaze does not waver. “what’s wrong with you?”

everything. everything is wrong. and for the first time in his life, he is powerless to stop it. he wants to touch you. he wants to devour you, in every way the word means.

his hand slowly reaches in your direction, but it stops.

suspended. trembling. the space between you is unbearably small, a breath away from something irreversible. his fingers hover near yours, uncertain, unwilling—afraid. you don’t move. you don’t pull back. you don’t flinch, even as something in xiao’s expression twists into something ugly, something not meant for the daylight.

why aren’t you afraid?

his stomach coils at the thought, sick and tight. does he want you to fear him? no. no, he doesn’t. he is meant to protect you, to keep you safe. but then, why does it feel like he’s standing at the edge of a precipice, waiting for you to fall? why does he feel like a predator, waiting—starving—for him to come closer to you? the thought alone should be enough to disgust him, to send him fleeing, but it doesn’t. it only makes his fingers twitch, makes his breathing turn shallow and sharp, makes him crave something deeper, something worse.

his hand moves before he can stop it, the backs of his knuckles grazing against the soft flesh of your skin, the smallest, most insignificant touch—yet it feels like it burns, feels like it will tear him apart. his entire body is wound too tight, his restraint splintering under its own weight. he should pull away. he should force himself to turn, leave, run. but he fails at it, his desires speaking louder than the logic.

his hand wanders a little to the side, his thumb brushing your lips, your perfectly sculptured lips. it’s nothing, just a touch, just the briefest contact, but it is everything to him.

his breath came out in ragged, uneven gasps. his mind is reeling, his thoughts tangled, torn between two opposing forces—stay, leave, take, run, devour, protect. the contradiction rips him apart, and his body screams at him for retreating, for moving away from you when every fiber of his being is telling him to close the space, to pull instead of push, to take instead of deny.

"xiao—"

your voice is soft, uncertain, laced with something that makes his stomach twist tighter. it’s concern. you are concerned for him. you shouldn’t be.

his head jerks up, his breath heaving, his entire frame coiled with tension. he knows what he must look like—wild, frenzied, something barely holding itself together. but still, you do not back away. you do not cower. is it because you’re scared? or you are trying to understand him?

understanding. yes, of course you are trying to understand him. you’ve been together for so long, of course you would be wanting to get to know him someday! the realization makes something in xiao snap.

his entire body is trembling, he can hear his own heartbeat—loud, deafening, hammering against his ribs like it wants to break free. and here you are. close. unmoving. searching his face for answers he doesn’t have the strength to give.

your fingers curl slightly at your sides, your lips part as if to say something, but no words come out. you’re watching him, observing him, waiting for him, and he doesn’t understand why. don’t you see what he is? don’t you understand what he could do to you?

his teeth clench. he can taste copper on his tongue—his own blood, from where he must have bitten too hard. but it isn’t enough. the pain isn’t enough. nothing is enough.

you shift your weight, adjusting your stance ever so slightly, and it takes every ounce of strength in xiao’s body to not react. his entire body is taut, stiff, coiled with a tension that has nowhere to go.

his breathing is erratic, his vision sharp, focused on you—your throat, your wrists, the way the pulse flutters just beneath your skin. his mind is a mess of static, of conflicting impulses, of thoughts he does not want to acknowledge, but cannot suppress.

he needs to leave. he needs to leave.

his body moves before his mind catches up. a blur of motion—sudden, forceful, instinct-driven. he is there in an instant, too fast for you to react, too overwhelming to resist. one hand grips your shoulder, the other pressing against the small of your back, pinning you in place.

a startled gasp escapes you, sharp and quick, but it’s lost beneath the sound of his own breathing, ragged and uneven against your ear. he doesn’t know what he’s doing. he doesn’t care what he’s doing.

you are close. too close. and yet, it isn’t close enough.

his lips ghost over your shoulder, breath searing hot against your skin. he can feel the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your body tenses under his touch. but you don’t fight him. you don’t struggle, maybe out of fear, but to xiao’s own sake, to him is because you accept him—just like he accepts you. and that is what dooms you both.

his jaw tightens, his grip turning almost bruising, and before he can stop himself—he bites.

his teeth sink into flesh, sharp and unrelenting, breaking through skin with a force that is too much, too deep, too wrong. he tastes it instantly—warm, metallic, unmistakably you. and gods—

his body seizes, a shudder rolling through him so intense it nearly forces him to his knees. his mind is blank, lost in the sensation, drowning in it. the taste of you, the way you scream, the way you tremble against him—it is intoxicating, overwhelming, unbearable.

you jerk in his grasp, a sharp inhale cutting through the air. he should stop. he knows that. but he doesn’t. his grip tightens, holding you firm, and he bites down harder—not enough to maim, but enough to hurt. enough to leave a mark. enough to the blood coming out of it to feed his fantasies.

your name leaves his lips in a breathless, wrecked sound, half a whisper, half a growl. his tongue swipes over the broken skin, over the crimson staining your shoulder, and the taste alone makes his head swim, his senses spiral, his restraint—his fragile, delicate restraint—crumble into dust.

he does not move away. he does not apologize. he cannot. because for the first time in his existence, xiao feels alive.

your shoulders bear the evidence of him now—biting scars, faint but unmistakable, the imprint of desperation and indulgence carved into your skin.

he doesn’t do it often, doesn’t let himself, doesn’t trust himself to have that kind of control. but there are nights when the weight of his karmic debt is suffocating, pressing down on him so violently that even you can feel it, a phantom ache that coils around your chest like chains, constricting, unyielding.

those are the nights when he clings to you, trembling hands gripping your arms, his breathing erratic against the crook of your neck, his body a raw, frenzied thing barely holding itself together. and those are the nights when you already know—when you steel yourself for the inevitable, when you brace for the sting of his teeth sinking into your flesh, a sharp, burning pressure that lingers for days, the kind of pain that dulls into something bittersweet.

you don’t stop him. you never do. because no matter how deep he bites, no matter how his lips tremble against your skin before he pulls away, looking utterly wrecked in the aftermath, you’re still afraid, especially now. he doesn’t look sane enough to even dare try to stop him, scared of how he might react.

he always looks the same when he gazes at you afterward—eyes wide, glassy with guilt, hands hesitant as if he has no right to touch you anymore—when he whispers i’m sorry in a voice so fragile you barely hear it, you realize, not for the first time, that xiao’s pain has never been his alone to bear.

it used to be enough—the fleeting touches, the stolen bites, the taste of your skin lingering on his tongue, copper-tinged and searing. but lately, it is no longer enough. nothing is enough. xiao has always been ruled by hunger, by suffering, by the insurmountable weight of his karmic debt pressing into him like a blade to the throat. he was prepared for a lifetime of torment, for an existence of nothing but pain. but this is something different. this is not suffering. it is yearning. and it is unbearable.

it’s not as simple as ‘go, take a bite, taste the blood, and leave’ anymore, it’s more profound, more fleshlily. the curiosity about what’s inside your body getting worse, just like his obsession with you.

with how perfect you are to him, would your organs hold up to it? or something simpler: how would your skin layers be? he doesn’t question himself these questions because he’s a crazy person, no, he just loves you oh so much that he wants, needs, to know every inch of your body—from the top of your toes to the last hair strand, from the inside to the outside, from the start of his breath to the last of his sigh.

xiao knows this is wrong. he knows the way his thoughts twist and turn, the way his desires coil into something sickly and insatiable, is not normal. not human. but then again, he has never been human, never been meant for something as soft as love, as indulgent as touch. and yet, you have carved a space for yourself inside him, an intrusion so profound that his very being has begun to warp around it, around you.

he watches you when you sleep. he is not proud of it, but shame has long lost its meaning in the face of his obsession. you are so still, so peaceful, oblivious to the way he hovers over you, gaze tracing the slope of your shoulders, the soft rise and fall of your chest. he has memorized you from the outside—every curve, every scar, every place he has touched and marked. but it is not enough. he wants to know more. he needs to. the thought slithers through him like a curse, quiet but insistent, embedding itself in the marrow of his bones.

how deep does your warmth go? how much of your flesh would yield under his hands? would the softness give way to something firmer beneath? muscle? tendon? bone? would the color of your insides be as beautiful as your exterior? would your heart stutter beneath his palm if he pressed down, if he held you too tight, if he—

his fingers twitch at the thought, and he forces himself to take a breath, sharp and uneven. no. he cannot think like this. he cannot. he has spent centuries fighting the urge to destroy, to ravage, to tear things apart before they can be torn from him. you are not his to ruin. and yet, even as he tells himself this, his gaze remains fixed on you.

