#its deadly quiet in this office

[secret-keeper-speaks]

i’m at my fathers workplace??? my father picked me up earlier than anticipated and all he’s revealed to me is that I have an appointment for something in his building at two o clock. he’s working at the moment, as usual, but I have to sit here in his office until the appointment.

[sashi-ya]

𝑪𝑼𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑫𝑶𝑴 「 part 1 」 soshiro hoshina x f! officer! reader

a/n: yes! first Kaiju no. 8 fic ever! idk how many of you would like to read from Kaiju but I've been obsessed with it lately, and especially with Soshiro. it's pretty short and wrote it cause I needed to think of other things after studying. So yeah, enjoy! tw: there aren't "sex" scenes, however mdni as it has suggestive language, nudity and mature content. (thank god for this manga having almost every character above 25!). Pretty much inspired on Soshi's backstory from Kaiju no 8 side B, so expect fluff too. what happened on the following days? more Soshiro smut, here. masterlist

“I can’t take the suit off” you murmur, trying to lower the front zipper. The mission took much more than what you expected, and the kaiju stench is making you nauseous.

For the time being, most of your squad members have already jumped into the showers. But you, still trying to get out of the suit, haven’t.

“I… this shit… why is it not working?” you protest, forcing the zipper more and more, but it hasn’t been able to go down past the beginning of your chest.

You try to look for the intercom; pressing it to call the Operations leader Konomi, will surely help you out with the captive suit. But, you can’t find it. Did you lose the little intercom before coming back to the base? Or did it fell around there?

Everything seems to be flaunting tonight. It’s late, you are tired. You’ve been hit several times by different Kaiju, but none of them -luckily- was able to injure you.

However, you begin to feel an incredible -and uncontrollable- heat coming from the suit itself and reaching the inner layers of your skin and organs.

You don’t panic. At first.

You definitely panic two minutes later, when the heat is unbearable and the pain in such restrictive jail is almost deadly.

“Help…” you whine, not loud enough to be heard by anyone else. Or at least, definitely not enough to be listened over the lively chattering coming from the showers.

But it hurts, as much as the acid of those despicable monsters when their core explode. And it really begins to interfere with your breathing, and thus, with your consciousness.

“Help me… I’m burning…” you scream louder this time. But no one comes, and your knees hit the ground in pain.

Tears flood up your eyes, your nails aren’t enough to tear the thick skin of Izumo Techs’ innovative suit. No guns are enough, probably, even if you had the chance to go grab yours… it wouldn’t be useful.

You pray, you wish for someone to cut that trap into pieces.

“H- help… me…” “WHAT IS IT?!”

In between blurred eyes and painful frown, you device an angel of slanted eyes and deep purple hair.

“I… the suit… it’s boiling… it’s overheating… I can’t take it off” you grasp a little bit of air and try to communicate -effectively- the reason of your suffering.

“Stay quiet” he commands, and you comply. There is nothing you wouldn’t do to go against his orders.

An immediate relief comes with enough cuts that you couldn’t even see. Completely naked, completely soaked in sweat. There you lay, panting, with still stings of pain reverberating all over your skin.

“Come here” he says, ripping the remaining pieces off the suit still ferally attached to your burning skin. And as feral as the suit is, the feral his hands are when ripping its pieces away.

“Vice-captain Hoshina… th-thank you…” you cry, completely unaware of your impure show off.

His eyes open widely, and for the first time you see the beautiful bloody irises he usually keeps hidden away. But his expression is not jovial, nor even neutral. He is by far worried.

Probably for the first time in ages, the blades have fallen to the ground and with those same hands he saved your life he hurries to carry you to the men’s showers.

At the speed of light, cold water begins to gush from the showerheads. Your body feels instant relief; so much there is even some vapor coming from your skin.

As it bathes you, it also bathes him.  Completely dressed, Soshiro gets drenched in the same water as you. And, as his hair becomes wet, one of his hands moves it out of his face, revealing his façade completely.

Your arms hang from his shoulders into his back. Your knees, fight to keep you standing up even if the one actually holding you up is no other than him.

Soshiro is completely mute, and so do you. There is, maybe, no need to speak.

He lets his jacket slide through his shoulders to finally fall into the shower’s floor. The compressive shirt underneath gets also wet, becoming something like a second skin of him. Showing off the hours of training, and why he is the vice-captain of your division.

Immorally, you that were on the brink of death a couple of minutes ago, now feel in heaven because of your saviour. Because of your blades wielding hero.

Once again, he was able to save a life with those thinly cut masses of iron.

His hand, with soft but still steady pace, clean something off your back. And for that your breasts are pressed against his chest. You can see his neck from the side, as he tries to take a deeper look at your shoulder blades. You inhale the scent of his skin, a mix of sweat from the last battle and manly hints of fresh perfume.

“You got them almost engraved on your skin. What the fuck? The suits aren’t supposed to hurt you this way” he whispers, close to your ear. “We should go to the medical pavilion, now” he adds.

You nod, feeling how everything has started to spin around you and your stamina decreases more and more.

“Thank you, Soshi- Hoshina fuku Taichou…” you babble, realizing your faces are closer that what they should ever be and your arms and his are interlocked pretty strongly to the other’s body.

He takes a deep breath through his tiny nose, looking at you with lazy eyes. Just a tiny line of red is visible, as tiny as the opening of his lips that let prominent fangs barely flash.

Soshiro’s chest goes up and down, harder every time. His muscles tense more and more, especially the ones on his neck. His hug gets even tighter, pulling you so closer that ever before.

“It’s… ok…” he barely words; something is affecting that man… and it’s probably all your body, all your still warm skin being his for at least a couple of minutes, the way your lips have become red and pouty, your sloppy eyes and the warmth of your breath closer to his mouth.

“What happened!!??” “Vice-captain?!” “are you two allr-“ the girls scream in terror. Probably, once they were out of the showers they faced the dantesque scenery of blades lying on the ground and a anti kaiju suit completely destroyed and fuming scattered all over the floor.

Within seconds, not only the officers of squad 3 have reached the place but also the men. Some of them, thinking not the worst… but probably that Hoshina fuku Taichou and you have finally caved in for lust.

With a fast reaction, Soshiro grabs the coat of his own uniform to cover you up. And with a much more severe tone ever heard, he orders Kikoru to call Mina and Okomi and let them know he is taking a badly injured officer to the medical pavilion. As for the rest, a scary deadly look over his shoulder was enough to make them run away from the place allowing him to pass.

You, however, couldn’t quite experience such happenings, as your consciousness had fade away right before your comrades arrived.

A soft white light shines in between your shut eyes; the sound of unknown solitude reaches your ears as well as the synchronic beep of your heart reflected on a machine.

“What-“ you mumble, regaining consciousness. Your body feels cold, and you are thankful for that. Your limbs are heavy, but you can move them. Your lips and mouth are dry, but you smile as you remember vague flashes of Soshiro and you under the shower.

You finally open your eyes to discover you are indeed at some kind of medical facility, soon remembering this is the place you all come when you are severely injured after battle.

Everything on your body seems to be on its place, and for that you breathe alleviated. Thankful to your hero, you wonder how to thank him when you are out of here… or maybe, you just plan to leave the squad as he has seen you completely naked.

“I didn’t know you were awake already” a well-known voice scares you away. You try to stand up, but his hand stops you from doing so.  “I couldn’t sleep, I was worried for you” he says, with that sweet funny tone he often uses to communicate.

There is, as far as you could see, anyone around but you and him. Soshiro, who apparently couldn’t sleep, has come to see you.

Your cheeks burn, and it’s not because of a defective suit now. It is because, you are deeply embarrassed, and still, something inside you is jumping with genuine happiness to see him here.

“I’m ok, Sir. But.. you didn’t have to come! I’m deeply thankful for you saving my life, and I promise you I will replace the uniform you got all wet” you say, trying to look away from him who has came closer to your bed.

Soshiro bursts out laughing, the way he only knows how to. He grabs his stomach, and soon flashes of the way those abs looked with wet fabric sticked to them, makes you shiver.

“You- you should worry for your own suit! Not mine!” he continues laughing while, little by little, he ends up sitting right on the bed. “By the way, you know why your suit almost killed you?” he asks.

You swallow. What- why is he sitting next to you?

 You shake your head in denial, out of words, because you couldn’t think of a reason for such big flaw on that impressive technological miracle.

Soshiro, who is well known for being at least a little bit irreverent -and that’s exactly what you love the most about him-, gets himself comfortable next to you. He lies back, as you move to the side to make him some space.

Now, the scent of his skin is clean and delicious -even more than earlier-. And you can smell it, because there isn’t much room to be separated on a single bed.

“Well… you had a piece of Kaiju tooth stuck on your lower back. Therefore, the suit either processed it as a threat or… it reacted with the pieces of kaiju within it. In any case, you will be given a new one in a couple of days” he tells you, with his right arm stuck underneath the back of his head.

His bicep, perfectly moulded to be strong, but still lightweight to be as agile as possible, protrudes with the hem of the compression shirt around it. Does he really know how sexy he looks? Or he is absolutely unaware of the effects he has?

“Oh…” you sigh. You take it as a personal failure; how were you not able to see it? “Don’t worry, this incident helped them to investigate further security measures… however, isn’t your back hurting?” he asks, this time turning to you.

You deny, again, without any words coming from your mouth. But there isn’t much you could do, when Soshiro turns you around so that your back faces him.

“You do, in fact, have a big bruise. I should report this, too” he comments, as his soft index travels down your spine, to the small of your back.

Your eyes, opened big enough to look like moons, have stopped seeing all around and all you can think of is the proximity of that man to you.

“You good?” he murmurs, ignorant of everything happening to your body. “Ye-yes, vice-captain. I wanna thank you for taking care of us the way you do; hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead by now…” you pull those words from who knows where, even if your muscles seem paralyzed from his touch. Your speech sounds like those you give when you follow commands during battle.

He laughs; this time softer and sweeter. You can feel his body coming closer, enough to feel the tip of his nose grazing your neck.

“We should have each other’s backs in here, or else… but most importantly, being told my blades will not be useful to fight and protect, you remind me once again that they indeed can” he whispers, making your skin shiver.

It’s clear that he wants you. And you want him, too.  And you always knew, and he always knew. And all of them, too.  Why, just now, on a place where you should be monitored, there were nobody around if not?

“Can I rest here for a minute?” he asks, as his forehead lands on your nape. “All the time you want, Vice-captain” you answer back, smiling softly.

You slowly relax, as his hand slides in the most delicate way towards your belly to hug you. Your hand, also delicate, fall on top of his, confirming how much you would love for him to touch you like this forever.

“Call me Soshiro when we are like this, ok?” he murmurs, planting the first kiss right on your shoulder.

You turn around, slowly. Even if you would love to stay the way you were, you can’t stop yourself from wanting to see his face.

“Soshiro…” you whisper, coming closer to his lips. “That’s better…” he smiles, kindly.

And one kiss, and then another came by… and thankfully, that night, there were no more Kaiju around.

[sushiyuzu]

bodyguard’s duty

bodyguard!sylus x reader

a/n: big thanks to @obahajimarkkeu for tagging me and requesting this fic! not the best but i tried lol. i had a blast writing it, and i hope you all love it. your support really means a lot! <3

- do check out my sylus fic book on wattpad if you haven’t already!

your father was always a man of control. every decision, every move he made was calculated, especially in his political career. as one of the most powerful figures running for office this year, he wasn’t just careful—he was cautious to the point of paranoia. so when the threats started rolling in—anonymous messages, rumors of danger—he did what he always did. he took action.

and that’s how sylus entered your life.

he wasn’t the first bodyguard your father had hired, but he was certainly the most intimidating. tall, broad-shouldered, and deadly silent, sylus was a man who carried an aura of danger around him like a cloak. from the moment he was assigned to you, his presence became impossible to ignore. he followed you everywhere, his eyes always scanning, always searching for any hint of trouble.

it was suffocating at first. you weren’t used to being shadowed so closely. and, more than that, you didn’t want to be. you hated feeling like a prisoner, your every move watched, your freedom stripped away because of something as abstract as “danger”. but no amount of complaining to your father helped. he simply insisted that sylus was the best—someone who would keep you alive when no one else could.

“he’s not just any bodyguard,” your father had told you. “he’s the best the market has to offer. you’ll be safe with him.”

you weren’t sure if you believed that at first. but there was something about sylus—something that made you pause, that made you think there was more to him than just a hired gun. something deeper.

you weren’t sure what to make of him at first. his presence was unsettling—there was something about the way he moved, always so precise, always so quiet, like a predator stalking its prey. he was tall, with broad shoulders and a lean, powerful frame. but it was his silver hair and crimson red eyes that stood out the most, giving him an almost otherworldly appearance. he was unlike anyone you had ever met, and from the moment he arrived, you knew that things would never be the same.

at first, you tried to keep your distance, telling yourself that he was just another bodyguard, someone hired to follow you around and make sure nothing happened. but it didn’t take long for you to realize that sylus wasn’t like the others. he didn’t just follow orders. he watched you—closely. too closely. every move you made, every word you said, you could feel his eyes on you, studying, calculating.

one evening, after a particularly tense day, you found yourself standing on the balcony of your room, staring out at the city lights below. the cool breeze did little to ease the heat that had been building inside you over the past few weeks. you couldn’t stop thinking about sylus—the way his gaze seemed to burn through you, the way his presence lingered even when he wasn’t around.

you heard the door behind you open, and your heart skipped a beat. you didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. his presence was unmistakable, his footsteps silent as he approached.

“you think i’m just some hired muscle, don’t you?” his voice was low, rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

you turned slightly, leaning against the railing, trying to keep your voice steady. “aren’t you?” you asked, half-joking, trying to mask the unease creeping into your chest.

he was close now, too close, his tall frame looming over you, his crimson eyes locked on yours. “i’ve been watching you for a long time,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “i know every little thing that makes you tick.”

your heart raced at his words, and despite yourself, you smirked. “sounds like you’re obsessed.”

in an instant, sylus closed the distance between you, his hand gripping the railing beside you, trapping you between him and the edge. his breath was hot against your ear, and when he spoke again, his voice was a dangerous whisper. “maybe i am.”

the closeness of his body, the heat radiating off him—it was overwhelming. your pulse quickened, and every nerve in your body seemed to come alive. you told yourself you should be scared, that you should pull away, but all you could think about was how much you wanted him closer.

his hand brushed lightly against your waist, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. you inhaled sharply, your body responding in ways you couldn’t control.

“you should be careful,” sylus murmured, his lips grazing the side of your neck. “because once i have you, there’s no going back.”

his words were a warning, but they only made you want him more. the tension between you was unbearable, the air thick with desire and danger. you could feel his breath against your skin, his body pressing ever so slightly against yours, and it took everything in you not to pull him closer, to close the gap entirely.

but before you could act on the impulse, something caught his attention. his entire body tensed, and in one swift motion, he pulled you back into the room, shutting the balcony door behind you. his eyes scanned the darkness outside, his crimson gaze sharp, focused.

“stay here,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. but you hated being treated like a delicate flower, hated feeling helpless. you took a step forward, determined to stand your ground, but sylus was faster. before you could even blink, he had you pinned against the wall, his body shielding yours.

“what did i just say?” he growled, his breath hot against your skin, his hand firm around your wrist. “next time, you stay behind me.”

your breath caught at the intensity in his voice, the way his eyes blazed with barely contained anger. and yet, despite the danger, you couldn’t help the thrill that ran through you at his protectiveness, at the way his body pressed so close to yours.

“and if i don’t?” you challenged, your voice barely a whisper.

for a moment, sylus said nothing, his gaze locked on yours, his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. then, with a swift, almost violent movement, he gripped your chin, tilting your head up so that you were forced to meet his eyes. “then i’ll remind you who’s in charge of keeping you alive.”

the raw dominance in his voice made your pulse race, your skin tingling under his touch. his grip was firm, possessive, but it wasn’t painful. if anything, it sent a wave of heat through you, making your heart pound even harder.

just as quickly as he had grabbed you, sylus released you, stepping back with a clenched jaw, his eyes still locked on yours. “don’t test me,” he warned, his voice quieter now, but no less intense.

you stood there, breathless, your body still buzzing with the adrenaline of the moment. you wanted to push him further, to see how far you could go, but something told you this wasn’t the time.

days passed, and the tension between you only grew stronger. every glance, every accidental touch, felt like a spark waiting to ignite. you knew you were playing with fire, but you couldn’t help it. there was something about sylus, something dark and magnetic that drew you in, despite your better judgment.

one night, after another close call, you found yourself alone with him in your room. the danger had passed, but the adrenaline still surged through your veins, leaving you restless. sylus stood near the window, his back to you, his posture tense. the silence between you was thick, filled with unspoken words and desires.

“i’m sorry,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “i didn’t mean to make things difficult.”

sylus turned to face you, his crimson eyes softening ever so slightly. he let out a low, humorless chuckle. “you think i’d complain? watching over you is the only thing keeping me sane.”

his words sent a thrill through you, and without thinking, you stepped closer, your hand brushing against his arm. his skin was warm, the muscles beneath it tense, and the moment your fingers made contact, you felt the familiar surge of heat between you.

“you’re a constant risk, you know that?” he muttered, his eyes fixed on the floor. “you make my job impossible.”

you looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “then why stay?” you asked, your voice challenging, though there was genuine curiosity behind it. why did he stay? with all the danger, the constant threats, why didn’t he just walk away?

“i’m not just a job to you, am i?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

sylus’s eyes darkened, and before you could say anything else, he pulled you against him, his lips crashing down on yours with a hunger that left you breathless. the kiss was searing, possessive, and filled with all the tension that had been building between you for weeks. his hands gripped your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, his body pressed hard against yours.

every inch of you was on fire, your skin burning with the intensity of his touch. his lips moved against yours with a fierceness that made your head spin, and when he finally pulled away, you were left gasping for air, your heart racing.

“because i’d die before i let anything happen to you,” sylus muttered, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin.

his words hit you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from your lungs. you stared at him, speechless, unable to process the depth of what he had just said. sylus, the man who was supposed to be detached, professional, had just confessed something far more personal, far more intense.

and in that moment, you realized that this wasn’t just about a job for him. this wasn’t just about protecting you because your father paid him to. this was something more. something deeper.

backup acc: @sushibelle

[zazter-den]

Sweet Tooth

Minors Do Not Interact

Common Scents Series: Cat Bath, Sweet Tooth.

Synopsis- Izuku likes the freedom of being a very private business owner when he has dual lives to run. After all it allows him to "hire" himself as a new worker to get close to Barista!Reader- Wait, why do you smell burnt?

Warnings- Yandere, Dubcon, Stalking, Drugging, Overstim, Size Diff, Mindbreak.

Tags-Aged up(obviously), Hybrid AU, Rabbit!Izuku, Dom!Izuku, Afab!reader, Sub!Reader. Kitchen sex, Scentmarking, Creampie, Excessive seed, Undercover boss, Oral!receiving.

Word Count- 8.1K, because apparently I missed the coziness of Autumn

Izuku sat in the manager's office, the soft glow of the moon filtered through the skylight, casting a gentle radiance upon his features. Short, curly forest green hair, slightly disheveled from his earlier preparations, framed his face in an endearing manner as he sat back in the cushy chair. His emerald green eyes, filled with anticipation, seemed to glimmer and reflect the moonlight, adding a glow to his gaze.

Sitting up, he carefully removed his silver rings with practiced ease, each etched with swirling thorned vines and placed them into a velvet-lined box before making his way to the safe hidden in the wooden paneling of the small room.

Next, Izuku's attention turned to his hunting knife, a weapon as beautiful as it is deadly. He gripped the handle, his hand steady and sure, and twirled it effortlessly in the air. The moonlight danced along the metal, illuminating the intricate green thorn designs that ran down the blade. With a measured flick of his wrist, Izuku sheathed the blade, and it disappeared into the hidden safe. The compartment closed with a soft click, concealed behind an intricately designed wooden panel once again. Sealing away his secrets until they are needed once more.

Leaving the manager's office behind, Izuku made his way through the empty cafe, his steps light and silent as he headed toward the kitchen to prepare for the day ahead. The 'Lunar Rabbit' cafe's pristine jade green walls, soft lighting, and delicate hanging glass terrariums created a serene atmosphere, inviting its inhabitants to relax and escape the chaos of the outside world. Izuku being no exception.

In the quiet solitude of the kitchen, the signature evergreen scent of the café mingled with the aroma of matcha and lime. Izuku's tall figure gracefully moved around the kitchen, his large rabbit ears twitching with every soft sound. Like second nature, he set up the kitchen before taking the bright green citrus butter out of the fridge.

When it came to rabbit hybrids, most people weren't used to seeing Flemish Giants. Clad in a light green t-shirt, tightly hugging his well-defined muscles, Izuku's towering physique was more reminiscent of a predator hybrid, his strength barely hidden beneath a veneer of dorky charm and wit.

With precise movements, Izuku began preparing the perfectly striped, two-toned croissants that the 'Lunar Rabbit' cafe is known for. He measured the ingredients meticulously, his attention to detail reflected in every step. There is a comfort and tranquility in the act of creating, a stress reliever that he cherished amidst his dual lives.

The rhythmic sound of his palm hitting the dough, gently flattening it, filled the dark kitchen. Izuku's movements are methodical and precise, almost hypnotizing, as he continued to work on the matcha-lime croissant dough. His thoughts drifted to his upcoming shift with you, and he couldn't help but feel a wave of excitement wash over him.

Izuku was under your spell from your very first shift at one of his cafes. He had watched you on the security cameras for months, studying every little detail. Your moves, your smile, the way you interacted with customers. Izuku was drawn to you like a moth to flame, captivated by charm and spirit.

Izuku imagined you standing there, your lovely form illuminated by the soft café lights, under the delicate swaying terrarium spheres. He could already see himself making your favorite flavored latte, as he's seen you make it countless times on the security feed. How many times did he tweak that syrup to get it just to your liking? The thought of serving you a cup he made himself brought a smile to his face, his green eyes glowing with anticipation.

Lost in his fantasies, Izuku accidentally spilled some flour onto his t-shirt. Chuckling softly to himself, he brushed off the white powder and ran his fingers between his ears and through his short curly forest green hair, basking in the thrill of the upcoming shift.

He focused his attention on the task at hand, skillfully wrapping the mix in plastic wrap and placing it in the fridge to rest until tomorrow. Drumming a brawny calloused hand against the fridge door, he grabbed a sheet of pre-chilled blueberry-lemon dough before closing the door with his heel.

At the kitchen island counter, Izuku's hands worked the dough skillfully, his fingers deftly shaping it into perfect croissants. The dough was soft and pliable, and Izuku liked the feel of the texture against his fingertips. It was smooth and velvety, the aroma of smashed berries and lemon rind wafted through the air as he worked. Izuku appreciated scents that complimented his own. Citrus, teas, your jasmine-like signature.

Shaping the pastry mix, his mind briefly wandered to thoughts of what it would be like to touch you, to feel your curves beneath his hands. Lost again in daydreams, Izuku envisioned the feel of your silky skin against his callouses and scars, his mind conjuring images of your usual flowery fragrance intertwining with his yuzu and evergreen scent. The thought of your lips, soft and inviting, added to his desires, and his thoughts wandered to the taste of you, the way your lips would feel against his own.

Izuku's mind is completely consumed by the thought, and he could feel the heat pooling rapidly within him. He desperately wanted to trace the contours of your body, his fingertips exploring every inch, as his desire continued to build. His breath grew heavy. With a raspy whimper escaping his lips, Izuku momentarily lost himself in his fantasies, feeling bead of pre-cum line the tip of his straining erection. The excitement building within him became overpowering, overwhelming his senses.

As his arousal grew, Izuku's scent turned musky, blending with his natural citrus evergreen aroma. Izuku's eager slit continued to weep the viscous fluid, the sticky patch of his boxers trapped against the thick head of his dick. As he continued his task, every so often the precum slick fabric would slide forcefully against his tip, eliciting another deep groan from his lips. His need for you at this point was overwhelming, almost unbearable, and his foot tapped on the floor in rabbit-like frustrated anticipation.

It was a struggle for Izuku to maintain focused on his work, his mind overloaded with longing and the intense desire to fulfill every single one of his fantasies with you. He took a moment to compose himself, releasing a pent-up growl of frustration under his breath. He couldn't afford to lose his shit on day one and scare you off, he wasn't some amateur.

Knowing he must regain control, Izuku attempted to once again throw himself into getting the shop ready for the morning rush. With a reluctant sigh, Izuku carefully took out the raspberry two-toned croissants that he had prepped the day before, placing them on the kitchen island counter to be baked for today's morning rush.

Izuku looked at the clock hanging on the wall, he just needed to be patient.

⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱

When you first stirred from slumber, your first instinct was to dive back under the blankets in the pre-dawn darkness. Slowly peeling back the covers of your cozy bed, the moon cast a dim glow through the window, barely highlighting your room.

As you slid your feet out from under the quilts and sat up in the chilly room, your sleep blurred gaze fell on the neatly arranged uniform laid out on the dresser. The tan and jade green dress holds an air of cute professionalism and elegance, perfectly suited for your role at one of the 'Lunar Rabbit' cafes.

As you took off your pajamas, your gaze wanders downward, landing upon the growing bruises and scratches that marred your sore hips. You shook your head softly, a mix of emotions flooding rational thoughts. Last night with Katsuki, the tiger you shared your apartment with, had been...intense to say the least, at times his territorial nature could cross bounds. It seemed his bestial inclinations towards you often manifested in these marks and an aching pussy full of the feral feline's load. It had been necessary to join him in the bath, to wash away any traces of other scents but his own, before he was satisfied last night.

Tossing your head in frustrated resignation, you took a deep breath, attempting to push the memory of those bruises aside. You adjusted your uniform in the mirror, determination to face the day with your usual brand of professionalism. With each careful movement, you purposefully shed the weight of hectic apartment life, transforming into the dedicated and fun-loving barista that your colleagues and patrons know you to be.

The early morning air carried an invigorating crispness as you stepped out of your apartment, the pitch darkness of the night slowly yielding to a beautiful, dark purple sky. The stars twinkled above, casting a gentle luminescence upon the world below. The beauty of the early morning took your breath away.

Walking through the quiet streets, you took in the sights of the autumn morning. Vibrant hues of orange and red adorned the foliage, casting a mystical fall atmosphere all around. The gentle crunching of leaves under your feet became a soothing background melody, heightening your anticipation for the day to come. It's a picturesque scene that brings a smile to your face as you take in the beauty around you.

The short walk to the 'Lunar Rabbit' café is refreshing, the cool breeze gently caresses your skin, and you can't help but lift your face towards the sky, embracing the tranquility of the morning. The scent of dew-kissed grass and the earthy fragrance of autumn fills the air, creating a calming atmosphere.

Unlocking the door, you entered the cozy café intricately designed with a charming lunar forest theme. Most of the walls were adorned in a relaxing jade green color, with glistening glass sphere terrariums hanging gracefully from the ceiling. Creating a sense of tranquility whenever the light caught the floating gardens just right.

But it's the back wall mural that always draws the attention of customers—a breathtaking depiction of ethereal rabbits, crafted from swirling shadows, engaged in a graceful dance beneath a moonlit sky adorned with countless stars.

The careful brush strokes bring the scene to life, immersing you in a mysterious and whimsical world. The rabbits are beautifully painted, their whirling silhouettes seem to come alive under the gentle glow of dawn and fairy lights, creating an otherworldly ambiance. It's a mesmerizing sight in the early morning, one that never failed to captivate you in the dark hours.

You stepped into the dim kitchen, a sense of familiarity washing over. The soft glow of the moon outside cast a gentle illumination, highlighting the edges of the counter tops and appliances. You began gathering the necessary ingredients to create the delectable quiches that will soon grace the cafe's display case.

The movement is sudden. You only caught the shifting of shadows on the opposite side of the kitchen out of the corner of your eye. Your heart thumped rapidly against your chest as your attention was drawn to the mysterious figure standing upright near the ovens, rising to full height in a fluid motion. The towering silhouette seemed to materialize out of nowhere from the depths of the dark kitchen. For a split second, you could swear you saw his eyes glimmer in the shadows, as if they were momentarily aglow with a vivid emerald light.

The initial shock sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your previously fatigued body. Startled by the unexpected sight, your muscles tensed, ready to defend yourself if necessary. Eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of the hulking man's presence, you ran through your options.

Then Izuku shifted forward, the illumination from the skylight instantly brightening his features. The ethereal glow revealed his forest green ears nestled in curly hair, and vivid green eyes, capturing the essence of mischief and charm that so often accompanies his presence. A genial grin tugged at the corners of his lips, “Mornin'!” he chirped, closing the oven behind him, the raspberry croissants settled on the racks. His soft rabbit ears entirely too perky for this pre-dawn hour.

Recognition immediately dawned on you, and a mix of relief and frenzied amusement flooded your features. A little laugh escaped your lips, laced with a touch of underlying nervousness, as your eyes met Izuku's. "Midoriya! Damn, you scared me." you exclaimed, the words tumbling out with a hint of manic energy. Izuku's grin widened as you stammered, the sound of his name on your lips seemingly delighting him. Your laughter lingered in the air, relief palpable. All you could do is laugh off the initial fright, glad to see a familiar face in the dimly lit tranquility of the kitchen.

Wait.

Your brow furrowed as confusion washed over. The gears in your exhaustion-addled mind began to turn, piecing together the inconsistency of Izuku's presence in the closed cafe at such an early hour. As a new employee, Izuku shouldn't have the keys to the establishment. "How did you get in?" You blurted out, voice equal parts curiosity and suspicion. You looked at him, searching for an explanation.

Attempting to quell any rising doubts, Izuku quickly weaved a web of deception, words slipping off his silver tongue with practiced ease. His response was laced with an air of authority, as if the decision had been handed down by corporate in a moment of desperation. "Ms.Usagiyama gave me a key," he stated, his voice confident and unwavering. "They needed someone to fill in as an overnight baker, and it seems I was their best option."

When was the last time he had called her anything but Mirko?

Your surprise was blatantly displayed across your face as you registered the information. You didn't expect management, especially Rumi, to be handing out keys so freely and enlist new employees for overnight baking duties. Then again... given the rather unexpected departure of one of the bakers, you supposed the situation must be dire enough to warrant such desperate measures given the shop's popularity.

“...It'll be nice to have help in the mornings” With a shrug, you dismissed your initial doubts, content to accept Izuku's explanation. After all, you're just a team lead, not really the position to harp on the decisions made by upper management when you'll only get a headache for your trouble. As the manager of your location, Rumi can deal with that nonsense. The fact that you're just honestly grateful for the extra hands during the morning rush seems to override any lingering uncertainties.

You stretched your arms out wide, movements fluid and graceful, as a yawn escaped your lips. Fatigue lingered beneath the surface, evident in the slight droop of your eyelids and the darkened circles barely visible beneath your eyes. A testament to your restless night of sleep, body aching from the intensity of the “bath” you shared with Katsuki.

You offered Izuku a small, tired smile as you spoke, voice carrying a soft, lingering weariness. "I'm going to get the quiches ready in the other oven," you said with sleepy determination.

A moment later, as you set about your task, Izuku's acute senses detected a faint scent of burning sugar, tickling the edges of his nostrils. His eyes immediately darted towards the ovens, but upon closer inspection, he realized that the raspberry croissants had only just begun baking, their doughy forms barely touched by the heat. He dismissed the fleeting scent, assuring himself that it must have been a mere figment of his imagination.

Silently observing you moved past him, Izuku's gaze lingered on the circles under your eyes, a telltale sign of exhaustion and a restless sleep. Concern flickered in his emerald gaze, a twinge of protectiveness already tugging at his chest. He silently resolved to ensure that in time you understood that he was there for your well-being, even if you remained blissfully unaware of his true intentions.

Taking it upon himself to ease your tiredness, Izuku moved with a flurry of efficiency at the tea counter. His fingers gracefully danced across the array of tea leaves, their aroma filling the air, selecting his own special blend to help ease your weary spirit. His movements were precise and purposeful, a silent gesture of care for the woman who stood just a few feet away. You vaguely heard the clink of one of the kettles, as he prepared a cup colored with your favorite hue.