you shift slightly in your sleep, the movement small, unconscious. your head tilts just enough to expose more of your shoulder, the same shoulder that bears the scars of his previous indulgences, the ghost of his teeth still faintly visible even now. his breath hitches. he shouldn’t. he knows he shouldn’t. but when has he ever been able to resist you?

before he even realizes he’s moving, his lips are against your skin, barely a whisper of contact. he tells himself it is just this—just a touch, just a stolen moment, just something to take the edge off the insatiable hunger gnawing at his insides. but it is never just this. his mouth parts, his breath shaky as he presses a kiss against the mark he left last time, against the proof of his weakness. and then—before reason can stop him, before guilt can drag him away—his teeth sink in.

your body jerks instantly, a sharp inhale escaping you, but his hands are already on you, one curling around your wrist, the other pressing against your waist, keeping you still. the taste of you floods his senses, metallic and searing, the warmth of your blood pooling against his tongue. the sensation is dizzying, heady, makes his fingers tighten against your skin, makes his nails dig in a little too hard, makes his body tremble with something he cannot name.

are there any remains of your skin cells in his teeth now?

you whimper. the sound spears through him like a blade, striking something raw and vulnerable, and he pulls away as if burned. his lips part from your skin, and the sight of it—the fresh imprint of his teeth, the way your blood beads at the edges—destroys him. his chest heaves, his vision blurs, and the moment the realization of what he’s done settles in, he wants to vanish. to disappear into the night, to never face the horror in your eyes when you fully wake and understand.

but he cannot move. his body betrays him, keeps him frozen, his fingers still pressed against you, as if some part of him believes he can mend what he has broken just by holding on. and then—just as he knew it would—you stir, your breath uneven, your voice barely above a whisper.

“xiao…?”

it is his undoing, all of this is his undoing. the strength in his fingers bleeds away, as if drained by the weight of his own guilt, leaving nothing but the fragile tremor in his hands as he pulls back. he cannot bring himself to move any farther. his body feels heavy, leaden, as if bound by invisible chains, and the only thing he can do is lower himself onto the edge of your bed, hands braced against his knees, head bowed, shoulders drawn tight with the unbearable pressure of what he has done.

"leave the bedroom." it comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper. his own body betrays him, his entire form leaning forward despite his own command, as if something deep inside him is begging—please, don’t leave, don’t hate me.

but you must. if you don’t, if you linger even a second longer, if you keep looking at him like that, he will do something unforgivable.

he clenches his fists so tightly his nails bite into his palms, but the pain does nothing to ground him. if he speaks, the words will come out wrong. they will come out hungry. they will come out like the sickness that festers inside him, rotting, spreading, unstoppable.

your brows knit together, lips parting, hesitation evident on your face. but then, you nod. and you step away.

xiao does not move. his body remains frozen in place, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as he watches you turn toward the door. every step you take feels like a hammer to his skull, like a blade to his gut, a part of him screaming at him to stop you, pull you back, keep you here where you belong—

but he cannot. this is what must happen. this is what is truly safe. the moment the door clicks shut behind you, xiao collapses to his knees.

his breath comes out in sharp, ragged gasps, his hands trembling where they dig into the wooden floor, nails cracking the surface. his body is shaking, his thoughts are a frenzy, a whirlwind of too much, too close, too dangerous. his throat is raw, his skin fever-hot, the hunger inside him gnawing at his ribs, carving into his bones. he is not himself. he is something else, something worse.

you are gone. you are safe. and yet—still, he wants to chase you. he wants to indulge in his wishes, but he’s too afraid. too afraid that his worst nightmare would turn into reality—you would be hurt and he would be the reason.

[arwensarboretum]

Do you ever think, when Jeff came back from the Oort Cloud, that he had a brief stint on Thunderbird 5 first?

I know that would have been an anticlimactic ending, so we're shown him landing on Tracy Island, but it would have been a TERRIBLE adjustment from 8 years in 0G to full Earth gravity. No WAY he'd be able to stand or walk. (Or honestly look as healthy as he does, but I digress).

So, do you think there could have been some time spent on 5, maybe just with John, maybe with all of them, just getting used to being back around Earth for awhile. Something familiar and safe, but not so different from what he'd been living so his body could adjust more gently. I know Jeff would want to get back into the action and everything as soon as possible, but I think it might have been nice to have a restoration time on 5. Give him some 1-on-1 time with John or something.

[eeeeeidklol]

barista!ellie cutsomer!reader// hc //

warnings: cussing, mostly fluff? horrible grammar probably and bad writing.. i’m still new to this (lmk if i missed something)

notes: hi okay so idk if i even did the head cannon thing right tbh it’s more like a fic in a way? idfk maybe it isn’t a fic idk what this is anyway..hope you like it (NOT PROOF READ SORRYYY)

summary: ellie is a barista and your a regular costumer ellie eventually begins to developea crush on you.

➷ barista!ellie: who started working there in july it’s now august and she knows her way around things now who memorized the basic drinks who never cares to memorize the regulars drinks to her they were just customers never needing to get to know them.

until… you walked in looking at all the pastry’s at first she didn’t notice you too busy taking a customers order. You had just got back from a long exhausting day of school and since your favorite coffee spot was unfortunately closed since the business shut down you didn’t care why you were just bummed so you gave this coffee shop a try.

“what can i get you?” you hear a voice say a tall freckled women behind the counter with her apron on

“mmh can i do a-“ you began to order your drink it was a long order you liked your drinks perfectly made you could tell the auburn hair women got annoyed but you could care less you wanted your order as perfect as possible

“will that be all?”

soon once you payed she began making your drink as you sat on a small table typing away working on what looked to her school work. ellie annoyed and frustrated who needed this much stuff in their drink? and why the exact amounts ? but she did what you asked anyway once your drink was done she gave it to you and immediately your face lit up smiling away your drink was perfect you said your thanks and sat back down.

God ellie wanted to see your smile again you were so gorgeous and breathtaking to her you even tipped her well so maybe your long ass drink was worth making ellie thought.

➷ barista!ellie: who noticed you coming in almost everyday now she soon memorized your drink because of how often you came in the drink was a hassle to make but you tipped her well.

You came in almost everyday after college or before and on the weekends sometimes today you came in as usual.

“your usual?” she ask you didn’t expect her to know your drink that quick i mean you’ve only been coming in for a few weeks and it’s not like she works everytime you come in but she did work most days you came in you shrugged it off.

“yes please”

ellie who when writting your name decides to add a little star at the end of your name with a little “have a good day!” a simple gesture but she couldn’t help but being nervous at how you ”how would you react would you even notice? whatever it’s just a star..” she thought to herself she didn’t know why she was overthinking this so much maybe because you were pretty or maybe because she really hoped to see your smile again.

“here it is miss” she hands you your drink and your receipt

“thanks..”

you immediately notice the small star and the “have a good day” written on your cup you smile at her “nice star.”

ellie immediately gets shy and flustered a small red tint spreading on her cheeks she just nods and goes back to making drinks.

you go to your usual table and begin studying. Soon you leave ellie goes to clean your table noticing you left your receipt it had small writing on it.

“you too!” with a star next to it. Ellie can’t help but smile and blush a bit she doesn’t know why she’s getting all flustered over this.

➷ barista!ellie: who ever since that day has been writing little messages and drawing on your cups and you write back on the receipt it’s become a habit. Sometimes she’ll write little jokes on it which are a bit cringe but you both laugh at them and you respond with a cringe joke back.

how do you invite a t-rex for tea? tea, rex.

➷ barista!ellie: who after a few more weeks of you going and many back and forth writing and free drinks finally decided to compliment you oh but she couldn’t say it.. so she wrote it.

“you’re pretty.”

it was written so small you

like barely see it ellie did it on purpose hoping maybe you wouldn’t see but as usual you always looked forward to ellie’s jokes and drawing on your cups but to your surprise.. she had complimented you. Immediately after reading that your cheeks flush and you look up at ellie who’s cheeks are flushed as well pretending to clean the machine anything to keep her busy she couldn’t look at you.

“t-thanks”

she just nodded her head looking down her face all flushed her hands trembling as she cleaned the machine. As you went to your usual table her co-worker nudged her smiling.. “quit..” ellie mumbled under her breath her co-worker just happy she finally did it.

As usual ellie goes to clean your table and you left behind your ticket as usual.

“you’re pretty too.”

ellie immediately flustered shows her coworker.

➷ barista!ellie: she sees you on a regular basis her writting things on your cup and you responding through writing on your receipt today ellie makes your drink like usual as your getting money she says

“uh..it’s okay it’s on me”

“yea?”

you smile at her you were having a rough day this definitely cheered you up which ellie noticed you weren’t your usually cheery self.