You carefully closed the door of the oven, the final quiche now tucked away to bake to golden perfection. You wiped your hands on your apron, turning around just as Izuku walked over, cradling a cup of tea in his large hands. Leaning against the kitchen island, your tired eyes blinked back the haze of exhaustion, momentarily jolted back to alertness as Izuku approached.

“This the seasonal energy tea blend?” Your gaze drifted down to the cup, its colorful pattern a perfect match to your favorite shade. You paused for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing your features, but quickly brushed off the coincidence. After all, how could the new guy know such a personal detail? Thanking Izuku with a sweet smile, you accepted the cup and immediately felt the relaxing warmth it radiated.

The steam rose in ethereal tendrils, almost imperceptible in the dim light that filtered through the skylight overhead. Your eyes followed the wisps up towards the still dark pink sunrise through the window, their graceful dance capturing your attention briefly before you brought the cup to your lips.

With each passing second, Izuku's senses were assailed by that same faint smell that evoked a sense of ...smoke? His brows furrowed ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. It lingered in the air, a faint odor that didn't align with the barely warm food in the oven. Izuku couldn't have known it was due to Katsuki, your territorial roommate, his pheromones carrying a note of smoldering embers. The scent itself evoked a strong dislike within Izuku, as his attention to detail in the pastry-making artistry made even the slightest indication of burning a source of disdain. Izuku swept over the kitchen, muttering to himself, trying to locate the source of the offensive smell.

As your finished the last sip of the steaming tea, a wave of warmth washed over you, permeating your body from the inside out. The autumn morning chill retreated, replaced by a comforting sensation that wrapped around you like a cozy blanket. The embrace of the herbal infusion wove its soothing spell, making you feel pleasantly drowsy in the brisk kitchen.

"I'm thinking this new morning tea is a miss" you muttered as you glared half-heartedly at the leaf dregs of the delicious brew. The aching fatigue that had clung to you began to dissipate, replaced by a gentle drowsiness that weighed down your eyelids. A yawn escaped your lips, body responding to the tea's intended purpose. Izuku stepped close, closer than necessary, as he reached out to take the empty tea cup from your hand.

You held out the cup, your hand hovering in the air as Izuku moved closer. But it's in that moment, as Izuku inhaled the lingering scent, nose giving a small twitch, that his gaze narrowed with a sudden intensity. Your drowsy mind failed to register the glare of his emerald eyes, an indication of something more than casual curiosity.

"Why...do you smell like you fell in a damn bonfire?" Izuku's words carried a sharpness, a demand rather than mere inquiry. They sliced through the air, hanging there with a weight that is impossible to ignore. His voice had cut through the air with an uncharacteristic edge, void of the easygoing nature she had come to associate with the coworker facade he portrayed.

Your heart skipped a beat, embarrassment flooding your features as Izuku's question settled in. You were stunned for a moment, the truth of the situation hanging heavily on your heart. Of course, you realized, Izuku's hybrid senses would pick up the scent left behind by Katsuki last night. How could you forget?

Scratches, cum, and pheromones laid on you the night before when Katsuki sensed Izuku's touch from when he thanked you during training. His possessiveness in the bath had been clear, his words a promise of violence should Izuku dare to lay a hand on you again.

A knot formed in the pit of your stomach as embarrassment filled your voice, intertwining with a shard of defiance. "I...uh...had a bit of a disagreement with my room mate last night," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "But it's nothing to worry about, really."

Your admission threatened to tip the scales of the delicate equilibrium. Whether or not you were fully aware, the territorial boundaries have already been drawn between the territorial tiger and the love-mad hare. The situation a powder keg waiting to ignite, and Izuku the bastard he is, was going to make sure it blew up in the face of this “room mate” of yours.

Izuku's large hands swiftly found their place on your hips, his touch firm yet careful. In one fluid motion, he effortlessly lifted you clean off your feet and placed you onto the island counter. The contrast in your heights is stark, you find yourself still having to tilt your chin to look up in shock at Izuku. His long ears twitched with barely restrained irritation.

As Izuku's nose scrunched involuntarily, a mix of emotions surged within him. The scent of Katsuki, with its notes of cayenne, brown caramel, and smoldering embers, emanated from you like a provocative challenge even without a claim on your neck. To Izuku, it reeked like burnt sugar, an acrid aroma that didn't deserve a place within the confines of his shops.

His possessive instincts kicked into overdrive, an unwavering determination surging through his veins. He leaned down, his breath warm against the soft skin of your neck, his voice dropping to a low, firm tone. "You know," he began, his voice carrying a velvety cadence. "we can't have you smelling like that. It doesn't suit you, and it definitely doesn't suit this cafe."

“After all, who wants to eat in a smoky bakery?” Izuku finished as he knelt with calculated grace, his strong, muscular frame shifting closer to your exposed thighs. As he positioned himself between your parted legs, Izuku's eyes lock onto yours. In the short time you've known him, Izuku's eyes have never seemed this intense, brimming with an unwavering determination to claim you as his, to erase any trace of Katsuki's scent and replace it with his own. Your breath hitched softly, eyes widening at the audacity of Izuku's actions. Looking down at the fierce Flemish Giant between your thighs, you weren't sure you really wanted him to stop, consequences be damned.

Leaning back against the cold counter top, you let out a soft gasp as Izuku's lips met the inside of your knee. The contrast between the cool stone and the warmth of his mouth adds to the growing pleasure that courses through your body.

As Izuku's lips continued their path up your thigh, he deftly moved your cute underwear down your trembling legs. a shiver ran down your spine as the cold morning air kissed your exposed folds. The delicate material glided lower, clinging momentarily to your thighs before slipping over your uniform shoes.

Izuku's emerald eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he took a moment to appreciate the shade of green of the fabric. You're already wearing his color, he couldn't have planned it better himself. With a small grin against your soft skin, he quickly tucked your panties into his pocket, claiming another piece of you for himself while he distracted you with kisses and nips along your thigh.

Izuku's chuckle had a dark edge to it, tinged with an unmistakable sense of triumph as Katsuki's scent gradually began to dissipate. Your slick hole starting to carry the familiar fragrance of your usual jasmine, proof of Izuku's determined assertion of dominance over any traces of his new rival's presence.

With a deliberate and confident movement, Izuku pushed the bottom of your thighs up, hooking your ankles over his broad shoulders and positioning himself between your legs. His biceps barely flexed as his large tan hands gently scooted your hips closer to the edge of the counter, granting him better access to your tantalizingly wet pussy. The shadowy figures of your bodies blended together in the dark kitchen, the only source of light being the faint glow of the dark pink sunrise streaming through the skylight above. The faint rays of the sunrise dance across Izuku's face, highlighting his handsome features and the determination in his emerald green eyes.

Izuku's lips found their way to your tender slit, his tongue gently flicking and teasing your hooded pearl. The expert motions and the expert blend of pleasure and pressure elicited from his mouth heightened the sensations coursing through your body, intensifying your pleasure with each passing moment. Your taste was intoxicating to him, driving his desire further, as if he can't get enough.

Then again, he always did have a sweet tooth.

As his tongue hungrily slipped inside your aching cunt, suddenly the weight of Izuku's actions broke through the sleepy haze. Your mind flashed back to the conversation you had with Katsuki the night before, a warning that now echoed in your head. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, "My room mate is gonna be pissed.” You groaned into your hands. The memory of Katsuki's threat looms in the back of your mind, a promise of violence should Izuku dare to lay a hand on you again.

Izuku lifted his gaze, a mischievous grin spreading across slick lips, as he locked eyes with you. His rabbit ears moved, playfully expressing his amusement. "Oh? And what is your room mate gonna do?" he retorted, a playful challenge in his voice. Without a hint of hesitation, he dives back down, his lips and tongue resuming their intoxicating dance against your sensitive folds and clit . He seemed completely unfazed by the threat, his confidence unyielding, a trait born of his secret life.

Even though the haze of pleasure, you hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether you should reveal the full extent of Katsuki's threat. Reluctantly, you gave in, letting the words slip out before your pleasure-addled brain could catch up. "He said he was gonna 'put you in the ground'," you admitted, lust thick voice tinged with a hint of unease.

Izuku's grip on your hips tightened, his possessive desire flaring again within him. The threat of violence from Katsuki barely registers as a deterrent. With a sinister glimmer in his eyes, Izuku responded, his voice laced with barely-contained excitement. "Is that so?" he murmured darkly, relishing the challenge "Let him try, I don't see a claim on your pretty neck." Without wasting another moment, Izuku went back to work, his mouth and tongue working diligently to replace any remnant of Katsuki's presence.

Feeling a sudden surge of mixed emotions—fear, excitement, desire—your hands had a mind of their own as they reached down lightly grazing over the soft, velvety texture of Izuku's rabbit ears. They quivered beneath your touch, responding to your exploration with an almost eager sensitivity.

As your fingers tangled in his forest green locks, you felt the warmth of Izuku's growl vibrating against your sensitive pussy, an intimate sound that resonated deep within you. The way his growl reverberated against your heated core sent shivers down your spine, making your swollen clit ache with need.

Izuku's mouth continued its relentless assault on your dripping cunt, his agile tongue expertly explored every hidden crevice, every secret fold, as if he was committing your every contour to memory. Each breathless moan that escaped your lips fueled Izuku's frenzy further.

For a moment, the tension in the air feels electric, a heightened awareness of the forbidden nature of your encounter. Despite the threat hanging over Izuku's head, he had explosive pleasure coursing through your body, casting an intoxicating spell over both of you. It's a dangerous game you've walked into, driven by the irresistible magnetism that seems to resonate between you and the hybrids in your life. The world around you seemed to fade away, the though of any brewing storm quickly silenced by the chorus of your erratic breaths and the wet sounds of Izuku's devouring lips.

With each passing moment, Izuku's own arousal became more apparent, his throbbing erection pressing insistently against the fabric of his pants, boxers already growing slippery with precum. The sheer desire in his eyes lit up the dim space, reflecting the hunger growing inside, as his tongue continued its wicked exploration.

As the sensations kept building, Izuku's nibbles along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs grew insistent, his teeth grazing your tender folds with just the right amount of pressure to send waves of tingling pleasure coursing through your veins. Each nip sends surges of electricity shooting up your spine, heightening your already stimulated state.

With a final, gentle nip, Izuku's attention returned to your swollen clit, his talented mouth engulfing it entirely, his tongue milking the pleasure from your body with a hunger born of his obsessive adoration.

The cold surface of the kitchen counter beneath you contrasted sharply with the scorching heat that consumed your being. It further intensified the sensations, making your body arch uncontrollably, craving more of Izuku's skilled tongue and the delicious friction against your dripping slit. As Izuku continued his tantalizing assault, a whirlwind of pleasure tore through you. Every touch, every lick, is electrifying, driving you to the edge of sanity and euphoria.

Your body responded instinctively to Izuku's ministrations, muscles tightening, drawing you closer to the precipice of your first orgasm. The familiar coil of ecstasy grew within, winding tighter with each flick of his tongue and gentle suction against your throbbing clit.

And then it happened—your climax hit you with an intensity that knocked the air out of your lungs. It crashed over you like a tidal wave, shattering any composure you still had and leaving you breathless and trembling. Your body quaked, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, drowning out rational thought.

As the echoes of your orgasm still shook you, Izuku didn't let up. His mouth continued to work its magic, prolonging the throes of your pleasure, drawing out every last drop of intoxication from your trembling body. The sensations are almost too much to bear, your mind spiraling in a haze of ecstasy as he licked you dry.

“Do I still reek?” Voice trembling, as you questioned whether the lingering scent of burnt caramel still clung to the air. But Izuku, always perceptive, noted the shift in your aroma, the return of your usual sweet jasmine-like scent. A return that happened a little too quickly for his oral fixation, to be quite honest.

A devious gleam danced in Izuku's emerald eyes as he listened to your words. He leaned back slightly on his knees, his chest rising and falling with his own ragged breaths. "Oh. Sorry, you still smell burnt," he lied with ease, a feigned apologetic smile playing at the corners of his lips. In this moment, he reveled in the idea of indulging his sweet tooth on the object of his obsession- You.

What was another white lie in the grand scheme of things?

Before you could respond, overcome with desire, Izuku plunged back down between your trembling thighs. The sudden latch to your swollen bead caused you to buck against the cold counter, your fingers instinctively tightening around the curls at the base of Izuku's rabbit ears, holding on for dear life. A sharp twinge of over-sensitivity mingles with the persistent pleasure, adding another layer to the overwhelming sensations.

Nose pressed against your mound, Izuku's tongue delved deep, searching for every trace of their intoxicating cum. His mouth moved with a fevered rhythm, his ministrations calculated and purposeful. His tongue speared through your slick folds, flicking and teasing as if he planned to consume every intimate drop. He couldn't get enough of your taste.

Meanwhile, your body danced on the edge of ecstasy once again. The contrasting sensations of pleasure and sensitivity, sent electric currents shooting through every nerve. With each movement of Izuku's skilled tongue, your hips involuntarily bucked and writhed, seeking more of that delicious contact.

As you came a second time, a loud cry escaped your lips, reverberating through the dimly lit space. The intensity of the sensation threatened to overwhelm you, nerves tingling with each tantalizing touch of his skilled tongue.

Izuku's own desire burned hot within him, waiting to be unleashed. Amidst your writhing against his face, Izuku's hips involuntarily jerked forward, another surge of precum staining his boxers. The feeling of the slick fabric against the head of his dick only served to increase his hunger for you.

As your thighs instinctively attempted to clamp shut around Izuku's head in a desperate bid to shield your oversensitive clit, his arms flexed, exerting a near herculean strength to keep them in place. With your back arched and thighs trembling in his hands, you were entirely at Izuku's mercy. It was just easier to surrender to the Flemish Giant's powerful hold rather than fight his iron grip.

Izuku's movements remained unyielding, a relentless pace that threatened to push you past the limits of pleasure and into the realm of cumdrunk ecstasy. In all honesty however, Izuku's own need fueled his actions, his tongue dancing deftly, exploring every hidden crevice with fervor. Maybe he was the cumdrunk one at this point.

“T-too sensitive 'Zuku” your plea for him to let up fell on deaf ears as Izuku wickedly ignored your words, except for the cute way you whimpered his name. Izuku could listen to you stuttering his first name in pleasure for the rest of his life. He took pleasure in pushing you to your limits, eager to indulge in his own selfish desires without hesitation. He had waited so long for this moment, he was going to get his fill. Or at least enough to satiate him while he made his claim.

"You can handle cumming for me again," Izuku insisted, his voice filled with dark adoration as he denied you mercy, before plunging back between your folds. Fuck, he loved you clamping down on his tongue like this, he only hoped you could handle all of him.

Your body quivered in response, overwhelmed by the heightened sensitivity of the onslaught on your swollen clit. Izuku's unwavering focus and iron grip left no room for escape or mercy. His tongue pressed skillfully, teasing and taunting your most sensitive spots, delving in with fervor and purpose. The taste of you, the intoxicating flavor that mingled with your heavenly musk, is like a drug to him, an addiction that drove him deeper into his feral desires.

Your body squirmed uncontrollably, overcome by the unbearable pleasure Izuku exerted on you. Every gentle nip and forceful suck sends you writhing. In desperation, your hands find solace in reaching the base of Izuku's rabbit ears, gently tugging with an almost desperate plea. Too much..!

But far from slowing down Izuku, the sensations of your tender grip on his ears only served to fuel his primal instincts. It's as if the touch of your shaky hands ignited a feral fire within him, intensifying the frenzied pace of his ministrations. His own need reached a fever pitch, his tongue dancing with an even more voracious appetite, ravishing every inch of your cunt.

Your body reacted uncontrollably to the overwhelming sensations, saliva escaping your lips as you moaned and whimpered in a haze of pleasure. Your legs twitching and trembling, but Izuku's firm grip prevented you from dislodging him, keeping you at his mercy.

The sound of Izuku eating out your soaked cunt echoed within the otherwise empty café kitchen, the lewd noises amplified by the decorated tiles. Your grip on the base of Izuku's furry ears tightened, desperation evident as you sought an anchor to ground herself amidst the waves of pleasure forced on you.

Driven by his feral determination, Izuku continued to devour you with a relentless pace. His imposing length now popping up and over the band of his slick boxers, yearned for release. As your squirms and whimpers grew more unrestrained, your body teetered on the edge of a precipice, ready to crash to a blinding climax.

As Izuku forced a third orgasm from your bullied clit, your vision faded into a hazy whiteness, the sheer intensity of the pleasure causing your consciousness to spiral into a realm of overwhelming ecstasy. Your mind became consumed by a kaleidoscope of sensations, blurring the boundaries of pleasure and reality. Your entire being is overwhelmed by the whiteout, a surge of ecstasy that drowns out all other thoughts and sensations.

You remained lost in your own world of ecstasy, mind blissfully blank by the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through your veins. In the midst of the pleasure-induced haze, you barely registered Izuku standing to his full height pushing 7 feet, his uniform khakis and boxers shifted low on his chiseled hips. His imposing figure cast a shadow over your flushed form. He reveled in the sight of your face caught in the throes of your cumdrunk daze, body trembling and clearly craving further gratification.

Who was he to deny you?

With another shift of fabric, Izuku's thick cock sprung forth, liberated from its confines, hardened and throbbing. His erection stood tall despite it's weight, demanding attention, the embodiment of Izuku's primal nature. Flemish Giants are big in, well, every way. If your mind wasn't completely blank right now, you'd probably be worried about how the monstrous girth could fit in you. A concern Izuku clearly didn't have.

With an unquenchable desire driving him, Izuku moved between your quivering thighs, positioning himself to align with your sopping entrance still twitching from your last orgasm. The immense size of his swollen cock head presented a challenge for your tight and unprepared opening. Your poor pussy's struggle to accommodate Izuku's massive girth sent shockwaves through both of your bodies, setting the stage for the battle between resistance and persistence. Don't worry, he'll make sure he fits.

The first few frantic and desperate tries by Izuku only drew a frustrated growl from the large hybrid. Your body strained to accommodate the overwhelming size of Izuku's cock, your senses overloaded with both pleasure and over sensitivity. But with a slick pop, the tip of Izuku's engorged member finally breached your entrance, forcing its way inside.

You remained blissfully lost in a euphoric haze, your body intertwined with Izuku's as he leaned over you. The cafe's dim lighting from the sunrise cast gentle shadows across the kitchen, highlighting Izuku's disheveled green curls and the captivating glow of his emerald eyes, resembling one of the rabbits forged from swirling shadows on the mural that adorns the wall.

Leaning over you, Izuku's dominant side asserts itself, swiftly pressing your knees up towards your shoulders. Applying pressure to open them wider, he exposed every inch of your quivering slit spread tight around the head of his dick. With a growl of determination, Izuku bullied his way further inside your depths, his larger size causing a twinge of pain as he stretched you to your limit to accommodate him. Your body struggled with the difference between him and Katsuki.

The sheer size of Izuku's cock, larger than even your room mate's, brings a mixture of pleasure and ache to your sensitized cunt. While Katsuki's barbs had their own unique sting, the contrast in size between him and the rabbit currently using you like a fucktoy induced new levels of soreness and bliss.

Izuku thinks he may have found heaven when he finally breaks in your pussy enough for his monstrous dick to bottom out against your cervix. Undeterred by your cunt's struggle, Izuku sets a rapid rabbit pace, his thrusts forceful and demanding.

The sound of their intertwining bodies filled the room, the wet slapping of Izuku's balls against your ass creating a rhythm that added to the sound of their escalating pleasure. Despite the stinging stretch, you remained freely vocal, too lost in your bliss to be concerned about anything else. Izuku's moans and your cries filled the air, adding to the sinful symphony.

As Izuku's large muscles flexed, his grip on the counter edge on either side of your head tightened, seeking leverage to thrust even more deeply. His forearms came to rest on the cold surface. Your knees were pinned again Izuku's chest, as each of his motions rocked your body forcefully against the stone counter of the kitchen island.

As Izuku continued his relentless pace, his large muscles flexing with each powerful thrust, his emerald eyes shone with feral bliss. Soft forest green ears were pinned back against his curls, a clear sign of his animalistic desire taking hold. Noticing your slightly pained fucked-out expression, Izuku found a sort of sadistic glee in your reactions. He couldn't help but revel in the sense of superiority it gave him.

No fucking way that crispy room mate of yours has ever filled you like this before.

"Aw, am I too big? Does it sting?" Izuku crooned huskily in your ear, voice filled with a twisted sense of satisfaction. "Fuck..! Taking me like such a good little pet- I knew you could handle it.” Even if his love is tainted by selfish obsession, he takes genuine pride in your resilience. Not everyone could take his bitch breaking girth the first time. Or at all.

You could only offer a weak nod in response to what little you catch of his words. Your walls clung to his thick length, the stretch more than you've ever experienced before. Yet, your blissed-out state allowed you to push through the discomfort of having your guts rearranged, exchanging it for a facet of ecstasy that only Izuku could provide. You were intoxicated.

The grip of your walls around his pulsing member further fueled his desire, his relentless pace never faltering. Your pussy clung desperately to his too thick cock, the force of each slam eliciting a a ragged gasp as he bottomed out against your cervix. His intense gaze locks onto your dilated eyes, drinking in every nuance of your cumdrunk expressions as you submitted to him completely.

For Izuku, this moment is the culmination of his desires since the moment you were hired at one of his coffee shops. His obsessive desire for you have driven him to go to great lengths, even "hiring" himself as a barista to get close to you. Now, his darkest desires are being fulfilled, the mate he craves finally within his grasp.

Fuck, he wasn't going to last much longer with you looking past him all fucked-out like that.

Intense pleasure coursing through your veins, you were overcome by the sensory overload of cumming again. Saliva escaped your parted lips, a shiny trail down the side of your chin. Your moans and whimpers intermingled with the wet, lewd sounds of your boss' thrusts into you, heavy balls accentuating squelches with quick slaps against your ass. Your gushing cunt walls attempted to tighten around Izuku's massive member with some success as you reached one last mind shattering orgasm. Your trembling pussy clamped down as best it could, Izuku thrusting all the while.

As he reached his own tipping point, Izuku's rabbit ears stood straight up, a visible sign of his peaking pleasure. “S-shit” He whined, your tight cunt was strangling his cock, causing his foot to bounce uncontrollably as he thrust as fast as possible. Each slam was met with the rhythmic spasming of your walls, clenching onto his too thick length with a desperate intensity. The sensation of your pussy clinging to his dick on every exiting pull, and the feel of his mushroom tip slamming against your cervix, was too much for Izuku. Driven by his unbridled desire, Izuku maintained his rabbit-like pace until the end, unable to resist the sweet agony of the tight vice that surrounded him.

With a deep groan of satisfaction, Izuku succumbed to the milking motion of your tight ring of muscles. The tip of his cock became engorged and sensitive, the pressure pushing him over the edge, the slit gushing forth with his warm cum. Pumping spurt after spurt, Izuku filled your womb with his seed, the pulsing sensation mixing with the raw pleasure that coursed through you both. One of his fuzzy ears cocked to the side, a visual display of the euphoria that engulfed him.

As with most rabbit hybrids, Izuku momentarily leaned all his weight on your pinned legs and his forearms, his body collapsing with the intensity of his climax. Your cunt walls stretched tight around his member still milked and clenched, coaxing every drop of his essence from within him. Overwhelmed by the influx of cum you could only moan brokenly in bliss, your consciousness long faded away during your last orgasm.

In the aftermath of your shared climax, Izuku remained trembling and breathless over your spent body, his emerald eyes still gleaming with a primal intensity, as he nuzzled your hair. The cafe was filled with the scent of your combined arousal, a poignant reminder of the powerful connection. A perfect mix of pine needles, yuzu zest and jasmine blossoms in the smug Izuku's opinion.

Much better than that burnt sugar bastard's stench.

Izuku needs a few tries to withdraw from your clasping cunt, before the head of his dick pops free of your pubic ridge with a final jerk of his hips. He hissed in oversensitive pleasure at the sensation of pulling free of your quim. Geez, were all humans this small on the inside? He wondered as his cum began to gush out of you. Izuku's viscous seed quickly flowed down your folds, trailing onto the cold counter top before beginning to drip onto the floor. He could definitely get used to that image. “You should get some rest” Izuku smugly beamed down at you before planting a soft kiss on your forehead, your lids heavy with fatigue. You could hardly fight the chemicals, both natural and otherwise at this point, from pulling you into slumber, and soon you lost the battle. He smiled as he heard your breathing even out, asleep.

Izuku's tea, and it's added ingredient, had taken longer to take effect than he expected. When he saw how exhausted you were, he had just intended for you to nap through your shift. Cuddle with your unconscious form under a cozy blanket in the autumn afternoon during his lunch hour, maybe. Izuku was so glad he'd been given enough time make you cry his name so prettily before you slipped into sleep.

In comparison to this morning, you looked so serene and relaxed, even after your intense encounter. Izuku leaned over you, his forearms resting on the cold stone, nuzzling your hair tenderly. His nose twitched, catching your mingled scents again, making his rabbit ears flick with delight. Izuku, hidden behind his gentle facade once again, wished he had “hired” himself sooner. He could have felt you shuddering around him months ago, but he vowed to make up for lost time now that you were already spreading yourself for him on his kitchen counter.

With gentle care, Izuku's muscular frame picked up your sleeping body from the kitchen counter. He cradled in his arms with a protective tenderness, mindful not to jostle you from slumber. He carried down the hall to the employee room across from the office, where a comfy jade couch awaited, a place for you to rest while he tended to the café.

As Izuku lay you down on the couch, your sleepy form stirred and before turning over with a yawn. Izuku would have stayed there, with his forehead against yours, all day. However, as the sunrise streamed through the kitchen skylight, Izuku became aware of just how late in the morning it was. With the sun coming up, he only had a few minutes until the coffee shop opened. He watched over you for a moment more, ensuring you were comfortably tucked into a cushy blanket, before he turned his attention to the café.

After all, as the owner of the 'Lunar Rabbit' chain, Izuku had responsibilities to fulfill.

Izuku is gonna be mad when he realizes he left the pastries in the oven, but raspberry croutons are a small price to pay in the long run.

Comments and Reblogs make a difference!

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Imagines

insolitus | yjw.

pairings: yang jungwon x reader

synopsis: you’ve always thought jungwon is out of this world, out of ordinary. he’s someone who seems familiar but at the same time mysterious for almost everybody. you didn’t expect that he himself will unfold more of him with you and it was an insolitus experience.

word counts: 2k

warnings: yandere themes, mention of murder, violence, obsessive love, grammatical errors. (let me know if i missed some)

note: this have a part two. it was not yet ready to be released, but since some anons kept telling me to stop writing then they leave me no choice but to post something. ehe. anyway, i will fix this probably tomorrow since it doesn’t have a picture for this fic. send me asks about what you think about this. love reading your comments and replies. i love you all, please keep safe.

© eeunoia 2024 — all rights reserved.

The whole room was quiet. You might think that it was vacant, but there are two persons inside. The defeaning silence almost suffocate the officer sitting at one of the chairs. He sighs trying to lift whatever that heavy feeling he’s having ever since he entered this room.

The bright light gives a full view of the face of 17 year old, Yang Jungwon. At first look he seems to be like a normal guy, but for some reasons Officer Nam gets some odd feeling from this boy.

He draws in a sigh then taps lightly over the table while his other hand grips tightly at the folder he was holding. His eyes darted at the boy whose head hangs low at the moment and hands resting over his lap.

Despite the soft looking face, the officer couldn’t help but to feel chills while looking over his blood stained school uniform. He even have some over his face that already turned into brownish color after drying up over time.

“Okay, let me ask you again.” Office Nam cleared his throat and leaned over the table, the only thing that keeping them apart.

“I already told you, I don’t know who did it or what happened to him.” Jungwon says in a low tone, sticking to the words he said the first time they asked him.

“The blood on your shirt—” he raises his head and his brows folds in a remorseful way.

“I told y-you Sir, I found him and tried to help! His blood got all over me because of that.” Jungwon explains and he looked very convincing. The words he mutters are acceptable, but his eyes looked so blank. The police officer couldn’t point out what’s wrong, but his eyes looked so emotionless.

He kept his lips pursed into a thin line and stared at him straight to his eyes. Usually, kids his age will be in panic and can even broke into tears specially after being involve in a very serious crime. But he is different. Yang Jungwon, despite having the look of remorse and worries—makes him feel very wary. Its very unsettling.

He shuts his eyes for a while then sighs. “Okay, let’s say what you’re saying are true. But we still can’t let you go because you are our only lead to solve this crime.”

He doesn’t exactly know what he expects to happen next, but nothing prepares him for what’s about to unfold in front of him.

“So annoying.” the boy muttered lowly but enough for the officer to hear.

“Excuse me?” he asks just to make sure he heard him right.

From looking so uneasy and worried, Jungwon raises his head then leans his back comfortably over the chair. His forehead relaxed causing for the crease on it to disappear. He tilt his head while staring deadly straight to the police officer.

Shivers came rushing through the police officer’s whole body.

“I did it.” he said it so naturally. Like confessing from stealing a candy.

The corner of his lips lifts up a bit, “I killed him.” he confessed that made the officer sick in the stomach.

His heart felt like it stopped beating, cold sweats showers him and his hand froze at the sudden confession from the boy. He couldn’t properly express his own emotions because of the utter shock. He doesn’t know if it was from how the boy says those horrifying words so naturally or how he doesn’t look even bothered about it that made him like this.

It made the officer think if he’s aware of the crime he just committed. The lack of remorse and guilt are evident through his eyes. Its almost impossible to believe.

“You want to know how I did it?” he licked his lower lip and slightly straighten his back. “I grabbed a bottle and broke it. I used the sharp edges to stab him on his stomach, heart and neck.” he says and a sinister smile made it to his lips.

He leans closer, “And I repeat it again and again and again. Until he basically stopped breathing and died.” he even gave a shoulder shrug and rested his back again on the chair.

“W-Why...” the officer’s lips shakes as he stutter through his own words.

“I just want to.” Jungwon smiles as his eyes still looked dead.

Countless criminals with such horrible crimes had confessed inside this office. But this is the very first time that one actually scared and made Mr. Nam tremble in fear.

Despite all of these, he tried to gather his thoughts and composed himself. His hand slowly went down near his gun, preparing himself to anything that can happen.

“Do you know w-what consequences awaits for you because of what you did?”

Jungwon shrugs his shoulder off. “Yeah, I’m not stupid.”

The way he say every words confidently just makes the atmosphere even heavier. Normally they should be begging to take it easy on them or pleading not guilty for the crime they’re being accounted for.

But this kid...

“You can be jailed.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes you are a minor, but you can still serve juvenile for a few years before we can transfer you to an actual prison.” his jaw clenches together with his fist, trying to make himself look stronger. Well he has to. He’s way older than him, have more built and training. He’s also the adult inside the room so if anything, he should have the upper hand between them, right?

“Oh really?” his tone sounded so monotonous like as if it was the most boring thing he had ever heard that day.

Even before the officer can utter another word, the door to the interrogation room bursted open then revealed a man wearing a neatly ironed suit while carrying a suit case.

Officer Nam’s forehead furrowed hardly and he was about to tell them to go out as he's in the middle of a very confidential case only to be caught off guard.

He starts to wonder why this man is standing there and behind him is their Chief of Police following him like a loyal dog.

The boy didn’t even bothered looking at the newly arrived people. He rolled his eyes looking so bored and tired of this place.

“What do you think my father will feel when he knew I was here for two hours?” Jungwon asks the man that just arrived. His eyes looked dead and bored, tone serious and cold before he slowly stood up from his sit.

His aura was totally different. It was like Jungwon is a scared sheep a while ago that he used to look after, asking him what happened and so on so fort. Then suddenly that very same sheep tears off his sheep skin and revealed his true self. A fox. A predator.