“y-yea..i can pay for it don’t worry”

in reality she could barely afford it her apartment was costing her a lot especially with what she makes as a barista it was barley enough but she didn’t care she wanted to see your smile.

“you don’t have to i have-“

“please let me pay for it..”

you immediately blushed she was so insistent how could you say no you finally agreed and she gave you your free drink. After that you wrote on the receipt.

“thank you for the free think you’re so sweet.”

Once you left ellie cleaned up your table and saw your receipt she smiled thinking it was worth it as long as you were happy and you thought she was sweet.

➷ barista!ellie: once you and ellie began writting things on your cup and ellie always going to look at ur receipt you left. her co-worker immediately noticed and asked what was up and ellie would show her your receipt talking back to ellie.

“dude you guys are basically passing notes why don’t you just ask her for her number”

“because.. isn’t that unprofessional?”

“who cares? who’s gonna tell the manager”

“still..i don’t even know if she even likes girls.”

ellie would often talk about you to her close friend who was her co-worker dina. Even calling you “my customer”. As soon as you walked in dina would take notice.

“ellie your customer is here”

ellie and dina immediately switched so ellie would be able to take your order and make it.

“ellie can you take out the trash?”

“but it’s almost 4..”

“look els you don’t always have to take her order jared could do it”

“but she’s my customer..”

ellie would mumble dina would just laugh at how possesive ellie was and eventually take out the trash for ellie while she took your order.

➷ barista!ellie: who you haven’t seen in days today you were sure you were gonna see her she always worked saturday mornings but to your surprise she wasn’t there just some random guy.. did she get fired? was this her replacement? where the hell is she?

“what can i get you?”

“uh..i have a question where’s the auburn hair girl? she works here she’s usually here.. she has green eyes and freckles on her cheeks..”

“uh.. i don’t know”

he says he clearly doesn’t care.

“uh well..okay..can i just get a-“

your long ass order annoys him he rolls his eyes at how precise you want everything to be you can’t help but miss the freckles women who would make your drink she wouldn’t have got annoyed in fact she wouldn’t even have asked what you wanted she knew your drink and for fucks sakes you can’t even remember her name.

“here. your total is 12.86”

you nod and pay and go to your seat bummed out. you take a sip out of your drink immediately you know he didn’t do it the precise way you wanted way too much almond milk for your liking. you know it’s not his fault he’s probably not used to making a order like yours but your upset you miss your barista.

your so annoyed by this that you don’t even go in anymore you walk pass the place and if you don’t see her there you don’t even go in.

➷ barista!ellie: who stops by the library to buy a book researching for her upcoming project who when’s she’s gonna check out she sees you she gets nervous ellie thinks you’ve been avoiding her and not coming in as much anymore that you probably lost interest since she never asked you for your number because she was too much of a pussy.

When she goes to check out she sees your face lit up a smile she’s a bit confused but smiles back.

“hey..it’s you”

“my favorite customer.”

“why haven’t you been working..”

“i have?”

“same place?”

“yea..yea why haven’t you gone havent seen you in awhile”

“mmh.. every-time i go i don’t see you so i just..don’t go in the others don’t know how to make my drink like you do..” you mumble softly a bit embarrassed and your cheek flush.

ellie’s cheek flush as well her hands a bit shaky once she puts the books down for you to scan

“oh..shit i did get my hours changed.. i work 1-3pm on weekdays and nights on weekends.”

“so..basically we’ve been missing eachother completely?.. 1-3 i have college and i usually work weekend nights here”

ellie sighs she won’t ever see you again what is she gonna do? fuck if only there was a way you both could-

“can i get your number?”

she blurts out instantly regretting she’s embarrassed ready to face rejection you just giggle.

“yea..can’t have my phone out at work but..i’ll write it on something..”

you look around for something your checkout desk full of books and clutter but you find a pen but no where to write anything on all the paper there is too important to write on.

Ellie sees you struggling she gives you the palm of her hand so you can write on and you do.

“what’s your name again..?”

you ask awkwardly you never bothered to look at her name tag when she was a barista but you should’ve if you had looked you could’ve searched for her instagram or something.

“ellie.”

As soon as ellie gets home she’s excited to text you but nervous to ellie has been one to overthink she’s scared she put you in a awkward position and you have her your number out of pity to avoid a awkward situation but nonetheless she texts you she figures if you really don’t like her you won’t text her back and she’ll just have to accept it.

“hey this is ellie”

she then waits for your text back minutes go by and she’s overthinking everything maybe she did pressure you into giving out your number to her fuck if only-

buzz buzz.

ellie immediately unlocks her phone a notification from you she smiles instantly.

“hiiii you get home okay?”

note: ahhh okay maybe i’ll make a pt 2 to this! hope you guys liked it i had so much fun making itt

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #06 死

† charming forks †

"In Kkangpae, respect is earned in blood—even if it's just from a fork to the palm. But it's the hurricane brewing in Jeon's eyes as he watches you handle yourself that has you wondering if maybe there's more than one way to catch an assassin's attention."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 5k

rating: mature

content: croissant speculations, bestie gossip, AD being a menace, sope behaving like a married couple, fork-y confrontations and Jeon’s curiosity being piqued (because apparently man’s got other emotions apart from his default stick-up-his-ass one).

☠ author's note ☠

WAIT WHAT?! IS IT POSSIBLE?!

JEON HAS...

*whispers dramatically* F E E L I N G S?!

Did our resident ice prince really look at someone with something other than his patented "I'd rather be literally anywhere else including possibly on fire" expression?!

Okay, in all seriousness—stop coming for my boy. I can FEEL some of you judging him through the screen. He has feelings! They're just... buried... under several layers of trauma, bad decisions, and leather jackets. You'll understand him better eventually, I promise. Maybe. If I'm feeling generous. Which I rarely am (￣︶￣)

Here's the thing: I make my characters complicated on purpose. Humans are messy little disaster creatures, and I want my characters to reflect that beautiful chaotic energy. Everyone's actions are based on the personalities and backstories I've created—some of which you have NO idea about yet. *laughs maniacally* Every character has nuances, and I really hope I'm portraying that properly. Watch me stress about character development at 3 AM while chain-drinking tea because coffee stopped working six chapters ago.

ANYWAY! AD HAS ENTERED THE CHAT. The chaotic technology gremlin of my heart! And Sope's dynamic? *chef's kiss* Two cranky old men pretending they don't care about each other while absolutely caring about each other? BEAUTIFUL. MWAH.

I know it's hard to picture everything now because you're just getting the tiniest glimpse of all these relationships. But trust me, there's an intricate web of backstory that you'll discover eventually. Have fun grasping at straws in the meantime because I'm not making it easy for you! Where's the fun if you know everything THIS SOON?!

THERE IS NONE!!!

So hang tight, be patient, and maybe save those curse words for later chapters. Trust me, you're gonna need them. I have PLANS. *ominous music plays*

Love you all, you disaster enablers. Stay hydrated!

⚔ socials ⚔

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Your crutches click-clack against the stone floors of the castle, and it's weird how normal this feels—hobbling through what used to be some fancy abandoned castle and is now home to South Korea's deadliest gang. Nobody even looks twice at you. Then again, in a place where missing fingers are basically fashion statements, a sprained ankle's hardly worth noticing.

The infirmary door swings shut behind you, cutting off the sharp smell of antiseptic and the muffled sounds of people who definitely had worse mornings than you. The hallway feels almost peaceful in comparison. Almost.

The elevator dings, and suddenly you're face to face with what looks like pure rage wrapped in a hoodie. He storms out like the elevator personally offended him, all baggy clothes and barely contained fury. The track pants and oversized hoodie stand out here—most gang members dress to intimidate, but this guy looks ready for a gaming marathon.

You freeze, crutches awkward under your arms, as he practically radiates "don't talk to me" energy into the hallway. Something about him seems familiar, though you've definitely never met. He brushes past you, and the scent of fresh lemons hits your nose—which is when it clicks.

AD. The genius behind Cyber Intelligence. The guy who designed the security system that keeps rival gangs from turning this place into Swiss cheese. His reputation around here is... interesting. Brilliant but brutal, the kind of person who'd hack your phone just because you breathed too loud near his workspace.

You shuffle into the elevator, trying not to drop your crutches or your dignity. Your card beeps against the scanner, and you hit the button for the fourth floor—home sweet home, or at least as sweet as a gang's seduction division can be.

The doors start closing, giving you one last glimpse of AD's retreating back. The whole encounter probably lasted thirty seconds, but it sticks in your mind. You've heard stories about him—how he practically lives in his division's "gamer cave," how he's as loyal to Kkangpae as he is allergic to basic human interaction.