Officer Nam snapped back to his senses and it took him time to realize what’s going on. His shoulder fell along with the hope to serve justice when he looked at one of the greatest lawyers in South Korea bowing at Yang Jungwon like he was so sorry for letting him stay in this interrogation room for too long.

Jungwon smirks looked so sly as he walks away from that room, the Chief even made way and apologizes for the hold. The young boy strides the police station’s hallway like a free man oozing with nothing but pride and power. Like as if he didn’t just do something horrible. As if he didn’t just killed somebody.

“Nam, we need to talk.” their Chief Officer says in a very strict tone while he closes the door behind his back.

Officer Nam kept his mouth shut and tries hard to keep his composure. His jaw clenches along with his fists under the table and his thoughts starts to wander mindlessly.

He doesn’t even need to hear what their Chief officer was about to discuss with him. He’s already aware of it. At this point, all there left is to surrender and just force himself to turn blind eye to this injustice.

After-all, he is nothing up against the Governor’s youngest son, Yang Jungwon.

They said that out of the hundred people you walk across the world, at least 1 of them are a psychopath. They can blend into the society naturally like they’re truly part of it. Like they’re totally normal and not thinking of unaliving someone in the worst way all the time.

Now, to identify that small percentage of the population started to become totally difficult. You can never know which one of the people you interact with are part of them. It can be your neighbor who greets you with big smiles every morning, it can be the traffic officer who helps you cross the street, the taxi driver, the guard by the gates of your school, your teacher or your classmates.

But never in a million chances that you will think that it can be Yang Jungwon. There is no way someone as sweet and perfect as Jungwon can be part of them. No, never. He’s undeniably handsome, from a good family, polite, responsible—president of the student council, top of your class, kind, athletic, talented, have dimples and always talks in the sweetes softest way. If one will have to point someone who is an epitome of an angel, he can be that.

So why are you inside this dark room, cuffed to a steel bar, face drenched with sweat and tears and totally scared for your life after being kidnapped by him? By Yang Jungwon.

You completely blanked out from the series of events that just occured hours ago. You remembered being with (name), arguing about how he’s so controlling and tiring for you. He was shouting at you and grabbing you over your wrist. You are expecting a slap or your hair being pulled by him, but the next thing you knew, he was down on the floor showering over his own blood. Yang Jungwon stands beside you, staring blankly at him while holding a broken bottle he just used to stab your boyfriend to death.

And the moment it finally dawned onto you, you tried to run away from him. It was too late. Jungwon manages to catch you and covered your mouth with this cloth that made you lose consciousness.

A faint creeking sound from the door made you snap back to reality. Your head perks up, eyes a little bit hopeful while heart still beats in an inconsistent pace.

“H-Help.” you tried to say, slightly choking your words because of the shock you’ve just been to.

Lights emits when it cracks open causing for you to squint your eyes slightly. The moment you saw who it was, you gulped and the corner of your eyes burns. Chest rises up and down, feeling suffocated out of fear.

Yang Jungwon stood proudly by the door. The light blue uniform coat was too familiar for you as it was what boys in your school wears almost everyday. He stares without saying anything before he slightly moves his shoulder to take off his blood stained coat.

The person beside him was quick to assist him.

“Did she eat already?” he asks casually, eyes still darted at your direction.

You trembles in fear and stares away from time to time, couldn’t really hold the eye contact longer than five seconds.

“No, young master.”

He rolls his eyes as he looked over the person beside him. Fear reflects his face as he bow his head nervously. Jungwon kept his eyes at him before he sighs and tilts his head to the side. You can almost hear that person’s sigh of relief when Jungwon started walking towards your way.

Fear flows through your system like a water as you try to push yourself near the wall, away from him. When he’s close enough, he crouches down and scanned you from head to toe.

Jungwon could not explain how excited he is as he stare at you. He couldn’t help but to let a small smile shed over his pretty lips, satisfied.

“Tell me this isn’t a dream.” he mumbles, only enough for you to hear. Tears pooled your eyes and they flow continuously to your pretty face.

Jungwon pursed his lips and stretches his hand closer to you. He gently cupped your face and using his thumb, he wiped off your tears. Despite the soft touches he gradually give you, it made you flinch but Jungwon tries to ignore it for the mean time. For now, he still couldn’t handle the thrill of having you here together with him.

“My pretty girl.” he whispers with so much adoration, eyes almost flashing heart shapes as he stares at you.

“Even if you’re crying, you are still gorgeous.” he added that made you feel sick in the stomach.

“D-Don’t touch me.” you finally manages to say as you move your face away from his touch. The smile on Jungwon’s lips fell and his eyes turned dark after what you did.

It quickly sent shivers through your spine, but you try your best not to let him see how terrified you are to him.

As he carefully scan you, he noticed how your body is shaking and his mood switches right away. Its quite fascinating even for you.

“You’re shaking, baby. Are you cold?” he asks sounding so gentle. It was almost like the same Jungwon you see around campus. It was unbelievable.

“Here,” he says after someone handed him a blanket.

He slowly helped you to wrap it over your shoulder. Suddenly, the hunger and the tiredness from resisting for hours kicked in. You have no remaining energy to even resist anymore or to even shove his hand away. Jungwon gets too excited when you let him take care of you. Its not like you have a choice.

“You’re a m-murderer.” it almost came out as a mumble, but when he stops from gently caressing your arm you knew he heard it. He looked at you and you didn’t saw any guilt. None.

“Do you hate me?” he raised his hand from holding your arm to touching your face, he cares it so gently again like you’re a very fragile thing for him.

You kept your mouth shut and just shoot him glares while tears stream down your eyes.

“He’s a terrible boyfriend anyway. He hurts you and he’s so lame.” his eyes follows a tear that escaped your eye and he went to wipe it again.

“Don’t waste your tears for him. I actually did you a favor.” and he brushes hairs stuck at your skin.

“B-By killing him?”

Jungwon pursed his lips and memory of your boyfriend screaming out of pain flashes through him for a while. He almost rolled his eyes at how pathetic he sounded a while ago, but he stopped himself.

“He doesn’t deserve you and so I thought you could use a new boyfriend.” he clenches his jaw and while holding an eye contact, he leans in and placed a soft kiss at your shoulderblades.

He almost lose his mind when he inhaled your familiar scent. The very same scent he grew addicted to. Now, he doesn’t have to settle on watching you from a far and trying to use every reasons he can use just to have a small talk with you. Now, you are here with him and you belong to him. He couldn’t be happier.

You shut your eyes and shake your head slowly, whimpering.

“P-Please just let me g-go.” your voice cracks from screaming and crying too much.

“Don’t worry, I will.” he smiled and you looked at him hopeful.

“R-Really?”

He nods his head, “Once I finally tamed and make you submit to me completely.”

Your stomach churns and hope starting to crumble down once again.

“You are a monster! Y-You will rot in hell.”

Jungwon stood up and stared down at you. His strict, cold eyes sent direct shivers down to your spine. He slides both of his hand inside his pockets while he continues looking at you.

“If that’s the price I have to pay to have you in this lifetime,” he stalls his words and smiles. “I will gladly accept my fate.”

main master-list

permanent tag-list:

@rubyanne @map-of-border @hwangjangmi @crjwon @love13tter @candewlsy @simpforniki @classicroyalty @bridgebridgebirdiebridge @hime98 @moonsclassyslore @ddeonubaby @yeoungie @acciomylove @mymeloem19 @jvngw0n @dreamjerky @minamoons @clar-iii @herasalvatore @nyfwyeonjun @rcveribin @yizhoutv @one16core @soobin-chois @kyutiepeachy @chareadingpurposes @hwalllllllelujah @solelyenha @90sni-ki @nourhan-8 @nikipedia07 @yangbreads @drunkjazed @kimmchijjajang @hoonbrry @axartia @all4haru @sta-rie @hiqhkey @purplepuppychild @iceeee @wtfhyuck @tobiosbbyghorl @nikililmj @moonlightisland @ayayiiie @aeyeree @bitchychildmiracle

[cuffmeinblack]

Fight or flight

Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Tags: explicit | smut | rough sex | light choking | Auror!Sebastian

3.8k words

Summary: A raid goes horribly wrong and both you and Sebastian blame the other. Anger and forbidden desire get the better of you.

A/n: I honestly just wanted to write hot angry sex with Sebastian, and the thought of him strapped with a leather wand holster was rattling around in my brain for far too long. Scroll to the bottom for bonus audio!

What a fucking disaster. The raid you'd spent months planning and hours of your free time fretting over, had fallen apart at the seams at the last second. It could have meant glory and recognition for your team, for the entire Auror department, if only Sebastian Sallow had been a team player.

All you had to show for it was a few inconsequential arrests. The dark wizards responsible for dozens of deaths had once again slipped through your fingers. You'd never felt more dejected after a raid than you were now, the frustration was close to boiling over and whoever happened to be in your path would soon feel your uncontained ire. 

It didn't take long for your quiet stewing to be interrupted by a voice from behind you.

"A word?" Sebastian asked, though it was more of a demand.

You narrowed your eyes and with a dramatic huff, pushed past him, stalking into his office. You began pacing the creaking wooden floor in front of his desk which was strewn with papers and various magical objects. The sneakoscope on top of a stack of parchment was whirring excitedly, as it often did—there was no shortage of deception occurring in the Ministry of Magic building.

Sebastian stepped into the room, slamming the door behind him which shook on its hinges with the sheer force of his anger. He yanked at the buckle on his wand holster, the leather strap falling open against his heaving chest. Leaning forward onto his desk, he let out a deep sigh, almost a growl of barely-contained frustration.

"What was that? I had him," he spat, slamming his hands onto the wood, his stare fixed at his knuckles, growing whiter by the second.

"You had him? I was about to make the arrest before you came barging in. You were meant to be holding onto the brother," you shot back, ceasing your pacing.

Sebastian's eyes flashed menacingly as he looked up at you, and you were reminded of just how dangerous he was. A cold shiver ran down your spine at the look usually reserved for his targets.

"You should've let me make the arrest," he said, his voice steady, but deadly.

The comment only served to rile you up, a fierce indignation rising like bile in your throat as you shouted your reply.

"You can't help yourself can you? You own fucking ego always gets in the way."

"My ego? It should've been my kill. Mine."

Sebastian had moved with the quickness of a predator honing in on its prey, his dark eyes boring into you. You involuntarily stepped back under the heavy stare, your breath growing shallow as your thighs hit the desk behind you. He was so close, his breath hot and heavy against your face, the few inches he had on your height enough to make you feel entirely trapped. Prey.

"Kill? You're insane," you breathed, your voice quieter but still dripping with venom. "I should report you."

Your hand flew to your wand but he was quicker, grabbing your wrist with a painful grip. As he pinched the nerves and tendons, your fingers twitched, sending your wand clattering to the floor.

"Figure of speech."

There was more than anger in his dark eyes as they glittered menacingly. A flash of something visceral—desire. Desire for you, or a desire to punish you—you weren't sure which, but knew you'd be getting the same treatment anyway.

Your treacherous body had responded already as you tried to squirm out of his vice. The adrenaline surge had quickened your pulse, now beating rapidly against Sebastian's commanding grip. Fight or flight. All the blood reserved for your reasoning and self control seemed to be pooling between your legs, an intense and infuriating ache settling.

You were by no means weak and helpless, even when disarmed. Your knee jerked, aiming for Sebastian's weak spot—a low blow, literally, but he thoroughly deserved it. He was a quick duellist, all grace and elegance amongst his raw power, and he anticipated your move before you'd even made it. With a twist of his hips, he'd dodged your attack and used your own momentum against you, hooking a leg behind yours and sending you off balance.

With a yelp, you ended up falling onto the desk behind you, Sebastian looming over you with a devilish smirk.

"Nice try. We ought to practice duelling some time. You have a tell when you're about to attack."

You growled and smacked him hard across the face, leaving an angry red imprint across his freckled skin. Sebastian seemed to consider you for a second, his eyes dragging lazily back to your own from where they'd been so mercilessly displaced by your hand only a second ago.

You'd crossed a line and were about to pay for it. Perhaps, that was why you'd felt the need to provoke him. Deep down, you wanted his retaliation—you could feel it pressing into your hip as he straddled your leg. 

Sebastian grabbed your other wrist, his nails digging into your skin, leaving angry red marks to show his displeasure. That may have been his intention, but there was pleasure in the pain, and the gasp that left your mouth wasn't meek or fearful, it was one of desperate arousal.

Your breath had grown ragged, unable to tear your eyes or limbs away from him. His head was dipped towards you, a look of deadly intimidation across his face—his eyebrows knitted slightly in a frown, lip curled and neck flushed red. Your eyes followed the tinge of the skin down to his heaving chest, the colour disappearing underneath the fabric of his open collar.

His wand holster dangled under his arms, the handle tantalisingly within reach—if only you had some spare appendage to reach with. Sebastian smirked as he followed your gaze, knowing exactly what you were thinking and reveling in your defeat.

His erection twitched against your thigh and your hips instinctively bucked against him. Sebastian tightened the grip around your wrists, now pinned against the wood beneath you as he seemed to fight the urge to react. You returned his satisfied smirk and pressed yourself into him further, leaning your head back and biting your tongue between your teeth.

Sebastian dipped his head to growl into your ear. "That's how you want to play it?" 

You shook your head mockingly. "You're fucking insufferable. Only you would get off on this."

You hated him enough in that moment to want to curse him into oblivion. The months you'd spent planning that raid had been ruined by his need to be the best at everything. To prove he was every bit as worthy of applause and admiration as the so-called Hero of Hogwarts. 

The worst part wasn't your fury, it was the fact you wanted him to prove your statement wrong. And you were wrong—he wasn't the only one absolutely brimming with pent up frustration and long-held sexual tension. Your underwear was saturated with forbidden desire and your heart beat to the rhythm of his steadily grinding hips.

He loosened his fingers wrapped around your sore wrists, but before you could do anything he had a hand against your throat, the firm pressure against your windpipe more of a threat than the word he uttered. 

"Don't."

You glared at him as your hands stilled around his forearm, the rage in his blood pulsating under your fingers. You dug your fingertips into his tensed muscle, glancing down to where your bodies were joined together. The head of his cock pressed against the straining waistband of his trousers with every synchronised rock of your hips; a patch of wet arousal darkening the grey fabric. 

You licked your lips, returning your gaze to his eyes with a shuddering breath. You were goading him, willing him to take you—he was weak in this regard and you both knew it. You'd claim it a victory if he succumbed, though so would he.

Sebastian pushed into you hard, his stiff erection grinding against your hip bone. A moan coiled up your throat and spilled out of your mouth and the last drop of any self control he once held evaporated. 

He was gone in a flash, consumed by lust and fury with only one solution to both ailments. He ripped the waistband of your trousers, the button flying off and ricocheting off a glass table lamp with a faint ping as he tugged the garment down your hips.

It was awkward and slow with one hand still pressed against your throat. Unwilling to show him any mercy, you let him struggle until your lower half was bare, his legs pushing yours to the side until he was planted firmly between them. His hand slid between your thighs with a heavy sigh and a knowing grin.

"Oh I knew you wanted it, you're fucking soaking," he teased.

His fingers slid between your folds, circling your entrance to coat his digits with your slick arousal. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and you realised why—you'd stopped struggling against him in that moment.

"Fuck you, Sebastian," you sighed, your head spinning.

Sebastian pushed his fingers inside you, making you gasp and flinch until he started his slow pulsing, seemingly teasing the tension out of you with every press of his hand. Your muscles relaxed, the frown falling from your face as you watched his intense and concentrated expression.

How long could you hold on to your anger? You were teetering on the edge of a precipice; a decision to be made whether to flee or give in to your basal urges and fall willingly into the abyss. There'd be no turning back from Sebastian Sallow—he was possessive, intense and utterly irresistible.

You unwrapped your fingers from around his arm, pushing his holster from his shoulder. His arm twitched as he watched you, making sure you weren't about to pull his wand and blast him across the room. But as the leather fell to the floor with a thud, he finally released your throat, his lips meeting yours in a heated kiss.

You scarcely could have called it a kiss—more of a battle of tongues for dominance. Whatever it was, it made your heart race and core ache and dopamine-addled brain scream out for more, more, more.

His fingers curled and pulsed inside you, drawing moans from your mouth, captured by his own. He consumed every whimper and gasp with hungry need, joining the chorus with his own deep groans as he rocked his hips, desperately seeking friction.

Loathe as you were to put him out of his misery, you wanted him too badly—his fingers, whilst thoroughly enjoyable, were a poor substitute for what he held inside his trousers. You were losing your resolve, overcome with lust. Some Auror you were.

"Fuck, Seb," you muttered.

You fiddled with his shirt buttons, revealing his burning skin, hot to the touch and flushed red under his thick hair. Deciding to deal with the repairs later, you ripped the remaining buttons open, tugging the cotton over his broad shoulders littered with bruises and the odd scar; thin lines of white tissue that refused to colour along with his blush.

Whatever possessed you to run your tongue along them probably had something to do with the increasingly rough pulsing between your legs. Sebastian shuddered and ripped his hand away from your heat, pulling open his trousers with a groan as his cock sprang free.

You drew your eyes away from his battle-worn skin to gaze down at his manhood, your eyebrows peaking and eyes softening to a begging look as you whimpered your approval. You'd almost forgotten why you were so angry. Almost, but not quite.

"Son of a bitch," you muttered, wrapping your hands around his neck to attack his mouth.

You bit his lower lip hard, the taste of iron on the tip of your tongue as you drew back, and his hands retaliated with a rough shove of your hips back into the desk, the wooden edge pressing into your behind. He leaned you back, your weight hanging by his neck and the strength of your abdomen.

His cock pressed against your sensitive and swollen clit, rubbing a teasing few strokes before gliding to your entrance and pushing inside. You cried out, a stinging sensation prickling the skin as he stretched you so suddenly and unceremoniously. His girth took some getting used to.

You took him inch by glorious inch until he could push no further and Sebastian pulled out slowly, his lips parted and dark eyes fixed upon you. Gripping the flesh around your hips, hard enough to bruise, he pulled you back onto his cock with a loud moan. Again and again and again.

Your core muscles gave out at the pounding, the pleasure rippling through you relaxing your whole body as you fell back onto the desk. You squirmed as the various clutter dug into your back, pulling the sneakoscope from under your left arm and rolling it onto the floor where it smashed with a gust of magical energy.

"First you…ruin the job," Sebastian seethed between forceful thrusts. "Then you come and…destroy my office."

"It's your fault—I'll fucking break whatever I want in here you absolute arse."

He pulled your legs up around his waist, shifting you towards him with a grunt. Your arousal dripped down his shaft, coating his carpet of curly brown hair as he continued thrusting into you, deeper and deeper. He'd settled into a rhythm, mind-numbingly perfect—steadily building the pool of tension inside you that would soon explode.

You hated that he felt so good, you were so angry at him but your body had reacted to his provocation with desire as quickly as his had. Now you were limp, a toy made only for his pleasure as he took out his frustration on you—and you fucking loved it.

The daggers you shot at him softened with every thrust of his hips, his cock slamming into you as you filled the room with pleasurable moans. Thank Merlin the Auror offices were regularly charmed to be soundproof.

His lip bled from where you'd bit him, and you knew he'd make you pay for that sooner or later, but the sight only awoke something animalistic inside you. You'd seen him bruised and covered in blood before, whether his own or someone else's—it had been the frequent subject of your fantasies; something you'd never admit.

You pulled him down on top of you and he met you in a kiss, passion pouring from his mouth with each moan, his fingers wrapped painfully around the strands of your hair. You met the pain in your scalp by dragging your nails down his bare back, causing puffy welts and staining your fingertips with his blood.

Sebastian inhaled sharply, resuming his grip on your neck as he slowed his thrusts to an agonising pace. 

"I'll make you pay for that," he whispered, gazing down at you.

You whimpered, squirming under his grip. Your vision blurred slightly as you gasped against his palm and he pulled away slightly. He denied you the air you desperately needed by kissing you again, his hand moving from your neck to trace your jaw as he resumed his previous rhythm.

The lull only served to intensify the pleasure as he started to fuck you again. You were approaching your climax and desperately sought your release, but the satisfaction it would give him would be unbearable. 

There was no averting it, he felt too good. His lips on yours were soft, warm and had that sweet metallic tang that sent your head spinning. As your tongues glided over each other and your breath turned to gasping moans into his mouth, you stilled, unable to stop the explosion if you’d tried.

Your legs shook as you met your release, clenching around Sebastian's hard length and pulling a deep groan from his throat. You were gone. Completely and utterly gone from this mortal plane. The pleasure ripped through you like a dangerous undercurrent, your body writhing as your walls contracted over and over again. 

It was bliss—here there was no anger, no thoughts of the failure you’d just endured, only Sebastian.

Sebastian slowed his pace only as you started to once again go limp, your arched back flattening onto the cold wood beneath you and your eyes fluttering as your orgasm ebbed away. He released your mouth, an unexpectedly tender moment as he brushed his lips against your cheek before pulling away.

"Are you finally going to apologise?" he asked quietly.

Your mind was still added from the explosive orgasm and it took you a few seconds to realise what he'd asked. With a fresh surge of anger, you removed your hands from his skin, stubbornly planting them on the desk next to you.

"Absolutely not."

He pulled out of you swiftly, your walls still clenching, now around nothing. You whined and shot him an incredulous look, squeezing your thighs together and shifting your hips as you rode out the last of the pulses between your legs.

"You're an arsehole, Sallow," you gasped.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you gave him a disapproving stare, quickly growing distracted as you took in the sight before you. You'd always thought him attractive but dear Merlin was he a sight to behold.

Underneath his standard-issue Auror's uniform was the body of a man who took his job seriously. He was physically fit, muscular with a slight softness you loved. You had a dying urge to run your hands over his body, but particularly what had been inside you just moments ago.

Sebastian's cock was red, swollen and dripping in arousal—his thick white precum mixed with your own slick glistened in the soft office lighting as you stared completely unabashedly. He smirked under your lustful gaze, his hand wrapping around himself and gliding slowly along the length for your viewing pleasure.

"Time to return the favour," he said.

You gave him a deadpan glare from your exposed position on the desk.

"I could bite your cock off."

"But you won't," he said with a chuckle. "Because you want it, I can tell you're practically drooling over there."

He was right, and it was infuriating. You sat firmly on the desk, refusing to move until he grew tired of the standoff, pulling you off by the arm. You hid a smirk as you knelt on the floor, your bare knees already uncomfortable against the hard wooden boards. 

Saliva pooled in the well of your mouth as he yanked the hair tangled in his fingers, your lips parting willingly to take his head into your mouth. He tasted of you, and him; your shared passion mingled on your tongue. He shuddered as you ran your tongue along the underside of the tip, humming appreciatively as your hands trailed up his bare thighs.

Before they could go any further, Sebastian slid his hand around to the back of your head, firmly holding you in place as he started to thrust his hips. You suctioned your cheeks as he threw his head back with a deep groan, sliding his cock into your mouth further each time.

"Yes, yes. Just like that."

The sides of your lips curved in a smile as sinful moans fell from his lips, the rhythm he’d built up becoming faster and his thrusts harder. From your vantage point, he looked to be in ecstasy—his expression softened, eyebrows peaked and lips parted, muttering something unintelligible. 

The way he bucked his hips became more erratic and uncontrolled the further he slipped into bliss, every inch filling your mouth and sliding down your throat as his grip on your head became tighter and tighter. Your scalp burned, your eyes stung and throat felt thoroughly abused and yet you moaned through it all; the look on his face was reward enough.

The hands on his thighs felt his muscles tense and shake, and you knew he was approaching his peak. Both of his hands gripped your hair as he pushed his cock into your throat and held you there, the invasion making you gag as the muscles in your throat contracted around his head. Sebastian growled, holding you in place until you smacked his leg and he grinned, pulling you off coughing and spluttering with tears streaming down your cheeks. 

He wasn’t done with you yet—he still chased his release, grinding his hips against your face. The moment he looked down to meet your gaze, you knew you were a goner. The anger in his eyes had melted away, only a plea remaining. He stared down in almost reverence as he gasped through the last of his thrusts before tumbling over the edge.

His seed shot down the back of your throat and filled your cheeks; the viscous liquid came thick and fast with each pulse of his cock and you lapped it up eagerly, moaning around him all the while. Sebastian finally loosened the grip on your hair as he came down off his high with a deep sigh and you jumped at the relinquishing of control by wrapping a hand around the base of his length, teasing every last drop of his cum onto your waiting tongue.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, continuing to watch you with ardent admiration.

With a flick of your tongue met with a shuddering gasp, you pulled your mouth away and swallowed dutifully, licking your lips as if you’d enjoyed the most satisfying meal of your life. Sebastian had slumped back on the now thoroughly ravaged desk, his hard work littering the floor and crumpled beyond recognition as you made your way to your feet.

Your skin on your knees was raw, your throat bruised and neck tingling, whilst Sebastian nursed a slightly swollen and bloody lip, his back looking like it had been attacked by a rabid animal. Despite it all, your anger had subsided to manageable levels, and hadn’t that been the point of it all? 

Pulling on your clothes, you shuddered to think of the state you were in as you scraped back your hair and smoothed out the creases in your shirt to no avail. You spotted your wand on the floor and picked it up, twirling it over in your fingers as you watched the man you hated and loved in equal measure.

“I’m still furious with you, Sebastian,” you said tiredly.

“And I’m furious with you too,” he replied with a smirk, buckling his holster.

Sebastian pulled you towards him by the waist, snaking a hand around the back of your neck as your lips met in an impassioned kiss, the last of your fight melting away. 

“Good, glad we’ve cleared that up,” you said meekly, disentangling yourself from his grasp and retreating towards the door.

You gave him a final look over your shoulder before turning the handle, meeting the devilish smile on his handsome face and realising in that moment that you were now absolutely the property of Sebastian Sallow.

Bonus audio:

[forwhump]

a/n; in case you wanted some batshit story advancement 😛 & point pov !!

tw/cw: rape, noncon, transphobia, misgendering, dehumanization, beheading, skinning, repeated major character death, captivity, guns, attempted forced impregnation, humiliation, kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of medical torture, mentions of beastiality

creepy whumper, really emotionally unwell whumper, living weapon whumpee

Point urges the girl beneath his desk to keep moving with a hand to the back of her head and watches, irritated, as the freak experiment turns itself sideways to fit through the wreckage of his office doorway.

Fuck, it’s big. His men had talked about it, to him and amongst themselves — the district’s new prized possession, the meat Weaver’s oh so proud of, big and deadly. Point is a good fuckin’ soldier and a great fuckin’ captain, without the help of steroids and fuckin’ mad scientists. He didn’t care about the freak and he didn’t care to marvel about it. He didn’t flock to the gallows to watch its field tests the way some of them did; he didn’t watch them from behind the safety of the security cameras like some of the others.

They’re all afraid of it. Point has thought, until now, that it was weakness, and he’d been embarrassed for them. But he’d only only met it once, and it had been on its knees, bound and prone. Even on its knees, it had been taller than him, but Point still hadn’t grasped how big the thing was, not truly.

Not until now. Not until he has to look up, up, up at it, head angled almost all the way back. It isn’t weakness that have his men so afraid of it; it’s loathsome. It looks like the maniac from an old slasher movie, dripping red, hair plastered to its face and the sides of its throat. Nobody had raised an alarm, which means they hadn’t had the time. It hadn’t given them the time.

“What?” Point asks. He keeps his voice flat and his eyes hooded.

It cracks its neck and says, “you have something that belongs to me.”

Beneath his desk, the girl tenses. Point can feel the warmth of her breath as she exhales, “Silas?”

Something folds in the freak’s face, something that Point would never admit makes the back of his neck start to prickle with cold. It looks at him like he’s prey, and it’s convincing. Point almost believes it.

He threads his fingers through the girl’s hair, pushes his dick into her throat to keep her quiet, and raises both his eyebrows. “The girl?” He asks, skeptical, because her mouth is so warm it pulls focus from the cold at the nape of his neck. It’s such nonsense that he rumbles with laughter and the girl chokes in his lap. “Fuck you, you’ve got a thing for the girl.”

Like she would be worth all this fuckin’ trouble — like she would be worth any trouble at all. Really. He laughs and it’s in good humour.

But the freak isn’t kidding. The freak is dead fuckin’ serious. It takes a step closer and Point isn’t laughing anymore.

He quickly lifts his other hand. He points his cherished handgun. “Fuck you,” he repeats slowly. “You’ve got a thing for the girl.”

It’s fuckin’ serious. It’s standing here, making a mess of Point’s office, after having massacred Point’s men, and for what? For what? “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he says, even though he knows it isn’t. “She’s a whore,” he tells it. “We found her on the floor of a crack house”

The thing tilts its head and it looks like a nightmare. “He’s mine.”

There’s something so definitive in its voice that Point forgets all about being cold. It sounds so sure, so smug that it stokes something under his skin that makes his blood boil. “She’s mine,” he snaps, and puts a bullet in the freak’s brain.

The sound is like a crack of thunder and the girl chokes again beneath his desk, panicked. She tries to pull away but Point fists a hand in her hair, keeps her still, and watches the freak wipe blood from the bullet hole between its eyes with the back of one hand.

It stays standing. It stays on its feet. It looks right at Point and it grins with all its teeth. It has dimples, and for some reason that could almost make Point vomit. It’s the most grotesque part of the whole disgusting patchwork. “Gonna have to do better than that,” it says, and it has the low, distorted voice of a monster.

Point roars in frustration. He has to empty his gun into the thing’s face before it finally stops coming for him.

Under his desk, the girl trembles with crying, and Point pushes himself back with a boot to the side of it to look down at her. He almost softens; she really is such a pretty little thing. Her mouth is swollen and her eyelashes are clumped together, sad and scared. It doesn’t cool Point’s blood by any means but it’s a heat he more enjoys. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for the freak,” he warns, and pulls her up by the throat.

He bends her over the desk so she has an unrestricted view of the meat, dead and cooling on the concrete. There’s so much blood the room smells too rich of it. The girl cries, trembling beneath him, pleading, shrieking, fighting, and it almost makes all the commotion worth it.

He forgets about the freak sack of meat. There’s a blissful time, before it’s constantly a problem, that Point is able to forget about the freak. That it doesn’t haunt his every waking moment, or any of the sleeping ones, either. There’s a blissful time that Point can still look at the girl and not think about that fuckin’ thing.

Then they move it formally into his unit. It’s assigned to his care.

He trusts her, too, that’s where he fucks up. She’s usually a good girl; it had taken a lot of time and a lot of discipline, but Point had trained her well. She’s usually on her best behaviour. She screams and she fights still, sometimes, but that’s because she’s such a spirited little thing. It’s been fun trying to break that.

When he’s done with her, he leaves her on the floor of the common room, because he was decent enough to even bring her back. She’s still conscious, but just barely, whimpering and pliant, and it’s one of the ways Point likes her best. It’s hard to let her go.

He shouldn’t’ve. He knew better.

But he had already fuckin’ killed the thing, sprayed the concrete walls of his office with its brains, fucked the girl in a pool of its blood after he’d fucked her over the desk, just to make extra sure they both really learned the lesson they needed to learn.

He gives them both too much credit, that’s where he fucks up. They aren’t smart, not at all, neither of them. They don’t learn. It doesn’t seem like they ever think very critically.

He leaves the girl on the floor of the common room, and he doesn’t think about the freak. Blissfully, he doesn’t think about the freak at all. Doesn’t consider him for a second. Sidles back to the barracks, sated, and lies down on sheets that are still wet, that smell enticingly like the girl. One of her socks had been kicked off in her struggle and Point thumbs over the damp argyle, pleased.

When the alarm is raised, when the lights start flickering red, he still doesn’t think of the freak, not right away. He sighs and pulls himself out of bed again, pulls his kit back on, thinks that one of the other losers in his unit found the girl and panicked. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He’s wrong, though. Still blissfully naive.

The alarm is a resounding panic and the lights all flash red and frantic. The freak is a silhouette from a nightmare, standing at the end of a long, empty corridor. He walks towards Point slowly, unhurried, and Point stands his ground, refuses to be intimidated by this sack of meat and steroids, but it’s a nightmare the way it stalks closer to him, the way it gets bigger the closer it gets, disappearing into the shadows in the half seconds between panicked red light.