The elevator hums around you, and you can't help wondering what pushed his buttons today. Guy looked ready to set something on fire with his mind. Though maybe that's just his face. Hard to tell with the Council of 9 sometimes—they've all got enough trauma to keep a therapy practice in business for decades.

When the doors open to your floor, the familiar buzz of the Seduction Division wraps around you like a blanket. Back to your world of honey traps and carefully crafted lies. Still, you can't quite shake the image of AD's fury from your mind. 

Guess that's life in Kkangpae—even a simple trip to the infirmary can turn into an encounter with one of the gang's most notorious leaders.

The Seduction Division's floor buzzes with its usual afternoon energy as you hobble through on your crutches. Half your colleagues are sprawled across the common area sofas, deep in mission talk, while others practice their best "come hither" looks in the wall-length mirrors. Just another Tuesday in the art of professional manipulation.

Kazuha doesn't even look up from her iPad as you pass, that wine-red hair falling in perfect waves around her face. She gives you a quick nod though—which, coming from her, might as well be a bear hug. The girl's got that whole "ice queen who could definitely ruin your life but chooses not to" vibe down to an art.

Your shared room feels like heaven after all the hopping around on crutches. Yunjin's exactly where you expected—spread out on her bed like a pink-haired starfish, head hanging off the foot end while she watches what looks like another one of those melodramas she's obsessed with. The contrast between her bubblegum hair and the pastel yellow bedding is probably giving interior designers somewhere an aneurysm.

She brightens up when she spots you, hitting pause mid-dramatic confession scene. "How was medical training?" She twists around to face you, and you can tell she's dying for some good gossip. "Did J-Hope make you practice on oranges?"

"Nah, straight to fake skin." You drop onto your bed, grateful to finally get off your feet. "Though he did spend like twenty minutes ranting about how everyone in this gang stitches like they're drunk toddlers with safety scissors."

The memory makes you laugh. For someone who literally saves lives for a living, J-Hope's got the bedside manner of a grumpy cat. Though you guess when you're dealing with gang members who think they're immortal, maybe being nice stopped working a long time ago.

"Oh!" You perk up, remembering the best part of your morning. "You'll never guess who showed up while I was there."

Yunjin's eyes go wide with interest. She's always been a sucker for castle drama.

"Jeon." You try to keep your voice casual, like you're not still thinking about how he looked without his shirt on. t̶o̶r̶s̶o̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶g̶o̶d̶s̶

Yunjin bolts upright so fast her pink hair whips around her face. "No way. Jeon? What happened?"

"Medical checkup." You grin at how invested she already looks. "You should've seen how much he didn't want to be there."

You can still picture it perfectly—the way he filled the doorway like some dark cloud of attitude, all black clothes and that stupid leather jacket. Even his quick scan of the room felt dismissive, like everything beneath his notice was personally offending him.

"But here's the weird part." You lean in closer, lowering your voice like you're sharing state secrets. "You know how he's usually all... you know, Jeon? Like someone carved him from ice?"

Yunjin nods eagerly.

"Complete different person around J-Hope. I mean, still grumpy as hell, but like... almost human? It was like watching a statue learn to bend."

"Jeon?" Yunjin's eyes go wide. "Are we talking about the same person? Mr. I-Take-Orders-From-Nobody?"

"Oh, it gets better." You can't help the laugh that bubbles up. "He brought J-Hope a croissant."

"A croi—wait." Yunjin sits up straighter. "Oh my god, that explains this morning!"

You raise an eyebrow. "What about this morning?"

"Okay, so you know how he's basically married to that coffee machine, right?"

"First cup of the day, every day," you confirm. Everyone knows that—it's like some weird ritual. The sun rises, birds sing, and Jeon appears to claim the first coffee like it's his divine right.

"Well." Yunjin's practically vibrating with excitement now. "Me and Kazuha were having breakfast, and there he was, just... lurking by the pastries. Like, full-on stalking them. We started betting on what he'd pick because honestly? What else do you do when one of the gang leaders is having an existential crisis over baked goods?"

You frown, something not quite adding up. "Wait, he told J-Hope it was the last pastry left."

"Bullshit." Yunjin flops onto her back, pink hair spreading across her pillow like cotton candy. "It wasn't even 7 AM. The breakfast spread was packed—Kazuha and I had front row seats to his whole pastry-hunting performance."

She stares at the ceiling for a moment, like she's replaying the scene in her head. "Actually... now that I think about it, he was really focused on the croissants. Like, weirdly focused. Standing there analyzing them like they held the secrets of the universe or something."

You both fall quiet, trying to make sense of Mr. Ice Prince going on a dawn croissant mission. It's such a small thing, but it feels... significant somehow. Like finding out your scary math teacher collects Hello Kitty merchandise.

"Well, worked out for me." You shrug, trying to sound casual as you show her the pastry bag. "J-Hope doesn't even like croissants, so."

The look Yunjin gives you could only be described as suspicious. 

“Okay but like... isn't that weird to you?" She sits up straighter, getting that expression she always has when she's about to drop some tea. "Jeon's on the Council of 9. He works with J-Hope all the time. How does he not know what the guy likes?"

"What do you mean?"

She leans forward, eyes sparkling like she's solved a murder mystery. 

“Think about it. Our fearless Chief of Tactical Assassinations spent ten whole minutes picking out the perfect croissant for someone who hates croissants." Her grin gets wider. "But you know who's always having croissants for breakfast?"

The implication hits you like a truck. No way. There's absolutely no way Jeon would... t̶h̶a̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶k̶i̶n̶d̶a̶ ̶s̶w̶e̶e̶t̶ ̶a̶c̶t̶u̶a̶l̶l̶y̶

"You're reading way too much into this." You try to sound dismissive, but your voice comes out weird. "He probably just grabbed whatever was there."

"Uh-huh." Yunjin's not buying it. "That's why he spent longer choosing a croissant than most people spend picking engagement rings."

You throw a pillow at her face. She's being ridiculous. 

Just because Jeon accidentally got you breakfast doesn't mean... anything. He's still the same guy who used you as paintball bait yesterday.

Even if he did pick out a really good croissant.

The weight of Yunjin's words hangs in the air. The idea that Jeon—Mr. Perfect-Planning-Everything—might have deliberately chosen that croissant... it makes something weird flutter in your stomach.

No. Absolutely not.

"As if." You roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. "How would he even know what I like for breakfast?"

Yunjin just gives you that look—the one that says she knows something you don't want to admit. "You're both always in the cafeteria at dawn, right? Haven't you noticed? He gets his coffee right when you're picking out your croissant."

You pause. She's... not wrong. Your early morning schedule does line up with his weird first-coffee-of-the-day ritual more often than not. But the thought of Jeon actually paying attention to your breakfast preferences? t̶h̶a̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶k̶i̶n̶d̶a̶ ̶c̶u̶t̶e̶ That's ridiculous.

"But why would he suddenly bring me breakfast?" The question comes out smaller than intended. "He doesn't even like me."

"Maybe he doesn't dislike you as much as you think." Yunjin's voice goes soft, thoughtful. "He's still human, you know? Under all that ice. Maybe he actually felt bad about your ankle."

Her logic makes an annoying amount of sense. But accepting that Jeon might have done something... nice? That he might have been paying enough attention to know what you like? That feels like admitting something you're not ready to face.

Could Jeon really have...?

No. t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶ ̶w̶a̶y̶ ̶h̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶s̶w̶e̶e̶t̶ There has to be another explanation. The idea of him noticing your habits, remembering your preferences, actually feeling guilty enough to do something about it—it doesn't fit with the cold, distant chief you know.

Except... maybe it does. And that's even more unsettling than the alternative.

"You need to stop watching those dramas. They're rotting your brain."

"Fine, don't believe me." Yunjin pouts, folding her arms like a scolded kid. "But when has anything in this place ever been simple?" There's this knowing look in her eyes that makes you want to throw another pillow at her, but she mercifully drops the subject.

The pastry bag crinkles as you grab it, desperate for any distraction from t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶s̶ ̶a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶J̶e̶o̶n̶ this whole situation. The croissant looks perfect—because of course it does, this is Jeon you’re talking about. 

Except for that small bite you already gave it back in the infirmary.

You break it in half, offering part to Yunjin like a peace offering.

One bite and—oh.

Oh.

"This is really good," you manage between bites, trying not to sound too impressed. 

Because you hadn’t really had time to savor it, appreciate the taste. But now you do, and holy shit. You've had your fair share of castle croissants—there's a reason you drag yourself out of bed at ungodly hours to get them—but this? This is something else entirely.

Stupid Jeon and his stupid perfectionism. Everyone complains about how anal he is about everything, but apparently that extends to pastry selection too. 

That's just annoying.

"God, I could eat like five of these," Yunjin mumbles around her mouthful, and you hum in agreement.

You both enjoy the quiet for a moment, just appreciating good pastry and each other's company. Then Yunjin sits up straighter, switching into work mode. "Hey, while you're here—mind helping me with something on my iPad? I'm stuck on this one part."

You scoot closer as she pulls up files full of charts and data. This is the real meat of gang work—not the glamorous missions or dramatic showdowns, but hours of planning and strategizing. You and Yunjin fall into an easy rhythm, bouncing ideas off each other and finding solutions.

It's nice, actually. Just you and your friend, doing what you do best, making plans that could mean life or death for someone someday. 

You know, normal people stuff.

Lunchtime at the castle is its own brand of chaos. 

The cafeteria buzzes with life—metal trays clanking, conversations overlapping, and the smell of whatever's cooking today making your stomach growl. 

It's kind of wild how this massive, well-lit space becomes neutral ground where gang divisions actually mix. 

Even if it's just to argue over the last pudding cup.

Yunjin, being the angel she is, grabs a tray for you since you're still stuck with these stupid crutches. You point out what you want—some spicy stir-fried pork that smells like heaven, a mountain of steamed rice, and enough kimchi to make your breath lethal. The kind of comfort food that reminds you of simpler times, before your life involved paintball ambushes and medical training. Yunjin goes for her usual rabbit food—some fancy salad and seaweed soup.

Finding a table is surprisingly easy. There's this unwritten rule about leaving some spots open for people who need the extra space—like, say, someone who got their ankle twisted during a certain chief's brilliant bait plan. So you snag a spot near the food counter, perfect for people-watching.

The cafeteria has this weird energy to it, like a tide of people flowing in and out. Some grabbing quick bites between missions, others lingering over coffee and gossip. It's probably the most normal part of living in a gang headquarters.

"Look who's eating alone again." Yunjin's voice drops as she stabs at her salad, and you don't even need to look up to know who she means.

"Does he ever eat with anyone?" You can't help asking, because seriously, what's with Jeon and his lone wolf act?

"Sometimes." Yunjin talks around a mouthful of greens. "His division members join him occasionally. Especially Takama."

"Who's Takama?" You mix some kimchi into your rice, trying to sound casual.

"His second in command." She covers her mouth as she chews, ever polite even in a gang cafeteria. "You know, deputy officer of Tactical Assassinations."

You can't help but smirk at the way Yunjin's eyes light up. Your roommate might be shy around strangers, but get her talking about castle gossip and she transforms into a one-woman intelligence agency. Her weird talent for reading people makes her better at gathering intel than half the Seduction Division.

"Okay, tea time." She sets down her fork and turns to face you fully, going into full gossip mode. "So Jeon's basically a lone wolf in the cafeteria. Only exceptions are Takama—his second in command—or sometimes J-Hope."

You take another bite of your food, settling in for what promises to be an interesting breakdown of castle dynamics.

"And get this—J-Hope hardly ever eats here. Man's practically married to his office. But when he does show up?" She leans in closer, lowering her voice. "It's either with Jeon or AD. Those two are like his pet projects or something."

"AD and Jeon?" The combination sounds about as likely as V starting a knitting club. "Wouldn't have called that one."

"Oh no, you'll never catch them together." Yunjin waves her fork for emphasis. "There's this weird... thing between them. Nobody knows why, but the tension's so thick you could cut it with a knife. Still working on figuring that one out."

She drops her voice even lower, like she's sharing state secrets. "AD's basically a cryptid though. Lives in his gamer cave like some kind of tech hermit. But word is, if you hang around the snack bar at 3 AM..."

You snort at her dramatic delivery. "Very spooky."

"And get this—he's apparently even grumpier than J-Hope. But somehow they just... click?"

"Grumpier than Dr. Cranky?" You raise an eyebrow. "That's actually impressive."

"Right? Like, next-level antisocial. But I guess their matching bad attitudes cancel each other out or something. They're both fluent in asshole."

"Well, you'd know." You gesture at her with your chopsticks. "You're the people-reading expert here."

"I mean, I haven't seen everything firsthand." Yunjin shrugs, picking at her salad. "But J-Hope's probably the one Jeon tolerates the most. Now V, on the other hand..."

"Yeah, no need to finish that sentence." You snort. "Those two are about as friendly as cats and dogs."

"Right? They hate each other's guts. Though V's weird because he gets along with everyone else—or at least pretends to. Hard to tell with him, honestly." She pauses, eyebrows shooting up as she glances across the cafeteria. "But he seems weirdly obsessed with JM lately."

"JM?" You follow her gaze. "The finance guy?"

"See the guy in the fluffy cardigan over there?" She tilts her head subtly. "That's him. Usually sits with Chaewon and Jessi. He's like, genuinely nice to everyone, which is probably why he puts up with V's... everything."

"Christ, he must have the patience of a saint."

"Right?" Yunjin snickers. "Meanwhile V's like this social chameleon—just plops down wherever he feels like. No fixed spot, just vibing with whoever catches his attention that day."

"What about Chaewon?" You ask, genuinely curious about your division chief. "You mentioned she sits with Jessi?"

"Yeah, see that woman with the red hair next to her? That's Jessi. They're basically joined at the hip, which makes sense." Yunjin lowers her voice. "Only women on the Council of 9, you know? Gotta stick together in this boys' club."

"Must be rough up there." You watch the two women, something tight forming in your chest. "Especially for Chaewon, considering how she feels about men. Makes you wonder what they went through to get those positions."

"Yeah..." Yunjin's voice goes soft. "Gang leaders don't really talk about their past lives. All I know is Chaewon came from another gang. Might explain some things..." She trails off, watching your division chief for a moment before shaking her head. "But that feels like the kind of story you don't ask about, you know?"

"True." You push around some pork with your fork. "What about RM and Moon though? Never seen them down here."

"Oh god, you won't." Yunjin waves her hand dismissively. "Those two are like urban legends in the cafeteria. Pretty sure they're permanently glued to their office chairs, buried in paperwork."

You're about to ask more when something in the air changes. You feel it before you see it, like a wintery breeze sweeping through the room, chilling and unmistakable. Conversations stutter and restart, heads turning just enough to look casual. 

When you follow everyone's not-so-subtle glances, you spot him immediately. 

AD, the human thundercloud from this morning, has decided to grace the cafeteria with his presence. 

His hoodie's pulled low over blonde hair, and everything about his walk screams 'touch me and die.' He moves like someone who's one minor inconvenience away from committing cyber crimes.

He heads straight for the food counter, completely ignoring the line of people waiting their turn. His eyes scan the options like they've personally offended him. You can hear the quiet grumbling from the queue, but nobody seems brave enough to actually say anything.

Well, almost nobody.

"Hey man, line starts back there." Some new guy who clearly hasn't learned the castle's pecking order yet pipes up.

AD turns his head so slowly it's almost cinematic. The look he gives this poor idiot could probably crash every computer in South Korea.

"Shut the fuck up unless you want your keycard to mysteriously stop working." His voice is barely above a whisper but carries enough venom to kill a small army.

The new guy practically shrinks into himself, mouth snapping shut like a trap. Everyone else in line suddenly finds the floor tiles absolutely fascinating. You get it—when the guy who controls every digital aspect of your life threatens to lock you out of the castle, you shut up and take it.

AD turns back to the food counter like nothing happened, loading his tray with... well, everything. It's like watching someone who hasn't eaten in days try to make up for lost meals all at once. Spicy Korean chicken, Caesar salad, pepperoni pizza, and a bowl of ramen that definitely wasn't meant to be a side dish. The combination is as chaotic as his reputation.

When he turns to survey the cafeteria, his eyes briefly meet yours. The air around you drops several degrees, like someone opened a window to a winter morning. Even under that hood, his gaze is sharp enough to cut glass.

He chooses a table not far from yours, dropping into the chair with a sigh that sounds like it started somewhere around his soul. The curious looks from other members bounce right off him as he attacks his food with the same intensity most people reserve for coding or murder.

Then J-Hope walks in.

The medical chief spots AD immediately, and his eye-roll is probably visible from space. With a huff that screams "not this shit again," he marches over to AD's table like a man on a mission.

"Oh, this'll be good." Yunjin leans in, practically vibrating with excitement.

You watch as J-Hope plants himself at AD's table, hands on hips, radiating disapproval. Whatever he's saying gets completely ignored—AD just keeps eating like J-Hope isn't even there. But instead of giving up, J-Hope drops into the chair across from him, apparently settling in for the long haul.