What the fuck? Point thinks, and exhales softly.

“What have you got there, big guy?” He asks.

It lifts its right hand, and the whole thing is so surreal that for a second, Point just stares, he doesn’t process.

Heads. It’s heads. The heads of Point’s men, men he had been with just hours ago, not cleanly severed but ripped off their shoulders with inhuman force. It has its fingers twisted in their bloody hair, and when Point looks back up into its face, it grins widely. It has a horrible grin. Too human.

“For Wren,” he says.

“What?” Point repeats. “The girl?”

It lifts its chin at him. “I just need one more.”

Point groans loudly, tipping his head back. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he says. “This is about the girl? Come on.”

It raises an eyebrow at him, almost impatient, and for some reason that makes Point start to prickle, heat blooming at the nape of his neck.

“You’re a fuckin’ disgusting eye sore,” Point says. “A real ugly piece of shit, right? But she’s a whore. She’s easy. She’ll fuck you, too. You don’t have to do all this bullshit to try and impress her.”

It tilts his head, and the way it moves is inhuman. Might have to do with the fuckin’ mass of it — how can anything that big move in a way that’s human? Is it even bigger than the last time Point killed it?

“I don’t like the way you talk about him,” it says, and that ignites a rage in Point that almost makes him shriek. What gives this fuckin’ thing the right —

“Boo fuckin’ hoo,” he snaps, and the only reason he doesn’t die in the corridor that day is because responding artillery finally finds the freak, and blows both his kneecaps out from behind.

He drops, roars like a wild animal. Drops the heads when he’s commanded, folds both his hands behind his own head. Doesn’t look away from Point once, and Point has to curl and uncurl his fists to try and burn off some of the simmering fury that stokes in him.

“Better luck next time, big guy,” he sneers.

But the freak grins. Dimples. Lifts his chin at Point. “Next time,” he agrees, and it sounds like a threat.

Point waits until the freak’s nose is to the concrete before he stomps down onto the back of his head with all his weight.

It doesn’t have the effect he wants it to have. He breaks the freak’s nose, but it rumbles with laughter beneath him, mocking.

He barely makes it back to the barracks before he finally shrieks in frustration.

“Please,” she whimpers. She looks especially pathetic. She’s wearing Point’s favourite gingham dress, on her knees, flushed with crying. Normally, this is how he likes her best, but it prickles at a nerve that makes it almost annoying.

His lip curls. “Look at you,” he says, and her shoulders hitch as she sobs. “How can you debase yourself like this for that thing?”

Her wrists are knotted together but in front of her, so she has her fingers twisted desperately into Point’s pants. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth — normally, he’d love to have her like this. He never gets to have her like this. But it’s ruined, and it’s ruined because of that fuckin’ thing.

“Please,” she sobs. “It’s my fault, it’s my fault! Don’t hurt him.”

“I know it’s your fault,” Point sneers. “This is all your fault. Couldn’t keep your fuckin’ legs closed and now you’ve got a rabid guard dog.” Her touch is warm through his clothing and he wishes that was good enough. “And what happens to dogs once they start to bite, baby? What does animal conservation do for rabies? You’re smarter than this.”

Her hands are shaking but that isn’t good enough, either. “Please.”

The freak, her fuckin’ dog, it’s never been worth any of the trouble that follows it, any of the fanfare, the medical marvel, but it’s worth less now, twitching as it bleeds to death on the filthy concrete.

It just doesn’t know when to fuckin’ stop. Most of the skin had been stripped from his chest and his right arm. The left side of his throat had been torn out. A decent chunk of his scalp is hanging loose off his skull, and blood is pooling in every dip and crater of his face, pouring from his mouth as he coughs and sputters and vomits up more and more.

Still, it keeps trying to get up. Still, it keeps moving. It just won’t stay down.

He strikes her harder than he means to, knocks her to the ground in his frustration, and when she cries out, her ugly fuckin’ dog tries to pull its ugly, skinned corpse up from the pool of its blood, almost ankle deep.

“Silas,” she breathes, pushing herself up quickly. “Silas, don’t —“

“No,” Point interrupts, watching with wry amusement. “Let it try.”

She sobs, trying to grab his leg again but he pushes her away with the side of his boot.

“Look at it,” he tells her. “Is it really worth embarrassing yourself like this?”

She sobs again, pulling herself through its pooling blood on her hands and knees, ruining Point’s favourite dress with the remnants of that thing. “Silas,” she breathes quietly. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

Most of the dog’s throat is missing, and it can’t talk beyond low, wet rumbles of sound. Still, it lifts a hand from the concrete, its arm trembling with blood loss. Still, it cradles the girl’s cheek in its hand.

It’s disgusting, really. Point can’t even imagine the way that thing must smell. It smears blood across her soft skin, gets gore in her pretty hair. It trembles, and it’s too big, it’s grotesque, its hand is bigger than her delicate head and still, she leans into its touch. Still, she covers its disgusting hand with both of her own. She cries for it.

“Pathetic,” Point snaps.

She doesn’t look at him, she doesn’t take her hands off of it, and Point is across the floor in a second, wrenching her from its grip with a fist in her hair. She reaches for it, cries out, and it reaches back, stretching a shaking hand out across the concrete. Point crushes its elbow with his boot and all his weight, and the girl screams as it roars in pain.

Point rubs his heel into the broken chips of its bones and says, “any last words, mutt?”

The girl reaches up, tries to grab his hand, gasps, “please, Darren, please, don’t — don’t —“

The dog lifts its other hand from the ground, mostly skinned, flesh hanging from his bones in wet flaps. It lifts its middle finger, and Point roars in frustration. He empties his gun into the freak’s right eye, and only then, finally, does it stop moving.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Point says softly, rubbing his mouth with a hand gloved in leather.

He looks between them, and it’s like seeing for the very first time, so many small details that it’s almost overwhelming, all of them high definition.

How many times have they done this? How many times do they have to do this, still? It swings wildly between moderately inconvenient and a blood bath, a slaughter of Point’s men. His numbers have been dwindling, and every recruit he brings on is too green, too scared of the freak, not quick enough to stop him. They’re dead almost as soon as they’re assigned to Point.

Point isn’t an idiot, but maybe he was too hopeful. Maybe he had too much faith in the girl. Maybe she’s more manipulative than Point ever gave her credit for. The dog is dumb, big and simple, mean and bloodthirsty, and the girl is pretty. Gentle. A whore. It hadn’t been hard to piece that puzzle together. She’s using the dog, taking advantage of it, fucking it into shape as her attack dog and it’s too dumb to know that’s what she’s doing, too dumb not to let itself be used.

Except he looks between them now, and he was wrong. He isn’t stupid, but they’re both so much stupider than he had ever thought they might be. The girl is so much stupider than Point ever would’ve thought. He looks at her, clinging to its corpse, its massive head in her lap. She keeps running her fingers through its hair as its body starts to rot before it’s even cooled and the water from the shower beats down around them both. It almost makes him sick. “You really love that fuckin’ thing.”

It had been sick for a while, a reaction to something the surgeons had given it that had to work its way through its system, eating away all its arteries and organs before they could start again with him, figure out where they went wrong. Point had allowed the girl to look after the thing, given her as much space as he could give her because he thought she was smarter than this. He thought, watching it rot, she’d finally see the freak for what it really is, for how much it doesn’t deserve even a glance from her direction. She might be stupid, but she’s better than this.

It makes his skin crawl. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he repeats, a little more acidic. “The dog? You fell in love with your fuckin’ dog?”

She lifts her head to look up at him, her hair plastered against her face with the water, so light in colour it almost looks translucent. “Leave him alone,” she says, and he doesn’t like the way that she speaks to him, unafraid, almost flat. “He’s already dead.”

“It won’t be dead long enough,” Point says.

She doesn’t stop running her fingers through its hair. She cries for it. She mourns it.

Point spends the next three days frantically trying to fuck the apathy out of her, but it doesn’t work. She doesn’t stop mourning the dog until Point finally chokes her into unconsciousness.

“I want you to take her off her birth control,” he says.

Medic’s face doesn’t change. He looks at Point once, up and down, and says, “fuck no.”

Point fuckin’ hates Medic, and he’s constantly reminded why. He’s too belligerent for somebody whose life is in Point’s hands, and Point has never been known for being particularly careful. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Okay?” Medic says, and one of his eyebrows lifts, but just barely. “I said fuck no.”

Point can’t help it if his jaw twitches. He knows what Medic is up to — he knows he’s got a thing for the girl. He does this whole knight in shining armour thing to try and get to her, almost the same way the dog does. Pretend to be her hero, get into her pants. It’s bullshit — Point’s never pretended to be a hero and he’s in her pants more than any of them. They’re all wasting their time, and it fizzles under his skin that any of them think she would be worth all this fuckin’ trouble, that she’d be worth any of their lives at all.

She’s a whore. A legally dead, fuckable cut of meat. He found her on the floor of a crack house. Point saved her, really. Point rallied for her brother’s life — to keep her pliant, but he rallied all the same. He was supposed to have killed her on site — he saved her life. He saved her. She owes him her life and he owns her for it. All this wasted time and pretend chivalry is really starting to piss him off.

“You work for me,” Point reminds him through his teeth.

He kind of turns his mouth down, dismissive. “I work for the team,” he says. “I’m not your GP.”

“I think,” Point says, “maybe it’s time the team was assigned a new doctor.”

“Yeah?” Medic asks. “Just wait till the new guy finds out you’re harbouring biological contraband.” He raises his eyebrows, taunting. “And that you’re trying to get it pregnant.”

Point goes as far as to reach out to him before he manages to catch himself, straightening the collar of Medic’s black coat so he doesn’t strangle him to death on the floor of the medical wing, making eye contact the whole while. “She’s mine,” he says, “and I can do whatever I want to her. I don’t understand what you people aren’t understanding about that.”

Medic leans back slowly against his desk, folding his arms over his chest. He doesn’t like Point, either, and he’s never pretended otherwise, which Point just doesn’t like. The belligerence, the disrespect — when is enough enough? What does a guy have to do to be given the respect he deserves? That he’s earned? He’s their fuckin’ captain, for fuck’s sake. “Do you want my opinion?” Medic asks. “As a medical professional?”

“No.”

“I think you’re losing it, Point,” Medic tells him evenly. “I think you have been for a long time. I thought you snapped when you cracked his pelvis in half, but that was just the first sign something was wrong. You can’t keep going like this. You can’t keep treating a human being like this. Something’s gonna give. And it’s not gonna be Silas.”

“Silas?” Point repeats, temper spiking. “What the fuck does the dog have to do with any of this?”

“You’ve gone too far,” Medic warns. “They might have to put him down but he won’t go until he takes you with him. It’s up to you to decide how much it’s gonna hurt.”

“Fuck you,” Point snaps. “This has nothing do with the fuckin’ meat. It’s about the girl, and how her piece of shit GP is gonna take her off her birth control if he doesn’t wanna die like a fuckin’ dog.”

Medic exhales softly, shaking his head. “Fuck no,” he says.

Point leans down, gets into her face, and screams, “why?”

She flinches away from him as best she can, bound and gagged. Her eyes are huge, lashes clumped together with crying. Naked except for the argyle socks, pulled up over her knees. She looks especially pathetic and Point wants to enjoy it. He wishes he could enjoy it.

But it’s hard not to look into her and think about her fuckin’ dog. It’s ruined her. Point looks at her and it’s hard not to imagine its disgusting hands on her skin, the way she cries for it, the way she probably moans for it, too.

“WHY?!” He screams again, and it’s hard to even delight in the way she recoils, sobbing through the gag.

It isn’t fuckin’ fair. That disgusting fuckin’ patchwork dog. That failed fuckin’ experiment. That filthy fuckin’ sack of shit. It’s brutish and stupid and there’s always fuckin’ blood on its hands. And the girl happily opens her fuckin’ legs for it? She loves it? She lets it touch her and she touches it in turn, this fuckin’ freak that looks like an old movie monster.

He shouldn’t have to fuckin’ share her with it. It’s fuckin’ ridiculous.

“The fuckin’ dog?!” He shrieks, and he doesn’t mean to hit her, not really, but he can’t help it. He can’t look at her and not imagine the way she looks at that fuckin’ thing. “What does it have that I don’t have?! It’s a fuckin’ dog!”

He grabs her by the shoulders, tries to shake some sense into her. He spits in her face and the way she flinches does nothing for him. “You’re disgusting,” he spits. “You dog fucking whore. You disgust me. The fuckin’ dog,” and he groans so hard he can feel it in his fillings. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

She chokes out a sob beneath the gag, muffled, and Point grabs her around the throat to muffle her still. “That was rhetorical,” he spits. “I know what the fuck is wrong with you. You were a whore when I saved you and you’re a whore now. But dogs? You’ll even fuck dogs?”

He spits in her face again and her throat bobs beneath his hand. “I know what I have to do to fix you,” he tells her. “I know. I can make you settle down. You could settle down! You wouldn’t have to be scared all the time! Wouldn’t that be so nice, baby?” He coos at her, but the more he talks the quicker he talks, increasingly frantic, the harder he grips her throat. “Wouldn’t it be so nice not to be so scared? No more violence, no more crying. You wouldn’t have to worry about your creepy male delusions. We could set you up in a nice little room off my office,” he coos. “You’d be safe there. You wouldn’t have to be scared. You could take care of our babies. Don’t you think we’d make such beautiful babies?”

Her shoulders shake as she sobs beneath him, her face flush with Point’s grip around her neck. “But no,” he spits again, fever spiking. “You’d rather fuck dogs, wouldn’t you? What the fuck?!” He leans in closer to scream in frustration. “Stupid bitch. What the fuck? You’d let the dog knock you up, wouldn’t you? Bet you’d give it a fuckin’ litter. Why not me?! What the fuck?!”

He squeezes her around the throat tighter than he means to and screams again once he realizes she lost consciousness.

He turns her over so he doesn’t have to look at her face as he pushes her bare thighs apart. He really fuckin’ hates her sometimes.

He has a vision of her on a farm.

He thinks it’s the accent that brings it out in him, because he’s never dreamed about living on a farm before, but he looks at this girl, soft and sweet, young and blonde, and he wants her barefoot and pregnant on a farm somewhere, and he wants it so bad he dreams of it and his dreams are so vivid he could almost convince himself they’re memories from another life. He wants her in a short, pleated dress with an apron. He wants the little farm girl braids and he wants in her cowboy boots. No panties, because he wants her free use.

They’d be happy. Point knows they would.

The life he’d built with his wife was a lie, because he didn’t know yet what he really wanted, he hadn’t yet met this girl. He’s never been so stupid about a girl before — he’s never yearned. He’s never felt like this.

He thinks about miles of lush grass and big, open sky and looking up at it, framing the girl as she rides him. He thinks about high socks and high ponytails. He thinks about bending her over their big wraparound porch.

It’s these thoughts that carry him as he dumps her unconscious body in his trunk.

Furlough. He never told his wife he’d applied, so she isn’t expecting him. It’ll be a good few weeks before anybody really notices he’s missing, and they’ll be long gone by then. They’ll have moved on to their next life.

His tires squeal as he peels onto the highway and the girl’s body thuds in his trunk. A thrill runs through him, one he hasn’t experienced since that very first day, since she first looked up at him, all pretty and terrified, from the floor of that crack house. He did what the dog failed to do, time and time again — he got her out. He saved her. He gets the happy ending.

He laughs out loud. He has a full tank, an endless stretch of highway, and a pretty, naked girl bound in his trunk.

Point fuckin’ did it.

He won.

That fuckin’ dog can rot for all he has to care anymore. Point won.

[seriiousgiirl]

𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑜

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝓃𝑜𝑜𝓃!𝒿𝒽𝒾𝓃 𝓍 𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒻𝒻!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇.⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. cowboy!au, enemies to lovers, tension, mutual pining, partners in crime, nsfw!!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. In the dusty frontier town of Frontier Dusk, Sheriff Y/n and her partner Caitlyn face a series of escalating crimes that lead them to a desperate decision: to seek the help of Jhin, a notorious assassin known for his chilling artistry in murder. Despite their mutual disdain and complicated past, Y/n reluctantly hires Jhin, who proves to be both a formidable ally and an enigmatic presence in her life.

➜ ┊ a/n: Jhin might be a lil OOC, I’m sorry in advance!!!! But he is still his flamboyant self.♡ But I actually don't expect a lot of people to read this.

➜ ┊: oneshot ⋅ 14K words.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the dusty streets of Frontier Dusk. 

Shadows lengthened, creeping over the wooden buildings and silent alleyways. The town was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of tumbleweeds tumbling lazily down the main thoroughfare and the distant, mournful call of a coyote.

You leaned against the worn wooden railing of the sheriff's office, eyes narrowed as you scanned the street for any signs of trouble. The rough-hewn boards creaked under your weight, a familiar and oddly comforting sound. Beside you, Caitlyn, your trusted partner, adjusted her wide-brimmed hat and sighed, her breath visible in the cooling evening air.

"It's too quiet," Caitlyn muttered, her sharp blue eyes mirroring the concern etched in your own. Her hand hovered near the rifle slung over her shoulder, always ready for action.

You nodded in agreement, your senses on high alert. "Something's brewing. I can feel it."

For weeks, you had been embroiled in a particularly thorny case. What started as simple cattle rustling had escalated into outright violence. Ranchers were finding their livestock slaughtered, and in some cases, their homes burned to the ground. It was clear that someone powerful and ruthless was pulling the strings from the shadows. The townsfolk were terrified, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desperation whenever they looked to you for answers. You knew you had to bring the culprits to justice, but every lead you had chased down had turned cold, leaving you at a frustrating standstill.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, the gesture weary and frustrated. "We might need some outside help on this one."

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, her expression sceptical. "You don't mean...?"

You looked away, unwilling to meet her piercing, judging gaze. "Yeah. Him."

Jhin. 

The name alone made your skin crawl, conjuring images of shadowy alleyways and whispered rumours of his macabre exploits. He was an assassin, renowned for his deadly precision and his penchant for turning death into an art form. You have worked with Jhin a few times already. Working with him was never a pleasant experience, to say the least. But despite your mutual disdain for each other, there was an odd sort of respect that lingered beneath the surface, buried beneath layers of bickering and taunts.

From the moment you laid eyes on him, you knew that Jhin was trouble. His cold, calculating gaze behind his goggles seemed to pierce right through you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. And yet, there was something undeniably magnetic about him, a dangerous allure that drew you in despite your better judgement.

It wasn't just his chilling demeanour or the unsettling aura of danger that surrounded him. It was something deeper, something more primal that stirred within you whenever he was near. Perhaps it was the enigmatic mask that obscured his features, hiding whatever emotions lurked behind its cold, expressionless facade. Or perhaps it was the fact that you knew next to nothing about him, while he seemed to know everything about you.

It was an unsettling thought, to say the least. 

Jhin had a way of making you feel like a pawn in his twisted game, manipulating events from the shadows while you stumbled blindly through the darkness. He always seemed one step ahead, his movements calculated and precise, as if he knew exactly how the pieces would fall long before they ever hit the board.

And yet, for all his mystery and intrigue, there was a part of you that couldn't help but be drawn to him. It was a dangerous attraction, one that you knew could lead to nothing but trouble. And yet, you found yourself unable to resist, unable to turn away from the allure of him.

The two of you clashed like oil and water, constantly at odds over even the smallest of details. Every decision was met with resistance, every suggestion met with scepticism. 

But for all your differences, there was one thing you could agree on: getting the job done. And so, begrudgingly, you set aside your differences and worked towards a common goal, each of you pushing the other to be better, to do better, even if it meant enduring endless rounds of bickering and taunts along the way.

And so, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the shadows grew long, you found yourself once again contemplating the unthinkable: reaching out to Jhin for help. It was a decision that filled you with a sense of dread, a realisation that you were willing to make a deal with the devil himself if it meant protecting your town and its people. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and right now…

There was no one more desperate than you.

"I don't like it, Y/n," Caitlyn said, her voice tinged with concern and a hint of reproach. "But if you think it's necessary..."

"I do," you replied, your voice firm and resolute. "We need someone who can get into places we can't, someone who can think like a killer. Jhin is our best shot, as much as I hate to admit it."

Caitlyn nodded slowly, her face set in a grimace of reluctant acceptance. "Alright. But as long as you’re keeping a close eye on him."

"Of course," you agreed, the thought of turning your back on Jhin for even a moment is unthinkable. "I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him."

With a heavy heart, you turned and made your way to the back of the office, where an old, dusty telegraph machine sat on a rickety table. The device had seen better days, its keys worn smooth from years of use. The thought of contacting Jhin made your stomach churn, but there was no other choice. You sat down, the chair creaking under you, and began typing out the message. The clacking of the keys echoed in the silence, each tap a reminder of the gravity of your decision.

‘Jhin. Need your expertise. Meet at dusk, the usual spot. -Y/n’

You sent the message and sat back, feeling a weight settle on your shoulders. The waiting began, each minute stretching into an eternity as the town slipped further into darkness.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

The night was biting cold as you waited under the old oak tree, your usual meeting spot with Jhin. The wind whispered through the branches, rustling the leaves and carrying with it the scent of impending rain. You pulled your coat tighter around you, trying to fend off the chill that seemed to seep into your very bones.

You glanced at the moon, hanging low in the sky, and frowned. Jhin was late. He was never late. Punctuality was one of the few things you could count on with him. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, the damp earth cold beneath your boots, and wondered if he had even received your message.

Doubt began to creep in. What if something had gone wrong? What if he had decided to ignore your call for help? Despite your mutual disdain and constant bickering, Jhin had always come through before. The idea of him not showing up now, when you needed him most, filled you with a sense of unease—or… was it truly it? 

If you were honest with yourself, you felt a tinge of disappointment, but you decided to ignore that part. 

Finally, you saw a figure emerging from the shadows, moving with an eerie, fluid grace. As he stepped into the pale moonlight, you sucked in a breath. Jhin was covered in blood, his usual orange coat gone, revealing the lean, muscular form encased in a leather outfit. The blood wasn't his; you knew that instinctively. But seeing him like this, you couldn't suppress a wince.

"You're late," you managed to say, trying to keep the shock and irritation out of your voice.

Jhin tilted his head slightly, his mask catching the faint moonlight. "I had something to finish, darling," he said calmly, his voice smooth as ever. "It took more time than I would have wished."

Your eyes flicked to the dark stains on his clothes, your mind trying to piece together what he could have possibly been involved in. "Were you working for someone else?" you asked, concern and a sharp edge to your tone. "I thought I was the only one hiring you."

Jhin chuckled again, the sound sending a chill down your back. "Sheriff, are you... jealous?" he teased, his voice warm and playful. You scoffed, trying to dismiss the thought, but you felt a twinge of truth in his words.

"Don't flatter yourself," you snapped, though you felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. "I just don't want more trouble in my town."

Jhin's lips curled into a sly grin as he watched your face flush with embarrassment. "Oh, Y/n, I see your jealousy is beginning to show—finally, after all this time," he teased, his voice dripping with amusement. He took another step closer, revelling in the discomfort it caused you.

"Now, now, don't worry your pretty little head," he reassured you, lifting a hand to brush your cheek lightly. "I'm a man of my word, as you well know. And I wouldn't have come all this way to disappoint you, would I?" There was a challenge in his tone, daring you to contradict him.

"As for working for others," he continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "what do you expect from an artist? We must draw inspiration from various sources, hone our techniques, and improve our craft. It is the nature of the beast, darling." Jhin stepped closer, the scent of iron and something darker wafting off him. "Every artist needs to take on different projects to refine their skills," he said, his voice silky smooth.

You shook your head, unsure of how to respond. Jhin had always been a thorn to your side, and you couldn't help but question if you had made a mistake by calling for his help. He was dangerous, unpredictable, and he brought with him a tension that made your chest tighten and your knees weak. 

"Please, Jhin," you muttered, shaking your head. "You better not be bringing more trouble to my town."

"Oh, dear Y/n, I would never bring trouble to your little town," Jhin purred, his voice dripping with false sincerity. He moved closer still, looming over you, the heat and power of his body a stark contrast to the chilly night air. "After all, I wouldn't want to give you a reason to put me in cuffs, would I?"

You could almost imagine the smirk on his lips as he said this. 

His hand rose, brushing against your cheek, the feeling of his cold, blood-slick gloves sending a jolt through you. A shiver ran down your spine, and Jhin's eyes gleamed with malicious glee. "I came for you, Sheriff, for this very moment," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the howl of the wind. "Now, unless you want to turn your back on my... skills," he glanced down at his bloodied attire, "you'll let me help you."

He grasped your wrist, his touch both cold and firm, sending electric shocks through your body. "Do not fret, darling. I have come to you, to help you put an end to this trouble, and that is all. There will be no more trouble in your town, I promise you." His gaze trailed up my body, making you feel exposed, vulnerable, and yet, strangely alive. "Though I must say," he purred, "I find it most… entertaining when you need my services."

You yanked your wrist away from his grasp, trying to ignore the lingering sensation of his touch on your skin. "Don't get any ideas, Jhin," you said, your voice firmer than you felt. "This is strictly professional."

He tilted his head, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk behind his mask. "Oh, but of course. Professional." The word dripped with sarcasm, and he stepped back, giving you a mocking bow. 

You turned sharply, your boots crunching against the frost-covered ground as you began to walk back towards the town. You could feel Jhin's eyes on you, a heavy gaze that made your skin prickle. 

As you briefed him on the case, his responses were measured, precise, and chillingly detached. Yet, despite the bickering and the taunts, you couldn’t help but acknowledge his efficiency. Jhin was a master of his craft, and if anyone could bring down the elusive figures behind the recent wave of violence, it was him.

"So," Jhin said after a moment of silence, his voice cutting through the night air. "Do tell me, darling, what makes this case so... special that you had to seek me out? I imagine it must be quite the conundrum to require my particular set of skills."

You hesitated for a moment before speaking, "The cattle rustling has turned into something much worse. Homes burned, animals slaughtered, families threatened. It's escalating, and we don't have the resources to handle it alone with Cait. We need someone who can think like a killer."

Jhin laughed softly, a sound that sent chills down your spine. "Ah, flattery, Y/n? You do know how to make a man feel appreciated." He looked ahead, his expression hidden but his tone amused. .

“Being compared to a killer isn’t a compliment, Jhin,” you said, pouting.

He glanced at you, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his mask. "Oh, but it is, my dear Y/n. To think like a killer is to understand the art of finality, the delicate balance between life and death. It's a skill, a gift, one that I possess in abundance."

You rolled your eyes, the tension in your shoulders not entirely dissipating. "Well, let's hope your 'gift' helps us find whoever's behind this. The town's on edge, and we need results fast."

As you continued through the darkened streets, Jhin broke the silence with a casual, almost offhand remark. "I heard an interesting rumour, Y/n. A group of bandits plans to blow up the train bridge tomorrow. They're after the resources arriving on the next train."

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him, eyes wide with alarm. "What? How do you know this?"

Jhin shrugged, a languid, almost theatrical gesture. "I have my ways, Sheriff. Information is a valuable commodity, after all."

You felt a knot form in your stomach. The train bridge was a vital lifeline for Frontier Dusk, bringing in essential supplies and goods—especially after such accidents. If it were destroyed, the town would be plunged into chaos. "Why didn't you mention this sooner?" you demanded, frustration and fear mingling in your voice.

He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with that familiar, unsettling amusement beneath his glasses. "You didn't ask. Besides, I wanted to see your reaction. Quite satisfying, I must say."

"Jhin, this isn't a game!" You took a step closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. "People's lives are at stake!"

He grasped your wrist, his touch both cold and firm, sending that familiar jolt through your body. "Calm yourself, Y/n… I have no intention of letting these bandits succeed. But we must be strategic."

You pulled your wrist free, glaring at him. "Fine. What's your plan?"

You knew he was smiling, a chilling expression hidden behind his mask. "First, we need to gather more information—to know if it’s just rumours, or an actual plan. We'll visit the local saloons, the places where such rabble might gather. Eavesdrop, listen for any hints or whispers. Then, we strike."

You nodded, feeling the weight of the responsibility pressing down on you. "Alright. Let's start at the Broken Spoke. It's a known hangout for drifters and outlaws."

Jhin inclined his head, his movements graceful and deliberate. "Lead the way, Y/n. The night is young, and we have much to do."

As you headed towards the saloon, your mind raced with possibilities. If Jhin's information was accurate, you had less than a day to prevent a catastrophe. You couldn't afford to waste a single moment. Despite your mistrust of Jhin, you knew you had to rely on his skills and knowledge to stop the bandits.

Entering the Broken Spoke, you felt the eyes of the patrons on you, a mixture of curiosity and wariness. You made your way to the bar, motioning for Jhin to follow. The barkeep looked up as you approached. "What can I get you, Sheriff?" he asked, his voice rough but respectful.

You leaned in, keeping your voice low. "Information. Heard anything about a group planning to blow up the train bridge tomorrow?"

The barkeep's eyes widened slightly, but he kept his composure. "Can't say I have, but you might want to talk to the folks in the back. They tend to know more about... such matters."

You nodded, slipping him a coin. "Thanks."

You and Jhin moved towards the back of the saloon, where a group of rough-looking men were gathered around a table, deep in conversation. As you approached, the chatter died down, and they looked up, suspicion etched on their faces. "Evening, gentlemen," you said, keeping your tone neutral. "Mind if we join you?"

One of the men, a burly figure with a scar running down his cheek, narrowed his eyes. "What do you want, Sheriff?"

You exchanged a glance with Jhin, who gave a barely perceptible nod. "We heard there's a big job going down tomorrow. Something about the train bridge. Thought you might know more."

The men exchanged wary glances, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, the scarred man spoke. "Maybe we do. Maybe we don't. What's it to you?"

"It's my job to keep the town safe," you replied evenly. "And if there's trouble coming, I need to know about it."

Jhin stepped forward, his presence somehow both reassuring and menacing. He reached for his belt and slowly pulled out his ornate, custom-crafted gun, placing it on the table with a deliberate clink. The intricate design glinted menacingly in the dim light of the saloon, drawing the attention of everyone present. The room seemed to hold its breath as the men stared at the weapon, their eyes widening with a mix of fear and fascination.

"Perhaps," Jhin said, his voice a smooth, dangerous purr, "we should ensure this conversation remains... productive, like this charming lady asked." His fingers traced the intricate patterns on the gun, emphasising its deadly beauty. "It would be a shame if things were to turn... unpleasant."

The scarred man swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the gun. "We ain't looking for trouble," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "We just don't want to get caught in the middle of anything."

"Of course," Jhin replied, his tone deceptively gentle. "And neither do we. But you see, we need information. Accurate information. Otherwise," he tapped the barrel of the gun lightly—four times exactly, "we might have to take drastic measures."

You leaned forward, trying to strike a balance between Jhin's intimidation and your need for cooperation. "Look, we just want to stop whatever's planned for the train bridge. Help us out, and you'll be doing the whole town a favour. No one has to get hurt."

The tension in the air was palpable, the other men at the table shifting uneasily under Jhin's piercing gaze. Finally, the scarred man nodded, breaking the silence. "Alright, Sheriff. We heard there's a group of bandits planning to blow up the bridge around noon tomorrow. They're after the supply train coming through. We don't know all the details, but they're serious about it."

"Names," Jhin said, his voice low and commanding. "We need names."

The scarred man hesitated, glancing at his companions before continuing. "The leader goes by Black Jack. He's got a reputation for being ruthless. His crew, they're all seasoned outlaws. They'll be heavily armed and ready for a fight."

You nodded, absorbing the information. "Where are they hiding out?"

"Last we heard, they were camped out in the old mine, just outside of town. It's a good spot for them to plan and gather their explosives."

Jhin leaned back slightly, his fingers still resting on his gun. "Thank you for your cooperation. You've been most helpful."

The men relaxed visibly, relief washing over their faces. "Just... make sure you stop them," the scarred man said. "We don't want any part of their mess."