It's kind of fascinating, actually. J-Hope's clearly telling AD off about something, probably his hermit lifestyle, while AD responds in what looks like grunts and eye-rolls. But the weird thing is... he's letting J-Hope stay. For someone who just threatened to digitally exile a guy for speaking to him, that's practically a declaration of friendship.

"They're like a divorced couple who still lives together," Yunjin whispers, barely containing her grin.

You snort into your rice. "Yeah, if both of them were the grumpy one."

It's hard not to stare at AD. There's something fascinating about watching someone who practically lives in code actually interact with humans. The guy who could probably crash South Korea's entire infrastructure with his phone is sitting here eating pizza with salad. 

He's weird for a Council member. The others, like Jeon or V, you can picture them leading divisions. But AD? He feels more like some urban legend the gang created—the grumpy gremlin in the tech cave who might lock you out of your room if you breathe too loud near his servers.

You try not to be too obvious about watching him, but it's kind of mesmerizing. Even now, with J-Hope clearly giving him hell about something, AD maintains this icy distance. Like he's tolerating human interaction because someone forced him to remember he needs food to live.

The cafeteria noise provides perfect cover as you and Yunjin lean in slightly, totally not eavesdropping on what might be the grumpiest conversation in Kkangpae history. 

"For someone who's supposed to be a genius, you eat like a fucking teenager with a death wish." J-Hope's voice carries that special blend of medical concern wrapped in pure irritation.

AD doesn't even look up from his food crime scene, just keeps shoveling spicy chicken into his mouth with the enthusiasm of someone who hasn't seen sunlight in days.

"I'm not kidding, AD. Your last medical results were shit." J-Hope leans back, crossing his arms. "Or did you delete that memory along with your basic survival instincts?"

AD finally looks up, his expression screaming 'I'd rather be getting a root canal than having this conversation.' "Can you not? I can handle my own fucking health."

"Yeah, clearly." J-Hope's voice drips sarcasm. "Because staying up for three days straight surviving on energy drinks and spite is peak healthcare. What's your plan when it catches up to you? Hack yourself a new liver?"

A ghost of amusement flickers across AD's face before he squashes it. "Maybe I will. And while I'm at it, I'll program myself some immunity to your bullshit."

"You're impossible." J-Hope rolls his eyes. "Just eat something green occasionally! I'm tired of playing doctor because you think vegetables are optional."

AD stabs a piece of lettuce with enough force to kill it twice, moving with exaggerated slowness. "There. Happy?"

J-Hope gives a narrowed stare, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "No. Eat another one."

"You're so fucking annoying." AD turns away like if he can't see J-Hope, maybe he'll cease to exist.

You and Yunjin share a look, biting back smiles as you watch AD and J-Hope's weird version of friendship play out. 

It's kind of sweet, in a grumpy-meets-grumpier way. 

Even in Kkangpae, where everyone's got walls built up to their eyeballs, sometimes you catch glimpses of actual human connection. Even if it's just two cranky leaders arguing about salad.

But the peaceful moment doesn’t last long.

Harmony shatters when a group from V's division walks in. The atmosphere shifts immediately—you can feel it in the way conversations quiet down, in how other members subtly shift away. V's assassins always move like they own the place, all swagger and deadly grace.

Your stomach drops when one of them breaks away from the pack, heading straight for your table. He's tall, probably handsome if you could get past the douchebag energy radiating off him. 

He plants his hands on your table, leaning into your space like he's got every right to be there.

"Hey princess, heard about your ankle..." His voice drips fake sympathy before sliding into something that makes your skin crawl. He leans closer, close enough that you can smell whatever cheap cologne he's drowning in. "When you recover, how about some private lessons? I bet you could teach me all about seduction..."

The suggestion hangs in the air like something rotten. 

Your mind floods with comebacks—each one sharper than the last, each one perfectly crafted to cut him down to size. 

But you keep quiet.

Not because you're scared. Not because you don't have anything to say. But because you know how this game works. 

In Kkangpae, everything's about power. One wrong move, one moment of weakness, and suddenly you're marked.

And being a woman in this testosterone-fueled nightmare means always watching your step, always calculating the cost of each word.

Your silence apparently pisses him off more than any insult could. His face twists ugly, that fake charm vanishing like smoke. "I'm talking to you, bitch."

You catch Yunjin starting to rise, all protective big sister energy, but you grab her arm. This isn't her fight. Besides, you've dealt with worse than some bruised ego in a leather jacket.

The cafeteria's gone weirdly quiet. You can feel eyes on you from every direction—AD pausing mid-bite, J-Hope's exasperation shifting to concern, V watching like this is better than cable. Even Jeon's stopped pretending to eat his lunch, those dark eyes fixed on the scene playing out.

You finally look at the guy, really look at him, keeping your face blank. 

“And I'm not interested."

The words hit him like a slap. His face goes red, then purple, and suddenly his hand twitches.

The whole cafeteria seems to hold its breath. 

You catch flickers of movement—Chaewon half-rising from her seat, JM's eyes going wide, Jessi's hand twitching toward what's probably a knife.

But it's Jeon's reaction that catches your attention. He hasn't moved, hasn't said a word, but the look he's giving this guy is like a typhoon gaining speed. The kind of stare that promises violence, calculated and cold and absolutely certain.

Not that you need the backup.

The moment his hand comes down, you move. 

The fork in your hand becomes a weapon, and you catch his wrist mid-swing, driving the tines deep into his palm. The movement is smooth, precise—exactly what they taught you in training. Always use what's available, turn everyday objects into advantages.

He screams (more shock than pain probably), stumbling back like you've burned him. His eyes are huge, that macho confidence evaporating as blood wells up around the fork still stuck in his hand. 

Everyone goes dead silent. 

Like their brains are recalculating, adjusting their mental image of the new girl who just stabbed someone with cutlery.

t̶h̶a̶t̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶e̶a̶c̶h̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶c̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶b̶i̶t̶c̶h̶

"Maybe think twice about who you're messing with next time."

He yanks his hand back with a string of curses, blood dripping onto the pristine cafeteria floor. His face twists ugly, like he can't decide if he's more hurt or pissed. 

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

You lean back in your chair, channeling every ounce of b̶i̶t̶c̶h̶ confidence you've got. The fork might have been impulsive, but now it's time to play smart.

"Someone who has Chaewon's ear." You let that sink in for a second. "And you know who Chaewon's best friends with? Jessi. You know, the one who handles personnel management?" Your smile feels sharp enough to cut. "Wonder what they'd think about some guy from Assassinations harassing their girls."

The color drains from his face so fast it's almost funny. 

Nothing like dropping two of the scariest names in Kkangpae to make a man rethink his life choices. You can practically see him doing the math in his head—is harassing the new girl worth potentially pissing off not one, but two Council members?

"You wouldn't—" His voice wavers between threat and panic.

"Try me." You cut him off clean. "This isn't even about me. You really think they'd let this slide? Their division members getting pushed around by some wannabe tough guy?"

His jaw clenches so hard you're surprised his teeth don't crack. The rage is still there, but now it's got a healthy dose of fear mixed in. Good. Maybe next time he'll think before running his mouth.

"Fucking bitch," he spits, but the words don't have much bite anymore.

You glance pointedly at the bloody fork still sticking out of his hand. 

"Get me a new fork while you're at it. You got blood all over this one."

The cafeteria's still dead silent, everyone probably wondering if they just witnessed career suicide by cutlery. But hey—sometimes you've got to stab a man with a fork to make a point.

He shoots you one last glare before stalking off, still cursing under his breath. 

You watch him go, noticing how the other assassins suddenly find their lunch absolutely fascinating. 

Funny how quickly tough guys back down when someone actually stands up to them.

Conversations resume, though noticeably quieter than before. You can feel the weight of everyone's stares finally lifting—some impressed, others probably wondering if you've got a death wish.

Everyone's except Jeon's.

When you turn to meet his gaze, something's different. Those dark eyes catch yours across the cafeteria, and something electric passes between you. It's different from his usual dismissive glances. Like he's seeing you properly for the first time. Not just as the new girl from Seduction, or the one who twisted her ankle during his paintball game. But as someone who can hold her own.

His expression hasn't changed—he's still got that perfect poker face—but there's something in his eyes that wasn't there before. 

Something that feels almost like respect.

His lips twitch, just barely, before he looks away. 

But that tiny almost-smile says more than words could. 

Maybe stabbing someone with a fork is all it takes to impress the mighty Chief of Tactical Assassinations.

t̶o̶o̶ ̶b̶a̶d̶ ̶h̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶a̶n̶ ̶a̶s̶s̶h̶o̶l̶e̶

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© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[candiedcoffeedrops]

Geborgenheit

Notes: I yap a lot so I'm putting them at the end this time along with the German translations.

WC: 1,020

Pairing: Ring Schwartz x Reader

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, SFW, Written from suitor's perspective- still like doing that apparently lol

CW: Possible spoilers for Nica and Ring's backstories. I took what I've heard and read from JP and ran with it so be warned. Also potentially OOC because Ring's route isn't out yet.

No beta, we die like mne.

“Subjects 404 and 405.” A clinical, dispassionate voice called out as a wide room materialized around me. Tight restraints kept my arms and legs secured to the seat I was forced to lay down on. I flexed my wrists, trying to find a way out of them despite knowing that the people who put me here wouldn’t give me such a kindness. The room smelled like chemicals and dust and iron. My heart thudded in my chest and my breathing became shallow. Sweat beaded on my brow and neck despite the chill in the air.

Something isn’t right. Why do I keep coming back here?

We left. I know we did. Dari came and we–

“Leave him alone!” 

Nica’s voice. Somewhere. It sounds warped and far away, like hearing him yell through water. I know he’s here somewhere but why can’t I see him? Why can I never see him when I come back here?

“Nica? Nica, where are you? I’m scared…” My voice left my mouth– frail and wet. Younger. When I blink, my eyelashes are wet and cold. 

Expressionless faces that I know all too well and yet can’t quite remember fully begin to draw closer, their owners wearing sterile white coats. One of them holds a long syringe filled with an eerie cyan liquid. I pulled with everything I had against my restraints, eyes fixed on the needle. My breathing came out in shallow, harsh pants now.

“Nein,” I tried to yank my torso and my neck further away from the approaching drug but there was no use. Two sets of sturdy hands pressed down on me while the needle touched the skin of my neck. “Fass mich nicht an. Es tut weh.”

As soon as the needle broke my skin, I felt the liquid being plunged into my body. It stung like thousands of tiny glass shards all at once, a searing heat followed by icy numbness spreading from my neck outward. It hurts. It hurts. Why do they keep doing this to us? Why me and my brother? Why did we have to be here? I miss the sun. I miss the wind and clouds in the sky. There was never anything here but prodding and scraping and needles and new drugs. Why wasn’t Dari here yet?

“Ring?” Your voice– gentle and sweet, sounded out to me in the midst of the dark and terrifying. You weren’t supposed to be here. You’d get hurt, you’d be-

“Ring, wake up,” Your touch, soft but insistent as you shook my shoulder pulled me from the inky black cold of my memories. My eyes shot open to see you, your brow upturned, stitched together in worry as you looked down at me. Your name escaped my lips as I reached out to touch you, my fingers hesitating before grazing your jawline. You were here. You were warm and real. A shaky breath of relief left my chest as I slumped back against the mattress, feeling heavier than I had before. Another nightmare.

“You were restless and talking in your sleep. It looked like you were having a nightmare. Are you alright?”

“Ah,” I inhaled deeply, my eyes scanning the ceiling of your room. The more I saw, the more I felt at ease. I wasn’t strapped down in that horrible lab, waiting for the next cut, the next needle. My skin wasn’t yielding to medical blades and syringes for the sake of experimentation. I was here. I was home. I looked at you again, studying the contours of your face. The shine in your eyes, the shape of your lips, strands of your hair, mussed by sleep. “Better now. Much better. Thank you.”

I brushed my knuckles against the soft skin of your cheek. You leaned into the touch and I felt my heart melt a little– the warmth chasing off the cold bite of the nightmare. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You offered slowly, your eyes darting over my face. 

“Maybe in the morning…it’s too much right now.”

You nodded in understanding, moving an errant strand of my hair from my face. I noticed it was damp with sweat. 

“I didn’t mean to worry you, Schatz.” I felt my brow furrow. “...I’m sorry.”

Your hand gently wrapped around mine as you turned your face to place a kiss on my finger with a smile that was far too kind. “You can’t control it. There’s nothing to apologize for, Dearest.” 

I allow myself to sigh in relief, some of the tension in my shoulders easing. You pressed your forehead to mine and I closed my eyes, savoring your closeness. 

“You’re too good to me,” I whispered. How many times would you be there to pull me from the depths? You shouldn’t have to do it at all. I was supposed to be stronger than this. If I can’t even fight off what’s in my own head then-

“Shhh,” you wrapped your arm around my head and held me close to your chest. “None of that now. You deserve to be treated with kindness, Ring.” I wrap my arms around your torso, letting out a shuddering breath as I nuzzle my face into your chest. The scent of your soap filled my nose.

My eyelids began to feel heavy again. A faint worry of repeating the nightmare echoed in my mind but it felt dulled, your warmth around me acting as a shield against the cold and the dreaded. I felt safe. Guarded. It feels welcome and also strange, after spending so long either helpless or guarding others. I feel your lips press a kiss to my hair and my face warms.

Your fingers stroked lazily through my hair, a slow, soothing rhythm that lulled me further into the warmth of your embrace. My body, still tense from the ghosts of my dreams, finally began to yield, my breaths evening out, my grip on you loosening but not letting go entirely.

"Sleep," you murmured, your voice a quiet promise against my temple. "I've got you."

And for the first time in a long time, I believed it.

Tags: @drachonia

Notes: Thank you to @velisle for the inspiration for this guy something to the tune of several weeks ago on Discord lol. Hope you like it! And also thank you to @injudescoat for looking over the German I used to make sure I was using it properly💜💜

Translations:

Geborgenheit - Security

Fass mich nicht an. Es tut weh - Don't touch me. It hurts.

Schatz - Treasure/Darling

I don't remember who did the banner, but the orange pearl divider is by @saradika-graphics

[staaaaforlife]

Hello everyone, I’m back with another fan fic. This is a request from. @stayatinyOT8 I can’t really tag, but I really hope you see this

CW: 3Racha, a lot of dirty talking, a lot of calling slut, unprotected sex (please please please don’t do this. Be smart guys.) threesome Cnc I think that’s it. Let me know if I missed anything.

It was a warm, cozy day, and you were in 3RACHA Studio helping the members with their new comeback, which was pretty soon, so you had to move things pretty quickly to get things done. It was a bit overwhelming, but you made your way through.

"OK, guys, take 30 and get some lunch and come back," said the Aussie boy. There's no doubt about it. Bangchan was hot. In fact, all of them were really smoking hot, but the people that you worked with were the best out of all of them. You didn't know if it was because you spent so much time with them. And you see them every day, but something about these three boys….

"OK [name], these two idiots should be coming in pretty soon. I'm sorry; it's really a slow day. I'll call them in as soon as possible, and we will start discussing some stuff," said the Aussie boy, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Yeah, no worries. I mean, I knew what I was getting myself into when I got this job as a producer, so," she smiled, trying not to make it awkward.

Chan smiled, showing off his cute little dimples in the front of his face. "Yeah, I never thought of that."

Just as you were about to say something, the door opened, revealing a very loud Han and a quiet Changbin.

"God, do you ever, ever, like, shut up?" said Changbin. Han looked at him and looked around. "Hmm, nah, I don't actually."

Chan cleared his throat. "Guys, can we not do this when she's here?"

"oh I'm sorry hey [name] I didn't know you was gonna be here today" Han said while scratching the back of his neck and embarrassed you didn't know what for because he's usually like this. It just made you giggle.

"It's no problem, honestly; I think I've seen worse working here."

"Well, since we're here, why don't we play truth or dare?" Said Han

"Really? Truth or dare? I mean, that is like the worst decision—" exclaimed Changbin.

"I mean, since we're here and bored, we could do truth or dare," you said, making Changbin backtrack on what he said.

"Only because I'm bored , Chan?" He said to Chan who was spacing out, looking at you. "Oh, uh, yeah, truth or dare? Let's go."

This would be fun. You haven't played truth or dare since she was a little kid, and it never really used to go…. Well, you get the picture. I mean, truth or dare with them going sexual—that's like the best thing you could ever think of, but you didn't let it get ahead of you. Maybe they just want to do it because they're bored.

A few minutes passed by, and you guys were actually laughing at each other's most ridiculous questions. It was sexual, but not too bad; it was questions asking about your sexual life, which you actually never had much of before, and other than the casual makeout, so when it was your turn, it was… awkward

"OK, OK, truth or dare?" Han turned to you, which caught you by surprise. "Oh, uh, truth?"

He thought long and hard, "When was your first time?"

Your heart started racing. It felt like the whole world just stopped. Embarrassed? Not far from it; you don't know what this feeling was—flustered, maybe.

"Oh, uhhh… Say, Funny story: I kind of never had my first time before."

After saying that, they looked at you like you killed their pet fish, a bunch of "What? Wow, no way" coming from their mouth.