You stood up, glancing at Jhin, who gave a slight, supportive nod for you to continue. "We'll handle it. And remember, keep this to yourselves. If word gets out, it could ruin everything."

Jhin picked up his gun with practiced elegance, tucking it back into his holster. The tension in the room lingered as you turned to leave, feeling the eyes of the patrons following your every move. As you both walked away from the table, the noise of the saloon gradually resumed, though it was noticeably quieter than before.

Once outside, the cold night air was a stark contrast to the stuffy atmosphere inside the saloon. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves after the tense encounter. Jhin walked beside you, his steps silent and measured.

"Well, that was enlightening," you said, breaking the silence.

Jhin glanced at you, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "Indeed. It seems we have our work cut out for us." He paused, then continued, a hint of amusement in his voice, "But before we plunge into the chaos of stopping Black Jack, perhaps a drink is in order?"

You raised an eyebrow, momentarily taken aback. "A drink? Now?"

He smiled, the expression barely visible behind his mask. "Consider it a brief respite, a moment to gather our thoughts and prepare for the task ahead. Besides," he added, his tone light and teasing, "it might be the only opportunity we have to enjoy a quiet moment."

You sighed, the idea of a drink oddly appealing despite the circumstances. "Alright, Jhin. One drink."

He inclined his head, a gracious gesture. "Of course, darling... Just one drink."

The two of you headed to a smaller, quieter tavern on the edge of town, one less likely to draw attention. Inside, the atmosphere was subdued, a stark contrast to the bustling saloon you had just left. You found a table in the corner, away from prying eyes, and settled in.

Jhin ordered a bottle of whiskey, pouring two glasses with a flourish. He slid one across the table to you, his eyes never leaving your face. You hesitated for a moment, but you took a sip, the warmth of the whiskey spread through you, momentarily easing the tension. You studied Jhin over the rim of your glass, his enigmatic presence both unsettling and oddly comforting.

"So," you said, setting your glass down. "How did you come by that information about the train bridge?"

Jhin leaned back in his chair, his eyes glittering with amusement. "A true artist never reveals his secrets, Y/n. Let's just say I have my ways of acquiring valuable information."

You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips despite yourself. "Always so mysterious."

He chuckled softly. "It adds to my charm, doesn't it?"

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound surprising even you. “I won't say yes, just to annoy you."

Jhin leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief behind his goggles. "Ah, but your laughter betrays you, darling. Deep down, you find my enigmatic nature quite charming."

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your composure. "In your dreams, Jhin."

He tilted his head, studying you with that unsettling, piercing gaze. "Come now, Y/n. You can admit it. We're sharing a drink, after all. A moment of honesty won't hurt."

You took another sip of whiskey, feeling the warmth spread through you. "Alright, fine. Maybe a tiny part of me finds your theatrics... interesting. But don't let it go to your head."

Jhin's smile widened, clearly pleased with your reluctant admission. "Interesting? I'll take that as a victory."

"Small victories," you countered, trying to downplay the significance. "Don't forget, we're still on opposite sides once this is over."

He leaned back, a satisfied look on his face. "Of course. But for now, let's enjoy this rare moment of truce. It's not often we find ourselves on the same side of the law."

You nodded, the brief respite from the looming danger a welcome relief. "Agreed. Just remember, this doesn't change anything. We have a job to do, and once it's done, we go back to being adversaries."

Jhin raised his glass in a mock salute. "Understood, Sheriff. But for now, let's toast to our temporary alliance."

You clink your glass against his, the sound ringing softly in the quiet tavern. "To the hunt," you said, meeting his gaze with a determined look.

"To the hunt," Jhin echoed, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something darker. "And to the unexpected pleasures it brings."

You shook your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. "Always the dramatist."

He smiled, the expression hidden behind his mask but evident in his eyes. "It's part of my charm, remember?" He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And to think, you've never even seen my face..."

The statement caught you off guard, and you found yourself momentarily speechless. It was true; Jhin's face had always been concealed behind his mask. The enigma he presented was both infuriating and intriguing. "Maybe that's for the best," you replied, trying to keep your tone light. “You must be ugly."

He chuckled at that, sipping his drink before setting the glass down. "Perhaps," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But then again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

You rolled your eyes, unable to resist the playful banter. "You're incorrigible."

"Isn't that what you love about me?" he teased, his gaze lingering on your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes.

Your cheeks heated at the suggestive statement. You tried to brush it off, but there was no denying the electricity that seemed to crackle between you whenever Jhin was near. "Save the flirting for when we're not trying to take down a bunch of outlaws," you warned, the tension between you somehow making it all the more enjoyable.

Jhin leaned back in his chair, his hand absently toying with the brim of his hat. "A fair warning, Sheriff," he acknowledged, his voice dropping to a seductive purr. "That’s a pity we don’t see each other apart from these types of missions… I missed you, while we were apart.” He said with a casual flirtiness. 

The confession caught you off guard, the tone in his voice making it clear he meant every word. The admission, combined with the proximity between you, made the air around you thick with unspoken desires. "Perhaps, next time we meet, we can set aside our differences," he suggested, as his finger traced the rim of his glass suggestively. "Away from danger, and perhaps, in a place more…comfortable."

You stared into Jhin's masked face, the intensity of the moment making it difficult to breathe. The thought of being alone with him, with no threats or missions to distract you, was both terrifying and exhilarating. You know his lips were curved into a smile, and for a split second, you imagined them against your own. "You're a dangerous man, Jhin," you managed to say, your voice barely audible over the sudden loudness in your ears.

Jhin leaned in, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin. "And you, darling, are a temptation I've yet to resist," he whispered back. Your breath hitched as he finished his words, and you found yourself unable to move, paralyzed by the intensity of the moment. Jhin sat back, the glint in his eyes leaving no doubt that he felt the same heat pulsing between you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath catching in your throat at his words. You could feel the tension between you reaching its breaking point, the desire to give in to the moment almost overwhelming. But you knew you had to resist, had to maintain some semblance of control.

With a shaky breath, you pushed yourself away from the table, the scrape of the chair against the floor echoing in the quiet tavern. "It's late," you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to sound composed. "I...I think it was a bad idea for me to follow you here."

You reached into your pocket, fishing out some coins and tossing them onto the table. "This is for the drinks," you said, not giving Jhin a chance to protest. "I'll...I'll see you tomorrow."

Without another word, you turned and headed for the door, the cool night air hitting you like a wave as you stepped outside. You could feel Jhin's eyes on you as you walked away, his lingering gaze sending shivers down your spine. But you knew that giving in to the temptation would only lead to trouble

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

The next morning dawned cold and clear, the first light of day casting long shadows across the dusty streets of Frontier Dusk. You were already on your horse, the powerful chestnut gelding pawing at the ground in anticipation. Your breath hung in the air, a misty reminder of the early hour. The train you needed to stop was due to arrive soon, and you couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

You adjusted your hat, glancing down the empty street, and then back towards the edge of town. The air was crisp, filled with the scents of leather, horse, and the faint remnants of last night's campfires. In the distance, the faint rumble of the approaching train sent a sense of urgency thrumming through your veins.

Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats reached your ears, and you turned to see Jhin approaching on his own horse, a sleek black stallion that matched his rider's ominous presence. He rode with an almost unnerving grace and as he drew closer, you could see the hint of a smile beneath his mask, a glint of something almost playful in his eyes. 

"Good morning, darling," he called out, his voice carrying effortlessly across the distance. "I hope you’re ready for some excitement."

"Jhin," you greeted, keeping your voice steady despite the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "You're late again."

He shrugged nonchalantly, reining in his horse beside yours. "Apologies. I had some... private matters to attend to." His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "It appears our little mission has leaked. Word's out, but it won’t stop them—or us."

You clenched your jaw, anger and frustration warring within you. "How did that happen? I thought we were careful."

"Careful isn’t always enough, Sheriff. But don’t worry. A bit of extra attention only makes the game more interesting."

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. “Why are you always like this…?”

“Because I’m special.” He inclined his head, a mockery of a bow. “Lead the way, Sheriff. I’m right behind you."

With a sharp nod, you spurred your horse forward, the powerful animal leaping into motion. Jhin followed closely, the two of you riding hard towards the train tracks. The morning air whipped past you, the sound of pounding hooves a steady rhythm beneath the rising tension.

As the train came into view, you could see the steam billowing from the engine. There was no time to lose.

Jhin's eyes sparkled with dark amusement. "Let’s give them a performance they won’t forget."

Splitting off, you guided your horse around the side of the station, heart pounding as you prepared to intercept the train. The stakes were high, but you couldn't afford to think about that now. Focus and determination drove you forward, and with Jhin at your side, for better or worse, you were ready to face whatever came next.

The train thundered down the tracks, its powerful engine roaring as it approached the old wooden bridge that spanned a deep ravine. The wheels clattered over the rails, a rhythmic, almost hypnotic sound that filled the morning air. You and Jhin rode hard alongside it, your horses’ hooves pounding the earth in a desperate race to keep up.

As the bridge loomed closer, you spotted a group of figures moving inside the train cars. Bandits. They were already on board—seems like they changed their plans. You exchanged a quick glance with Jhin, and without a word, you both urged your horses closer to the speeding train.

"Ready?" you shouted over the din, eyes fixed on the open door of a boxcar ahead.

Jhin nodded, his expression hidden behind his mask but his eyes glinting with excitement. "After you, darling."

You leaned forward, your horse galloping at full speed, and then you leapt from the saddle, hands gripping the edge of the open door. With a grunt, you hauled yourself inside, drawing your revolver in one swift motion. Jhin followed with a graceful leap, landing beside you with unnerving ease.

The interior of the car was dimly lit, filled with crates and barrels. The bandits turned in surprise, their weapons drawn. There were five of them, rough-looking men with cold eyes and mean grins. You didn’t hesitate.

"Drop your weapons!" you commanded, your voice firm and steady.

One of the bandits laughed, raising his rifle. "I don’t think so, Sheriff."

The car erupted into chaos. You fired first, your shot striking the man in the shoulder and sending him sprawling. Jhin moved like a shadow, his gun blazing. Two more bandits fell before they even had a chance to react, the precise shots echoing in the confined space. “Two,” he said, his voice bordering on insanity.

A burly bandit lunged at you with a knife, but you sidestepped his attack, delivering a swift kick to his gut. He staggered back, and you followed up with a punch that sent him crashing into a stack of crates.

Jhin was a whirlwind of lethal grace, his movements fluid and deadly. He ducked under a swinging club, placing a lotus trap underneath his feet as it sliced across the attacker’s thigh. The bandit howled in pain, collapsing to the floor. As you turned to face the last of the bandits, he raised his hands, eyes wide with fear. 

"Alright, alright! I give up!"

You kept your gun trained on him, breathing hard. "Smart move. Now get on your knees."

The bandit’s eyes were wide with fear as he knelt before you, trembling under the barrel of your revolver. His confession came out in a rush, desperation evident in every word.

"It was me! I’m Black Jack! I’ve been behind all the recent attacks," he blurted, his voice shaking. "Please, don’t kill me! I… I just wanted some attention, to be someone… to cause fear in the West!"

You exchanged a look with Jhin, whose eyes glittered with satisfaction behind his mask. The infamous Black Jack, finally cornered. You had waited a long time for this moment, but as Jhin stepped forward, his intent clear, you felt a strange mixture of anticipation and unease.

Jhin moved with a predator's grace, each step calculated, each motion deliberate. He knelt beside Black Jack, drawing a slender, wickedly sharp knife from his belt. The bandit whimpered, his terror palpable.

"For your crimes, Black Jack," Jhin began, his voice a low, melodic murmur, "justice must be served."

Without hesitation, Jhin's blade flashed, cutting a shallow line across Black Jack's cheek. The bandit cried out, but Jhin seemed serene, his movements an unsettling dance of beauty and violence. You should have intervened, should have stopped him, but instead, you found yourself watching, hypnotised.

There was a cold elegance in the way Jhin worked, his focus absolute. He inflicted pain with an artist's touch, each cut precise, each act of violence measured. Black Jack's screams echoed in the confined space of the train car, but they barely registered in your mind. All you could see was Jhin, his lethal grace mesmerising.

Jhin paused, his knife hovering above Black Jack's trembling form. He glanced up at you, a faint smile playing on his lips as he noticed your rapt attention.

"You know, Sheriff," Jhin said, his voice smooth and almost conversational, "I find myself quite displeased by this man's actions. Not because of his crimes, but because he caused you a great deal of worry."

You blinked, trying to focus on his words. "Jhin, what are you talking about?"

"If I had known from the beginning that it was only a pathetic man in quest of some little attention," he continued, his knife tracing another line across Black Jack's skin, his tone was outy. "I would have severed him from our story much earlier."

Black Jack whimpered again, but Jhin paid him no mind. His eyes were fixed on you, a dark intensity burning in their depths. "Nobody apart from me should get your attention, darling. I don’t like to share…" 

The possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and an unidentified desire pulsing through your veins. You clenched your fists, trying to maintain control. In this moment, you found yourself drawn to Jhin in a way you couldn't explain, the line between respect and submission blurring.

Despite your best efforts to stay composed, your breathing grew heavier, and your body felt flushed. You couldn't deny the allure of Jhin's dominance, his words arousing you further, the power dynamics between you overwhelming your senses.

As Jhin resumed his grisly work, you found yourself unable to look away. The tension between you both was palpable, the electricity in the air now mixed with a heady scent of lust. The line between the mission and your personal turmoil grew increasingly blurred—and shamefully, you could feel your panties dampening. 

"Jhin, that's enough," you said, though your voice lacked its usual conviction. 

Jhin sighed, almost regretfully, and stood, wiping the blood from his blade with a practised motion before sheathing it. Black Jack lay at your feet, sobbing and broken, but alive. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and looked down at the bandit.

"You're going to tell us everything," you said firmly. "And then you're going to face justice for what you've done."

Black Jack nodded frantically, too terrified to do anything but comply. You glanced at Jhin, who was watching you with an unreadable expression. The tension between you, the strange, twisted bond formed by necessity and mutual disdain, seemed to tighten in that moment.

The train had stopped just before the bridge, the ravine left behind, but the memory of Jhin's graceful violence lingered in your mind. As you led Black Jack out of the train car, the air between you and Jhin seemed to crackle with a strange, intense— sexual energy. The usual tension that defined your uneasy alliance felt different now, charged with something almost palpable.

Jhin fell into step beside you, his presence unsettlingly close. He leaned in, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. "You seemed quite captivated by my performance, darling," he said, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. "I was just making sure you didn't go too far."

His eyes, dark and unreadable behind his mask, locked onto yours. "Don't lie to yourself, Y/n. You enjoyed it. The beauty in the chaos, the artistry in the violence."

Your heart pounded in your chest, "You're delusional, Jhin." But as you said, you wondered if you were trying to convince him — or yourself. 

He stepped even closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Am I? Or is it that you can't admit how much you need me? How much do you crave the thrill I bring?"

A wave of heat flooded your body, a cocktail of frustrated desire and undeniable attraction. Jhin's words, so laden with passion, wrapped around you like a tantalising embrace. "This isn't the time for your mind games, Jhin," you managed to say, your voice trembling.

Your heart raced as his hand accidentally brushed against yours, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. "Who said anything about games? This is very real." His words dug into you, igniting a fire within. After a moment of intense silence, he continued, his voice thick with innuendo. "It has always been real—right? That’s why you keep calling for my help, even though you don’t truly need it.”

“You truly did believe I was this oblivious, darling?"

Your breath hitched, the truth in his words leaving you speechless. The reality of your feelings and the intensity of his gaze left you breathless, your body responding in kind. Your nipples hardened, your pussy wetting your panties as an aching need bloomed between your legs.

You tried to suppress the overwhelming sensation, but Jhin's dominance and sexual energy were intoxicating. The room seemed to shrink, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. You couldn't ignore the longing in your heart, the pull toward him, the desire he'd awakened within you since you first encounter.

Jhin's smouldering gaze never left your face, the mask covering his face doing little to hide the intensity of his desire. He leaned in closer, his lips ghosting past your ear as he inhaled your scent deeply, his breath hot against your skin, "Good girl," he praised, his tone low and laced with admiration. "You fought well."

His hand rose and the mask shifted slightly, revealing a sliver of Jhin's full, inviting, thin lips. You felt the heat emanating from his body, the scent of his cologne, a heady mix of spice and sandalwood, intoxicating your senses. You held your breath, your body trembling with anticipation as the distance between your lips shrank. 

In that moment, the line between mission and passion blurred, leaving you both in a whirlwind of forbidden lust and dark, passionate cravings. You struggled to regain control, to maintain your composure, but the heat between you grew, threatening to consume you both. Your breath hitched, the intensity of the moment threatening to consume you. You were painfully aware of his every move and every word.

Just as your lips brushed against the fabric of his mask, in a desperate attempt to seize an opportunity, Black Jack made his move.

With a sudden, desperate lunge, he pulled a hidden pistol from his boot and fired. The shot rang out, echoing in the confined space, and pain exploded in your side. You staggered, clutching at the wound, blood seeping through your fingers.

Jhin's eyes widened behind his mask, a flash of something dangerous and furious crossing his features. "You dare?" he hissed, turning his attention to Black Jack with a lethal grace.

In one swift motion, Jhin disarmed him, the pistol clattering to the floor. Black Jack whimpered, but Jhin's focus was already shifting back to you. He was by your side in an instant, his hands surprisingly gentle as they inspected your wound.

"Stay with me, darling," he murmured, his voice a strange mix of concern and something deeper. "You're not allowed to die on me."

You tried to focus, your vision blurring at the edges. "Jhin... help me..."

He nodded, his movements swift and efficient as he applied pressure to the wound. "I'm here. You're going to be fine," he said, though there was an edge of desperation in his tone that betrayed his usual calm demeanour.

"Focus on my voice," Jhin continued, his hands working with practised precision. "You’re stronger than this. You’re the Sheriff of Frontier Dusk, remember?"

Your breaths came in shallow gasps, the pain radiating through your body. "Jhin... why do you care?"

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the mask seemed to slip, revealing a flicker of vulnerability. "Because, Y/n," he said softly, "you are the only one worthy of my attention."

Despite the pain, a weak smile tugged at your lips. "That's... a strange way to show it."

He chuckled, a dark, melodic sound. "Perhaps. But then, I’ve never been one for convention."

You felt your consciousness wavering, the edges of your vision darkening. "Jhin, I..."

"Shh," he soothed, pressing harder on the wound to staunch the bleeding. "Save your strength. We're almost there."

As the darkness began to close in, you held onto the sound of his voice, the unexpected tenderness in his touch. The last thing you saw before everything faded was Jhin's mask, his tom a mix of anger, fear, and something almost… tender. In that moment, you realised that despite the danger and the madness, there was a strange, undeniable bond between you and the enigmatic assassin— and that's why you really didn't want to die. 

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

You blinked, consciousness slowly returning as the world around you swam into focus. The familiar sight of your room greeted you, the soft light filtering through the curtains casting a gentle glow over everything. You tried to move, but a dull ache spread through your body, a painful reminder of what had happened.

As you shifted, a figure stirred beside you, and you turned to see Caitlyn sitting by your bedside, her expression a mix of relief and concern. "You're awake," she said, her voice soft with emotion.

You managed a weak smile, your throat dry. "Hey, partner."

Caitlyn reached for a glass of water on the nightstand, holding it out to you. "Here. Take it slow."

You gratefully accepted the glass, taking small sips to ease the dryness in your throat. "What happened?" you asked, your memory still fuzzy around the edges.

Caitlyn sighed, her gaze dropping to her hands. "You were shot, Y/n. Black Jack got the drop on you. If it weren't for Jhin..." Her voice trailed off, and you glanced at her, the pieces starting to fall into place. 

"Jhin," you murmured, remembering his desperate attempt to save you.

Caitlyn nodded, her eyes meeting yours. "He brought you back here, tended to your wound himself. Said he couldn't let you die."

You felt a surge of gratitude and confusion, the memory of Jhin's unexpected tenderness still fresh in your mind. "Where is he now?"

Caitlyn hesitated, her expression troubled. "Gone. He disappeared right after he brought you back. Said something about his art… his need to resist the urge, or whatever this psycho meant."

You frowned, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. Despite everything, there was a part of you that felt a strange sense of loss at his absence. "He saved my life," you said quietly, the words feeling inadequate.

Caitlyn nodded, understanding flashing in her eyes. "Yeah, he did," she said, her voice soft. "But don't think for a second that makes up for everything else he's done."

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. "I know," you said, your voice heavy with resignation. 

As she helped you settle back into bed, you couldn't shake the memory of Jhin's words, the fleeting moment of connection between you. But for now, as you drifted back into a restless sleep, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand and the familiar presence of Caitlyn by your side.

When he said he would be gone, he meant it for real this time. 

In the days that followed the tumultuous events on the train, Frontier Dusk seemed to settle into an uneasy calm. Jhin's absence was like a void, a conspicuous emptiness in the fabric of the town's daily life. At first, there was a sense of relief among the townsfolk, a collective exhale at the absence of the enigmatic assassin and the chaos he often brought in his wake. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, that relief gave way to a growing unease.

For you, Jhin's disappearance weighed heavily on your mind. At first, there was a sense of quiet satisfaction, a respite from the constant tension and danger that seemed to follow in his wake. You found yourself almost grateful for the sense of peace that settled over the town in his absence, the streets no longer tinged with the undercurrent of fear that had become all too familiar.

But as time wore on, that peace began to feel hollow, a facade that masked the growing sense of emptiness in your heart. You made countless attempts to reach out to Jhin, sending telegrams to him — then to every contact you had, but each one went unanswered. Every time you ventured out to the oak tree, you were met only by your own solitude, the wind whispering through the branches a cruel reminder of his absence.

In the beginning, you tried to convince yourself that Jhin's departure was for the best, that it was better for everyone if he stayed away. But as the days stretched on, you couldn't shake the growing sense of desperation that gnawed at you. You found yourself scanning the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of his distinctive figure among the crowd, but he remained elusive, as if he had vanished into thin air.

The uncertainty weighed heavily on your mind, a constant presence that refused to fade. You couldn't help but wonder where Jhin had gone, what he was doing, if he was even still alive. Thoughts of him haunted your every waking moment, his enigmatic presence a constant presence in your mind.

At night, you would lie awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to shake the feeling of emptiness that settled over you. You had grown accustomed to the chaos and danger that came with Jhin's presence, but now that he was gone, you found yourself longing for the excitement and unpredictability he brought into your life.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

The night had wrapped Frontier Dusk in a thick, velvety darkness. The town, usually so lively with the sounds of restless horses and late-night chatter, was now still. Only the occasional creak of a wooden beam or the distant howl of a coyote broke the silence. You had finally fallen into a restless sleep, your mind still circling around the thoughts of Jhin, as it had for months. The hollow ache in your chest seemed to grow heavier each night, a silent companion that never left your side.

It was deep into the night when something pulled you from your sleep. At first, you thought it was just another dream—those haunting images of masked eyes and the cold, calculated precision of his movements. But as your senses sharpened, you became aware of a presence in the room, a subtle shift in the air that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hand instinctively moved toward the pistol on your bedside table, but before you could reach it, a voice, low and melodic, whispered through the darkness.

"Looking for this, Sheriff?"

Your breath caught in your throat. You knew that voice. Even after all these months, it was unmistakable—deep, suave and dangerous. You turned your head, and there he was, standing in the shadowed corner of your room. The moonlight filtering through the window cast a pale glow across his mask, highlighting the eerie beauty of his features. In his hand, he casually twirled your pistol, as if it were a mere toy.

"Jhin," you breathed, a mix of shock and relief flooding your senses.

He stepped closer, moving with that same unsettling grace, his presence commanding the room. As he approached your bed, he placed the pistol back on the nightstand, his gloved fingers brushing against yours as he did so. The touch was fleeting but electric, sending a jolt of something dangerously close to excitement through you.

"I must say," Jhin continued, his tone laced with an almost playful edge, "I've missed our little encounters."

You sat up slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. "Where the hell have you been?" you demanded, the relief quickly giving way to anger. "I thought you were dead, or—"

"Or what?" Jhin interrupted, his voice soft but carrying an edge of menace. "Or that I'd abandoned you? No, darling. I simply had... other matters to attend to."

He tilted his head slightly, studying you with those dark, unreadable eyes behind his mask. You could feel his gaze, heavy and intent, as if he were assessing every detail of your face, every shift in your expression. As if committing it to his memory forever.

"You had no right to leave without a word," you said, your voice tight with frustration. "You can’t just vanish like that."

Jhin's head tilted slightly, a mockery of sympathy in his posture. "I didn't realise you'd grown so attached, Y/n. How... sentimental."

You clenched your fists, the anger bubbling up again. "Don't twist this around, Jhin. You left without a trace, without so much as a sign that you were alive. I tried to reach you—"

"And now, here I am," he cut in smoothly, his tone softening as he moved even closer. He was now standing beside your bed, close enough that you could see the faint rise and fall of his chest, the slight movement of his fingers at his side. "Alive. And in front of you. Isn't that what you wanted?"

You wanted to say something sharp, something that would push him back, but the words caught in your throat. He was right there, and the months of longing, of unanswered questions, of sleepless nights waiting for some sign of him, all came crashing down on you. 

Before you could gather your thoughts, Jhin reached out, his gloved hand cupping your chin with a surprising gentleness. The contrast between the softness of his touch and the hard edge of his persona sent a shiver through you. His thumb brushed lightly against your lower lip, a gesture so intimate and yet so dangerous that it made your breath hitch.

"I didn't intend to cause you pain, Sheriff," he murmured, his voice low and almost tender. "But some things... require a certain finesse. A certain patience. Much like you, really."

His words, laced with that signature mix of menace and allure, left you momentarily speechless. The intensity of the moment, of having him so close after so long, was overwhelming. Your body betrayed you, leaning slightly into his touch, craving the connection you'd been denied for so many months.

"Jhin..." you whispered, not even sure what you were asking for. An explanation? An apology? Maybe just a confirmation that this wasn't some cruel dream.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Did you miss me, love?" His tone was teasing, but there was an underlying seriousness and urgency that you couldn't ignore.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your emotions a tumultuous mix of anger, relief, and something dangerously close to desire. "You have no idea," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

Jhin's fingers tightened slightly against your skin, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race. "Good," he whispered, his voice dark and filled with a promise. "Because I've missed you too. More than you could possibly know."

In that moment, with his masked face so close to yours, his hand on your chin, you felt like the world outside your room had ceased to exist. There was only Jhin, his presence overwhelming and inescapable, pulling you into the orbit of his madness once more. And despite everything, despite all the chaos and danger he brought with him, you couldn't bring yourself to push him away.

Not now. Not when he was finally here, after all this time.

And in the silence that followed, with your breath mingling with his, you realised just how deeply his absence had affected you. How much you'd come to depend on the danger, the thrill, and the strange connection that existed between you and the man behind the mask.

Jhin's fingers lingered against your chin, his touch featherlight yet firm, keeping you in place. His eyes, though hidden behind the mask, seemed to bore into you, probing, searching. For a long, tense moment, he said nothing, just watched you in that unnervingly intense way of his. It felt like he was trying to read every thought, every emotion, every unspoken word that danced behind your eyes.

Then, slowly, he spoke, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it, almost… uncertain.

“When you were shot…” he began, his tone carefully controlled, as if weighing every word. “I felt something I hadn’t anticipated. A fear that was… unfamiliar.”

You blinked, surprised by the vulnerability threading through his words. Jhin? Admitting fear? Your breath caught, but you stayed silent, sensing he had more to say.

His hand moved from your chin to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone with an unexpected tenderness. “It unsettled me, Sheriff,” he continued, his voice almost a murmur now, like he was confessing something forbidden. “To see you bleeding, in pain… because of someone else’s hand.” His thumb stilled, and you could feel his breath, warm against your skin, as he leaned just a fraction closer. “It made me realise how much I’d grown… concerned for your well-being.”

Concerned. The word hung in the air like a fragile thing, barely held together by the tension between you. You swallowed, trying to maintain some composure. “So, you left because… you were worried?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

Jhin’s fingers pressed just a bit harder against your skin, almost as if in frustration, but his tone remained calm, controlled. “Worried?” he echoed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “No, Sheriff… not merely worried. I was terrified.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. Terrified. That wasn’t a word you ever thought would cross his lips. Not Jhin, who thrived on danger and chaos, who seemed to relish in the violence and unpredictability of life. You stayed silent, letting him continue.

“I have faced death more times than I can count,” he went on, his voice growing quieter, almost confessional. “I have stared into the abyss and found it rather… beautiful. But seeing you like that, bleeding, unconscious… it shook something loose in me. I felt…” He paused, struggling for the right word. “Vulnerable. Helpless, even. It was as if… for the first time, I had something to lose.”

His admission hung between you, the air heavy with its weight. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. "Jhin..." you whispered, unsure of what to say, of how to respond to this raw honesty.

His mask tilted slightly, his eyes still locked onto yours. “So I left,” he confessed, almost too quietly, as if he didn’t want to hear the words himself. “I thought… if I distanced myself, if I severed whatever strange connection had formed between us, I could rid myself of these... weaknesses. These feelings I had no desire to understand."

Your chest tightened. "Feelings?" you repeated, almost in disbelief. “For me?”

He chuckled, a dark, low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "You must know, darling, that you occupy my thoughts far more than I’d like to admit. Even when I was far away, I found myself wondering what you were doing, if you were safe… if you were thinking of me, too."

You blinked, trying to process his words. “And that scared you?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice almost trembling. “It terrified me. I have never cared for another’s safety… not like this. Not ever.”

For a moment, you were speechless, the weight of his confession settling over you. You knew Jhin was a man who thrived on control, on the careful choreography of his actions, where every step, every movement, every kill was a deliberate, artistic decision. To admit fear, to admit that he cared, to admit that his feelings for you were strong enough to drive him away… it was an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability from a man who seemed to find beauty in death itself.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. “So you ran because you were afraid… of what, exactly?”

His fingers tightened ever so slightly on your face, his mask mere inches from yours. “I was afraid,” he said softly, “of what I might do to keep you safe. Of how much I’d sacrifice… just to ensure you remain unharmed.”

You felt a shiver run through you, your skin prickling at the intensity of his words, at the way he spoke them with such conviction, such quiet desperation. “And now?” you asked, searching his gaze. “Are you still afraid?”

He hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly behind the mask, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, might retreat back into that impenetrable shell he wore so well. But then he leaned in closer, so close you could feel his breath against your lips, could see the glint of his eyes through the mask.

“I’m afraid of many things, Sheriff,” he murmured, his voice low and intense, “but losing you… that, I’ve come to realise, is the one fear I cannot live with.”

You felt your breath hitch, your heart racing in your chest. He was so close now, his presence overwhelming, intoxicating. "So what now, Jhin?" you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and longing. "What does this mean for us?"

He smiled then, a slow, almost predatory smile that sent a shiver down your spine. “It means, Y/n,” he said, his voice barely more than a breath, “that I am here… and I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

His words hung in the air, a promise and a challenge all at once, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of dread and exhilaration coursing through your veins. He was back, and this time, he was not going to leave.

Jhin lingered close, his breath warm against your lips, his eyes—a dark, endless mystery behind the mask—seemed to study your every reaction. The room was filled with a thick, electric tension, the kind that made the hair on your arms stand up, made your heart pound so loud you were sure he could hear it. You could still feel his gloved hand against your cheek, thumb brushing lightly over your skin as if memorising the curve of your face, the softness of your touch.

Then, he spoke, his voice a low, hushed murmur in the quiet of the night. “Tell me, Sheriff,” he began, his tone almost teasing but layered with something deeper, something raw. “Would you like to see my face?”

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, unsure if you had heard him correctly. Your breath hitched, a wave of surprise and curiosity crashing over you. “What?” you whispered, barely finding your voice. “You would…?”