"Gosh, I'm sorry this is so embarrassing." "No, it's not embarrassing. It's just shocking. I mean, who wouldn't hit that?" Chan slapped the youngest on the head and spoke up.

"What he was trying to say is that it's really shocking because you are very attractive."

"Like, very, very attractive," added Changbin.

"I mean, I kissed I've did things, but I just never you know…"

"It's OK; you don't have to say a thing. Let's just continue the game."

You continue the game like normal, but something feels off. It wasn't awkward or anything. You couldn't put your finger on it.

Soon enough it was your turn again, so this time you chose dare because you were very curious about what Bang Chan wanted you to do since he wasn't really that sexual towards you.

You see Chan look at the other two members and smirk at them. You didn't know what that meant until…

"I dare you… to make us make you feel good…"

It felt like your heart just skipped a beat. Many, many beats, you looked up at him with your doe eyes. "What do…"

"Look, we see the way you look at us. We tried to ignore it to be more professional." Said the buff one who was pretty quiet this whole entire time so you were surprised

"And if you let us make you feel good, you won't be in that predicament anymore—people kissing on you but not fucking you, am I right?" said Chan You didn't really take him much as the sexual type or dirty-talking type, so it really took you by surprise.

"Well, I...—shhhh, you don't need to speak; just let us make you feel good, yeah?"

You noted your head was fast and hard; you thought it would break off.

"I was looking at you eagerly like a little fucking slut you are," said the youngest, which caught you by surprise because you didn't take Han as the dominant type.

"Which one would you be eager to take your virginity, huh princess?"

You looked around, thinking you didn't know it was three attractive guys in front of you, 3Racha for fuck's sake. How could you choose?

I'm in Benion was really catching up to you the way he looked at you the way he looked at him. It was only fair, right?

"C-Chan," you said as quietly as possible, "come on, princess, say it louder; it won't hurt our feelings. Come on, speak up, or you wouldn't want me to make you speak up, would you?" Said Changbin

"C-Chan!!" You said a bit louder, causing Chan to chuckle at you

"I just knew your slutty pussy would be running to me. Do you want me to take your virginity? Take your tight little pussy on my big cock, don't you?"

His word, Brong, tingles to your lower core. Making you close your legs, but it soon ripped back open by Chan.

"Do you want slow or hard? Because once you choose, I'm not fucking stopping, ok?" He said, whispering in your ear, his Aussie accent stronger than ever, making you so fucking wet.

"Fuck, I don't care; I just need you." You said whining. "Would you look at that? Our baby is whining for me. Would that have turned you into a fucking slut? or a whore? Maybe even a cum sleeve." He pulled your tiny skirt up.

"Wearing this fucking tiny skirt, you know what she was getting. You're so fucking into it." He pulled your panties off and shoved them in your mouth, making your moans muffled. He gave your ass a couple of swings before shoving it in; it made you gasp.

"Oh fuck… Oh fucking fuck. This pussy is so tight. I can't see why anyone wouldn't want to fuck this tight ass pussy," he said, groaning with his head going back. You looked up and saw Changbin in front of your face.

"Oh, you thought we were just going to sit there and watch you get fucked? What a selfish whore. Open your fucking mouth." Without you opening your mouth for Changbin, his dirty cock is in your mouth. It was really big, bigger than Chance but not longer, just really big.

"Oh, don't be fucking selfish, love. What about Han, huh? You want him to just be sitting there watching you get your fucking hoes touch. I know how much you love being watched, but he needs something too. How about he feels this perfect ass of yours?"

You tighten around him as the thought of the three men and all of your holes

"once you look at that han she wants you to fill up her ass like a fucking greedy little fucking whore. She is a fucking greedy little slut."

"Oh, she went all her holes filled." walked up to you. Pushing his thumb in your ass. It made you put your head back, but you got it shoved back down by Changbin: "Fucking suck it good for me, OK?" Changbin was a little calmer than Chan, but he was still kind of harsh.

Just as you went to suck, you felt her ass being filled by Han: "Fuck this ass so tight."

You felt a weird sensation in your stomach. It felt like you had to pee, so you let it go, thinking it was that, but…

"Oh, you fucking whore, you squirted all over me." Said Chan, Fuck you harder than before.

"I-it's too m-much—do you think I give a fuck? Do you want to be a selfish little whore and cum and not let us cum?" said Han.

"Oh, fuck. I'm cumming. I'm cumming, fuck!!" You felt a warm sensation in your mouth, and you swallowed it. "Fucking good girl," said Changbin.

As Han and Chan were fucking you. Changbin was petting your head and telling you sweet and dirty things like "fucking tight-ass pussy, can't wait to fuck it, and "fucking cum sleeve."

"Oh God, I'm cumming." Han pulled out of your ass and came all over your back from reaching your hair.

"You guys are pathetic. See, I started fucking her first, and I'm not coming yet." Unexpectedly, Han bent over to lick Chan's ass, which prompted him to moan and come deeply inside you. "Fuck!! Han: I-I'm going to kill you." He fell on top of you on the floor, and they all began to chuckle.

"Oh God, I didn't know you guys were dirty like that," you explain.

"I mean, you never asked or found out, so…"

"So you tell us to leave so you can just give back shots?" said the second oldest of the group.

"Minho, get out!!" You said while covering your face and body.

"Nu-uh, I like this view."

Brother, this is going to be a long night.

Part two with other units??

[ttheggrimrreaper]

For @senri-liyue, just wanted something fun to do, and does it fit ANYTHING going on in this blog? Not in the slightest. However! I don't know if I care.

General:

Name: Hana Miki ( ROUGHLY translates to SNOWMOON)

Gender: Female

Parents: Dong Syaoran, Li Yue

Age: I am gonna go 13-17? Teenage for sure.

Species: Half Senri, Half Human

Nicknames: Hana, Miki,

Abilities:

Glamour: She can hide her ears, tail, and fangs. (No claws). However when at home she prefers to keep them seeable or whatever it's called because it makes her feel connected to her mother

Heightened sense: Heightened Hearing, about 3x better than a human. Slightly heightened sense of smell (1x). Eye sight is 2x better than the average human and she can see in the dark. She moves 3x faster than the average human. Along with flexibility

Shapeshifting: Although her mother can fully shift into a cat (I believe, based on my research-) she can do that in part. Like a werewolf type idea? But with cats.

Personality:

She is a very shy and nervous girl. From a young age understanding that if you keep Father happy, mother doesn't get hurt. She has always been curious about the golden artifact around her mother's forehead, however she stopped asking questions about it when she saw first hand why it was there. At 10 she finally understood (in part) what the dynamic between her parents was. Syaoran was in control, Yue acted out, soon she was screaming for it to stop. Hana rarely acted out in fear that either she would get an artifact on her, or that Syaoran would use it on her mother to punish Hana.

She is a daddy's girl, but not out of love. She does love both her parents, just assuming the constant abuse of power on Syaorans part was normal in all families, but the reason she is a daddy's girl is out of the fear she holds for him.

Backstory:

When Syaoran found out about Yues other children, it was only normal for him to have wanted his own with Yue, Yue was his after all.

When Hana was young she was very curious, leaping onto counters and bringing her mother random things she found. Like the water bottles, or maybe a fork, maybe her father's glasses! But eventually She did have to spend time with her father, growing up with having to always stand straight. Not even she could see through her father's charming act, so she never quite understood why Yue always glared at him with such hate. For a while she would copy her mother's glare, but after a few minutes of talking with her father, she was quick to beg for his forgiveness.

She was easily gaslighted into believing anything her father said. So when Yue suddenly disappeared (assuming she would be able to escape at some point) she held onto the hope that her mother hadn't left her for a few hours, but Syaoran was quick to convince her into the idea that Yue had left Hana to be with her other family, because Yue didn't love Hana and Hana wasn't a good enough child.

Despite this, Hana could never bring herself to truly hate her mother, just hoping that one day she would come back and they could all be one happy family again.

Extra:

Further ideas I have for Hana, she knows nothing but a toxic father. So if her father were to even allow her to have a partner (which the chances of that are low assuming that Syaoran would be just as possessive of Hana as he was Yue) she would only find a toxic partner normal, one that controls her every move.

If possible, Maybe macaque and Yue will adopt her once they remove Syaoran from the picture. Initially, Hana would be very avoidant of everyone, but her mother would be the first she would warm up too. Then macaque, enjoying how... Mellowed he was. Just quite and not over bearing. Then the rest of the family.

However in the end after a minimum of 15 years of loving her father unconditionally, it will be difficult for her to just give up seeing him completely. Which could result in her being stupid and getting herself stuck with him again even after having accepted the others as family.