His smile widened ever so slightly, a hint of amusement in the curve of his lips. “After all this time, all these dances we’ve shared… perhaps it’s time to lift the veil, no?” he said, almost coy, yet there was an edge to his words, a challenge.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. The idea of seeing Jhin’s face, the real face behind the mask, behind all the careful control and precision, felt… impossibly intimate. It was a glimpse behind the curtain, a moment of vulnerability that you never thought he would allow.

“Why?” you asked softly, your voice barely more than a breath. “Why now?”

He tilted his head, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the moon filtering through the window. “Because,” he murmured, his voice deep and rich, “you’ve earned it. You’ve seen more of me than anyone else ever has. And perhaps…” He paused, leaning in a fraction closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear. “Perhaps, I want you to know me… truly.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and anticipation flooding your senses. This was Jhin, the man who had danced on the razor’s edge between life and death, who had made an art of violence, who had wrapped himself in mystery and shadows. And here he was, offering you a glimpse of the truth behind the mask.

You nodded, almost without thinking, your breath catching in your throat. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and longing. “I want to see you.”

Jhin’s hand left your cheek, his fingers trailing down slowly, tracing the line of your jaw before he reached up to the edge of his mask. His movements were deliberate, almost ritualistic, as he hooked his fingers under the mask, pausing for just a moment as if considering the gravity of this decision.

Then, with a slow, fluid motion, he began to lift it.

The room seemed to hold its breath with you, the silence so thick it was almost suffocating. The moonlight painted everything in shades of silver and shadow, and for a moment, the mask caught the light, glinting as he pulled it away from his face.

You felt your breath catch as the mask and goggles came off, revealing the face beneath. At first, it was only shadows, but as he stepped into the sliver of moonlight streaming through your window, you saw him—truly saw him—for the first time.

His skin was pale, his features sharp and angular, like they had been carved from marble. His jawline was strong, his lips curved in a faint, enigmatic smile. His hair, dark and slightly tousled, framed his face in a way that made him look almost ethereal, like a phantom who had stepped out of the darkness and into the light. But it was his eyes that struck you most—dark and intense, carrying a thousand unspoken stories, a mixture of sorrow, mischief, and something else… something softer, something that made your chest tighten.

He looked at you, letting you see him fully, without any of his usual masks or affectations. His gaze was searching, vulnerable in a way you had never seen before, and it made your heart race even faster.

“What do you see, darling?” he asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet it carried across the space between you with a gravity that made you shiver.

You swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks flush under his scrutiny. “I see…” you began, your voice faltering as you tried to find the words. “I see you, Jhin. For the first time, I really see you.”

His smile deepened, but there was a softness in his expression that you had never seen before, a hint of something fragile and almost hesitant. “And does it please you?” he asked, his voice laced with a strange mix of vulnerability and curiosity.

You nodded, your breath shaky. “Yes… it does,” you admitted, feeling your pulse quicken at the admission. “More than I thought it would.”

His eyes flickered, something warm and relieved flashing across his face. He moved closer, his face now inches from yours, the moonlight casting a silver glow on his skin, making him look almost otherworldly. “Then,” he whispered, his lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile, “let me be closer still.”

Before you could react, his hand was on the back of your neck, drawing you in. His lips brushed against yours, gentle at first, testing, as if waiting for permission. When you didn’t pull away, his kiss deepened, a mix of hunger and restraint, passion and control, a promise of everything he had held back for so long.

As Jhin's lips met yours, you felt electric shocks travelling through your body. His tongue danced with yours, tasting, exploring, taking the sweet nectar your mouth provided. Each moan you let out, each shudder your body released into the kiss, only emboldened him to become more aggressive, his hand on your neck tightening, guiding you in a slow, slippery dance.

Jhin's breath was uneven, a low, husky sound that filled the room with a sense of raw desire. His eyes, dark and intent, never left you as he slowly pulled back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. His gaze roved over your exposed skin, his admiration almost palpable.

"Your taste," he murmured, his voice thick with admiration and something deeper, "is intoxicating, my dear." his tongue licking his own thin lips to savour the last remnants of your taste.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he trailed his fingers down from your collarbone, where your nightgown had fallen away, to the delicate curve of your ribs. His touch was light, teasing, each stroke making you shiver in response. The sensation of his fingertips against your skin sent electric jolts through your body, heightening every nerve.

His eyes remained locked on yours as he gripped the hem of your nightgown, his fingers gently tugging it upward. The fabric bunched in his hands, exposing more of your body with each deliberate inch. The anticipation in his gaze was almost overwhelming, his eyes dark with a mixture of admiration and lust.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his fingers grazed the sensitive skin of your stomach, the cool air of the night contrasting sharply with the heat of his touch. His touch was both tender and possessive, each movement calculated to draw out every sensation.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, his movements slow and reverent, as if he were undressing a masterpiece. He peeled them down gradually, his eyes lingering on every exposed inch of your skin. As the shorts slipped past your hips, they revealed the black lace panties that clung to your curves, accentuating the soft lines of your body.

His hand, calloused from years of handling weapons, now moved with a careful, almost worshipful reverence. His fingertips slid beneath the lace, brushing against the heat of your core. The sensation was electrifying, and a soft moan escaped your lips, your body instinctively arching into his touch, craving the contact.

Jhin’s breath was warm against your ear as he leaned closer, his voice a velvety whisper. “You are exquisite,” he murmured, his fingers exploring with a mixture of skill and adoration. “Every part of you.”

His touch became more insistent, his fingertips caressing and teasing, drawing out your responses with a practised ease. Each movement was designed to please, to heighten your senses, to make you feel cherished and desired. His touch was both gentle and fervent, a contrast that left you breathless and yearning.

As his fingers continued their delicate exploration, your body responded eagerly, the pleasure building with each stroke. Jhin’s attentiveness was both overwhelming and intoxicating, his every touch a testament to the depth of his desire and the admiration he held for you.

In the dim light of the room, with Jhin’s eyes fixed on you, you felt a profound connection, a merging of desire and emotion that transcended the physical. His worshipful touch was not just about pleasure, but about reverence, about honouring every part of you with a devotion that made the experience all the more intense and unforgettable.

"You're soaked, my sweet," he murmured before lowering his head, capturing a nipple between his teeth, and giving it a gentle tug. Your body convulsed, a moan escaping your lips. The sharp contrast of pain and pleasure left you quivering, tears forming in your eyes, a mix of ecstasy and need.

Suddenly, Jhin released you, his eyes dark with lust, and he stepped back. "Spread your legs, my dear," he commanded, his voice deep and rich.

You obeyed, feeling vulnerable but ready, waiting for him to lead you into the darkest depths of desire.

He knelt before you, looking up at you with a smile as wicked as his deadly aim. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, and he slid them down, baring your most intimate secrets. The scent of your arousal filled the air, making him lick his lips in anticipation.

"You smell divine," he whispered, leaning forward to lick your inner thigh. His warm breath made you shiver, and you gripped the sheets, your knuckles turning white from the pressure.

His tongue traced a path to your swollen clit, flicking it teasingly, and you let out a desperate whimper. He dove in, circling and tasting, his fingers buried deep within your folds, stretching you, his thumb pressing against your entrance, begging to be allowed inside.

You cried out, the pleasure building, the intensity mounting with each flick of his tongue and each stroke of his fingers. A shiver ran through your body as you felt his thumb breach you, the initial discomfort quickly fading into a deep, visceral pleasure.

As Jhin continued to tease your clit with his tongue, his fingers still working their magic inside you, your moans grew more frantic. You clutched the bed sheets, struggling to maintain your grip on reality as the pleasure consumed you. "Oh, Jhin," you breathed, your voice thick with lust, "please, don't stop."

His lips finally left your clit, a wet, sucking noise echoing in the room before he spoke against your hot flesh, "Not until I'm ready," he growled, his breath hot and heavy against your most intimate parts.

You arched into his touch as he continued his skilled assault, an avalanche of sensations threatening to bury you alive. Your thighs shook uncontrollably, and you whimpered beneath him, "Please, I can't..."

Jhin's smile was wicked, his fingers moving in a rhythm guaranteed to drive you over the edge. "Can't what, my sweet Y/n?" he taunted, his voice a symphony of lust and control, a lethal combination that left you begging for mercy.

"Don't make me beg," you panted, on the precipice of release, your body trembling.

"You'll beg for everything, my dear," he promised, his words dark yet seductive, "and you'll love it."

Jhin's skill was as precise as his aim, his touch expert, teasing and tormenting you until you could no longer contain yourself. "Jhin," you screamed, your release washing over you, your body convulsing as your orgasm shook you to your core.

He pulled away, a satisfied smirk on his lips, his eyes gleaming with desire. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice a dark, sinister promise. With trembling hands, you cupped his cheeks, hunger burning in your eyes, craving the sensation of him—inside you, completing you.

With those words, the floodgates opened. Your body convulsed, your release crashing through you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping for breath, your world reduced to nothing but the feeling of his touch as you rode the waves of ecstasy.

Jhin pushed you onto the bed, his gaze still dark and predatory, but there was a tenderness in his eyes, an unspoken concern that you might flee. He pinned you against the mattress, his body a heavy weight, demanding submission. "Do you want me, my dear?" he growled, his voice deep and commanding. "Do you want to feel the full force of my desire?"

Your eyes met his, pleading, your desire as apparent as the flush on your cheeks. "Yes," you breathed, reaching up to claw at the buttons of his leather suit.

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Then beg me."

A thrill of arousal coursed through you as you gave yourself to his demand. "Please, Jhin, take me. I'm at your mercy. I need you inside me."

A wicked grin spread across his face, and he pulled away, stripping out of his clothes with a swiftness that left you panting, watching as the fabric pooled around his feet.

He revealed a body cased in sinew and muscle, he was a creature of shadow and death, but in this moment, he was yours. Jhin crawled onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours, each movement deliberate, each breath heavy with lust. "Do you still want me, my sweet?"

When his manhood finally came into focus, you couldn't help but gasp. It was a sight to behold: thick, veiny, and standing proudly at attention. A small drop of pre-cum beaded at the tip, glistening in the moonlight, a testament to his arousal. The sheer size of it left you both impressed and daunted, your wetness increasing at the thought of accommodating his girth.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice little more than a ragged exhale.

Jhin's eyes followed your gaze, taking pride in the effect he had on you. He couldn't help but smirk at the look of awe on your face. The contrast of his violent demeanour and your endearment to him was a fascinating dynamic.

Positioning himself between your thighs, he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, a look of hunger and determination in his eyes. He began to apply pressure, slowly breaching your wet folds, and you couldn't help but quiver at the sensation. The forceful, yet controlled nature of his advance left no room for doubt; you were at his mercy, and at this moment, it was all you desired.

He positioned his cock at the entrance of your slick heat and began to push in, a slow, deliberate pace. The pain and pleasure melded into an exquisite symphony, driving you wild with need.

"Fuck," you moaned, your eyes rolling back, as he filled you completely.

"You're so tight," he growled, his hips rocking back and forth, his thrusts slow and deep.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting more, needing him to take you to heights you'd never imagined. "Harder," you demanded, your voice thick with arousal, “Please, Jhin…”

Jhin grinned, his eyes still dark, but a hint of mischief now flickered in their depths. He pulled back, only to slam into you with brutal force, your body shaking from the impact. He began to move faster, your moans filling the room, the bed creaking with each thrust. The combination of the tender and violent, the mix of pain and pleasure, left you dizzy, your body on the edge of release, your back arching, your nails digging into his flesh.

Jhin's grin grew wider, revealing his sharp teeth, as he pulled out of you just enough to tease the edge of your pussy again. His voice was deep and commanding, tinted with a lustful growl as he taunted, "You like that, don't you? Being taken by me so hard, your body begging for more?"

He slammed back into you with reckless abandon, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed, the springs groaning in protest. You couldn't help but let out a loud, guttural moan, your hands instinctively clenching around the sheets. Jhin seized the opportunity to grab your hair, yanking it back roughly, with enough force to make your head snap back, your neck stretching like a ragdoll's.

"Ah, what a good girl," he mocked, feeling your pussy convulse and tighten around his cock, delighting in your discomfort. "That's it, take it all. I'll push you to the brink and beyond."

Jhin's gaze was dark and intense, yet there was a hint of mischief that flickered in his eyes, a dangerous playfulness that made your heart race. The moonlight painted him in silver shadows, accentuating every sharp angle of his face. With a slow, deliberate motion, he closed the distance between you, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your jaw. His touch was both tender and possessive, sending a shiver through you. “You wanted to see me,” he murmured, his voice a low, vibrating purr. “Now you have me—completely.”

You swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken at his words. “Jhin…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Is this… what you really want?”

He studied you with an intensity that made your breath catch. “What I want,” he said softly, “is to be with you in every possible way. To know that you see me… not just the mask I wear, but everything beneath it.”

As his lips met yours, the kiss was soft at first, exploring, as if he were savouring the moment he had so longed for. His hands roamed over your body with a mixture of reverence and hunger, tracing the curves of your form with an almost artistic precision. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more fervent, as he pulled you closer, his body pressing against yours with a burning intensity.

Your hands moved to his hair, gripping it tightly, pulling him closer, as if you could fuse your bodies together, erase the separation that had been so painfully present for months. Jhin responded with a low growl, his hands tightening around your waist, guiding you with a force that was both demanding and exhilarating.

The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths, the shifting of the bed beneath you, and the low, primal sounds of pleasure that escaped both of you. Jhin’s movements were deliberate, each thrust a calculated push toward something beyond the physical, something deeply emotional and profound. His lips trailed along your neck, his breath hot against your skin, and his voice, a low, growling whisper in your ear.

“You feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of awe and possessiveness. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now.”

You arched your back, your body moving in rhythm with his, every touch, every kiss, every caress pushing you closer to the edge. The combination of tenderness and intensity was almost overwhelming, leaving you breathless and dizzy, your mind swirling with sensations and emotions.

Jhin’s hands gripped your hips with a fierce possessiveness, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper, something almost vulnerable. “Tell me,” he urged, his voice a low, throaty command. “Tell me what you want.”

“Jhin…” you gasped, your voice a mixture of longing and desperation. “I want you—just you. I want everything you’re willing to give.”

His response was a fierce, primal sound, and he moved with a renewed intensity, his body pushing into yours with a relentless rhythm. Each thrust was a promise, a declaration of the depth of his feelings, the depth of the connection that had been building between you for so long.

The room was filled with the slapping sounds of flesh meeting flesh, the air ripe with the scent of sweat, sex, and lust. The painful tug on your hair, the unrelenting force of his thrusts, it all compounded, driving you to the edge of ecstasy. Your body trembled, a needy whimper escaping your lips, pleading for release.

"Don't think you can find solace there yet, my pet," Jhin warned, releasing your hair, only to grasp your hips, his fingertips digging into your tender skin. He leaned forward, his lips brushing your ear, whispering, "I decide when you cum." Your back arched, your nails digging into his chest, scratching furiously, leaving red lines in their wake. The pleasure-pain raging within you was maddening. Jhin leaned back, admiring his creation, the sight of you, writhing and desperate.

"Now, for your reward," he threatened, a wicked gleam in his eye. He increased the pace, every stroke filling you, pushing you higher, closer to the edge. "Come for me, my darling," he snarled, his voice hoarse with need. "Let me feel you around my cock as you shatter into a million pieces for me."

He began to thrust with every ounce of his strength, your moans echoing through the room, mingling with the creaks of the bed. It was only a matter of time before you succumbed to the overwhelming sensations, your pussy pulsating around him, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. Your nails bit into his flesh, pulling marks of ownership, as you cried out his name, your release clutching at his cock like a vice. Jhin let out a roar, feeling your pussy spasm and milk his cock, his own climax imminent. With one final, powerful thrust, he filled you with his seed, flooding your insides with his hot, sticky release.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting heavily, your bodies still joined, the strings of your passion entwined. Jhin's grip loosened, allowing you to slip away from his hold, leaving him buried inside you, basking in the afterglow of your union.

As the final waves of pleasure subsided, you lay there, breathless and sated, your body feeling both exhausted and profoundly connected. The room was cloaked in a serene quiet, save for the soft, laboured breaths that filled the space. Jhin's touch, once feverish and insistent, softened now into a gentle caress.

He moved with a deliberate grace, his fingers brushing against your skin with a careful reverence as if he were afraid to cause you any further discomfort. His eyes, dark and intense, were filled with an emotion you had rarely seen before—an almost tender concern.

“Are you alright?” Jhin asked, his voice softer than you had ever heard it, a trace of genuine worry underlying the smooth tones. His hands, so skilled in violence, now moved with a delicate precision, easing the aching muscles of your body with gentle touches.

You winced slightly as he adjusted your position, the soreness evident in your expression. “I’m… I’m okay,” you replied, your voice a mere whisper, feeling the lingering traces of both pleasure and pain. “Just a bit sore.”

Jhin’s fingers hovered over a particularly bruised spot on your side, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I’m sorry if I caused you discomfort,” he murmured, his voice filled with an unexpected sincerity. “It was never my intention to hurt you.”

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and lingering desire. “It’s alright,” you assured him, reaching up to touch his cheek, your fingers lingering against the warmth of his skin. “It was… intense. But I liked it.”

A faint, almost regretful smile touched Jhin’s lips as he continued to soothe your bruised body. “I should have been more careful,” he admitted, his voice tinged with self-reproach. “I was… consumed by my own desires and forgot to consider your well-being.” He leaned closer, his fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You are remarkable,” he murmured, his voice filled with an almost reverent admiration. “Even in pain, you are beautiful.”

He reached for a soft cloth and dampened it with cool water, then gently began to dab at the areas where your skin was reddened or bruised. The coolness of the cloth against your body felt soothing, and you sighed softly, leaning into his touch. His movements were careful and deliberate, each stroke of the cloth a gentle act of care.

“You’ve given me more than I ever expected,” Jhin continued, his voice steady and filled with emotion. “In your vulnerability, you’ve shown me a depth of connection I didn’t know I could experience.”

You looked up at him, seeing the genuine care in his eyes, a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his usually aloof demeanour. “I’m glad,” you said softly, your voice filled with sincerity. “I’ve felt more connected to you tonight than ever before. It’s… it’s something I didn’t think I needed, but now I can’t imagine being without it.”

Jhin’s fingers paused as he looked at you, his expression softening further. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said quietly. “I’ve come to realise that what I feel for you goes beyond mere desire. It’s something profound, something I never thought I would allow myself to feel.”

He finished with the cloth and set it aside, his eyes never leaving yours. “I will be here for you,” he promised, his voice filled with resolve. “In every way that you need, I will be here.”

You reached out, your fingers brushing his cheek tenderly. “Thank you, Jhin,” you said softly. “For everything.”

He took your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingertips. “No, my dear,” he said, his voice a low murmur filled with emotion. “Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life. For letting me see you, truly see you.”

The room was filled with a peaceful silence as Jhin continued to care for you, his touch gentle and attentive. As you lay there, wrapped in the warmth of his affection, you felt a deep sense of contentment and connection, knowing that despite the intensity and the pain, you had found something truly meaningful in each other.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

The sun dipped lower in the sky, painting Frontier Dusk with hues of gold and crimson. The town was winding down, its usual noise giving way to the quiet hum of evening preparations. You’d hoped for a peaceful end to your day, but the radio crackled with an urgent call—a disturbance at the old warehouse on the edge of town.

Arriving at the scene, you were greeted by a disheartening sight. The warehouse, usually an abandoned relic of better times, was now the stage for Jhin’s latest performance. Blood stained the concrete floor, a stark contrast to the grimy surroundings, and at the center of the chaos stood Jhin, looking every bit the enigmatic artist he fancied himself to be. His coat was missing, replaced by a fitted leather outfit that clung to his lean, muscular frame. The sight of him in his element was simultaneously captivating and deeply unsettling.

You took a steadying breath, pushing past your emotions. “Jhin,” you called out, your voice sharp and commanding as you approached him. “You know why I’m here. Hands behind your back.”

Jhin turned his head slowly, his dark eyes meeting yours with a mixture of amusement and something darker, more dangerous. A slow smile spread across his lips, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his gaze. “Ah, darling. Always a pleasure to see you,” he purred, his voice smooth like velvet. “Though, I must admit, this isn’t exactly the ideal setting for our meetings.”

You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, focusing on the task at hand. “This isn’t a social call. You’re under arrest.”

His smile widened, an almost playful gleam in his eye. “Under arrest?” He said, his tone teasing, as if your stern demeanour were a mere game to him. “Well, well,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing. “I see you’re finally ready to make things official.”

You straightened, trying to regain your composure. “Jhin,” you said, your tone firm, “you’ve made quite a mess today. I’m here to arrest you. This time, you’re coming with me.”

He tilted his head, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Ah, but Sheriff,” he purred, “you’re looking particularly… prepared. I must say, it’s quite a sight. I didn’t realise you were so eager to see me in cuffs.”

His eyes gleamed with a playful light, and he took a step closer, his gaze raking over you with an appreciation that made your cheeks flush. “Though,” he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I must admit, I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be so… intent on restraining me. Are you sure it’s the cuffs you’re after? Or is it something else entirely?”

You shot him a look, trying to maintain your stern demeanour despite the heat rising in your cheeks. “Jhin, this isn’t a game. I’m here to do my job.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and melodious. “Of course, of course,” he said, his tone mocking a serious note. “But you must admit, there’s a certain thrill in the chase. And now that you’re finally ready to catch me, I can’t help but wonder if the excitement is more about the arrest or about the... close proximity.”

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in your stomach. “You’re incorrigible,” you said, your voice tinged with both frustration and a reluctant amusement. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Before you could react, he moved with a fluid grace, closing the distance between you in an instant. He cupped your face in his blood-stained hands, his touch surprisingly warm and intimate. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both unexpected and electric, leaving you momentarily breathless and disoriented.

The kiss was over almost as soon as it began. Jhin pulled back, his expression a mix of satisfaction and mischief. “I do believe,” he said, his voice low and laced with amusement, “that I’ve made my escape.”

You blinked, still trying to process the intensity of the moment. “Jhin—” you started, but he was already gliding toward the exit, his movements as fluid and controlled as ever.

“Don’t worry, love,” he called back over his shoulder, his voice echoing with a playful taunt. “I’ll see you tonight. And I assure you, it will be a rendezvous you won’t soon forget.”

You watched, both exasperated and oddly charmed, as Jhin disappeared into the shadows. Shaking your head with a mix of frustration and amusement, you muttered to yourself, “Only Jhin would manage to turn an arrest into a date.”,Shaking your head, you turned your attention to the aftermath of his latest escapade. The warehouse was a mess, and you had work to do. As you began to clean up and sort through the evidence, a wry smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. 

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tags @mysticstarlightduck @theink-stainedfolk and probably many more!

Wip Aesthetic Tag

Rules: Make a moodboard for your WIP, a playlist (3+ songs/music will suffice but it can be as long as you want) and describe the Vibe of your WIP.

Oh god, I'm really bad at aesthetic stuff. No clue why, I just feel like it's never cohesive. That said, here's my best stab at Mystery of the Mortal God.

⚙️Moodboard🌿

🎵Music🎶

Instrumental (pulled from my character playlists):

Flight of the Silverbird

Ponyo's Sisters

HUNGRY!

Exclusive Coupé

A Murder of Crows

Wings (Aether 2)

The Quiet Earth

Vocal:

I Want to Conquer the World - Bad Religion

Supersonic - Bad Religion

Harlan Road - NewTown

Black Lipstick - Chicano Batman

The Reckoning - Dom Fera

Norwegian Wood - Buddy Rich Big Band

Call me Call me - Steve Conte

🩸Vibes🏵

A walking, steam-powered vardo lurches over a yellow-flowered marsh and under a sky of curious stars. Red, sparkling smoke rises from its chimney. Muddy footsteps are left in its wake like the trail of a mechanical dragon. It seems like a place of magic, which is fair, as it's the home of a witch. She sits with a lit pipe and a tabby cat purring on her lap, quietly contemplating a distant, stolen song. Even in the peace of the moment, her mind is alight with grand schemes and dreams of adventure.

In the capital of a thousand peoples, there stands a detective office lit by golden lamps. It's busy - goblins, elves, and lizardfolk rushing every which way in hopes of managing the many crimes wrought by rogue mages. At its heart resides a beat of calm in the eye of the storm - an opulent office out of place for its cushy decorations and color coding fit for a palace. This is also fair, as working at its desk is a prince of sorts. The prodigal heir to divine contracts and a deadly curse. He shudders at the knowledge of his bloody fate, yet pursues it nonetheless.

On the side of a lonely road, in a lonely land, under stars that are not curious, but disappointed, lays a wreck of bronze and steel. It bleeds black on green. It is confused by this. Where is the red? Where is the pain? It remembers another place - gray and icy and riveted. It remembers two eyes surrounded by shadows and a grin hanging in the dark like a half-moon. Hate closes in like a frigid wind, piercing through any amount of heart or compassion. It will have revenge.

Tropes include slow burn romance, revenge quests, magic as a science, and mad scientists. Genre is fantasy steampunk.

Snappier character descriptions include a braggadocious redneck mage with a chip on her shoulder the size of a mountain, a prissy, gossip-loving detective with a deadly curse, and a sweetheart of a maybe-robot with some terrifying instincts hidden behind a fog of amnesia. All of them, due to personal quests, will end up banding together to defeat a would-be demigod, facing cunning traps, summoning ritual shenanigans, and their own conflicting personalities. Will they survive? Will they join the villain? Who's to say? All I can assure is that if they fail, it'll at least be in a blaze of glory.

Heavily inspired by the Foundryside Trilogy and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.

I'll tag @spideronthesun @kaylinalexanderbooks @ominous-feychild @galactic-mystics-writes and anyone else who wants to play!

[preciousbarnes]

Promises | Part 1/3

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: When your parents are murdered in cold blood, you turn to the most feared man on the east coast for answers.

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: Violence, discussion of murder, graphic scene, hurt/comfort (it was a murder yall, its not pretty but I dont think I described it too graphically), Google translate used for the Russian, mafia themes.

You found yourself in a dark and quiet bar tonight, the smell of top shelf liquor and cigar smoke prominent the second you walked through the door. You were anxious of course, but anyone with a shred of common sense would be nervous about meeting the one known as the Winter Soldier. At least, you hoped to talk to him tonight. You slowly approached the bar, remembering the code your father had once told you, in case you ever found yourself in this position.

“Я ищу зимнего солдата” you softly say to the bartender, earning a subtly surprised expression. I’m looking for the winter solder, you had said.

The bartender sets down the glass he was drying, and walks away and through a back door, which you’re certain leads to the the office of the man you seek. After a few moments, the bartender returns, followed by a tall, blonde man. He was strong, all muscle, his face serious but had an undertone of friendliness. You were unsure if it was genuine or not. You never can be sure about mobsters, despite how kindly your father had always spoken of the Winter Mob. Especially now, that your family had been wronged so brutally.

“What is your business here, miss? We don’t see many women around these places,” He says, voice smooth like velvet, carrying the whispers of a Brooklyn accent.

“Mr. Barnes knows my parents. They’re the owners of the bakery on the corner of Southeast Avenue. Something happened, and I need to speak with Mr. Barnes. I need answers.” You say, voice surprisingly stern even though your insides felt like they were shaking like a leaf.

Once you mention the establishment your parents ran, the tall blondes eyes light with understanding.

“Ah yes, your parents are very good people. We know them well. You must be their daughter. If it is truly something serious, please, follow me,” He says, stepping aside as he holds the door for you. You walk down a long and dimly lit corridor in silence, being led by the man. This is when you notice the weapons strapped to his hips. He is dressed in the mobs characteristic all black clothing they were known for, with two guns, one on each him, strapped to him. He also wore a shoulder holster, holding a smaller pistol and two knives. He looked lethal, but had surprised you with his professional but friendly manner.

As you get closer to the door at the end of the hall, you hear the soft tones of jazz coming from inside the office, a deep and quiet hum accompanying it. The unnamed blonde knocks softly, before opening the door.

The office is also dimly lit only by a small desk lap. There were stacks metal file cabinets around the room, holding what you were sure to be decades of files on everything mob related you could imagine. The Winter Mob was known for their organization and wide depth of knowledge. The floor was a deep, rich wood, the wallpaper elaborate and stunning. Everything about the office screamed luxury.

At the desk in the center of the room sat the most dangerous man on the East Coast. Bucky Barnes, head of the Winter Mob. He wore a fitted black suit, with a black dress shirt as well. His hair was short, and he had a slight stubble on his jaw. He was a handsome man, but for every bit he was handsome, you knew he was also deadly. You involuntarily shivered at the thought of all he is involved with, and now here you were, on a mission for information.

He looked up, eyes taking you in, trailing over your face, then down your body, and back up before he spoke.

“What can I do for you, doll? Bad boyfriend you want taken care of?” He asks in a deep voice, with a slight chuckle, already making assumptions about you. It wouldn’t have been the first time a young woman had come to him for help getting out of a relationship. Little did you know, he always helped in those situations, for no cost. He was raised to respect women, to cherish them. Whenever he could, he would help women get away from men who didn’t understand that.

“No, Mr. Barnes. You know my parents. You helped them with a loan, to keep their bakery afloat. The little one on the corner of Southeast Avenue,” You explain, hoping that he will know who you’re talking about. You know he works and helps a lot of different people, so it’s hard to say if he will specifically know your parents. All you can do is hope.

At the mention of the bakery, Bucky gives a small but honest smile.

“Yeah, I do. They make the best cream puffs on this side of the U.S, I swear. How are they?” He asks you, as he leans back a bit in his chair.

“They’re dead.” You say, voice breaking on the word ‘dead’. It was still a raw wound on your heart, and still difficult to say out loud. It still felt like you were in a bad dream.

His visibly shocks Bucky. His eyebrows furrow together and his jaw drops open slightly.

“What?” He asks, softly. Unknown to you, since you were mostly away in the big city working, Bucky really loved your parents. He thought they were good, honest people. He himself stopped in twice a week to visit, always ordering a small black coffee and two cream puffs. Your mother and father reminded him of his own, who he dearly missed. It was a shellshock to him to hear the two were gone so suddenly.

His blatant shock surprised you. You really thought he knew. How did he not?

“You mean, you didn’t know? I thought it was one of your goons who took them out?” You ask, confused.

Bucky and the blonde man who had led you in snorted in slight laughter at you calling his workers and family “goons”.

“Steve, will you grab the ledger book for her families loan for me?” Bucky asked, thanking the blonde who you now knew was Steve as he handed a thin bound book over to the boss.

“Doll, come here, I want to show you something,” The boss called to you, beckoning you over with a motion of his hand, as the other flipped through the pages of the small book, before coming to the end of the writing in the book.

“See here? Their debt was paid back in full to me, two years before the deadline I had set. They’ve had me paid off for a while now. They swore to me I’d see my money back, with interest, and they kept their promise to me in full. I’d have no reason to put a hit out on them, and I never would,” The mobster told you, a surprisingly soft and gentle tone contrasting his strong and tough exterior.

“I- I don’t understand. I thought surely, they must have been behind on the loan, or made you angry somehow or something. I just wanted some answers. Who- who killed my parents?” You ask, tears springing to your eyes. You thought you had originally had at least part of the answer, being who was responsible, and now you didn’t even have that.

“I don’t know, doll. But we’re going to figure it out,” He promises you, confusing you once again. This man was full of surprises to you.

“Why? Why do you want to help me?” You ask him. When you ask, he looks to you with a fire in his eyes.

“They were family. No one gets by with hurting family, doll,” His voice tells you, a dangerous edge to it.

The mafia boss quickly tells Steve to pull his car around for you both after learning you had gotten to their bar by bus. As he waited, he asked a bit about you. He wanted to know where you were staying, to which you told him the hotel. He was satisfied in knowing it was one he secretly owned. You told him about your job in New York, which you had taken a leave of absence from to come home to Brooklyn to figure this out. He nodded as you spoke, listening as you watched him grab his gun from his desk drawer, loading it before putting it in the holster strapped to his hip. He then grabbed his wallet, thick with cash you could clearly see making it bulge, shoving it in his pocket. You both turned to Steve when he returned, telling his boss the car was ready, before leading you both outside.  

You both climbed into the Escalade, Steve opening and closing your door for you. After you’re both buckled in, he begins to drive.

“Where did it happen?” He asks you, eyes focused on the road.

“Their home, off of 56th street, if you turn here, you’ll want to-“ You’re suddenly cut off.

“I know where it is, doll, your mother was sweet enough to invite me and the boys to dinner a couple times. A sweet woman, she was,” He told you, voice sounding like silk as he fondly remembered the meals and memories he shared with your parents. They had been good to him, and his closest family members; the boys who were part of his administration, the top level of the mob, the ones he worked with the most.

“I didn’t realize you all were that close?” You question, still surprised.

Bucky sends you a kind smile, not bothered by your confused and uncertain tone.

“Your parents were good people. Kind people. Nothing like the company we usually keep. They just needed help, and we were happy to help them. For our assistance, they made sure we knew how grateful they were, which isn’t something that happens for us often. Most are afraid of us, but for some reason they never were. We respected that.” He tells you, his own respect for your parents clear in his tone.

“They really meant something to you,” You conclude, still seeing a hint of sadness in his voice where he had to use past tense when talking about your parents now.

“They did. They treated me like their own, which I’m sure you know how good that is,” He tells you, voice soft again.

You smile sadly, nodding. Your parents had been so good to you, always your number one fan. To know they had been good to a mobster too, having hearts full enough to see past the tough exterior and treat Bucky’s family like their own, made your own heart swell. They really were good people. You were blessed to have come from them, but that made you want justice for them even more. They didn’t deserve the fate they had been given.

You both pulled up outside of their small home. It was modest, but charming all the same. A small brick two-story house with white shutters. There were small window boxes hanging off of each window, holding flower beds your mother had planted little wildflowers in, a beautiful bright contrast to the brick building. There was police tape surrounding the property, with an officer stationed outside on the porch.

Bucky puts the car in park, parking behind the police car out front. As he unbuckles, he turns to face you, surprised to see you also unbuckling.

“Doll, stay here, I don’t think you’ll want to see this,” He commands, voice not leaving room for argument. You’ve always been stubborn, so you argue anyway.

“I want to come with you, Mr. Barnes. I deserve to know. I want to see it too,” You plead with him.

He sighs, taking in your stern tone and resiliency clear on your face. He nods begrudgingly.

“First, call me Bucky. Second, okay. But, don’t say anything to the officer, and do not touch anything, okay?” He orders you, earning him a small smile and a nod from you.

You both get out of the car, walking up the sidewalk, only to be stopped by the officer.

Bucky quickly pulls out a wad of cash, silencing the officers demands for you both to leave. Pocketing the cash, he holds the police tape up for you and Bucky to crouch under to enter the property. You pull out your key to your family home, unlocking the door and moving to walk in the door until Bucky stops you.

“Let me go first doll,” He tells you, making you step back to let him enter first.

The first thing you notice is a pungent smell of iron hitting you both. You grimace. You hadn’t been told much by police, only that it had been quite a gruesome scene. The medical examiner had already informed you that you would have to have a closed casket service, and had advised you as gently as possible that it would be best if you didn’t see their bodies in the state they were now in. It hurt your heart. But all of that still didn’t prepare you for the scene you both saw in the living room.

Blood was everywhere. The floors, the walls, the couches, the curtains. It was obvious there had been a struggle from the trail of blood around the room. The room looked like a scene out of a horror film. In the center of the room laid a large and sharp knife, also covered in blood. In the light, gleamed an inscription you couldn’t make out. Bucky crouched down next to it for a closer look, and you couldn’t stop it anymore. Sobs wracked your body, vision blurring from your tears. You hug your midsection, wishing for comfort. It shockingly comes.

Bucky stands from his couched position in the middle of the room and strides back over to you, carefully wrapping you in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, дорогая” He whispers in your ear, holding you close to him as your head comes to rest on his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist. Sweetheart is what he called you. His voice was also heavy with emotion, hating the scene in front of you both. It was a scene of two people who had fought hard, but nevertheless had a horrifying and painful death.

“I think I know who is responsible,” He informs you, after your tears slowly come to a stop, now just enjoying the comfort his strong arms brought you.

“You do? Who?” You timidly ask, fearful of hearing who could have done something so violent, so horrid and animalistic, to people as sweet and kind as your parents who wouldn’t hurt anyone for anything in the world.

“His name is Zemo,” His voice darkly tells you, taking your hand and leading you out of the house and back to the Escalade.

Part 2: Coming Soon

[streamdotpng]

Enid is married to wednesday addams, they've had their bumps in the road but they married young and things have been going pretty well.

Enid has a daughter, she has the lovely shade of her wife's eyes and curly black hair that Enid knows must've been from her mom.

Then one day as Enid goes up the elevator to drop off her wife's food, she can't help but tilt her head as a delivery man leaves her wife's office. Wednesday loves her coffee but enough to order a drink?

oh well, she must've been craving something!

Enid doesn't think much of it, skipping in with a 'hello dear!' but her smile falls when Wednesday doesn't reply like usual.

"Day?" she wonders, voice much more quiet. Maybe she was having an off day. "Did something happen?"

As if a switch was flipped, Wednesday looked up. "enid," she replies and Enid can't help her smile from coming back when she comes close enough to feel Wednesday's arms wrap around her waist.

Her wife looks up to her, eyes so deadly serious with a glint that she hasn't seen before. "I love you," she vows and before Enid can say it back, Wednesday's grip tightens. "Don't forget that I always have and always will."

Enid gives a look, raising a brow but her smile stays indulging. "I love you too!!" and she brings Wednesday into a hug. "now cmon! lets eat."

As they chew and enjoy the meal, Enid's eyes are drawn to the words 'weathervane' branded into a coffee cup. Wednesday hasn't drank from it this whole time.

She really shouldn't have cared, she would've forgotten about it actually until the cup keeps appearing. At first, it comes every few days then every three, then every other then every day.

The drink is always left undrank and she doesn't know why but watching the drink be a constant on Wendesday's table leaves her fingers curling into fists.

But! Everything is okay, Enid thinks. Maybe she's just a bit paranoid. Wednesday has been getting a bit distant lately but she's a CEO, she's busy, totally understandable!

besides, free time means baby time! and Enid never fails to pick up her baby from school. They talk and they chatter. Enid gasps as her child cheers and talks about the gossip that happened in class.

But then her baby mentions something new. Its not about a teacher teaching so and so or how a student tripped and ate sand. No, it was about a man greeting her with a smile, a packaged snack in his hand.

Enid was rightfully concerned, her grip tight on the steering wheel as she tried to weasel as much info as she could without sounding mad.

What she hears has the wheel creaking from her grip.

"Curly man!" Her baby describes and her lovely pup digs through her bag to present the snack to her mom with enthusiasm. "He was wondering where my daddy is," she chatters, fiddling with the package before her eyes peer into the tightening jaw of her mother.

"There is no daddy, baby," Enid says, her voice soft and carefully straining to not show what she thought about what she just heard. "Just me and momma, no daddy needed!"

"mhm!" her baby agrees and finally, she tears at the package at a red stop. "can i eat this?" she wonders, waving it in her hands. "curly man said it was okay!" then her brows furrow. "but mommy says no."

Enid was about to remind about the rules of taking things from strangers before she nearly tears into her steering wheel when she sees the brand printed on the bag.

Weathervane.

With a smile she can't believe she's forcing, Enid carefully takes the bag away, shaking her head as her baby pouts and whines. "You know not to eat things from strangers, dearest!" she playfully reminds, bopping onto that button nose she inherited from Wednesday.

When her baby curls her lips and her eyes grow teary, Enid leans over to press a kiss onto that curly hair. "next time, i'll get you something better."

As her child cheers, Enid tosses the bag out the window and into the nearest trashbin.

She could've ignored the drink sitting by wednesday's desk, ignored the way a man would always walk out just as she comes in; Enid could've ignored everything.

As the car settles into the driveway of their home, Enid opens the door for her daughter and watches her skip all the way to the front door. Wednesday answers it and Enid stares as her wife scoops their baby in her arms, a soft smile in a usually stoic face.

Most of the time, Enid would smile with them, joining in with a cheer as she holds the people that matters. Instead, she's left with a buzz in her stomach and a bitter taste in her tongue.

but then they had to involve her daughter.

Its only right for Enid to visit Weathervane. With how they keep going out of their way to say hi, its only right to return the favor.

or,

im bored!! and i thought yknow what, i like some drama and so this came into mind. We usually have an outright violent and murderous enid but i wanted to do something alot more colder

so... is the baby enid's or tyler's?

funfact! Enid is a transwoman in this au and while it isn't that huge here, i do have plans where people think they must've had a donor so its a bit of a sore subject because she's sure that her baby is hers and Wednesday's...

right?

not to mention that when Enid first dropped her daughter to school, most would ask where the father is (wednesday was working) and Enid had to explain that there is no father but two mothers. Then when mothers get too curious during bring your parent to school day, enid to explain that she and Wednesday were indeed her baby's biological parents

anyways thoughts over, idk how else to explain this but its convoluted and wednesday's a touch emotionally incompetent as always but the family is doing their best

[velaryoncoffee]

Dark under the lights | Lucemond

Pairing ❈ Aemond Targaryen & Lucerys Velaryon

Word count ❈ 2,420

Info & Warnings ❈ Mature rating, but no smut. Organised crime AU.

Author's notes ❈ Written for Lucemondprompt on Twitter based on the prompt "Underground".

Read on Ao3

Lucerys pays a luxurious new club outside his mother's turf a visit, despite knowing all too well who owns the place.

Lucerys walked past the bouncer and through a pair of large double doors. Inside, a vibrant club greeted him in the night.

The bass thumped loudly and reverberated in his chest, the coloured lights were dizzying and made him squint with every step he took. A blue, neon sign written in flourished cursive stood perched against the furthermost wall – “Sapphire,” it read.

He looked around as he took in the place in all its decadent glory. Glass and silver decoration glittered as the lights reflected and refracted through them, and the green velvet curtain detailing above the stage and bar area gave it an expensive flair that most clubs wouldn't bother trying to achieve. All in all, the place was far from unpleasant, as well as far from cheap.

Lucerys was no stranger to clubbing. Put a cocktail in his hand and a busy room with music loud enough to bust his eardrums and he’ll be swaying his hips against a stranger’s with a wide smile across his face in no time. So naturally, when he heard Aemond Targaryen of all people had opened a nightclub in the infamous Street of Silk, he felt compelled to go see what all the fuss was about.

How could he not feel curious? Aemond, the quiet, but deadly half-brother to his beloved mother, who spent their youth with his nose in a book in the sitting room rather than playing knights and dragons with himself and their brothers. Aemond, who hated everything about him with a burning passion, who hadn’t looked at him with anything other than pure vitriol since the incident? Him, opening a nightclub? Perhaps he really was wrong in assuming he was more of the white collar money laundering type. And pleasantly wrong, at that; clubs were far more fun than offices surrounded by a clinical white aura.

Though in truth, it wasn’t Lucerys’s brightest idea, stepping into a lion's den on guts and spite alone. But where Aemond was concerned, Lucerys was always compelled to break rules and take risks. Either by dragging him away from his studies to watch cartoons their mothers deemed too bloody for them, or by playing pranks that left him furious and teary eyed.

But Lucerys couldn't complain about his calculated risk, so far. The place was rather dignified, vibrating with life, and (dare he say) quite gorgeous for what it was. If one was to get high and hammered and rawed in a bathroom stall, that was the place to do so. If the dancefloor looked as clean as it did, then he bet the bathroom floors wouldn't attempt to stick to the soles of his shoes as he walked.

With confidence and ease, he stepped closer and into the throng of dancing bodies, loosening his limbs and relaxing his tense shoulders. He let the electronic melody that blared through the speakers influence his movements, feeling his hips move in gentle circles. He brought his arms slowly up his body, hands dragging over his chest, up his neck with soft fingers and through his hair. He kept them up as he danced and swayed and closed his eyes. He allowed himself a small smile as he basked in the moment, free of judgement and responsibility, if only for a brief respite. Was that not the same for all those around him? Just people looking to smile and forget for a while?

When warm hands snaked around his middle, he stilled for only a second before promptly melting into them. He grinned to himself as the flames of desire flickered within. He readily handed himself to the stranger, relaxing against his body as his front grazed Lucerys's back. He was taller by a head and if the way he hugged his waist was anything to go by, his shoulders were wide. The difference in size and strength made his cheeks burn with lust and anticipation, a giddy smile gracing his lips.

He followed his new partner's lead as they followed the rhythm of the music with their bodies, the lights of the club painting their fair skin with a kaleidoscope of hues that changed with every beat of the synthetic drums. His fingers tangled in the soft hair of the stranger behind him as he held onto his neck to bring him closer, and as he did so, the man lowered his head to graze his lips against his neck. He could feel his breath, warm against the shell of his ear, making Lucerys shiver.

And then, the stranger spoke.

"What a pleasant surprise to find you here, nephew.”

His blood ran cold, body frozen where he stood.

Behind him, Aemond Targaryen laughed, almost sadistically.

"What's the matter? Did I upset you?"

Despite the dread he'd felt initially, humiliation soon took over Lucerys’s frazzled mind. And as that humiliation settled in, stubbornness possessed him in a way it had never done before. Rather than shrugging Aemond off and the dangers he posed, rather than telling him off and calling him names, he leaned into his chest, angled his neck to peer up at his uncle and watch him through his lashes.

"Just startled me, is all. I'm surprised you aren't trying to antagonise me, as per usual." His voice was casual, if snappy. It had an edge of condescension that he knew always got Aemond mad at family dinners, making their brothers pry them apart from each other as their mothers argued. He wondered if Aemond would react in the same manner now that they were in the public eye.

He felt Aemond's fingers twitch before doubling down and holding him tighter against his chest. Lucerys scoffed through his surprise, grinning to himself as Aemond’s warmth coated his back further. It seemed as though Aemond was just as stubborn as he was, but Lucerys couldn’t complain, not when his body hummed beneath his heated skin, pulling him like a magnet to the man behind him.

"Now, why would I threaten my dear nephew at my own establishment?" His lips were warm as they ran over his ear in a hint of a kiss, his hips pressing against his behind. The tension was electrifying, words spoken so aloof, as though they didn’t have the history and rapsheet they held. At any point, Aemond could snap. Lucerys wasn’t one to call himself a gambler, but the thrill of it was something else. He couldn’t help but shiver. If Aemond noticed, he didn't comment on it.

"Because you've done so everywhere else, uncle. But you don't shit where you eat, I suppose." And to add insult to injury, because he really couldn’t help himself, he added, “makes you smarter than I thought you were."

One of the hands that held his waist shot up to hold his jaw in a strong grip. Lucerys couldn't help but laugh at the reaction. All those years of knowing Aemond, of playing and arguing and fighting with him, he’d always been so quick to anger and so very easy to tease. It’s why it was so gratifying to fall into that pattern. It was an addictive thing, to have so much of someone’s attention on you. Even after the incident. Even when it was dangerous.

"Those are some strong statements coming from you, who naively entered my turf,” Aemond spat. “Alone and unarmed, thinking you’d come out unscathed."

"Oh, fuck you, Aemond," he grit out, grabbing onto his hair close to his scalp. Aemond took in a sharp breath, effectively trapped the same as Lucerys. A stalemate. Hands on his jaw, hands in his hair. Bodies pressed close, too intimate for men who shared blood, for men who had shed each other’s blood.

"So, will you do it?" Lucerys teased. "Will you maim me before your patrons, like you wish to do so badly?"

Behind him, Aemond clicked his tongue, but didn't respond. Instead, he softened his grip on his flesh and dragged the digits down to rest loosely around his neck. His lips, too, dragged down, over Lucerys's pulse once more. And he couldn't help but allow him to, loosening the hold he had on his silver hair to better feel the soft touch of Aemond’s lips dragging over his sensitive skin. His heart was beating impossibly fast, their bodies tight, on edge, but moving in perfect harmony with the music surrounding them. He'd never once considered that his uncle, so filled with contempt and hatred toward him, could ever possibly desire to touch him in that capacity.

It made his heart swell painfully in his chest.

"What do you want from me, Aemond?" Because he had to ask.

The idea of finally feeling the warmth of his arms after years of biting cold, only to have it all taken away from him in an instant was too much to bear. He thought he knew Aemond, once, but he hadn’t truly understood him in years. His jealousy, he could easily rationalise, as well as his resentment. But the sudden switch to animosity that led to their scuffle, the negation of years of comradery and kinship? He could never make sense of it. And then, so suddenly and unexpectedly, years of fantasy turned true. While he got no answer from Aemond, his arm snaked around his body to hold him closer, and a tongue prodded out to taste his skin. He squirmed in Aemond's arms as he sighed, relishing in it, feeling the relief flooding through his veins with each caress, with each wet kiss he pressed on his skin, with each flick of his tongue.

"Do I disgust you, Luke?"

Is this okay? Do you want this?

He didn't trust his voice to answer such a loaded question. Years of stifled emotion, bottled up and funnelled into anger, too volatile to the touch. Instead, he angled his neck, giving him better access to his skin, and grabbed onto his hair with renewed strength. 

If you want it, take it.

Aemond hissed at the pain, but repaid it in full by sinking his teeth into Lucerys's shoulder. 

He gasped, eyes closing, hands grabbing onto his uncle for dear life. With a soothing tongue, he pressed into the quickly bruising skin in a way that had him weak in the knees. Electricity sparked down his belly and between his thighs sharply and made his growing erection throb dully in his jeans.

“Don’t test me nephew,” he said, voice low, as promises and threats hung over them both.

Lucerys turned around and looked up at Aemond defiantly, brows furrowed and lips upturned into a frown. Aemond’s hand rested heavy on his lower back, his blue eye wide and scrutinising despite the pink over his cheeks.

“Or what?”

He saw his uncle lick his lips, eye laser-focused on him, pupil blown wide. His lips were parted, like he didn’t know what to say, but the way he set his jaw made it known he was certain of what he wanted to do.

He snaked a hand to the back of his neck and dug his fingers into the flesh, as though his nephew was a misbehaving pet. Lucerys leaned into the touch, moving his body wherever Aemond commanded. His own hands were on his black silk shirt, trying and failing to ignore the hard ridges of his abdomen beneath the fabric. And like something finally settled in his brain, Aemond’s eye crinkled at the corners in a smile. He dove to press his mouth hungrily against Lucerys’s, wet and soft and tasting so sweet. He felt devoured and possessed, arm wrapping around the small of his back and bringing him flush to Aemond’s front, teeth scraping his lips and tongue exploring his mouth.

Lucerys felt himself in a frenzy, euphoric with the catharsis of finally having that gap between them close. Years of telling himself it was his uncle’s loss for despising him, that years of friendship turned sour were nothing of importance, that he felt absolutely nothing but contempt for the man who had turned vile. Now, the boy whose eye he’d stolen, the man who’d routinely insulted him and his kin, was taking him like he’d never wanted anything else.

The hand around his waist held on so tightly his fingers dug into his flesh greedily, nails dragging in desperation as Lucerys lifted his own arms to wrap around Aemond’s neck to pull him closer. He had to curve his body into his and raise his heels to kiss him with better ease, their growing erections rubbing against each other through their clothes and tongues fighting savagely as they lost themselves in each other.

Aemond then parted, nosing his jawline and leaving open mouthed kisses as he trailed close to his ear once more.

“Are you not scared?”

Lucerys sighed as Aemond’s teeth and tongue kept their assault on his flesh, making him shudder and cling closer to his shoulders for purchase.

“Scared of kissing?” He deflected with a strain in his voice. “Do you take me for a child?”

Aemond dragged his teeth over his skin harder to spite him.

“Don’t mock me,” he pressed.

“Then take me seriously.”

He pulled back to look at Lucerys once more, his face unreadable as always. There was, however, no malice. Their interactions all night were free of it. It suited them, he contemplated. Bantering rather than fighting. Playing rather than spitting venom.

He’d always thought Aemond was prettier with a genuine smile on his face.

With gentle fingers, he held Lucerys’s jaw. Lucerys licked his lips as he waited expectantly, his bravado wavering as his anxieties lurked close behind. But Aemond kept looking down at him with curious wonder in his eyes, leaning in slowly and resting his forehead on his.

“I will,” he promised. “But will you, me?”

Incredulously, he laughed.

“When have I ever not?”

His thumb pressed down on his lower lip as Aemond’s mouth drew closer and Lucerys felt drunk as he waited with bated breath for their next kiss.

“With a brat like you, it’s often hard to tell,” he jested.

“Come on,” he squirmed, trying to close the gap, only to be greeted with Aemond’s laughter.

“You crave to be kissed this badly, nephew?”

Lucerys clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Only because it’s you.” Aemond’s eyes widened. He observed Lucerys’s pained expression carefully, trying to find signs of deceit and failing. So Lucerys insisted. “Come on, uncle.”

With fervour and finality, Aemond did as he was bid, the line that had once been severed tied once again.

❈❈❈❈❈

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider sharing and checking out my other works! 💗

[3-2-whump]

Intro to Caretaker: Guard Shack

<prev next>

Author's Note: the audiobook our new OC is listening to tells a story from the world of @whumped-by-glitter, go check her out if you haven't already. I got her blessing to post this excerpt from her WIP here so that Nico would have a riveting book to listen to.

TW/CW: slavery whump, drug use (in the book). Wow, a relatively short TW/CW list this time!

This was the easiest money Nico Clemenza had ever made. From noon to about 8 pm, he sat in the little guard shack at the entrance of the mansion, opening the gates for the people who were authorized, and not letting in the people who weren’t. It took him a mere three weeks to memorize the faces of each Costa member, what cars they drove, their schedules, etc., but that was the hardest part, so far. The rest of the job involved plenty of downtime, which the young law student used to further advance his studies and slack off on his phone. He really should thank his uncle more profusely for finding him such a nice gig at this place last spring.

Costa Insurance operated out of the old mansion that once belonged to Luciano Antonio Costa –Boss Tony, as some of the older members referred to him. When his grandson, the current Boss, inherited the family business a couple years back, he also inherited the mansion and the several acres of land that came with it. Yet Don Thomas remained content to stay at his penthouse apartment, which led to the Organization renovating the grand old house into an office space, leasing out their previous downtown location, and moving the front to the outskirts of the city. Now here he was, staring blankly out at a long stretch of forested road, gun on his desk next to his textbooks and thermos of coffee, completely and utterly bored.

Just because it was the easiest money Nico ever made didn’t mean he enjoyed making it.

At least he had this audiobook on his phone. When he wasn’t doing his course work or watching the leaves of the trees rustle in the wind, he listened to audiobooks and the occasional podcast to stave off the ever-present threat of boredom. Currently, he was listening to a fantasy adventure narrated by a woman with a silky suave voice:

‘Dasa retreated to a quiet place outside of the cave that was now their refuge. He knew soon enough the weekly dose of Divinity’s Downfall would take effect. It was a potent poison, quite possibly the nastiest poison in existence, deadly in the worst way.

‘Fortunately, or unfortunately for Dasa though, it was just an extremely strong hallucinogenic and he did not want to be anywhere near either of his masters when the familiar claws of delirium sunk into his mind. While the drugs didn’t make him violent or anything, it just got embarrassing when Divinity’s Downfall loosened his tongue and he let all his thoughts spill out. Plus, he didn’t want Annika to know about the poisons; that was his burden alone. 

Dasa sighed, silently wishing he at least had his glass shards, the only thing he could say he owned. His first collection was left behind when he was taken to the palace, the second one was burned with the palace. A tear slid down his cheek. Dasa knew it was selfish; he shouldn’t be crying when Princess Annika and Master Jarek had lost so much more, but it just seemed like nothing would ever be his own. Not even his own body was his own, and the Tallisians could read his thoughts whenever they wanted, so he didn’t even have freedom in his own mind.  

‘‘Master Corvius was right all along, I am just a thing to be used or thrown out on a whim,’ Dasa thought bitterly as another tear slipped down his cheek, the poison beginning to seep its way into his -’

A succession of sharp raps against the guard shack door broke the immersion. Nico jumped a little in his seat, turning around to see who interrupted his story. A slim young man dressed all in black stood outside, his fist retreating from where it had knocked. The intern, his mind supplied. He usually rode out with the Boss at the end of the day. Nico hastily paused his audiobook and rose to open the door, running a hand through his unkempt dark brown hair in an attempt to keep up the appearance of neatness. “Hey,” he greeted, plastering on his signature smile. His classmates didn’t call him the ‘high school heartthrob’ for nothing.

Nico never got a close look at the intern until now. Cal –that was his name, right? –looked a bit young to be an intern, with his rounded, boyish facial features yet to melt away into hardened lines. He was a little shorter than him, though that coiffed tuft of black hair on top of his undercut gave him about an extra inch or so of height. His mocha brown skin contrasted with Nico’s fair complexion, as did his dark brown eyes, compared to Nico’s forest green ones.

“Can I eat my lunch in here?” Cal asked. His voice was a soft timbre, like a glacial lake in a forest. He hardly spoke with an accent, which made Nico feel a little self-conscious that he was expecting one.

“What, why?” he asked. Nobody ate their lunches outside. There was plenty of room in the refurbished dining room, wasn’t there?

“I usually eat my lunches outside, but it looks like it’s about to rain soon, and I would rather not be caught in it,” the intern explained. Nico looked up towards the heavy gray sky. The forecast mentioned chances of scattered showers around mid-afternoon... “Yeah, sure, come in,” he shrugged, moving aside as he opened the door a little wider.

The boy shuffled past him as he entered the guard shack, muttering a quiet “thanks” as Nico shut the door. He slouched back into his seat, then felt immediately guilty that there was only one chair in the guard shack and that his guest would have to stand and eat.

“Wait, would you like to sit down?” he asked, reluctantly rising yet again.

Cal eyed the chair warily as if it would bite him before saying, “No, I’m alright, thanks.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I’ve been sitting all day, it’s fine,” Nico insisted. He pushed his chair forward in invitation. The intern shook his head again. Nico shrugged in defeat, resuming his spot in his chair as Cal unwrapped his sandwich and began to eat.

“So… your name’s Cal?” he asked, starting a conversation. He never got visitors to the guard shack before, unless they were there to tell him someone of consequence was coming or going, or to yell at him, so he didn’t want to bore away his first real guest.

A nod in between bites of food answered his question. “What’s it short for? Calder, or-”

“Khaled,” the boy corrected, washing down his last mouthful with a can of Coke.

Nico’s mouth opened in a quiet ‘oh.’ He quickly quirked his lips into a friendly smile. “My name’s Nico,” he said proudly. “Nico Clemenza, future attorney!” He gestured proudly towards his thick textbooks and unopened laptop. “My uncle got me this job to help me make some extra dough while I pursue my law degree!”

“Oh, um, that was nice of him,” his guest replied before taking another bite of his food.

“How did you get here? Not many people know about job openings in Costa Insurance.”

“Temp agency,” Khaled answered bluntly and a little too quickly.

He offered a low whistle. “Your agency must have one of our guys on the inside, to be able to get you into this job.”

Khaled merely shrugged as he ate the last couple bites of his lunch and chased it with a swig of Coke. “So, what is guard duty like?”

Nico let out a prolong, exhausted sigh. “Boring as hell,” he admitted. The intern chuckled a little at his honesty. “But at least I’ve got my phone and my laptop out here.”

“Wait, does that mean you get Wi-Fi out here?” Khaled asked, tilting his head toward the laptop.

Nico nodded. The boy visibly perked up. “Can you look up the FIFA U-17 World Cup for me?” he requested with urgency. “I missed the last couple games when I was grounded.”

Nico opened his laptop, quickly signing in and searching it up for him. “You’re a soccer fan, then?”

“Football,” Khaled corrected, “the real football.”

Nico scoffed; as a star quarterback during his high school days, he felt personally offended by the sentiment. “You mean soccer. The less cool football.”

Khaled ignored him, an audible groan escaping his lips as he read the results. “My team didn’t make it!” he whined. He sunk his face into his hands. Nico reached up to offer an awkward pat on the back, knowing the feeling all too well. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” the boy muttered, “they were playing against Spain; La Furia Roja are strong as hell, after all!” He set his hands down and leaned back against the wall with a sigh.

“Want to watch what you missed?” Nico offered. He was already pulling up footage of the game on another tab as Khaled gave a small, eager nod. “Come closer,” he beckoned, blowing up the video to full screen.

All too soon, a dissonant beeping noise sounded from a pager hooked onto the intern’s belt. “Damn,” he pouted, “my break is over.”

“Well, at least it’s not raining too hard out there.” The light pitter-patter of rain intensified into a torrential barrage on the steel roof of the guard shack. Nico awkwardly chuckled; looks like he spoke too soon. He grabbed the large coat with ‘SECURITY’ emblazoned on its back from where it hung on the door knob, extending it out to his new friend. “Take this, and give it back to me at the end of the day,” he offered.

Khal took it gratefully and wrapped it over his thin shoulders as he made his exit. “Oh, and don’t be a stranger,” Nico added before he was fully out the door. “Come back anytime and we can watch some more soccer!”

The young intern flashed him a small smile. “It’s football!” he laughed. He raised the coat over his head and dashed into the pouring rain. Nico shut the door behind him, slunk back into his chair, and hit play on his audiobook. He couldn’t help but bear a matching smile on his own face. Looks like his job wouldn’t be so boring after all.

Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump@whumped-by-glitter

[son1c]

out of the frying pan and into the fire (but they don't know that yet)

falling stars fic masterpost

Whoever had built this roller coaster deserved a raise. It was handling the weight of Sonic, Shadow, the motobug, and even the large robot like a champ. The large robot stood a ways in front of the others, its bold proclamation vibrating the metal tracks, but they refused to be intimidated.

Sonic's eyes widened. "Distress signal?" he repeated. Then, he looked down at the motobug. Its eyes were still flashing that same desperate red as before. "Huh… I never would've guessed our little buddy came with a direct line to someone like you! But hey, I'm glad it's got some friends on speed dial!"

The large robot bored its crimson eyes into Sonic. "INCORRECT," it said. "THIS UNIT IS NOT 'FRIENDS' WITH THAT INFERIOR MODEL."

The motobug beeped. If it was capable of making an expression, then it probably would have been sticking its tongue out right now.

"DO NOT INSULT ME, PUNY FODDER MODEL. I WILL CRUSH YOU LIKE A GRAPE."

Sonic was confused. "Well, if you're not pals, why'd you show up?"

With a single sharp, titanium plated finger, the large robot pointed at Sonic and Shadow. "SCANS OF THE AREA INDICATED AN ABNORMAL SPIKE IN CHAOS ENERGY. THE DISTRESS SIGNAL HAD AN ESTIMATED 73.4% CHANCE OF BEING RELATED."

Shadow didn't like where this was going. "Why would Chaos Energy be of any interest to you?"

"YOUR INQUIRY IS IRRELEVANT," the large robot said. "PRIMARY DIRECTIVE: LOCATE AND RETRIEVE MISSING HEDGEHOGS. MISSION STATUS: 50% COMPLETE."

Sonic and Shadow looked at each other. Then, Sonic turned back towards the large robot. "That other half might be tough to come by, big guy," Sonic said. He spared a glance over his shoulder and saw that the G.U.N. soldiers had begun scaling the hill below them. "Y'see, we're kinda popular right now…"

"DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE ME," the large robot snapped. "MY ARSENAL IS EXTENSIVE. AND DEADLY."

It was then that the large robot's hands retreated into its arms. With its blasters now operational, it raised them up, preparing to shoot down whichever poor G.U.N. soldier was unlucky enough to reach the top of the tracks first.

Sonic felt uneasy as he stared down the barrels of the large robot's blasters. They didn’t look like very precise weapons. Cautiously, he urged the motobug to drive behind the large robot. Now, at least, they wouldn’t get caught in the crosshairs of those massive machine guns.

“Blue,” Shadow hissed, his eyes locked on the back of the large robot’s head. “We don’t need to put our faith in this machine. A warp is still possible.”

Sonic glanced at Shadow. He whispered back, “Then what? You go dark on me again? I’d rather take my chances with Mr. Mecha here.”

“THIS UNIT HAS BEEN DESIGNATED E-123 OMEGA.”

A single drop of sweat slid down Sonic’s head like he was an anime character. “Sorry,” he said. “I’d rather take my chances with Mr. Omega.”

“NO GENDERED TITLE IS NECESSARY.”

“…Just Omega?”

“CORRECT.”

A human hand appeared at the top of the tracks. A helmet and head joined it shortly afterwards, illuminated by the bright white spotlight on the ground. Omega didn't hesitate--he opened fire immediately, and the soldier dropped back down the tracks with a startled yelp. Bullets clanged off the tracks and pierced through the office building to their right, turning the green outer wall into a pretty decent impression of a cheese grater.

Then, everything went quiet. So quiet that Shadow could hear the internal mechanisms of the motobug whir as it sat idly on the tracks. Shadow hopped off of its back after a second spent in the tense, unmoving silence. Now he was standing parallel to Sonic and the motobug on the other side of the tracks, with his fists clenched tightly in anticipation.

The hedgehogs and robots watched the edge of the tracks. Waiting.

But they were looking at the wrong spot. No soldiers appeared from the hill--instead, a group of them dropped down from the sky, having leapt off the roof of the office building. Omega resumed his attack on them immediately, swinging his hulking robotic body around and letting loose a blanket of bullets that seemed to cover the night air with red hot steel.

A soldier with gold teeth landed on the tracks in front of Sonic. He jabbed his gun in the blue hedgehog's face, but Sonic was faster than him, and he slapped the gun out of the soldier's hands before he could pull the trigger. It fell to the ground far below, breaking into a million pieces when it hit the sidewalk.

The soldier jumped in fear when Sonic grabbed his collar. "W-Wait!" he gasped. "Don't! I just got my teeth fixed from the last time I saw you!"

Sonic frowned. He didn't let go of the man's collar. "You're that guy from the forest?"

Nodding, the soldier replied, "That's right!"

Sonic punched him in the face. A few of the soldier's gold teeth went flying.

"Word of advice?" Sonic quipped dryly. "Quit your job."

After releasing the man's collar, Sonic did something risky. He hopped off of the motobug's back, balanced on the tracks with his one uninjured leg, and then pushed the disoriented soldier over. The man landed on his back on the tracks, and once Sonic tied the hems of his shirt and pants to the horizontal beams, it was clear he wouldn't be rejoining the fight anytime soon.

When that was done, Sonic straightened. Then, the motobug drove up to him. Its eyes had returned to their original electric blue color, but the little robot was obviously still in distress--a feeling that worsened when Omega's aim shifted from the sky to the tracks and the soldiers that were crawling across them like insects.

Sonic did the only thing he could think of to keep himself and the motobug safe from the onslaught. He hooked one hand under Buggy's wheel, and then he dropped down under the tracks, dangling from them with his free hand. A concrete patio jutted out from the office building about 30 feet below them, but he wasn't going to risk that fall until someone tried stepping on his fingers, so he simply hung there for now.

Meanwhile, Shadow was up against the rest of the G.U.N. soldiers. He could feel the pressure building behind his eyes the longer they fought, his punches driving back one soldier only to reveal two more. It was difficult to stay on the narrow, slippery tracks while trading blows--something the soldiers didn't have to worry about, Shadow realized, since their shoes were magnetized.

However, it wasn't until Omega started firing in his direction that Shadow really started to feel the heat. Sparks appeared around his fists, and when he socked the next G.U.N. soldier in the jaw, the impact released a burst of red kinetic energy, and the man's head snapped sharply to the side. He stumbled backwards, then fell to his hands and knees.

Omega took care of the rest. One by one, the soldiers crumpled under the pressure, until none of them were left standing.

Then, Shadow hurried over to where Sonic and the motobug were hanging from the edge of the tracks. He pulled them both up with one hand. "That was beyond reckless," Shadow said.

Sonic shrugged. "It was no big deal," he said. "Besides, I needed the workout!"

Omega turned towards Sonic and Shadow. His arm cannons were smoking. "THREAT ELIMINATED," he said. "COMMENCING HEDGEHOG RETRIEVAL PROTOCOLS."

Shadow tensed when the large robot moved to grab them, but then his attention shifted to the sky over his flat yellow head. Partially hidden by the darkness of the citywide blackout, a G.U.N. helicopter was hovering in the space just beyond the tracks, a giant missile hanging from its undercarriage, pointed directly at them.

Shadow zapped himself behind Omega. The missile unlatched from the helicopter. Shadow started glowing, his whole body on fire. The missile ignited, its tail ablaze with the promise to come right towards him. Shadow jumped from the tracks and landed on the window of the helicopter. The missile began rocketing forwards.

The pilots inside the helicopter became frantic at the sight of him, but there was nothing they could do.

Molten Chaos Energy exploded from Shadow's body. It engulfed the helicopter and the missile. It scorched them. Destroyed them completely. For a second there was ashes, but then they got eviscerated too. Shadow hung in the air for a moment afterwards, floating in the space where the helicopter and missile had just been, radiating power.

And then it all went dark. The red light disappeared, and he started to fall, his energy completely spent. The soldiers on the ground waited, all too ready to catch him.

But Sonic beat them to it. He didn't have a plan--he didn't need one. He had driven Buggy to the edge of the tracks and then leapt off of the motobug's back without a second thought, diving after his friend with determination.

Sonic caught Shadow by the wrist. Then, he curled around Shadow's unconscious body, steeling himself for the moment when they would hit the ground.

It wouldn't be the first time.

But history didn't repeat itself. Omega swooped in before the hedgehogs could create another crater, and he snatched them from the air, saving them from falling into G.U.N.'s clutches. Sonic winced just a little bit when Omega's big metal hands jostled his broken leg.

"HEDGEHOGS SECURED," Omega said. "REGRETTABLY, THE PUNY FODDER MODEL IS SECURED AS WELL."

Sonic looked up. The motobug waved down at him from its spot atop one of Omega's large shoulders. Its other claw was wedged in an extremely convenient, handle-like protrusion that the author is amazed they managed to make plot relevant somehow.

"BLUE HEDGEHOG," Omega said, his shiny eyes peering down at Sonic. "YOU DID NOT INFORM ME OF THE DARK ONE'S DESTRUCTIVE POWER. I LIKE IT."

Sonic adjusted Shadow in his arms, holding his friend's head against his shoulder. "It's news to me, too," Sonic admitted. After a moment spent listening to Omega's thrusters burn and crackle, he asked, "Thanks for the save, and all, but mind fillin' me in on where we're going?"

"DESTINATION: SCRAP BRAIN BASE."

"Heh," Sonic laughed. It was short and thin. "Way ahead of you. Seriously, though--what's the deal with you?"

"I DO NOT OPERATE UNDER A CONTRACT," Omega stated plainly.

Starlight City faded into the distance behind them. Up ahead, the horizon was free from skyscrapers. In fact, it was free from any buildings at all. The only things for miles were mountains of sand and the occasional palm tree. And now that they had lost sight of G.U.N., Omega was flying closer to the ground, kicking up clouds of sand and dust in his wake.

Sonic wanted to trust Omega. He had just helped them out of a tight spot, after all. And he seemed to know who they were--or, at the very least, he knew someone else who did. That lead was important, because it's what Stripes was looking for.

But Sonic couldn't help but wonder what waited for them at Scrap Brain Base, and if it was any good. Was Omega's creator going to be like G.U.N.? Sonic figured it was a coin toss.

Frowning, Sonic examined Omega. Unlike Buggy, the large robot was clearly built for combat. What kind of person would build something like him? "Omega," Sonic began, "you sure you're not with the military?"

"POSITIVE," Omega responded in that same booming mechanical voice as always. "MY CREATOR IS AN ENEMY OF THE STATE."

Sonic smiled faintly. Just like that, the scales tipped in favor of Omega's creator having decent character. "It doesn't seem hard to do," Sonic said somewhat bitterly. "Those police types always seem to wanna pick a fight!"

Shadow shuddered in Sonic's arms. He wore a pinched expression in his sleep and his fur was hot to the touch, despite the chill of the desert night. Whatever affliction he had suffered after their confrontation with the cowboy ghost was getting worse. That much was obvious to Sonic.

Carefully, the blue hedgehog ran his fingers through Shadow's quills. Quite a few of them were splintered or outright broken from their fall. Sonic cleaned them up with a deftness he didn't expect, hoping to bring at least a little comfort to his feverish friend.

Shadow's hard frown softened by a fraction, and Sonic considered it a win.

And there was one more thing. He no longer felt unsure about their destination, because he had realized something. If Omega's creator was familiar with them, then that was a good thing, because the guy would probably know a thing or two about Stripes. Specifically, what was wrong with him. Sonic just hoped they'd be willing to help.

Maybe then, he would be spared from having to hunt down a doctor.

[theink-stainedfolk]

Frost & Flame

---

The night was thick with fog, the air damp and heavy as it clung to the ground. Anathimun had always found solace in the quiet of the early hours, when the world seemed to be suspended between waking and sleeping. But tonight, there was a tension in the air—a crackling unease that refused to let him rest.

His footsteps were silent as he paced the edges of the camp, where the others had already turned in for the night. The fire flickered weakly, casting long, twisted shadows across the trees. The weight of their mission, the looming threat of the Sitharae who had come to destroy everything in their wake, sat heavy on his chest.

A rustling sound broke through the stillness, and his sharp eyes darted in the direction of it. He wasn’t alone.

"You can’t sleep either, can you?" came Darien’s voice, rough around the edges, but still familiar. The human officer emerged from the darkness, his silhouette framed by the dim glow of the fire. His sword was slung loosely at his side, and there was an unreadable expression on his face as he approached Anathimun.

Anathimun didn’t reply immediately, his gaze lingering on Darien as if weighing something only he could understand. Darien had been with him for months now, their relationship evolving in ways neither had expected. What started as resentment and distrust had gradually transformed into a fragile partnership—a partnership that, at times, teetered on the edge of something more. Something dangerous.

"You never did explain why you keep that fan with you," Darien continued, his voice tinged with an attempt at humor, though the underlying tension was undeniable.

Anathimun glanced down at the Obsidian Fan, still resting by his side, closed and seemingly harmless. "It’s a part of me, I suppose. A reminder that I can be both deadly and beautiful, if I so choose." He smirked, though the words felt hollow, even to him.

Darien tilted his head, eyeing the fan warily. "Deadly, huh? I can see that." He paused, his expression softening ever so slightly. "I don’t know what’s worse sometimes—the things you can do with that thing... or the things you choose not to do with it."

Anathimun let out a low chuckle, a sound that felt more like an exhale than a laugh. "I’d say you’re catching on, Darien. But tell me, why is it that you’re standing here in the dead of night, asking questions you don’t really want the answers to?"

Darien’s eyes flickered away for a moment, the unspoken weight of their past battles, their shared losses, hanging heavily between them. Finally, he took a step closer, just enough to close the distance but not enough to invade Anathimun’s space. "Because, for once, I think I might actually want to understand you. And maybe... maybe I’m tired of pretending I don’t."

There was a strange warmth in his voice, an admission so raw that it made Anathimun’s heart twist in ways he hadn’t expected. He’d spent centuries—millennia—shutting people out, pushing away those who could see beyond his power, beyond the façade he’d built. But Darien... Darien was different. And it scared him.

"Careful," Anathimun said softly, his tone teasing yet laced with something heavier, something more serious. "I’m not the sort of creature you want to understand too deeply. I’m full of contradictions."

"I’ve noticed," Darien replied, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "But maybe that’s what makes you interesting."

For a moment, the two stood in silence, the crackling fire between them the only sound. And then, as if drawn by some unspoken force, Anathimun slowly reached out, lifting the Obsidian Fan and holding it out in front of Darien.

"Do you want to see its true form?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Darien hesitated, his gaze flicking to the fan and back to Anathimun. Something flickered in his eyes—curiosity, fear, maybe a little bit of admiration—but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he nodded slowly. "Yeah. Show me."

With a slow, deliberate motion, Anathimun unfurled the fan, the sharp, obsidian blades glinting in the firelight. The intricate patterns etched into the metal shimmered as he waved it through the air, the fan’s power rippling with each movement. It was beautiful, hypnotic, and yet deadly all at once—much like its wielder.

"I didn’t expect this," Darien said, his voice thick with awe. "It’s... stunning."

Anathimun’s smile was bittersweet. "Beauty, when wielded correctly, can be as dangerous as anything else."

He held the fan steady, the glow of the fire casting dancing shadows across his face. And for a long moment, their gazes locked—two people from two different worlds, bound together by a mission, by fate, by something unspoken and undeniable.

Anathimun’s fingers brushed lightly against Darien’s hand, his touch lingering just a moment too long. There was no rush to pull away, no immediate need to break the contact. The night stretched on in the comfortable silence that only they seemed to understand.

It was strange, this connection. One that neither of them had asked for, but one that was growing harder to ignore.

Without a word, Anathimun stepped back, folding the fan carefully and tucking it into the folds of his cloak. Darien watched him, his expression unreadable, before finally speaking again.

"You’re right. We’re full of contradictions." He gave a half-smile, softer this time. "But maybe that’s why this partnership works."

Anathimun only nodded, his eyes flickering with a mix of emotion he couldn’t quite name. "Perhaps."

And as the two of them stood there, side by side, the weight of their shared history, their burdens, and the promise of what might come next hung silently in the air between them. The night may have been quiet, but it was filled with the unspoken tension of something—someone—they couldn’t yet fully understand. But for now, they were enough.

---

My ♡s : @paeliae-occasionally @willtheweaver @drchenquill @wyked-ao3 @the-inkwell-variable @corinneglass @seastarblue

[thegreenlynx]

I Bite, Pretty Boy

Chapter 2: Blood Thirsty

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: This chapter contains themes of assault (from an outside perspective) and death, please read with caution.

It was an odd night in late November of 1924, the streets illuminated only by an eery cool white light cast by the full moon. Beautiful and serene, yet too cold and unsettling for most humans to linger. Thus the streets were mostly desolate and quiet, just the way he liked it.

These were the only nights Minho bothered to leave the coven base he called home. Nights in which he could stroll as he pleased and do as he wished with little worry about running into any insufferable humans. For you see, Minho was not like his comrades.

They believed in the good in people. That humans are to be protected and not hunted for food or stomped on like bugs. They believed in idyllic things like justice, equality, saving everyone, and world peace. That the powers they had were a gift to be used to save people rather than harm them. Minho on the other hand, he's more of a realist.

Don't get the wrong idea, he isn't exactly about drinking from them either. However it has less to do with morals and more to do with blatant disgust. Which is why he's never actually partaken in imbibing outside of the little blood bags Chan gets from... well Minho isn't really sure where. Never cared enough to ask.

The SK Coven had been characterized as human helpers and protectors since its establishment about a thousand years ago when Chan had turned him for that exact cause. Minho was the time's equivalent of a police officer, but when he refused to arrest a woman for unlawfully leaving her abusive cheating husband and even helped her to flee the country, the consequences were severe. He was ostracized and shunned from the entire town, before eventually being poisoned as an example of what happens when you try to defy people in power.

In the end at the young age of twenty four he had nearly succumbed to the deadly poison with no one by his side, filled with loneliness and resentment for those who use their power against others. There was no chance for him. His fate sealed to die an agonizingly slow death alone, when a man had shown up at his bedside with a proposition.

It is what lead him to his current state of living. His coven was essentially family to him, he couldn't even remember any blood relatives if he tried. But the coven members, they were the most important thing to him. Despite their many differences the four of them worked together to protect the humans and they carried an impenetrable bond.

As per rules of the coven, all of them had joined consensually. They all had their own reasons for joining, but Minho was the only one who really didn't hold any affection for people. He believes they're filthy. Unlike the others, he's generally never been particularly bothered by a loss or failure to save a human since becoming a vampire. He protects them primarily out of spite towards those who think they can use their power against the weaker, rather than any desire to actually help the weak.

On this night it shouldn't have been any different, there was no reason for it to. When he heard the screaming of a young woman it shouldn't have bothered him the way it had, shouldn't have made his heart drop and adrenaline pump through his veins the way it did. He shouldn't have immediately broken out into a sprint in that direction. It's not as if he's ever hurried before. Sure he always goes to make sure it's not some ill willed vampire but even then he isn't in any rush to save any humans. That's more of a Felix and Chan kinda thing anyway. He never runs for anything, so why...?

Yet run he did. In fact he ran so fast his legs hurt. Another thing that was Felix's area. He was the fastest after all, in charge of speed and rescue. Minho was the brains. He's in charge of critical thinking and planning. Not even remotely cut out to be any kind of hero, that was not his role in this coven. But even whilst his brain screamed these contradictions at him his legs did not slow down for a moment. Suddenly the scent of sweet cherries partially masked by a repulsive wave of cigarette smoke wafted into his nose. He'd finally reached her.

And god was she beautiful. Wavy black hair cascading over the back of her lean figure. Arms thrashing wildly as she stands in the dark allure of the dimly lit bridge she was pressed against the railing of. Tears sparkling beautifully like diamonds as they fell from wide fearful eyes...

Wait... thrashing... tears?

Just then Minho took in the full scene of a dark hooded figure's grabby hands desperately, disgustingly sliding under the woman's clothes. One gripping and feeling her breasts whilst the other slid up the front of her skirt.

"Get the fuck off her!" He didn't even recognize his own voice as it growled thunderously out to the concealed man. Both figures heads immediately whipped in his direction, his feet seemed to move again on their own.

As he ran to her he saw the look of relief flash in her sweet shiny eyes when they met his own at the end of the bridge. A foggy sighed breath escaped her lips, like she had come to the conclusion everything would be alright now that he was here.

At that very moment Minho caught a glimpse of the panic in the man's movements from the corner of his eye. Seconds later, just before he could get to her, the man shoved her aggressively off the bridge and took off in the other direction. He could hear the terrified scream ripping its way out her throat as she cascaded towards the water, flailing to try to grab onto something that is now out of reach, and suddenly Minho was jumping in after her. One hand propped itself on the railing and he carelessly swung the rest of his body right over the edge.

He'd somehow gone from not giving a shit about humans to pointlessly killing himself for one he hadn’t ever spoken to or seen before. Great development there. The man couldn't even swim.

The water was ice cold when he felt his body plunge into it, but he paid no mind as he grabbed around frantically to try to find her. Thankfully the water wasn't too deep and he opened his eyes to look around, now more thankful than ever to be a vampire who cannot actually drown to death. A stream of red fluid brought his eyes right to what he was looking for and he pushed his feet against the ground of the river to bring himself towards her.

He grabbed her limp body securely and dragged her ungracefully to the small shore on the side of the bridge. He then pulled her gently into his lap shook her body. "Come on wake up!"

When she didn't respond he felt himself fill with dread. Tears pooling in his eyes, stinging and burning in a way he was entirely unfamiliar with. "Wake up, Please wake up! Someone help me!"

The man knew nothing of CPR, but he tried to breathe into her mouth, shake her, even went to push both hands into her chest in what he assumed was the correct position. However the girl's eyebrows furrowed and her hand weakly lifted to grab Minho's. Her eyes flickered weakly open and suddenly Minho realized drowning was the least of the girl's problems. Blood was seeping unrelentingly into the dirt beneath him, his jeans now soaked for a whole other reason than diving into a river. His hand wound tightly in hers and his tears fell softly onto them. Almost as if in an attempt to heal the heartbreak he had no right feeing for a mere human he didn't even know. In response to the cold hand enfolding her own, a weak smile lifted the corners of her mouth one last time before her eyes slowly fluttered closed once more. Her breathing faint as her body gave way to exhaustion.

"No.. don't leave... you can't die.." His eyes turned dark as he gazed down at the beautiful woman in his arms. It was forbidden, he knew it. He was the one who'd wrote the damn rule down, the first of many in the coven's code of conduct.

It had been Chan's idea, sure. But Minho was the first to agree and the one who supported it most. Jeongin had said there should be exceptions, insisted it really. Arguing it could be used to save someone, that they'd be helping them by giving them another chance. Perhaps Jeongin took after the other two and wanted to help everyone, perhaps he genuinely believed being a vampire was a blessing, or maybe he just wanted more friends. Minho wasn't sure. But he was so passionate about it that Minho almost pitied the youngest, his strong desire would have been enough to move Chan to agree.

Minho shut it down immediately, said there were no reasonable exceptions, that people were meant to die and it was the cycle of life or some bullshit; 'we can't save everyone'. He had been so adamant that it was absolutely unacceptable to force vampirism on a human without their consent. That it was unforgivable to condemn a person to a life as a vampire they didn't agree to live. Jeongin and him had even gotten into arguments, fought about it for months, and yet...

  "...You can't leave me." For the first time in his entire existence he let his teeth pierce another's skin. His sharp pearly teeth sunk into the soft porcelain flesh between her neck and shoulder and no matter how guilty he felt, no matter how much his mind screamed to stop, that he was breaking the code and even more than that committing a truly heinous unforgivable act, he could not bring himself to pull away. Not until he knew he'd done enough to get her to return to him.

Her blood was sweet, had an ever so slight taste of cherries to it. As he hugged her lithe lifeless body to himself, he briefly wondered if she liked them. Perhaps he'd give her some as a peace offering to try to persuade her against tearing his head off when she woke up. Not that he'd hold it against her if she tried.

When he finally did pull away he licked the blood off her skin and gently brushed her hair from her face. For the first time in a long time he smiled, even whilst another of his tears dripped down onto her cheek, he smiled. She still looked beautiful, but more than that she looked at peace. He hoped she was. He didn't know why.

After a heavy sigh, Minho stood from the ground, her body tightly held in his arms. As he made his way back to the coven base where he would no doubt receive the biggest reprimand of his existence. He would put her safely in his room first of course, unconscious or not she didn't need to hear such negative things. He wanted her to rest peacefully before she'd wake to her new life and the confusion and complex feelings that would inevitably bring about.

He wasn't concerned that she still hadn't woken. After all, although he himself had never turned anyone he had seen Chan turn Jeongin. The boy had been weak and frail his whole life due to his parents neglecting him. Which eventually got to the point of him being plagued by a shitty immune system and thus a myriad of diseases he had no chance of combatting. He somehow managed to pull through to his 21st birthday, but by then he was hospital ridden and could not even eat his own food. Chan had gone to him and gave him the same opportunity he had given Minho, a second chance. To which Jeongin immediately agreed, much more enthusiastically than he had. He even begged him to do it as quickly as possible.

Minho had watched the entire process, and therefore knew quite well how it worked. It had taken Jeongin about a week to wake for the first time and for about a month after he had been weak and they had to help him slowly adjust to everything. Jeongin had been a little out of it but enthused, after all he was finally getting to live the life that was robbed of him.

Minho had suspicions it probably wouldn't be quite the same with the woman he 'saved', but he'd help her. They'd get through it together. He wasn't expecting her to be thankful or anything, but hopefully she'd find it within herself to forgive his selfishness, no matter how unforgivable he genuinely believed his actions to be.

After a lengthy walk Minho arrived at an eery gothic mansion, completely surrounded by a large iron fence. The dark victorian architecture was neatly adorned by two large willow trees and rows of well kept rose bushes, both black and red in color. He clumsily fumbled around to get the key out of his pocket whilst still holding the woman. After unlocking the gate he went to the front door and quietly tried to sneak in. Which he knew was futile, they would hear him no matter how quiet he tried to be.

Damn them and their super senses.

"What the fuck."

Minho just walked past the youngest without any form of acknowledgement, straight towards his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and ignored as the younger knocked on it. He tossed the blanket haphazardly aside before gently laying her body on the smooth dark green satin of his bed sheets. After he tucked her into his softest blanket he sighed his heaviest sigh and walked back to the door.

"What the hell were you thinking?" It was Chan, a mix of anger and confusion in his voice. Apparently he had figured it out without him having to explain too much, saved him the trouble.

"Look I know you're pissed, you have every right to be. I know better than anyone I shouldn't have done it."

"Then why.."

"I just couldn't leave her like that. You didn't see the relief on her face when she saw me, the way light finally returned to her eyes, as if everything would be alright since I was there. You didn't watch it get ripped away from her right in front of you. I don't even know why I jumped in after her, I don't know why I turned her, but I'll never regret it. I don't care if it's wrong, I don't care if it's selfish, I don't even care if you're mad. I want her here and i'm glad she is."

"Hyung..." It was Jeongin this time, his voice wounded and soft as he looked at Minho.

"Look I know I told you doing this was unacceptable, and I still believe that. I know what I did was wrong. I'm not saying i'm some kind of hero or that I did her any favors. She doesn't owe me anything. I will accept any punishments this warrants, as long as it doesn't affect her. I'll take all of the responsibility for this, it's my fault... Just let her stay… please? I'll take care of her, so just please..."

"I was never going to kick either of you out Min. I trust you, you're my right hand for a reason. I trust your judgement. I was just confused. We'll figure it out."

"...Thank you."

"Let's get some rest, yeah? You look like you could use a shower, we'll sort things out later."

The next morning Minho left the mansion earlier than he ever did. He had made plans the previous night before he'd nestled into bed to get justice for the woman in his bed.

The man from the other night had been irritatingly clever. His face had been hidden so no one could identify him and the only good witness he pushed into a river to die. If it weren't for Minho's vampiric sense of smell, he'd probably have gotten away with it. But unfortunately for him, he'd gone after the wrong girl on the wrong night. Minho made sure he wouldn't get another opportunity.

Initially he had been in a bit of a blind rage, he wanted to track him down by his scent and tear the man apart with his own two hands. Keep him alive just so he could feel his bones breaking and his own blood seeping out of his body, maybe then it'd be enough for Minho to be satisfied.

After his shower he'd thought better of it. After all, he'd already made a controversial enough decision turning Rie in the first place. And perhaps giving him death would be letting him off easy, no matter how painful he’d have made it. Perhaps it'd be better to have him rot in jail. Maybe tear him apart towards the end of his sentence, maybe then it'd be enough.

Either way, Minho meticulously planted evidence to have the man tied to her disappearance. He made it so no one would be able to refute it. He pulled some strings to get him a lengthier sentence, dirty work really, tricking the man into getting caught with more crimes. But in the end, it worked. The man would never know freedom again.

He made a point to attend her funeral, since she herself was unable to attend to mourn her previous life he believed it was his duty to do it in her steed.  After finding the evidence of blood and her clothing, she had been declared dead on the ruling that no one could survive that kind of fall. Because they didn't have a body her parents had opted to bury her baby toys and some photos of her instead. He watched her loving parents essentially bury their only daughter, tears streaming down both parents faces, a happy little family completely torn apart for some sick perverts little fantasy.

Yet he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry. He was still angry, would probably be enraged for at least a few more lifetimes. But at the end of the day they were just humans, she belonged with him. She was better off, safer with him. No one would ever do that to her again. Because now she was his and he vowed to take care of her as his own for the rest of his existence. He would make sure she was happy, he would keep her safe. The filthy humans didn't deserve her.

For the past 100 years, he's done just that. Minho taught you everything you know about being a vampire. He frets over you like no other, and by some miracle, you haven't resented him at all. From the moment you woke you were nothing but relieved, much to his surprise.

The very first thing you did after regaining consciousness was hug Minho tightly. "I knew you were there to save me.." Were the first words you’d ever said to him. It was his second time crying as a vampire, however on this occasion it was out of relief.

You fit perfectly into the team too. Felix and Jeongin quickly became your best friends and you grew to treat them all as family sooner than any of them had expected you to.

Each of them have their own roles within the coven, which works perfectly in accordance to their individual skill sets bestowed upon them in the beginning of their vampiric lives.

Chan is the leader, he is physically the strongest and functions as the brute force or tank of their coven. He is generally in charge of leading any fights they engage in.

Felix is the weakest of the coven, but where he lacks in strength he makes up for in speed. He is fastest by a significant margin and specializes in rescue, get away, and distractions.

Jeongin is average in speed and strength, but his teeth are the sharpest and he specializes in manipulation, persuasion, and deception.

All vampires have heightened sense but yours go far above even those vampiric senses. You are also the most stealthy and agile, which is why you specialize in surprise attacks and quick thinking.

Minho is Chan’s second in command and co-founder of the coven. He is the smartest of the vampires and he is in charge of decisive thinking and planning within the group.

In their pursuit of protecting the humans and fighting against vampires who use their power for evil, they have set patrols to watch over the humans. They generally go solo, with Minho staying behind to be their overwatch and planner. He tells them where to patrol each night based on crime rates and where he thinks there may be unwanted vampire attention.

Tonight is no different, Minho gives each of them a location and a bit of insight so they know what to look out for and they’re on their way. “Remember to be careful of the humans, your job is to protect them not trust them. Under no circumstances are you to let them know what you are.”

“Yeah Yeah, you say that every time we go out.” Jeongin drawls back at the older, absentmindedly tapping his fingernails loudly against the smooth wood of the kitchen table. “We’re not dumb you know? We got it the first 10 times you said it.”

“Watch your tone.” He bites back, a subtle click of his tongue in annoyance, before he turns to the only girl of their coven. “Stay behind a minute?”

You tilt your head in confusion but nod anyway. You wave the rest of the boys off in a casual parting and watch them leave before turning back to a nervous Minho once the door has closed.

“You know y/n.. it’s been exactly one hundred years since I turned you.”

“…Yeah, I suppose it has.” You respond thoughtfully, He watches as you plays with your hands, an awkward habit you kept from your human life.

“Look, I know we don’t usually talk about it but I want you to know that I know I shouldn’t have done it. It was selfish to essentially doom you to an absurdly long life as a monster just so I could keep you around…” He pauses and huffs an anxious breath, his ears flushing a light pink. “but I’ll never regret it. Maybe it’s strange, but there is no one more important to me in this world than you and i’m happy you’re here.”

“Thanks, Min. I’m happy too.” You beam sweetly at him in response and he finally relaxes, you're likely the only one who he lets see his anxious sides. The only one who gets to see him with his guard down, not that it’s even remotely intentional. “You really don’t have to beat yourself up about it, It’s not like I hold it against you. I love you guys and I like what we do.”

He laughs in self mockery at the contrast between his flustered mannerisms and your perfectly confident nature. You're never nervous about anything. “Yeah.. Maybe.. but anyway I just wanted to get you something.. to you know.. celebrate.“

He pulls out a small black box and places it gently in your hands. You open it to reveal a beautiful intricate ruby necklace. It sparkles captivatingly in the light as you pull it out of its casing with a gasp.

“Holy shit Min, where did you even get this?! It’s gorgeous...”

“I had it made for you. It would seem the humans aren’t completely useless after all.” His eyes sparkle at your genuinely pleased reaction as he continues in a lighthearted tone, “They’re revoltingly ugly but at least they can make pretty things.”

You laugh and nod, “It’s the most beautiful piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen, it must have been expensive. Are you sure it’s okay for me to have it?”

“You know perfectly well money is pretty meaningless to a vampire. But even if it weren’t, I’d spend millions on you if it made you happy and it’d be a privilege to do so.” He puts on an impressive fake pout and folds his hands in a pleading gesture. “Please accept it. I’ll be heartbroken if you don’t, you wouldn’t want to make an old vampire cry would you?”

Minho can’t stop the smile that breaks out onto his face as your laughter floats through the room. “Of course not! I’ll cherish it, I promise.” He grabs the necklace gently from your hands and carefully moves your hair out of the way before latching it behind your neck. He glimpses briefly at the scar still ever present on your otherwise flawlessly clear skin before he pulls away and opens the front door for you.

“Good, now get on your way to your patrol location. I’ve made you late enough as it is.”

“Okay, see you later Min!”

As soon as you leave he expels a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, a furrow forming quickly in his brows. “Hey Minho, I’ve just made it to my spot. So far all clear.” He hears the deep voice of his silver haired comrade through his ear piece.

“Okay, give me one moment Felix.” Despite his words, He doesn’t begin walking back to his control room until after he can no longer see you through the window.

Prev | Next | MasterList

Taglist: @estella-novella @jisuperboard @feelikecinderella